A Damn Shame!

Rest In Peace Tony:


WASHINGTON (AP) - Tony Snow, a conservative writer and commentator who cheerfully sparred with reporters in the White House briefing room during a stint as President Bush's press secretary, died Saturday of colon cancer. He was 53.

"America has lost a devoted public servant and a man of character," President Bush said in a statement from Camp David, where he was spending the weekend. "It was a joy to watch Tony at the podium each day. He brought wit, grace, and a great love of country to his work."
Snow died at 2 a.m. at Georgetown University Hospital, according to former employer Fox News.

Snow, who served as the first host of the television news program "Fox News Sunday" from 1996 to 2003, would later say that in the Bush administration he was enjoying "the most exciting, intellectually aerobic job I'm ever going to have."

Snow was working for Fox News Channel and Fox News Radio when he replaced Scott McClellan as press secretary in May 2006 during a White House shake-up. Unlike McClellan, who came to define caution and bland delivery from the White House podium, Snow was never shy about playing to the cameras.

With a quick-from-the-lip repartee, broadcaster's good looks and a relentlessly bright outlook - if not always a command of the facts - he became a popular figure around the country to the delight of his White House bosses.

He served just 17 months as press secretary, a tenure interrupted by his second bout with cancer. In 2005 doctors had removed his colon and he began six months of chemotherapy. In March 2007 a cancerous growth was removed from his abdominal area and he spent five weeks recuperating before returning to the White House.

"All of us here at the White House will miss Tony, as will the millions of Americans he inspired with his brave struggle against cancer," Bush said.

Snow resigned as Bush's chief spokesman last September, citing not his health but a need to earn more than the $168,000 a year he was paid in the government post. In April, he joined CNN as a commentator.

As press secretary, Snow brought partisan zeal and the skills of a seasoned performer to the task of explaining and defending the president's policies. During daily briefings, he challenged reporters, scolded them and questioned their motives as if he were starring in a TV show broadcast live from the West Wing.

Critics suggested that Snow was turning the traditionally informational daily briefing into a personality-driven media event short on facts and long on confrontation. He was the first press secretary, by his own accounting, to travel the country raising money for Republican candidates.
Although a star in conservative politics, as a commentator he had not always been on the president's side. He once called Bush "something of an embarrassment" in conservative circles and criticized what he called Bush's "lackluster" domestic policy.

Most of Snow's career in journalism involved expressing his conservative views. After earning a bachelor's degree in philosophy from Davidson College in North Carolina in 1977 and studying economics and philosophy at the University of Chicago, he wrote editorials for The Greensboro (N.C.) Record, and The Virginian-Pilot in Norfolk.

He was the editorial page editor of The Newport News (Va.) Daily Press and deputy editorial page editor of The Detroit News before moving to Washington in 1987 to become editorial page editor of The Washington Times.

Snow left journalism in 1991 to join the administration of the first President Bush as director of speechwriting and deputy assistant to the president for media affairs. He then rejoined the news media to write nationally syndicated columns for The Detroit News and USA Today during much of the Clinton administration.

Roger Ailes, chairman of Fox News, called Snow a "renaissance man."

Robert Anthony Snow was born June 1, 1955, in Berea, Ky., and spent his childhood in the Cincinnati area. Survivors include his wife, Jill Ellen Walker, whom he married in 1987, and three children.

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Associated Press writer Jennifer Loven contributed to this report.

(Copyright 2008 by The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved.)

Celebrating Independence

The ladies of Chez Copa hit the old dusty trail last weekend to celebrate Independence Day in North Carolina with Katie's Sis! Not only can I cross off another state from my to visit pile, but we had a blast!

Day One:

Jamming along to the PURE GOLD play list linds assembled we made it to Cape Cartaret in record time! Spread out in the back seat of Lucy (yes my foot was elevated Jerry) I was appointed ambassador of the road. Like a kindergartner in a station wagon I waved at everyone who made eye contact!

Pulling up to the gorgeous house I was greeted by the other gimp (Katie's Dad) and we hobbled the rest of the weekend in unison!

Day two:
After stuffing ourselves with All-American Grub including Jeff's world famous b-b-q (ok maybe not WORLD famous but it was pretty good) we headed onto Emerald Isle to secure our fireworks viewing spot. A co-worker of Jeff's lives practically on shore. But nothing is every a straight shot with chez-copa.

When we arrived, we noticed a few things out of place, like the 5 police suvs parked outside the house. Pulling up in our 4x dodge ram complete with beer cooler in the bed, the officers were so gracious as to leave their search of the property and properly greet us by encircling the truck while the neighbors laughed from their porch.

Probably not the most natural reaction but while Linds froze, Katie giggled anticipating a hoax. My first response was to speak to the PIO and find out if there was a story. The backpack reporter on the scene beat me to it.

Just as our host emerged from an adjacent home, we were released and made our way up to continue our own investigation of the scene.

Not wanting to be left out, we all actively participated in the the police search. For example, during a later arrest of the perpetrator, his drivers licence fell out of his car. While Katie eagerly snapped shots ( for later reporting purposes of course), we called down from the house to the officer. Just think, we may single-handily saved a CRUCIAL piece of evidence. Right? Never mind those officers who have been investigating these hardened criminals (petty theft, fyi), we were going to show them how to work a real crime scene. We watch NCIS and CSI!

As the excitement wained and the perps were hulled off, I debated whether or not to offer my services to the reporter, I mean, I did see the whole thing go down and had already investigated the neighbors and the home owner. (BTW- they had no idea..etc). The poor channel 12 man had to be the cameraman, producer, and reporter, I wanted to help the guy out.

The fireworks didn't seem to be quite so exciting after that.

Day 3: The BEACH!
We had a few preconditions for an otherwise routine beach veg session - with a bum foot and crutches it had to be close to the drop off point. Working within our limited options we chose the pier. After a lovely day in the sun and a quick dip we headed for dinner. Brace yourself for another copa-ism.

Apparently the pier we selected was a fishing pier. A one stop shop where you can fish, gut and clean your catch. Well those little remains rarely make it to the provided garbage receptacles. Rather they are dropped off said pier. Now in California we have well acknowledged and adhered to shark seasons, but I guess in NC it is a year round phenomenon. And would you like to guess where the main shark hangout is for the area. You guessed it...our little pier. Oops.

Always an adventure!

CC On the Move Part I

So Linds and I are in the process of preparing Chez Copa 3.0 ie moving across the street to a new building. But the venture is proving to be quite a challenge, as I am still a gimp and we are looking to accessorize our original Chez Copa, not completely redecorate. So step one was to pick up the same paint we used for the old apartment. Not too challenging right?

We have been living with these colors for about a year now so we should be more than able to pick them out of a line-up right? The only reason we would risk it is we both forgot to grab the original paint chips from home before our trip to the home depot.

So as I am heading down the 5 mile stretch of massachussetts ave that links lindsey's office to mine, on my way to the paint section of the depot, a woman getting out of a cab, smacks her car door into me, WHILE I WAS STILL DRIVING! I politely (as compared to our new yorker counterparts) reminded her that I was still in the car, and she was in the middle of moving traffic. I also pointed out in a much more emphatic octive that she did not seem to be remorseful. What a cow! This is a crime committed by shopping carts in dark grocery store parking lots, not downtown dc where the driver can identify you! Just saying!

Back to the Depot: after 20 minutes of hunting for our colors I was certian I selected the same color that currently colored my bedroom wall for the past 365 awakenings and slumbers. Although the name Jamaica Bay didn't ring a bell, the color looked identical.

It was only after we had returned that Linds pointed out that my original hue was marine isle. How do you mess that up???

Good to the Last Drop

Free Slurpee Day, Friday 7/11/08 ...get it 7/11! Just in time for the move!

On the way to the emergency room (the second time) for my foot, my mom made sure we stopped to try the new calorie free mango madness flavor, which I have to admit, is quite yummy.

When mentioning it to Goose she made a joke about it tasting so good because it was free. "Calorie free," mom emphasized.
"oh well that's not so tasty anymore," Goose retorts.

One Grand Adventure

Just to fill you all in on the grand adventure resulting in a busted hoof (hope I didn't spoil the ending for anyone:

So to kick of the adventure, I race into work at o'dark hundred. I am packed not only for the trip but I have painstakingly organized specialized packs for each day so as to maximize organization and minimize time-loss on our adventure through the grand canyon. Setting aside a pack for the morning hike in, and the Tuesday hike back out, my little tote was up to OCD par.

Blazing out of work like the building was on fire, I make my way to the airport for my flight to Las Vegas. With my track record for missing a few flights, I was quite impressed with my arrival time, so much so I had time to enjoy a cup of coffee.

All was set. Famous last words.

With the family coursing their 5 hour drive to Las Vegas, I arrive and make my way to the baggage carousel. Still donning my work suit complete with stilettos I await my perfectly packed suitcase.

It never comes.

This is the first in a series of mishaps to the well oiled planning machine that is the Benson (Richer) family.

So after trying to explain to the extremely courteous and genuinely helpful baggage team at US Airways that I have not been sucked into the glitz and glam of the Las Vegas strip and will be trudging out another five hours by car (two of which are past any civilization and cell phone range). Although my duffel may be on the next flight, not even FedEx can unite me with my bag. The nearest village to our destination still receives their post by mule train. Ergo a bag is clearly out of the question.

So off the Benson (Richer) Fleet goes to Walmart. (Again still donning heels, pearls, and a pencil skirt. What a site)

After a quick stop at the Del Taco (see previous post on obsessive Taco disorder) we head for the rim!

Now sleeping on the south rim essentially involves a sleeping bag in a parking lot. A high note after my brother's digestive system gets ahold of the super del taco combo we had earlier that night.

After arriving and winking in about 2 hours of sleep we were rudely awoken by a small group of hiking infidels determined to wake my dear snoring aunt up. I have never been more compelled to slash tires than that moment, but since we were up at 3 I figured to let the day one hike begin.

The day one hike from the south rim to the campsite is a race against the sun. As soon as the rays hit those Indian red walls of the canyon you are hiking in blistering 110 degrees. In the shade and with water the 8 mile hike to the Supai village is manageable. Our fam has an edge on the competition though, I'm a speed Nazi trained by the Washington DC walkers (comparable to our brethren in New York) and the delightful snack packs Aunt KB packs for us. (Ziplocs filled with all the good stuff you look at in Target but never buy for fear of premature cardiac arrest: beef jerky, all flavors, cheese crackers, rice crispy treats, granola bars, and mike and ikes!)

Hitting the first sign of the stream at mile 7 we are not far from the village. Fun little story here is about 6 years ago, Ben lost his swimming trunks to the current. He will never let that story die. Bringing his GF Krista down, we of course had to share the tale with her(better than baby pictures)

At about 9:30 we finally hit the village, checked in, and met up with Aunt KB who flew in on the village helicopter. The stigma in our family about users of the village helicopter(and pack horses) is unless you are seriously injured (as my aunt is), you are a weenie and should not be allowed to enjoy the falls that we all work so hard to hike to. We let these weenies know they are not welcome by glaring. (What can I say, were not vigilantes, just smug.)

But the work is worth it, we trudge on for the final 4 miles of our day to the campsite. Although camp is only two miles, by the time you finish setting up camp you've pushed it the final two. But oh when you see Havasupi falls on your way in, the sunburn and sore thighs are worth it.

So day one a success, no injuries.

Day two, while waiting for my cousin Dani and Uncle Jeff to make their trip from the rim after squeezing an extra work day into the week, the Benson's descended on Havasupi Falls. Waba-Waba!

What a playground, between clamoring behind the falls, jumping off every rock possible, and squeezing through the toilet bowl, you would think bodily injury would ensue. Just a scraped knee from Krista on that score card. But we did notice a few changes from the last trip, the falls were more intense this year. The jump is a little hairier now, with the addition of a ladder and more moss frosting the rocks. But the upstpay is so fierce you can't really see how far up you are.

We finished out the day by the river swing and leaping from cave walls, all R and R for Sunday....Beaver Falls.

Beaver is awesome, with 3 sets of falls to jump from ranging from 10-25 feet, for our family, its what separates the men from the boys. Its a 4 mile hike from camp and requires scaling Mooney Falls, a 300 ft wall using a chain and well placed footholds. We call it the Elvis Shakes because the legs of the fearful shake so badly. Legend has it, it was named Mooney Falls after the guy who fell to his death propelling with only half the rope needed to safely come to earth from the summit.

It would be appropriate for me to fall here and retain some respect.

Ha not so.... so we continue the hike crossing the river and through the wild grapevines, snapping shots off where we could. And a mere 500 ft from our final destination ... beaver....it happens. The trail narrows while a stream runs parallel to the trail about a foot below. My foot starts to slide on the clay-like mud and I hear the pops of my right foot; like rice krispies on steroids.

Pulling my feet out of the stream it is clear, I am not walking on it any time soon. As my foot swells and my tummy churns I am convinced its broken.

The irony of Dani's encouragement, walk it off, fell on deaf ears. In the Benson Clan, tears equal injury, and I wasn't crying.

The challenge: how do we get out. Dani and Grant take off to Mooney as we seem to remember a gurney on a single bike wheel secured next to the trail. After an hour of shock, Jeff, Ben and I start the piggy back tour of the canyon. By riding on their exhausted backs and crawling on my hands and bum over the rocky trail or the river crossing we made solid ground.

Dani and Grant had the foresight to replenish the water supply before bringing the gurney but that required an additional 4 miles rt up to camp and back, including a trip up Mooney. Whew!

You would have thought it was Christmas the way I shrieked at their sight with the basket. I was so relieved!

So Team Benson muscled me through the flat spots on the see-saw gurney, lifted me over the rocks, and I managed the crab walk through the river crossings.

We were met along the way by concerned hikers and villagers. Unbeknown to us, by the time we made it back to the Goliath - Mooney falls, the entire campground heard about the mishap and when the chopper scaled the cliff to retrieve me, the Supai village was standby.

The three miles from the accident glided beneath us from the helicopter while my foot continued to swell. It was quite an impressive feat!

Rather than make the full trip back to Kingman hospital, I opted to get dropped back off in the village, where I was greeted by the doctor in his Gator golf cart with off road tires.

The Rx: ace wraps, ice, and crutches. They had quite a selection of the latter: 5'3 or 6'0. Standing 5'8 I opted for the shorter of the two. I now had another 4 hours to kill while I waited for my family to return to camp and one of them to hike up to the village with a tent. Grant drew the shortest straw.

Arriving the the village, my guardian angel started to set up the tent. After 15 miles on his tires, he was clearly exhausted. As we realized we put the stakes in the wrong holes, on our tent being pitched right in the town square, we were approached by a couple informing us of the allegedly rampant tribe drug and crime incidents. They invited us to stay with them for the night. So Grant, myself and my 5'3 crutches eagerly accepted. They set us up in the village church!

I was almost as excited to see the air mattress on the cement floor as I was to see the tipsy-turvy gurney!

The next morning the family hiked out and took my second helicopter ride.

Clearly I wasn't flying back out of Vegas so it was off to mommas I went for some R & R. So much for shedding the princess title in the Benson Family!

A Soldiers Solute

Lifetime’s “Army Wives” Host Red Carpet Screening with Our Nation’s Heroes at Walter Reed

To kick-off the July 4th week and honor America’s servicemen and women and their families, the cast of Lifetime’s hit show “Army Wives” invited real Army Wives, Wounded Warriors and military servicemembers at Walter Reed Army Medical Center to join them for a red carpet event and the advance premiere of an upcoming episode.

Linds and I popped in to catch a sneak peak as were heading to North Carolina for the weekend and would hate to abuse the Tivo. We were pleasantly surprised to see two of the cast members Sally Pressman and Brigid Brannagh! The author of the book that set off this craze, Army Wives' Tanya Biank was also there signing copies, so of course we jumped in line. Only to be asked if we were military wives or in the military. Embarressingly we responded with empty ring fingers, we were just fans.

As touching as it was to have real army wives and the actresses that play them speak on behalf of the surviving soldiers, the stand away speaker was Lee Woodruff, author of In an Instant and wife of ABC News anchor Bob Woodruff, who was injured in Iraq.

Although Bob is not enlisted, he stands shoulder to shoulder with service men and women and was injured covering their crises. She said, "Regardless of how you feel about the war, whether you are for it or against it, as long as our men and women put themselves in the line of fire, we should be there reporting on it." That quote speaks to the central reason I am working to get into international broadcasting. Like our troops, the sacrifice journalists make, in this case to bring the story to us and keep the world transparent is among the most noble.

I Love Tacos!

I love Mexican food, in particular tacos! But its seems as though some restaurants are really pushing too much of a good thing. It may be a spoof, but this hits it right on the tortilla!

Lets Keep It Simple Folks

Breaking Glass

As I am sure you all were aware by this point I am an ardent Hillary supporter, not so much for the womens' lib movement the fourth estate attached her to, but I felt she was the stronger candidate. She has the k-street smarts essential to getting anything done inside the beltway. So I was a little crushed when the end drew near on the campaign machine. But within hours of the media lynching, I received this email from the campaign. And I was compelled to hit the reply button.

My response: thank you.

Dear Hillary -

I say this to you almost daily, but since it's normally to you on the TV screen, I thought I should find a way of saying it where you might actually receive the message: Thank you.

Thank you for what you have done. For your sheer tenacity, strength, and stick-to-itiveness. Thank you for working so hard every day when you must have been exhausted. For showing us what leadership looks like: doing something well, with grace, in good times and bad. Most of all, I thank you for not quitting.

Your many supporters will tell you what your race means to them and history will write what it means to the world, but it also means so much to me and to the little world I live in. I thank you on behalf of the women who have been so special in my life:

For my daughter - who is, as of yet, just an idea in my mind. But I imagine her one day reading the story of this historic campaign. I am so grateful that the story she will read will be of a complete campaign, with the biggest numbers possible - states, votes, and delegates. That story will show that our first woman presidential contender was truly competitive - nearly won competitive - and show a little girl her own vast possibilities in this country. Thank you for giving her a history worth reading.

For my mother - who is one of those women who work tirelessly to support her family, worries over rising healthcare costs and frets that her grandchildren may not have social security. She's always been passionately interested in politics, but never before found a politician who she felt saw and understood her. She'll be 65 next year and she wrote the first political check of her life to you. Thank you for validating the day-to-day concerns that she faces.

For my grandmother - who was, as it was noted at her memorial, "a woman ahead of her time." I think of her every time I see one of your senior women supporters who were born before women first got the vote and were out on the streets filled with hope that they would inaugurate one in their lifetimes. Thank you for showing them that their efforts to make women loud and proud actors in American politics created real change.

For my best friend - who would listen to me talk about just about anything in the world for hours - except politics - until you started to run. Little by little, day by day, she became more engaged in your campaign and what it meant to the country and our place in the world. She started out reading your emails and went on to lobbying her husband and friends to change their votes. Thank you for awakening an incredible woman to her role in the political process.

For my former junior staffer- who did not necessarily believe that sexism was still an issue alive and well today. She watched pundit after pundit behave in ways that even she could not deny were ... crude. Then she saw it pass as kind of acceptable. And then she saw it happen again and again. Finally, she took up her pen and now Chris Matthews and the MSNBC brass know her name ... well. Thank you for reminding her of how much work we all still have to do.

For me - who has been, at times, described as direct, forward, forceful, pushy and a few other choice adjectives. Thank you for helping make the world a little safer for aggressive, ambitious women. Because isn't aggressive just one way of saying "she gets things done" and isn't ambition just another word for "dream?" Thank you for pushing for my dream - and that of so many others - to elect a phenomenally talented and capable woman to lead our country and change our world.

As you promised from the outset, you have, and will continue to, make history.

Thank you, for all us.

Sincerely,

Ilana Goldman

Back In The Day

...We didn't have to pay for lunch or luggage. What is going on people?

There is nothing that fries my ass more than hidden charges. Similar to the half truth response of ...you look great (except for the bang disaster you have going on..) airlines should be upfront with there costs. This makes absolutely no sense in the race to save a nickle. Rather than defiant fliers, like myself (see earlier article), paying the $15 charge for luggage and the $5 lunch box fee, I will be one of many trying to shove my overstuffed over weighted bag in the overhead compartment, not amenable for full flight capacity.

I, and 90% of my travel companions will have to wiggle back out of the narrow aisle to check my bag at the gate - ending up just were it would have original and without a silly surcharge. But with 300 fellow fliers following the same protocol, our flight is now delayed, the port authority has charged my airline and they will be forced not only to lay off my flight attendant (need my Diet Coke!), try to bump up my luggage charge, but now pass their late fees onto me. That's just silly folks.

Hello Lover!

New I-Phone's Debut...Right into Jen's Bag!

Introducing iPhone 3G. With fast 3G wireless technology, GPS mapping, support for enterprise features like Microsoft Exchange, and the new App Store, iPhone 3G puts even more features at your fingertips. And like the original iPhone, it combines three products in one — a revolutionary phone, a widescreen iPod, and a breakthrough Internet device with rich HTML email and a desktop-class web browser. iPhone 3G. It redefines what a mobile phone can do — again. Katie -let's talk!

Another Score for the Big Rig