•March 23, 2018 • Leave a Comment

THE GREAT LAKES ARE HOME TO THE LARGEST BODY OF FRESH WATER IN THE WORLD. It has been said that if you stood on the moon, you would instantly recognize the enormity of the Great Lakes: Superior, Michigan, Huron, Ontario and Erie. Covering more than 94,000 square miles, these “freshwater seas” hold “an estimated 6 quadrillion gallons of water, or about one-fifth of the world’s fresh surface water supply,” according to the Great Lakes Information Center. In the U.S. alone, these magnificent lakes account for about nine-tenths of the U.S. supply of fresh surface water.
So the idea that yet another nuclear power plant could surface on Lake Erie — there are already three — should scare the daylights out of everyone. Both the Davis-Besse and Perry Nuclear Power Plants are located adjacent to Lake Erie, and in Michigan, the Fermi II plant is located next to Lake Erie near the city of Monroe.

There have already been two near catastrophes at Davis-Besse. According to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, the plant was responsible for “two of the top five most dangerous nuclear incidents in the United States” since 1979.

So when people say, “not in my backyard” to wind turbines on Lake Erie, have they considered that just one catastrophe on Lake Erie could decimate up to one-fifth of the world’s fresh water supply?

I sure have.

If your ‘backyard’ is Lake Erie — everyone should embrace the future — now. We should do it before Ontario puts a fourth nuclear power plant on the shores of this — the most shallow of all of the Great Lakes. Estimates from a 2004 Renewable Energy Policy Project (REPP) report states that 12,000 wind-industry jobs could be created in Ohio, a region decimated by the loss of manufacturing jobs. That is second only to California.

For once, we should follow the lead of the innovative visionaries in Holland who have not only embraced wind farms, but dozens of other innovative environmental solutions.

We need to take the leap — and accelerate the development of renewable energy on the shores of Lake Erie and the Great Lakes as a whole.

In Ohio, Michigan, and the Midwest, millions are out of work. The fear of losing it all is beginning to hit home. In that context, this NIMBY—not-in-my-backyard mentality over wind turbines just doesn’t work anymore —especially with a fourth nuclear power plant on Lake Erie’s horizon.

People need jobs. We need power. The future of power generation in the Midwest is there for the taking. We can shift to wind power and push the nuclear threat away from the shores of our Great Lakes.

It is irresponsible to not act.

#NIMBY #Nuclear #GreatLakes #LakeErie
PHOTO CREDIT: dani_boi1221



•December 8, 2017 • Leave a Comment

There’s no doubt that Natalie Gehrki was a creative spirit … an artist. Her mind wandered with thoughts of Bukowski and Oscar Wilde .. often with inspired optimism and an endearing childlike innocence. But there was also confusion .. and yes, darkness. . .visits to a netherworld Natalie couldn’t understand.


•January 20, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Here’s a link to my 1991 film about the homeless. . .including homeless war vets. It’s amazing how relevant it still is today.

Amplify’d from
THE PROMISED LAND – a film by Kevin P. Miller (1991)
It is one of my earliest films, yet ‘The Promised Land’ remains among my most beloved. This documentary, initially created in about five weeks’ time for a local ABC-TV affiliate, won a slew of regional Emmy’s, was nominated for a national Emmy award, and captured a Bronze Medal in the category of “International TV Programming” from the N.Y. International Film & Television Festival in 1992.

When it aired, ‘The Promised Land’ was the highest-ranked TV program in prime time, but most importantly, it raised nearly $500,000 in donations after its first showing — and just under $1,000,000 total. The donations went directly to transitional housing, veterans groups, Foodbanks and job training for the poor and homeless.




•December 3, 2010 • Leave a Comment

MY BEST GUESS IS THAT ABOUT THREE MINUTES HAD ELAPSED. I awoke to a surreal din of extraneous audio, a cacophony of murmurs, cars, and even the wind echoing and blending together like the elements of a great soundtrack that had yet to be mixed.

It was very much the stuff of fantasies, and as the darkness slowly lifted, I was still confused and disoriented. Amid the shock and the jumble of thoughts, however, I didn’t realize that I was lucky to be alive.

So many times in my life, perhaps too often to recall, the Angels have been at my side. I have been saved countless times and lived through events I never dreamt possible —and in each case, I felt the hand of a powerful presence beside me.

One such incident came as a young man in my twenties as I returned from a Halloween party. It was late, somewhere around three in the morning, and as I made my way from the party, I approached an entrance ramp to the Expressway outside Boston. After a few seconds I approached a car — on fire and blocking the entrance ramp.

I panicked for a few seconds. Was there someone in the car unconscious or injured? I parked 50 yards away from the burning Chevy and approached the car cautiously.

I wrapped my hands in some rags and inched my way forward. . .frightened but just ignorant enough to continue. As I reached the car, I opened the drivers’ side door and backed off quickly, which allowed some of the smoke from inside the vehicle to dissipate in the chilly October air. Then I lunged into the front seat, yelling “Is anyone in here? Is anyone HERE?” I began by feeling around the front seat and floor, flailing my arms about like a mad man. The smoke and flames were awful, and quickly drove me back outside. I retreated ten feet, took a deep breath and dove into the backseat, frantically searching again.

I found no one, but I did hear a voice saying, “Get out NOW” and I obliged.

As I walked back to my car, coughing and wiping my eyes, the car exploded like something out of Hollywood pyrotechnics display.

That Halloween eve, I was dressed as Clark Kent — but on that night, Superman didn’t rescue anyone. The suit was ruined, singed by fire and smoke, but I had been saved — again.

It is one of probably two dozen times I can recall feeling a spiritual presence directing me away from or warning me of imminent danger.

IN JULY OF 2008, it happened again. I looked up at a dark gray sky, still groggy and filled with ethereal visions, when I heard my son’s voice. I was floating, it seemed, when a wisp of his voluminous hair drifted into my periphery.

“Dad,” he said. “DAD!”

The fact that I had awakened at all had not yet dawned on me, but I felt beautifully calm.

“DAD,” Gabe said again, more determined than ever to get a response. Finally, I could see him clearly and realized what had just happened. I was being loaded into an ambulance.

We had just been in an accident. . .forced into an unmarked, elongated pit. The two of us were on my beloved Yamaha 180cc motor scooter. I had successfully slowed down the bike — well aware of my precious cargo on the back — and had skillfully navigated the road that had engulfed us on the last 100 feet of our journey.

As we hit the back of the pit, I was catapulted from the scooter. My son, as any father would have planned it, landed on top of me, suffering only from some road rash on his forearm and some bruises.

As I lay in the hospital awaiting yet another MRI, the immensity of my good fortune began to overpower the physical pain I felt. I was alone in the room and had no idea that tears were streaming down my cheeks as the nurse entered the room.

“Ohhhh…” she said with obvious sensitivity. “You must be in a lot of pain right now.”

“I am,” I answered. “But I am just so grateful that my son is all right.”

I have rarely been a fearful person, but today I am much less afraid than I used to be. The process of wounding can awaken us to our strength — if we are willing to examine life through the lens of our Blessings, not our challenges. A life- threatening event can re-shuffle our values, and what emerges from our soul searching is scarcely about anything material.

It’s never about perfection or power — or the politics at work. For me, it’s always about love; whom we cherish and whom we can touch.

Knowing that we are vulnerable — and that our time here is limited — we’re free to choose a different path for ourselves. We’re free to live more passionately and to question what’s worth fighting for and who we really are in this world.

To me, our real strength lies buried in the depths of the wounds we have survived. It could be a tragic death, or it could be a divorce, but it need not take a life-threatening event to pursue a more meaningful life.

This time around, all it took for me was to see the wisp of my Gabe’s hair floating by as I was having a conversation with Angels. As I left their embrace, they whispered, “there is more to do.”

And so I thanked God for my son — and for my life — so very grateful that my path was illuminated so long ago.

11 COMMENTS $manage-tooltip$
Radiate Soul Light said…
Oh Sweet Angel Kevin, in those moments when Angel’s wings brushed your BEingness in LOVE and Light, it was YOU, in the ALL of YOUr Truth, Blessing YOU!
YOU are the Angel of Mercy, Guidance, Awareness, Love, Compassion, Peace and so much more!! 

We are the gods and goddesses to whom so many pray- erroneously believing another will come to save their day, when in TRUTH, it is WE, who ARE the Angels, Gods and Goddesses with the infinite divine powers to BE the BEautiFull BEings of Light and LOVE, such are THEE :O)
May the BEauty of YOUr LOVing BEingness ALLways Bless YOU in such Miraculous TRUTH.
Thank YOU so much for sharing in such personal moments of such inspiring LOVE!!
Blessedly BE
Radiate Soul Light

04:48 PM
Dear Radiate: 

Thank YOU so much for sharing your feelings and insights with this humble writer.

Whether we are part of the All, whether it is an Act of God or self-preservation, I cannot say. I write what I am guided by intuition to write…and certainly pray that others find some meaning in my words.

I am so grateful to you for your kind blessings and loving support of my work. It means a great deal to me!

Be well,

04:49 PM
msvicky said…

Thank you for your stories of personal inspiration. Everyone may take away something different, yet lead to the introspection they may need to gain strength in their lives.

A dear friend gave me a book several years ago, Streams in the Desert, which is filled with writings & scripture. A particular bookmarked page for me talks about the sweetest joys in life coming from the fruits of sorrow and how human nature seems to need suffering to make it it fit to be a blessing to the world.

Although we all may suffer trials in this life we can decide to take the path of listening and applying the strength and blessing we gain to enrich our spirits and those around us. Thank you again for sharing this in your writing.


09:50 PM
dear msvicky: 

you are a very wise woman. THANK YOU for your lovely response to ANGELS and AIRWAVES. You are correct that it is my great hope that others will read my work and then examine the words within the context of their own lives.

it is a blessing to have your thoughts and feelings expressed here. I thank you….and hope you do so often!


09:51 PM
HerbNewborg said… 


I am sitting here in tears after reading the account of the accident in July.

I am so glad to hear that you were blessed, as your work has blessed the lives of so many others, with a hedge of protection around your son.

I hope you have fully recovered from whatever injury you sustained.

May God continue to bless you and yours,

10:52 PM
Kevin P. Miller said…

You are so very kind to share your thoughts with me regarding ANGELS and AIRWAVES. Your words touch me personally because they are living verification that my God-given instincts are right on the mark.

If I could request one thing of you, it would be to “pass it forward,” and share your kindness with someone in need.

But then, my instincts tell me that you are ALREADY doing so. Thanks again for your kindness. I truly appreciate it!

Be well,


10:54 PM
Heidi Ohlander said… 


What a beautiful post.

Sometimes in chaotic moments we call life we can learn how to live more meaningful lives.

I know I have had more insight in the purpose in my life in the past two weeks than I have had in the past two years. Same mission, same purpose, but now with more intensity and passion than ever before.

May the Angels be watching over both of us, and anyone reading this comment.

And to the Angels: Thanks for the nice thoughts you’re whispering in my dreams, but don’t take me yet. I still have work to do.

~ Heidi

10:55 PM
Kevin P. Miller said… 

Amen, Heidi. Amen.

Thanks for writing!


10:56 PM
For some reason , after meeting you last Wednesday, I felt compelled and propelled with curiosity to learn more about you and to do some investigating regarding the “written account” of the ‘accident’ you had described to me. With informational tidbits and the power of google at my disposal, it did’nt take long for me to find this.       Wow.  I had suspected that you were not one of those people who run about caling themselves “writers”. I see you have the chops to back it up and I am not really surprised. This is a very touching piece. Sooooo  pleased that  “there is more to do”. 

Peace and blessings,
(p.s. such lovely commentsfrom all – Angels and Airwaves indeed).

11:32 PM
Hi MT: 

So glad you found me — and this story in particular. I am so pleased you enjoyed it.  Since you have not ‘put your feet in the water’ and decided to write, well, it is a great joy to proclaim that you will find yourself blessed every time you sit down to do so.

Writing is salve for the soul — and you seem to have a good soul already. Enjoy yourself, let it flow, and please stay in touch often!

Be well,

12:25 AM
“…our real strength lies buried in the depths of the wounds we have survived.” 

Kevin, beautiful words… that definitely spoke to ME! I guess I’m “lucky” that I haven’t had the life-threatening experiences you have but I feel a kinship with your fearlessness, on an emotional level. The wounds that have ripped my heart open are what have given me a new capacity for love.

Thank you for sharing.

03:00 PM


•November 13, 2010 • 4 Comments

IT IS 4:00 IN THE MORNING AND VOICES ARE ECHOING strangely in a blur of confusing sounds. They meld together — trails of lights and moans. . .then screams. . .then more screams.

Wherever I am trapped, I reflexively fear for my children. “WHERE ARE YOU,” I yell to no one. “I CAN’T SEE YOU.” Yet another scream — this one is closeby and rattles me to my core.

Panicked, I sit up in bed, sweating profusely — confused and anxious, weary, but wired. My heart is racing. . .I am breathing heavily, and more than a little freaked out. I have no idea where I am.

I launch myself out of bed and begin moving through the darkness towards the shrill sounds of conflict. The voices get louder as I, completely blinded by blackness, run into the corner of a desk. Grimacing, I look up to find the tiniest pinhole of light, so I head towards it seconds before one more blood-curdling scream.

I open the door rapidly and spy two women: one is bloody around her mouth, the other has scratches on her arm. I see a man in the doorway to his hotel…he is trying to pull the women into his room.

HEY!” I yell. “LET THEM GO!” As I try to reach the man he loosens his grip and frees the women: one has obviously being struck by the mystery man. As I reach for the doorknob he slams the door shut and the two ladies lunge away and hug me, shivering.

They are speaking Chinese, a mile-a-minute.

I invite them into my room. “Let me call security…please come in.” They follow; I turn on a light, shaking a bit as I reach for the phone.

I look at the girls; they are both smiling. I now realize that I have no clothes on, except for my boxer shorts. After instantly turning red-faced, I excuse myself and dash for the bathroom to grab a robe. For the few minutes before security arrives, I politely speak broken Chinese, trying to calm them.

The young ladies giggle as I butcher their language…only to jump as a knock on the door startles the awkward silence. With the hotel security standing before me, I tell them what had just occurred. The girls both hug me, utter something, and leave.

It is now 4:08 a.m. — and I’m definitely not going back to sleep. I whip open the curtains and the serenity a beautiful city on the water is revealed. The lights flicker off the surface of the river. . .and finally, I sit down, take a deep breath and admire the monumental city across the Harbor.

Welcome to Hong Kong,” I say aloud, “the City of Magic.”

FIVE HOURS LATER I AM SITTING before a Chinese energy healer at the the city’s “first alternative medicine conference. “Ni hao,” I say to greet him. The practitoner smiles and returns the pleasantry. Within a minute he is holding both of my wrists and tilts his head somewhat quizzically.

Sir,” he says is rhythmic English, “you have had some trauma to your heart within the past six hours?”

My mouth drops. I nod. The man instructs one of his assistants, waving his arms and hands, to fetch a small blue vial twenty feet away. He tells me this is a special formula containing Suan Zao Ren (or Sour Date Seed) and directs me to take one immediately and to repeat the dosage at bedtime.

Xie Xie,” I say, thanking him as I began to rise, but before I can leave, he puts his palms out, requesting that I stay seated. He again speaks to his assistant, who hurries off. Within minutes, an older Chinese man in his 80s returns with the female. He sits before me and smiles, and like the previous healer, takes me wrists, then touches my forehead.

Mmmmmm,” he says, while gesturing. He asks me, through a translator, to breathe deeply and slowly, and after a long first night in Hong Kong, I happily comply. The old man then stuns me with what he says next. “You saved those girls,” he declares quietly, pausing for the translator. “You hold Zhen-Shan-Ren close to your heart.” He spends the next few minutes meditating, or so it seems, before standing. He pats me on both sides of my head, and appears to say one final prayer.

Prior to leaving, he turns to the healer and says, “Tell him in his 54th year he will touch millions of people.” Before the healer could relay the message, he smiles, nods and then disappears into the crowd.

Today marks the beginning of my 54th year on this planet. Since I left Hong Kong, I have come to learn that Zhen-Shan-Ren” — for which there was no literal English translation — means that I hold “Truth, Goodness, and Forebearance” close to my heart.

According to the wonderful Chinese elder, Truth, Goodness, and Forebearance is the Highest calling of man.

In this 54th year, may it be so.


•October 20, 2010 • Leave a Comment
FOR EVERYONE WHO TALKS ABOUT MEDIA COP-OUTS AND COWARDICE — and God knows I have done my share of that over the years, today we should all be honoring two hard-nosed journalists — two modern heroes who lost their jobs while fighting to reveal the truth about “the mystery in the milk,” namelyrBGH and rBST. For today, in the State of Ohio, AgriBusiness was delivered a crushing blow when a Federal Appeals Court ruled thatBigFood could no longer censor dairy farms and grocery stores who want to label their milk and dairy products as “rBGH or rBSTfree.”
JANE AKRE AND STEVE WILSON HAVE BEEN HERALDED on these pages many times, long before they appeared in The Corporation or had been written about elsewhere. I met Jane during the early years of the Bush Administration, not long after she and Steve had been summarily fired by Rupert Murdoch’sFaux News for refusing to change the facts of their five-part investigation about Monsanto’sPosilac, the growth hormone that swept through the dairy chain beginning in the mid-90s.
The infirmity of today’s corporate journalism is reflected by the fact that good reporters — the ones who uncover abuses by government and corporate interests — are few and far between, particularly in television news. Nowhere has this been more frighteningly apparent than the saga of reporters Akre and Wilson, two pros who revealed that rBGH, the synthetic growth hormone found in milk and other dairy products, was potentially harmful to humans.

After repeatedly refusing an order by Fox corporate attorneys to present a story more favorable to corporate advertisers (and rBGH-patent holder) Monsanto, Akre and Wilson were fired by the network. And though the story should have been a fight about journalistic ethics, the integrity of science and “covering the backsides of one of their own,” no one at NBC, CBS, ABC or even PBS would report the story.

Akre and Wilson, like a lot of high-profilewhistleblowers, paid a terrible price.

After they won an early lawsuit against their former employers, a phalanx of Fox corporate attorneys appealed the ruling, sparing no expense in the process. Ultimately, a second judge reversed the award given to these two courageous reporters, and ordered Akre and Wilson to fork over $400,000 to Fox.

If the truth is to be told, the lack of integrity among many corporate journalists is indeed the real reason why the rBGH additive exists in the milk supply today. It is also the reason why some estimate that two-thirds of foods on supermarket shelves are laced with genetically enhanced ingredients — without the knowledge of consumers. The media’s lack of attentiveness to public service is also the reason why trans-fats, damned years ago by doctors everywhere, remain in scores of products consumed by millions of children and adults.
The “inside-the-beltway” reporters, perhaps fearing that they would lose precious contacts within the government, have refused to question former FDA second-in-command (and current FDA consultant) Michael R. Taylor about his time at the Department of Agriculture when he helped rBGH slip through the approval process after a mere 90 days of testing on rats, thereby opening the floodgates to a new era of rBGH-laced food. It’s even more curious and scandalous because, as I revealed a decade ago, Taylor not only worked for the Dept. of Agriculture and the FDA…but on Monsanto’s legal team as well.
After billions of dollars of profits by Big Food and Big Pharma have already been registered, a Federal Appeals Court has finally overturned an Ohio state ban on label statements such as “rbGH Free,” “rbST Free” and “artificial hormone free” on milk from cows that have not been treated with genetically modified bovine growth hormone (a.k.a. bovine somatotropin, or rbST). This “freedom of choice” that was granted by the Federal Court came after years of petitioning by health food stores, organic food suppliers and many others.
But for Akre and Wilson, both who are unemployed, the news came far too late. For these heroes—ten years before their time—the pats on the back will not help them feed their families or pay for much-needed health care. Wilson recently had heart surgery; Akre has yet to find another job in television aside from some freelance work she masterfully performed for me a few years back.

As consumers, will we continue to succumb to this bullying? Will we expose the corporate interests that dominate our news? Will we demand balanced reporting from the networks — and boycott their programming if they do not deliver on that basic tenet?

Just as we boast about our nation delivering the finest health care in the world, we often brag about “the free press” here in the United States. But in the words of Julian Whitaker, M.D., “How can we say we live in a free country when we can’t even tell the truth about nutritional supplements?” — and in the tragic case of Akre and Wilson, who are still facing bankruptcy — “How can we say we live in a free country when we can’t even tell the truth about rBGH?”

It is only through the active support of independent journalists and yes, independent filmmakers who dare to produce work with integrity—despite all of the odds— that we will ever attain “fully informed choice.” We must speak for it, vote for it, spend our heard-earned dollars to support it—or it will wither away.
If we fail to support the truth tellers, the forces of secrecy and money will win — and we will all lose.
Just ask Jane Akre and Steve Wilson.
Heroes. A dying breed.


•October 15, 2010 • Leave a Comment

IT’S ONE OF THE MOST FAMOUS LINES EVER WRITTEN, but when Samuel Taylor Coleridge published ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’ he could not have envisioned the nightmarish truth to the words “water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink.”

When I was filming my documentary GENERATION RX, I met a British psychiatrist and we talked about the revelation that Prozac had been discovered in the River Thames . . .had entered the water supply and was literally being consumed by millions of Brits.

“Are people in London really THAT depressed?” I asked him, somewhat sheepishly.

“No, no. . .no,” was his response while chortling.

As it turns out, however, our conversation was no laughing matter.

Over the past few years, events have proven that the concern over drugs in public rivers and streams are not limited to the UK. In America, the Associated Press (AP) uncovered that “at least 271 millions of pounds” of unused pharmaceuticals are being released by the drug companies in our public waterways annually. Millions more are flushed down the toilet and down the drain, according to environmental watchdogs, including the painkillers ibuprofen and naproxen as well as gemifibrozil, a cholesterol-lowering medication, and further research has shown that drugs containing hormones such as estrogen are causing changes and deformities in fish and other aquatic creatures..and endangering human health.

Make no mistake: we are also the victims of industry, hospitals and nursing homes which are pumping powerful contaminants and intoxicants like lithium into the world’s drinking water every single day, which is being mixed in a cesspool of antibiotics, nitroglycerin (a heart drug that is also used in explosives), and dozens of different active pharmaceutical ingredients used for treatment of hypertension, heart disease, chronic liver ailments, depression, gonorrhea, ulcers and other ailments.

It’s not only bad news for the fish, but for tens of millions of us.

If one refuses to take this threat seriously, they need only look to India, where a growing environmental and public health disaster is looming. When researchers analyzed vials of treated wastewater from a plant where about 90 Indian drug factories dump their residues, they were stunned to discover that a powerful antibiotic, ciprofloxacin, was “being spewed into one stream each day.” Enough antibiotics were being released daily “to treat every person in a city of 90,000.”

And it’s not just ciprofloxacin. The water — supposedly cleaned by a wastewater filtration plant — was “a floating soup of 21 different active pharmaceutical ingredients, used in generics for treatment of hypertension, heart disease, chronic liver ailments, depression, gonorrhea, ulcers and other ailments,” according to the AP.

Researchers in India said, “It is the highest levels of pharmaceuticals ever detected in the environment,” but then again, this level of testing has yet to arrive in North America, where the AP has confirmed that this nightmare is coming to an ocean, stream, lake, or landfill near you.

“One thing is clear,” the AP report warned, “the massive amount of pharmaceuticals being flushed by the health services industry is aggravating an emerging problem: the commonplace presence of. . .pharmaceuticals in the nation’s drinking water supplies, affecting at least 46 million Americans.”

The AP series follows one by the New York Times last Spring, the BBC last year, the UK’s Guardian newspaper and probably countless others. Millions of tons of narcotics, antipsychotics, antidepressants, stimulant drugs and more are being ingested by children, the elderly, and well, ALL of us who do not use some kind of sophisticated water purification system.

Now, that the AP has confirmed that codeine, lithium (used in bipolar drugs), blood thinners, chemotherapy agents like fluorouracil, epilepsy drugs and sedatives are being released into the environment by the ton, North America and the rest of the world had better take notice — and take action to protect themselves. Anyone who does not have access to a powerful water filtration system is playing Russian roulette every time they drink water from the tap.

Indeed, the situation gets darker and far more dangerous every single day. As tons of drugs taint the world’s water supply, this issue only underscores the horrors we must confront as petrochemical and other multinationals vie for water privatization — and more power over our health — and our lives.


Kevin P. Miller is an award-winning writer/director. This article was submitted as part of BLOG ACTION DAY 2010.