My Love for World History - It All Started With Peter Jennings

If it's not obvious, let me just state it right now. I absolutely love history...not in a memorizing facts and details type of way but in a wow - so much of our past is an insight into where we are today and where we are headed to in the future.

I love understanding where we've been, how we got here, the psychology and sociology of how everything came to be. And this love and adoration of world history - well - I can trace it back to my evenings, watching Peter Jennings.

When I was eleven years old, Peter Jennings, along with Frank Reynolds and Max Robinson, anchored ABC World News Tonight. I wasn't much of a television news girl - I preferred reading the News Sentinel - however, the format with the three anchors appealed to me.



I was particularly drawn to the anchor who was located in a foreign country - Peter Jennings. First, his accent was intriguing. Remember, I didn't get out much so I had no idea that he was from Canada! Second, the manner and tone in which he spoke to the viewer really captured my attention. Peter had this sense of wonderment, sense of purpose that appealed to me. I never thought he was 'attractive' (I wouldn't call him ugly though). He was just someone who really opened my mind to what was going on outside of the U.S.

After a particular news segment on Beirut or Isreal or some other place or people or culture that I didn't know anything about, I would jot down enough information so that the next time I was at the library, I would pull out one of those giant encyclopedia volumes and read up on what I didn't know.

After Frank Reynolds died in 1983, Peter Jennings took over the sole anchor responsibilities full-time and every single evening, I looked forward to the opening ding ding ding ding of the ABC World News Tonight jingle. It was a signal that Peter was about to teach me something new about what was going on in the world I lived in.

I was a faithful Peter Jennings viewer - always tuning into him (and skipping over CNN) for any of the important, breaking coverage. Yes, even after I could get all of my news over the internet.

When he passed away in 2005, I felt like I had lost the older brother or uncle that I never had. When he died, I knew that broadcast television news would never be the same and you know, it hasn't. I don't watch television news anymore because there's zero credibility in the reporting (not to mention the fact that everything seems to be 20 second soundbites).

Sadly, I think my generation was the last to grow up with credible television news anchors/reporters.

September 1983 - The City Spins Around

My parents split up near the end of 7th grade. It had been coming for awhile, we could all feel it. And divorces in 1979 were getting to be quite popular so it's not like we were any more or less special than the next family.

Unfortunately, the next four years of my life were some of the worst I ever experienced. Or maybe I should say - the worst that those around me ever experienced.

I didn't know how to deal with the split up of my parents. I was the first born - the responsible one. But also the one who was to blame. Or so I was told (over and over again).

During 1982 and 1983, I attended five high schools. One of them twice. I was shipped from one parent to another - from one relative to another. No one knew what to do with me. I had closed up on the inside and I couldn't express what was going on internally. I was frozen from the inside out.

And then, one tragic, awful situation, unleashed the anger and sadness and betrayal that lived inside of me.

I didn't know the Osbornes. I don't even recall reading anything with Dan Osborne's name on it.

It was all over the news. The paper. The television. It was all anyone could talk about. Me, I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted people to stop talking about it. It was annoying. Wasn't there anything else to talk about?

And then one day, I saw a picture of her - Caroline Osborne - only for a few seconds. The news articles - the television reports - all of the details came flooding at me at once.

Caroline was 2.
Caroline was sexually assaulted.
Caroline was meant to die.
Caroline wandered around her home for two days - seeing her dead family and not understanding.

And after not being able to display emotions for what seemed like years, I broke down. I don't mean cried - I mean for four hours, my body shook and trembled like never before (and as I type this, the memories are right there - so close to the surface).

I was so angry.

At God. I hated him with every bit of life inside of me. He was cruel and mean and I would never forgive him for all of this bad stuff - my parents, me, Caroline Osborne, her family. He was no God of mine. I had been a hypocrite for so many years. Just pray. Just believe. Yeah. Right. And watch the evil world win because that's how it works. You get to be dumb and stupid and a believer while everyone else is winning.

At my mom. She ran away - she didn't defend us. She didn't protect me. She lied to me. Many times. I trusted her. She hijacked my trust and left me feeling like I had no one.

At my dad. He couldn't keep it together. He had to blame a 12 year old kid for his failures. He couldn't control his anger. He was a coward. He abandoned his family.

At my friends. They didn't understand me. They didn't want to see me for me - they only wanted to see me for what I had been before. Smart. Strong. The leader.

I needed someone. I had no one. In many ways, I felt like little Caroline Osborne...wandering around, battered, bruised, confused, but too naive to understand how the situation came to be. And all I wanted was for everything to be the way it was before it got all messed up. I wanted my life back. I wanted my family back. I wanted my neighborhood back. I wanted my friends back. I wanted some semblence of normalacy and happiness back.

Only, it was never going to happen. Nothing was reversible. I was 16 - and the world sucked in a way that made me not want to live. The pain just seemed to be endless. I wasn't sure how I was going to make it another day.