Mind Your Manners

No less than a week after I posted my ode to my home state, it made national headlines. Again. Thanks, Representative Joe Wilson of South Carolina (though at least he doesn't represent my former Congressional district!).

What is it with celebrities and their manners (or lack thereof) this week? Jon Gosselin publicly declaring his love for the latest 20 something trollop before his divorce is finalized, Serena Williams threatening a line judge with obscenities and a tennis ball, Kanye West injecting himself into someone else's acceptance speech--when will it end?


Unfortunately, this behavior isn't limited to politicians and celebrities. Right now, our country's discourse--political and otherwise--is totally lacking in grace, dignity, civility and respect.

I'm all for Voltaire ("I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it."), but it doesn't extend to bad manners. So, let's lose the senseless epithets, ditch the profanity and brush up on Emily Post. Please? And thank you.

Carolina in My Mind

Even though I live only one state away, I still get homesick for South Carolina. Yes, Civil War, Mark Sanford and endless fodder for late night jokes notwithstanding, I love my home state.

I recently started reading Pat Conroy's South of Broad, and I'm savoring every flawed character, every nuanced turn of phrase, every classically picturesque setting. No one evokes the spirit, the essence, the guts and soul of South Carolina and its people like Pat Conroy. Throw in a peach (say what you will, but South Carolina is the true "peach state"), James Taylor (even if he did sing about the wrong Carolina), the movie Shag (Skyview Drive-Inn!) and some beach music (Carolina girls ARE the best in the world), and I'm goin' to Carolina in my mind.

Weary Wednesdays: And Another One Bites the Dust

South Carolina. Home of smiling faces, beautiful places and countless scandals. From the first shots fired on Ft. Sumter, my home state has been a hotbed for notoriety (do the names Shannon Faulkner and Susan Smith ring a bell?), most recently with Governor Mark Sanford's mysterious disappearance and hike on the Appalachian Trail, which apparently now extends all the way to Argentina.

While his year-long affair with an Argentinian woman seems to be the big story, the more fascinating part of this tale for me is his week-long disappearance. Politicians have been having affairs since the beginning of time, but I can't remember the last time one went completely AWOL. Can you imagine Jed Bartlett taking off without Leo McGarry knowing his whereabouts?

What a failure in crisis communications. And if his staff did have a crisis plan, they certainly didn't use it. While the average Jane might be able to take a week's vacation for a secret international tryst disguised as a solo hike in the wilderness, you just can't get away with that when you're an elected official. And the cover story they concocted was simply ludicrous, especially considering that it was Father's Day weekend, his wife pretty much said she didn't know or care about his whereabouts AND Sanford's car was found parked at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport.

I've dealt with my share of communications crises, and I'm grateful that none of them were this newsworthy (though we were still getting angry emails about ASO Principal Guest Conductor Donald Runnicles several months after he mouthed off about moving to Canada!). I do feel bad for his staff, because tactically, it's kind of impossible to manage media relations if your client keeps you in the dark. But if your own wife tells the press she has no clue where you are, you know the jig is going to be up--and soon. While his affair may have caught up with him eventually, Sanford could have dealt with it on his own terms if he'd had the common sense to 1. concoct a decent cover story and 2. keep his communications staff in the loop.

And this is exactly why--in spite of my daydreams about becoming the next C. J. Cregg'--I will happily stick to lifestyle and arts/entertainment PR. And pray that my clients don't suddenly develop a penchant for trashing hotels, and if they do, that they're not quite famous enough for Perez Hilton to care!