Some Things I've Learned

One of the greatest perks of my job is that I get to meet the most interesting people. I also get to learn something new every day.

So here are some things I have learned:

• Thirty years of being an Elvis Impersonator will give you a hip condition known as "Elvis Pelvis." I asked if he has problems with his hips and he busted out laughing. His doctor coined the name.
• When asked to talk to an eighth grade class about careers don't tell them the one story that always makes you cry. The story that makes me cry happened years ago at another paper. I had to interview the volunteer of the year. She was impossible to get in contact with. Finally late one night I called her and we talked. At one point in the conversation I asked her why she volunteers and she gave me an answer about how she wants to help people. I noticed a catch in her voice, nothing big. "No, why do you volunteer? What motivates you?" The woman was quiet for a full minute before she spoke again. "I've never told anyone this before," she said. Then she told me about the worst day of her life. Late one night two counties away her husband and two little boys were coming home. They missed a curve on a country road and crashed. Her husband and two little boys were killed instantly. She only had a broken leg but was trapped in the car. She prayed to God to spare the lives of her husband and sons and to take her instead. As she lay trapped in the car begging to be taken, she heard a voice say, "Not yet, you have more work to do." "I guess that's why I volunteer." That story gets me every time, and so in front of a class of eighth graders, I cried.
• Homework can be fun. I did a story on the new homework center at the middle school. I sat down and started talking to one of the boys who was typing in a story. We had so much fun laughing. I went back the next week just to check in on things. I had a great time, once again. If this reporter thing doesn't work out . . .
• Good training can tame fear. I talked with World War II vet who survived a plane crash. They were on a mission over Berlin when their engine was shot out. They started to go down. I asked if he was scared, what was he feeling, was he afraid he was going to die? He said no. Their training kicked in. They threw a bunch of loose stuff out of the B-17. Then they took cover in the radio room. The pilot and co-pilot crashed landed the plane in a freshly plowed field. They kept the guns loaded because they didn't know where they had crashed. Villagers crowded around the plane, peering into the armed 50 caliber guns. Finally a little boy who spoke some English said they had crashed in Belgium, just 15 miles from the German boarder. They plummeted 25,000 feet out of the sky, but he wasn't scared. Makes me want to get trained. In something . . .
• Crazy has many forms; sometimes it's all about Christmas. I went to this house right before Thanksgiving. They had 18 Christmas trees, over 100 nutcrackers, 60 or more creepy animated Santas and Mrs. Clause statues, angels and Santas from around the world. There were Christmas trees in each of the bathrooms. These people even had a life sized Santa in the tower. Yes, the tower. I asked their children if they like the Christmas stuff. Both kids - elementary aged - snarled an emphatic "No!" Hmmmm. Their therapy sessions should be interesting.

And oh so much more.

TARB

Incredible

As I drove by I wondered what the Equine Center does. I stopped and asked. That's how I ended up with the horse surgery story and witnessed one of the most incredible things in my life.

The woman I first talked to kept saying, "I don't know that we do anything special." I could tell by the gigantic plastic hose that they stuff down the horses' throat that this was to be unlike anything that I've ever seen.

That's how I found myself witnessing a 1,150 pound horse flipped over onto her back, and lifted into the air by her feet. They put her on to the operating table an the two techs and doctor struggled to push the horse into the operating room.

It was perhaps one of the most unusual things I've ever seen.

Big Green (or Orange)

I have a new beat, ya'all: Giant Vegetables. Last week it was the Giant Pumpkin Guy. No joke, that's what everyone calls him. He also goes by Sonny. He's older, with an old dog. A widower. The pumpkins are a way for him to keep himself distracted. Twenty of the giants grow in his garden. A week ago it was 450 pounds. I bet its near to 500 pounds by now. He's our local expert, the one all the newbies turn to for help. And when those newbies don't take his advice, they get his friendly ribbing.

The pumpkins grow under tarps to keep the skins from splitting. The vines are tied back to keep the pumpkins from growing onto them. Then there's the Bondo. When the skins get damaged, they have to be repaired with Bondo for pumpkins.

Sonny dreams about his pumpkins, and yet he claims not to be obsessed. The pumpkin growing inside a tire is the result of a dream.

Sonny's pumpkins turn heads. Helicopters and planes fly low overhead to check out his crop. Sonny waves to them. He's usually outside. He has twenty pumpkins to take care of. Do you know the kind of work involved in that? Half hour per pumpkin each day. That's 10 hours a day.
Not to mention the rest of the garden: corn, beets, peppers, tomatoes, eggplant, hot peppers (so hot the Mexican workers from down the road stay away).

So the pumpkin guy made it into the paper. That's where the Tomato Plant Couple got the idea to call about their tomato plant. It reaches 12 feet tall and if the frost holds off, Ida will be able to pick tomatoes from her bedroom window. As it is the plant is just a foot below her window. The plant is thriving in a patch of earth 15 inches by 24 inches. Dominic kept adding tomato cages and there are now 7 of them. Adding more is out of the question. It takes a big ladder and lots of balance and Dominic lacks both.

Ask the couple what they use the tomatoes for and they answer in unison, "Pasta!"

"We're Italian," Ida explains. "We make our own ravioli and gnocchi. He makes a great sauce and I make the dough."

My mouth waters.

"We didn't really think much of it," Ida explains. "Then everyone kept saying, 'Its so big, why don't you tell the paper?' We didn't think anyone would want to know about our tomato plant, but then we saw the Giant Pumpkin Guy . . ."

So it looks like I have new beat. I can't wait for the next giant veggie. What will it be? A zucchini that needs a pallet? A green pepper the size of a basketball?

TARB

War and Warriors

I'm not much of a Patriot. I'll admit that. As an LJ or just a J, for that matter, I try not to be politically affiliated. Here's the deal: I don't like being a sheep. I don't like being told what to do or think by others. Democrats, Republicans, I won't follow anyone who tries to manipulate me and they all do.

At my first school board meeting I was asked to lead the group in the Pledge of Allegiance. It was an uncomfortable moment for me. First, I hadn't really said the Pledge in, like, twenty years or more and I couldn't remember how it went - in English. I can say it perfectly in Spanish. Second, when I was in school, I refused to say the Pledge in the first place. It was a personal choice and I didn't make a big deal out of it. I was just irritated that we said it without question about that whole separation of church and state thing. You know, "under God." I'm a history fiend. I looked it up and the original Pledge didn't have the God part. So I just didn't say it. Third, taking oaths and making pledges is against my religion. Leading the school board in the Pledge and violating my religious beliefs - kinda uncomfortable.

In my job as an LJ I have to talk to a lot of people from a lot of different backgrounds. They often surprise me. A VFW Auxiliary woman told me that she wishes President Bush's name was on the Vietnam Wall. "When I see that wall, I wonder, 'How many more walls?'" she said. What a remarkable thing to say.

One of the unenviable parts of my job is asking the really hard questions of people who have already been through enough in their lives. Operation Injured Soldier was founded by an Iraq War Vet. He was severely injured when the fuel truck he was riding in hit an IED. The explosion was devastating. Tony was terribly burned and he lost part of his hand and has burns on his face. The driver of the truck died. "I think about him every day," he told me. "He was just a kid out of basic." I had to ask him about that day. It is the story. "Tony," I said. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I understand, but can you please tell me about that day?" His voice strained with emotion, and he told me about his experience. I was shaking. He ended the interview with a fine quote. "It doesn't matter if you are for or against the war," he said. "This isn't about politics. This is about them."

In this blog I wrote about my encounter with the panel of Vietnam Vets who talked with the High School students. I often think about those kids sitting in perfect silence as one Vet read from his book about being in the war. He wrote about coming home, "home at last, home, home, home." Those Vets talked about those kids going off to war as though it were a forgone conclusion. Through choice or by draft, they will be in war.

I talked politics a little bit with my mother this weekend as she languished in the hospital, waiting for surgery. She hates the war. She always has.

As a Lesser Journalist, I find myself learning about life. I hate the war, too. People don't always have choices. Fighting isn't always cut and dry. I told my mother this: I hate the war, not the warriors. Talk to Tony for a few minutes and that becomes clear. I had one last question before I hung up with him. It just popped into my head and I asked it.

"One last thing, Tony, do you remember the date you were attacked?" He answered without hesitation.

"September 6, 2004. I'll never forget it," he said.

Neither will I.

Maybe being patriotic isn't cut and dry either.

TARB

Up To

My Internet has been down so I've had limited access to this blog. My apologies. So what has TARB been up to?

I interviewed a guy who invented a magic puzzle. It took him years to get it up and running, but he's sold 700,000 of them worldwide. I had a three hour interview and learned WAAAAAY more than I even wanted to about this guy. Like he named one of his daughters Tuesday Wednesday and that two years in advance of 9/11 he dreamed about it and told everyone he knew to stay clear of New York. It was one of the weirder conversations that I've had in my life.

I interviewed a girl who will be a famous country music star. I heard her CD that they sent to Nashville and it gave me chills. When I met her in person we hit it off right away. She has one of those stories that will make the Greater Journalists drool, too. When she was five, she was in car accident. She broke a vertbrae in her lower back, but it went undiagnosed for 9 years. She has an incredible voice, a great personality and poise. I had one of those moments with her. When she is rich and famous, I be able to say, "I remember when . . ." and my remember when is a good one. Her mother wanted her to sing for me, but she was so embarassed. It was blistering hot in the parking lot in front of the diner. She was so embarassed, she climbed into her moms truck and rolled the window all the way up so only her eyes were visible. We laughed so hard. Good kid.

I wrote a thank you letter to the editor for a woman who is dying. She wanted me to do a story and kept bothering every reporter in the office. No one wanted to deal with her, so I took her on. She'd leave these messages: "Hey. Are you going to do a story on me before I die?" Ummmmm. Finally I just told her that we needed to do this as a letter to the editor. She agreed and told me everything. I wrote it out and submitted it. Kinda weird to do it that way, but she got what she wanted and I got her off my back - you know before she dies and I spend the rest of my life feeling guilty.

Well, my job changed, too. One of the reporters on our team quit to go back to school to be a teacher. Instead of working for two papers as the education reporter, I'll be working for one paper on the education beat and covering the city. It kinda sucks, but when the industry sucks as bad as it does, well, you gotta do what ya gotta do.

With Internet up and running again, I'm back at the blog. I hope all is well with all of you.
TARB

Playing Favorites

When a favorite teacher retires it can leave a gaping hole in the community. On our community a feisty campaign to get me to write a story about one such teacher began. They called me and emailed, sent us pictures. Finally I agreed to do a story. Mrs. S raised the bar for 3rd and 4th grade kids for 20 years. She loved her students and it shows. Ask any graduate who had her when they were in elementary school. It is almost certain they will list her as a favorite teacher. I talked to several of her former students and they all raved about her. One rainy day last week I went to year round school. It was nice to see kids in school after so much summer. I really can't wait for school to start up again. Wednesday was Mrs. S's second to the last day of school. When I arrived the children were finishing up a snack. Mrs. S introduced me and we sat down to chat. Mrs. S is one of those teachers. One year she let the children decide if they wanted to buy rent or sell their desks. They earn "money" for good behavior and garner fees for bad behavior. The children have had small businesses. They have hired and fired their employees. One year one kid disputed his firing and he hired another kid to represent him as his attorney and sue his "boss." This year the students were working toward a book auction and the opportunity to bid on the classroom stuffed animal, Stripy. Some had the money and others did not. "What did the children learn from the assignment?" I asked. "Why don't we ask them?" she said. Mrs. S turned to the students. She introduced me and then asked the children what they learned from the money experiment. They talked about hard work and seeing their efforts pay off. They talked about making mistakes, consequences and learning from those mistakes. They talked about setting goals and being successful. Mrs. S turned to me with tears in her eyes. "I guess I've done my job," she said. "You guys are ready to move on." That's one of many stories you find when you talk to people about their favorite teacher and visit that teacher's classroom. Then there is the unexpected gems. When I asked Mrs. S what her favorite lessons are she politely declined to say, citing the personal lives of her students. Fortunately I had the name and number of one of those students. I just didn't know it yet. When I called I talked to mom. Her son had Mrs. S in 3rd grade. During the course of the conversation she revealed that her husband died unexpectedly when her son was in Mrs. S's class. The night before the funeral there was a school choir concert scheduled. Mrs. S insisted that the boy participate. She picked him up and took him out to dinner with his class. They dedicated the concert to the his father's memory.

"It really cheered me up," he told me.

Incredible.

Out in the hallway away from the curious ears of the children, I asked her the standard question that I ask most retiring teacher.

"What's next for you?"

She checked the door to make sure it was closed.

"I'm going to smoke, drink, learn to speak French and play piano!" We laughed till our bellies hurt.

Then she asked if I would come in and talk to the kids about being a reporter. Everything is a teachable moment. I explained above the fold and below the fold. I explained leads and pegs. And yes, the comics pages are great.

The editor said it was good story, but a long one.

As usual.

TARB

Good Feedback

A little praise goes a long way. One of my editors will give us a little praise and that's awfully nice when it happens. My other editor never gives praise. Never. While we don't really need to be praised, it's nice to have a little feedback.

I got some great feedback from a reader today.

I love making a hum-drum story interesting with unique details. When I was an intern at a daily waaaaaay back when, I remember some of the reading materials I was instructed to read focused on details. Instead of saying a blood trail led away from the scene of the murder, a reporter wrote about drops of blood about the size of a nickle. For some reason I remembered that focus on detail and I use it in my own writing.

My details are the more about the things people say and how they say them. I note when and where people pause, laugh, sigh, sound dejected or elated. People who are used to being interviewed know what to say and when. I also take note of the things people say when they don't think they are being observed. It's not necessarily off the record, its more like out of the scope of the normal conversation.

A couple of months ago the Knights of Columbus presented a check to the special education department at a local school. Hum-drum, right?

We'll there happened to be a lot of peripheral things going on. We took photos with three of the kids, the director of the program inspected the check, we chatted in her office with the Knights of Columbus guy.

The check presentation was one thing. What made the story was the conversation surrounding that event. After walking away from the photo shoot the director mumbled, "I love those kids." When she put on her glasses to read the check she said, "Whoa! We did really good this year!"

I added those details and others to the story. It wasn't really about the presentation of a check. It was about the loving administrator and the kids she works so hard for.

Today I called her about another story. She happily talked with me and I was grateful. When I apologized for my slow note-taking (she was my fifth major interview this morning) she told me not to worry. "You can tell you take your time with an interview," she said. "You put a lot of humanity in your writing."

Humanity in my writing. Wow. That's a huge complement.

And some nice feedback.

TARB