Saturday, December 20, 2008
Brrr....
In this season, I'm thankful for my ankle length puffer coat.Oh, it's just about the most unflattering thing I've ever worn in my entire life (and I grew up in the era of stretch pants and scrunchies). But it's warm. Oh, my goodness, it's warm.
I thought twice about breaking it out, but my assignment Friday required it. I was on the storm team.
Yes, the dreaded storm team. That meant that while everyone was bustling home, I was bundling up and finding people who braved the storm.
I tried to postpone it. I really thought that maybe the meteorologists were wrong. I slipped into my brown tweed coat, zipped up my flat brown boots over my hiking socks, and called it a day. That morning it was cold, but clear as I drove to work.
I was prepared though. The night before, I hit up Wal-Mart and stacked up on the essentials. Heat. A fleece blanket. Ice melter. Anti-freeze. In my backseat, I had a reusable shopping bag filled with canned soup, peanut butter and crackers, bottled water, bottled Arizona iced tea (lemon, please), and plastic silverware. I even through a thick scarf and my puffy sausage jacket in the back, just in case. Oh, I was ready.
By the time 2 p.m. came around, it was still pretty clear in Providence. We looked at the radar.
It was all green, except for Providence. It was just a matter of time. I hooked up with a photographer and we headed out. My assignment was to go to the airport and talked to people who were stranded, and go to the mall to see if anyone was shopping in the middle of the blizzard.
Of course, they were.
Kathy - the photog - and I slogged out way through the blowing snow and slippery slush to take pictures, talk to people and basically freeze our butts off.
We slipped and slid down Interstate 95 back to the office. I filed my notes and, after a quick run to the mall, went to go dig my car out from the nearly foot of snow that was dumped on New England.
I thought I was smart, parking in the garage. I figured at best, my wouldn't end up looking like this poor soul's did.
See that? When I came in around noon, the parking lot was empty. Everyone was trying to fit into the garage. I lucked up and found a spot right at the entrance on the second floor.
But here's one piece of advice: park toward the inside of the garage -- always.
Labels: 24-hour news cycle, I-ain't-never-scared, musings, reporting, weather
continue...Tuesday, January 22, 2008
I wonder...
Here's my question... and possibly a volatile one. (Or not. It's never that deep.)How did your newsroom react when news of Heath Ledger's death crossed the wires?
Here, there were shrieks abound. From the women, at least. The men? Not so much.
"That's unfortunate," one older colleague said. Then he asked me to put out the broadcast script, and that was that.
MSNBC and CNN cut in with breaking news, rehashing Heath's past movie roles and what may have caused his death. And then... back today's other news. The economy. The stimulus package. Oh, and that pesky presidential campaign.
"They're not going all 'Anna Nicole' with the wall-to-wall coverage?" another young, female colleague pondered.
"No... I guess not, huh?" I replied.
Even within our newsroom, the surprise quickly quieted to the usual dull roar. I cocked my head to the side.
"You know," I countered, turning back to my co-worker, "I bet if women ran the newsrooms, it would be SOOO 'Anna Nicole' with Heath."
"You think?" she asked.
"Yeah!" I pointed to the reactions just 15 minutes earlier. We freaked. The guys, again... not so much.
Then I pointed to the text messages and Facebook communiques that started coming in. All but one, from women.
"So you're saying because Anna Nicole was a chick, she got all the attention?" my co-worker said. It was her turn to cock her head to the side.
"Hmmm... I think I see where you're going with this."
Labels: 24-hour news cycle, broadcasting, journalism, musings
continue...Monday, December 03, 2007
A Lesson in Journalism ... from an Athlete
It's been one of those days where it's easy to forget that you're a journalist, and just as easy to be irritated with your industry. No, scratch that, this whole week has been that way.Today was the funeral of Sean Taylor, aired live on several local stations. I watched as his family, his teammates, his longtime girlfriend fought to get through the three-and-a-half hour service without breaking down. Some were successful. But most weren't.
Tears stung my eyes, while some spilled onto the cheeks of a coworker. It was hard. It was heartbreaking. A supervisor said she wasn't watching specifically because she didn't want to end up sobbing at her desk. And I wanted to turn away myself at times.
But what was keeping me glued in? The fact that for once, in this terrible, terrible week, Sean Taylor was being remembered for what he truly was, by people who truly knew him. Not being analyzed by desk-dwelling anchors. Not being examined by columnists who didn't know him personally. And not being dragged into the tired news narrative that implies everytime a young black man dies, it must have been because of the nature of his "thug" lifestyle.
Luckily, for Sean, his family and his memory, I wasn't the only one choked with frustration. With a bit of a swarm of media people at the service, those who had the opportunity took the chance to bite back at everyone who "reported" on Sean's "thug lifestyle" throughout the week.
Otis Wallace, the mayor of Florida City summed up the sentiment -- saying the media should be ashamed for jumping to conclusions merely on speculation. And he added that he hopes "the media gets a small lesson in grace and humility" from it all.
At my desk, I nodded in agreement and said a quiet "thank you." And an arena-full of mourners stood to applaud, loudly.
But I couldn't help but wonder -- how many times will that quote show up in tomorrow's papers? Will journalists be willing to examine themselves, just as critically as they examined Sean?
I did a Google search. The Washington Post's Jason La Canfora is the only one so far to do so, in his Redskins Insider blog.
I hope it won't stay that way.
When Sean was first wounded, journalists found it necessary report legal woes from years ago, stemming from an incident where he allegedly brandished a gun while trying to keep men from stealing his property. Some, in Sean's death, found it necessary to recount the times he got in trouble on the field. Their implication -- that Sean fell to a lifestyle that, as his loved ones say, he actually wasn't involved in.
So will those same journalists feel the need to report on the open criticism of their work (used loosely) at Sean's service? Will they note that Wallace's words, and the same sentiment from other speakers, drew the some loudest, most earnest applause?
I hope so. We're supposed to report the full story, right?
Labels: 24-hour news cycle, broadcasting, diversity, frustration, industry analysis, journalism, prejudice, sports, the industry
continue...Friday, October 19, 2007
A quick note
I'm exhausted. Physically and Mentally.After a whirlwind weeklong celebration of my 24th year of life last week, I got thrust into this trial on Monday.
I walked into the office and my boss calls me into the office and tells me to haul tail to the Kent County Courthouse for jury selection. See, in addition to covering the town of West Warwick, I also cover county courts for my bureau. I was a little upset that I hadn't know this was coming down the pipeline, but I headed down to the courthouse and sat through two days of jury selection.
I've been covering the trial ever since. At each break and recess, I call the Web team at the paper and give them an update. After court wraps for the day, I head to the office (or file remotely if I can) and write up about 18 inches for the next day's paper. Yesterday, I crafted this tale based on the testimony of one witness.
Besides sitting on those hard wooden court benches all day, the case is just kind of trying. I have a heart, so to think that someone could hurt an innocent child like this is really upsetting. I haven't been getting a lot of sleep -- not necessarily because of this alone -- so that's been making things rough as well.
Today, I'm writing for tomorrow and after listening to testimony, I have absolutely no idea what I want to write about. I've spent the last 15 minutes trying to choke down cold Chinese food from lunch. I'm too exhausted (or lazy, take your pick) to go to the microwave in the conference room. It's 5:50 p.m. My story? Due in one hour and 10 minutes.
I have no focus. My head is blank.
This should be interesting.
Labels: 24-hour news cycle, burnout, courts, deep doo-doo, writing
continue...Tuesday, September 11, 2007
How many picas of grief are enough?
I was browsing The New York Times Web site this morning and saw some photos from a 9/11 memorial that happened in the city. The photo was featured prominently in the middle of the Web site, on the main screen.I glanced over it and kept moving. Didn't stop to read the story, look at the pictures or, I'm ashamed to admit, say a prayer for those who lost their lives in the event. I just moved on to the next story.
Later in the day, I revisited the site, expecting again, to glance over the photos of flowers, grieving family members and flags. Instead, I saw a photo of Sen. John McCain speaking to the the Senate Foreign Relations Committee.
I did a double take. For a spit second, I was offended. Here we were at ground zero and I'm hearing about John McCain instead of these attacks which took so many lives. But then I realized that really, I didn't need the memorial story. I knew what it was going to say before I read it. That's why I passed it by.
But I guess I still just wanted to know it was there. Despite my lack of interest in it.
Today, in the City Room, The Times is publishing first person accounts from reporters who covered the 9/11 attacks. One post, from Style reporter Joyce Wadler, particularly struck me.
"I’m not too crazy about this idea. 9/11 stories. Does anybody really need any more? Aren’t the pictures enough?" she writes. "The thing about these 9/11 stories, they seem to me to have become war stories, entertainments, the thing you trot out at a dinner party. "
Save the people directly impacted by the attacks, most people have, at most, respect for the event, and at the least, a sort of weariness that comes with having a single day rehashed in excruciating detail.
So on to the journalism: How do we as reporters advance this story? We write about Iraq every day. Osama just released a new tape so he's in the news. We cover the memorials, the flags and the ceremonies.
Do we give people more or do we report on the burnout that some people are experiencing surrounding the commemoration (a friend of mine wrote a Facebook note today telling people to 'it's okay to get over 9/11,' and he wasn't met with open arms)?
What else can we do? Or should we do anything?
Labels: 24-hour news cycle, journalism, lessons, the industry
continue...Sunday, August 19, 2007
Goodies, with love
I love this item. Saw it on sportsjournalists.com:"Even though I’m a now a recovering sportswriter, bear with me.
As a reporter at the Minneapolis Star Tribune, the past few days have been just a smidge busier than normal with the bridge collapse.
Anyway, I wanted to share one story. On Saturday, a large box of food, sweets, goodies arrived at our newsroom from the folks at The Roanoke Times. As anyone who has covered a big story knows, it’s pretty much go, go, go for as long as possible and the gesture was great. Very cool.
Following is the note we got from the folks in Roanoke. So if there’s anybody on here from there, thanks a lot."
To Star Tribune journalists:
A few days after the Virginia Tech shootings, a large box arrived in our newsroom. Inside was a note and lots of stress-relieving junk food like you’ll find in this box. The note was from Joe Haight, managing editor of The Oklahoman of Oklahoma City. Joe wrote that similar boxes arrived in his newsroom after the McVeigh bombings. He recalled what that gesture meant to his staff, which had been worn down to a nub covering the catastrophic community event.
We were so moved that we vowed to pass it on when we next sensed a newsroom could use a little pick-me-up. So please consider this a journalistic chain letter of sorts, one that you’ll pass on when the next bulletin breaks in a newsroom somewhere in America.
Enjoy the snacks. Sorry we couldn’t send beer (company policy, ya know). And most of all, take care of yourselves.
The Roanoke Times newsroom
Labels: 24-hour news cycle, heart, the industry
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