One of the nice things about working in a "medium" market is that you have a more personal relationship with your viewers than you might in a big city.
A number of people said I was in their thoughts after I covered an especially disturbing story Saturday.
Toddler, Parents Dead After Murder-Suicide
It is very touching that folks are thinking about my feelings in a truly tragic and hard-to-fathom situation like that.
Some of you may remember the Forty Fort Murder Suicide just over three years ago.
That day is still frozen in time for me. The victim's family spoke to us and shared their anguish. If you watch the story you can see my head fall down as the grandfather described the little girl. Certain stories stay with you forever, and change you. I have heard officials say that they too were marked by that day in some way.
The facts of Saturday's story are almost worse. Police say not only did Zackary Yashkus kill his young ex-girlfriend Sharae, he then put their son Xander, 3, in a car seat and drove the vehicle up Interstate 81 to Pittston Township where he shot the boy and himself.
I had hoped to shed some light in this post on how I cope with covering tragedy.
Saturday was confusing. There were two scenes, one we couldn't find, and there were conflicting rumors about who was where. When we spend a lot of time trying to get the basic facts, it leaves less time for the emotional part of the story.
Another thing that happened is that a relative of the victims got hostile.
Please don't think I am complaining or judging.
I get that this happens for a number of reasons.
They see the news crews and all of a sudden there is no denying something has happened.
You can't direct your anger at the police or your family, so a reporter receives the it.
Molly, my photographer, asked me how I deal with this. All I could say is remember it's not personal.
In some ways I am glad that a victim had a "safe" person to vent at. At least that is what I try to tell myself.
Dealing with angry people is part of the job. Just not my favorite part.
One thing I have learned over the years, is it takes time to truly comprehend a tragedy. It took many months before my brain absorbed that the Twin Towers were really gone.
More than a decade later I still think about Holley Chromey and her children Katie and Jerrod murdered in Long Prarie, MN.
I try to inagine what little Xander experienced in the last moments of his short life and my mind just can't go there.
At least not yet.
Sunday, November 20, 2016
Monday, August 29, 2016
A letter to my photobomber
So there I am at 5:00 doing a live shot on one of the most disturbing killings I have covered.
I wonder how the victim's family and friends will feel if they are hearing some of the details for the first time.
That is the moment you decide to show off your dance moves behind me.
Yes you made me trip on my words, yes you made me struggle to try to tell this sad story in a clear and concise way. You made the TV newslady struggle.
Our team had spent the past several hours hustling to do the news justice, but I guess you think our efforts are nothing compared to your need to grab the spotlight.
Do you realize it wasn't just my work you are disrespecting but the work of a photojournalist, a producer, a manager, an engineer?
Do you think about the fact that your act sends a message the victim is less important then your ego?
If I were pouring concrete would you step in it?
If I were sweeping a floor would you throw dirt on it?
If I were serving a meal would you spit in it?
Was the chance to be on TV so really so exciting that you just didn't care about anyone but yourself?
If you were a young child I could understand, but whoever you are you are old enough to know better.
Monday, August 8, 2016
Remembering Randy
We have had a very emotional day.
Two years ago there was a story that touched us all at the News Station.
Sharon Budd and her family were traveling from Ohio through Pennsylvania when a rock smashed through her windshield nearly killing her.
It was a case that galvanized the public.
Budd was a breast cancer survivor, a teacher, a cheerleading coach. Her family was a picture perfect personification of Midwestern goodness. Her husband Randy appeared to be unshakable, always there for his wife as she fought for her life.
Eventually a group of teens was arrested and convicted.
The case touched a nerve, how could this happen? The rolling hills of central Pennsylvania turned into a war zone by teens out for a night of mischief.
People wanted to show the Budds the best of our area.
Help was offered and accepted, meals, a house, a roaring motorcycle fundraiser.
Here is a link to the first story I did,
#Buddstrong Ride
I know first hand how tough it can be to care for someone with a head injury. The personality you knew is changed dramatically. It is frustrating and plays with your emotions.
The second time I interviewed Randy Budd I tried to warn him of this. I tried to explain how he would have to carve out space to take care of himself.
Randy became his wife's voice, her champion, a warm and charming man, he seemed so centered even when his world had been turned upside down.
He expressed his appreciation for the care we had taken telling his family's story.
After the Budds went home to Ohio, Randy stayed in touch with several of us mostly through Facebook. I would post something and Randy would often be one of the first to like it.
But things were not right in Randy's world. While Sharon learned to walk and talk her injuries kept her from having any independence. A few weeks ago he wrote that she had gone back into rehab to try to develop some skills, but had not been successful.
Still there were smiling pictures, an anniversary dinner, a wedding, we wanted to believe the Budd's love could somehow conquer the awful situation.
Sunday morning WNEP's Nikki Krize called me, her voice breaking up.
The news was awful. Randy had taken his life.
Penn Live article
Normally we don't cover suicides, but this was not a normal situation. It is hard for me not to think of Randy as another victim of the rock attack.
When I write an obituary I look for moments of light and grace in the story of someone's life. Right now this feels too dark. I am haunted by the idea of Sharon alone without her husband.
I am pained to imagine how bleak things were for Randy.
There will be a legacy here, fences over freeways, compassion for caregivers, but for now the loss just hurts.
Two years ago there was a story that touched us all at the News Station.
Sharon Budd and her family were traveling from Ohio through Pennsylvania when a rock smashed through her windshield nearly killing her.
It was a case that galvanized the public.
Budd was a breast cancer survivor, a teacher, a cheerleading coach. Her family was a picture perfect personification of Midwestern goodness. Her husband Randy appeared to be unshakable, always there for his wife as she fought for her life.Eventually a group of teens was arrested and convicted.
The case touched a nerve, how could this happen? The rolling hills of central Pennsylvania turned into a war zone by teens out for a night of mischief.
People wanted to show the Budds the best of our area.
Help was offered and accepted, meals, a house, a roaring motorcycle fundraiser.
Here is a link to the first story I did,
#Buddstrong Ride
I know first hand how tough it can be to care for someone with a head injury. The personality you knew is changed dramatically. It is frustrating and plays with your emotions.
The second time I interviewed Randy Budd I tried to warn him of this. I tried to explain how he would have to carve out space to take care of himself.
Randy became his wife's voice, her champion, a warm and charming man, he seemed so centered even when his world had been turned upside down.
He expressed his appreciation for the care we had taken telling his family's story.
After the Budds went home to Ohio, Randy stayed in touch with several of us mostly through Facebook. I would post something and Randy would often be one of the first to like it.
But things were not right in Randy's world. While Sharon learned to walk and talk her injuries kept her from having any independence. A few weeks ago he wrote that she had gone back into rehab to try to develop some skills, but had not been successful.
Still there were smiling pictures, an anniversary dinner, a wedding, we wanted to believe the Budd's love could somehow conquer the awful situation.
Sunday morning WNEP's Nikki Krize called me, her voice breaking up.
The news was awful. Randy had taken his life.
Penn Live article
Normally we don't cover suicides, but this was not a normal situation. It is hard for me not to think of Randy as another victim of the rock attack.
When I write an obituary I look for moments of light and grace in the story of someone's life. Right now this feels too dark. I am haunted by the idea of Sharon alone without her husband.
I am pained to imagine how bleak things were for Randy.
There will be a legacy here, fences over freeways, compassion for caregivers, but for now the loss just hurts.
Saturday, August 29, 2015
#WeStandWithWDBJ
MOUNTAIN TOP, PA-- Long time no blog.
All week long I have been trying to express my feelings about the killing of a TV crew in Roanoke, VA.
All week long I have not been able to articulate why it hit me so hard.
To explain I have to go back to November of 2011.
At the time I had two former co-workers I really liked living in Des Moines.
One was Mark Tauschek, the best guy you could ever hope to work with, a great human being, and the whole package news-wise.
The other I did not know quite as well. I had briefly worked with Bobbi Silvernail at Cable 12 News in Brooklyn Park, MN. We had socialized at a baby shower. But months after she left the station, I was up for a promotion and she called management to put in a good word for me. That put her high on my list of classy colleagues.
So I was online and saw a headline, "Former Des Moines TV Anchor Dies."
My blood ran cold.
I knew it was one of my friends. Either Mark or Bobbi.
It was Bobbi.
She had passed suddenly due to some unusual pregnancy complications.
I let our friend Carol Bowdry know, she had worked with her longer, and I remember her disbelief so well.
Flash forward to this week.
Earlier this month 3 of my friends moved to Roanoke to work in news.
My co-worker and "protege" Amanda Kenny was headed to WDBJ. My best friends from WNEP-TV, Bill Wadell and his girlfriend Amy Brodrick, were headed to the competition.
We had all chatted about what a very small world news is on Facebook and I followed their moves across the US on social media.
Wednesday morning I saw a notification on my iPad that a reporter and photog in Roanoke had been shot and killed.
Admittedly I didn't think Bill or Amanda was working mornings, but this time of year schedules get scrambled. I have filled in on several morning shifts in the past days.
I can't say I had that heart-stopping premonition that I had about the Des Moines headline, but it was too close for comfort.
Even if you don't have three friends working in news in Roanoke, the crime was unthinkable.
A reporter and photog, making the best of a preview interview, filling a morning show.
It is the job often given to beginners at a station, but it is really the hardest. You are basically using your personality to compensate for the fact that not much is going on.
Yes, it was horrifyingly on live tv, but it was also a workplace shooting.
The workplace Amanda had just started in so recently. The city Amy and Bill had just moved to.
Those first days in a new market are like a courtship, everything is fresh, you explore your new hometown like you explore a new romance. The little things are thrilling. There is so much too see, so many people to meet, and you are a blank slate.
That would no longer be their experience.
I texted with Bill. I didn't want to disturb Amanda.
Amanda always very sweetly made a point of telling me how helpful my knowledge had been to her in the start of her career.
We had gone through an awful flood in Binghamton together. We were hungry and tired and emotional and I can remember her wanting food from Ground Round in the worst way but we were all living on junk.
I worried how Amanda would cope, in a new workplace, in unimaginable circumstances. The new kid at a station filled with grief and stress.
I watched her reports, a little shaky at noon, but then at 5:00 CNN dipped in just as she was starting to report the lead story on the worst day WDBJ will ever have.
She was perfect.
A jump shot with nothing but net.
She later told me she had no idea she was on televisions across the nation.
I have tried to be helpful over the past few days, even if it was texting her my cock-eyed and inept attempt at taking a #WeStandWithWDBJ picture.
On Friday I went back to work, relieved to be distracted from my sadness.
I found out at the last minute I would be filling in in our Pocono Newsroom.
My first story involved a school construction problem.
My second gave me chills.
I would be doing a preview of Wally Lake Fest.
Like Allison Parker and Adam Ward I would be standing on a deck, over looking a man-made lake, interviewing a chamber of commerce official about an upcoming festival.
At first I thought I could use gallows humor to laugh off the coincidence.
But as I was on that deck over looking that lake my emotions swelled again.
After the interview, as Dan T. got the last shots I sat in a rocking chair and silently cried.
I didn't have to imagine what Allison and Adam were doing before they were attacked, I was doing it.
Even though I have been communicating with Amanda, I have no idea how the WDBJ crew is getting through this.
There is grief, then there is grief in the center of a media firestorm, and by the way you are the media.
Amanda is a centered lady who can do yoga poses I can only dream of, but I worry whether this trauma will linger with her.
Bill and Amy have each other and Piper the world's funniest hound, but I feel so sad their honeymoon phase in Roanoke will be forever marked by death.
We have all lost a bit of innocence. It started with the obscenity shouting photo-bombers making a spectacle of shaming women while they report the news. But now any illusion that a live camera can protect us is gone.
I have to say, I am not afraid to do live shots.
I still believe auto accidents are the biggest risk we face. We are in the snow in unfamiliar territory, or we step out of a truck and run towards the news forgetting to look both ways.
One of my favorite books is The First Hour I Believed by Wally Lamb.
It deals with the way a Columbine witness experiences trauma.
I recall a character talking about circles, and a ripple effect.
Amanda may be the closest to the center, with Bill and Amy by her side, but we are all feeling this.
We are all still trying to wrap our heads around it.
It took parts of my brain a long time to realize the World Trade Center wasn't there anymore. Not the TKTS booth, not Windows on the World, not the great big Citibank branch. But eventually my brain caught up with reality.
When it comes to the unimaginable deaths of a morning reporter and photographer, I still have a way to go.
All week long I have been trying to express my feelings about the killing of a TV crew in Roanoke, VA.
All week long I have not been able to articulate why it hit me so hard.
To explain I have to go back to November of 2011.
At the time I had two former co-workers I really liked living in Des Moines.
One was Mark Tauschek, the best guy you could ever hope to work with, a great human being, and the whole package news-wise.
The other I did not know quite as well. I had briefly worked with Bobbi Silvernail at Cable 12 News in Brooklyn Park, MN. We had socialized at a baby shower. But months after she left the station, I was up for a promotion and she called management to put in a good word for me. That put her high on my list of classy colleagues.
So I was online and saw a headline, "Former Des Moines TV Anchor Dies."
My blood ran cold.
I knew it was one of my friends. Either Mark or Bobbi.
It was Bobbi.
She had passed suddenly due to some unusual pregnancy complications.
I let our friend Carol Bowdry know, she had worked with her longer, and I remember her disbelief so well.
Flash forward to this week.
Earlier this month 3 of my friends moved to Roanoke to work in news.
My co-worker and "protege" Amanda Kenny was headed to WDBJ. My best friends from WNEP-TV, Bill Wadell and his girlfriend Amy Brodrick, were headed to the competition.
We had all chatted about what a very small world news is on Facebook and I followed their moves across the US on social media.
Wednesday morning I saw a notification on my iPad that a reporter and photog in Roanoke had been shot and killed.
Admittedly I didn't think Bill or Amanda was working mornings, but this time of year schedules get scrambled. I have filled in on several morning shifts in the past days.
I can't say I had that heart-stopping premonition that I had about the Des Moines headline, but it was too close for comfort.
Even if you don't have three friends working in news in Roanoke, the crime was unthinkable.
A reporter and photog, making the best of a preview interview, filling a morning show.
It is the job often given to beginners at a station, but it is really the hardest. You are basically using your personality to compensate for the fact that not much is going on.
Yes, it was horrifyingly on live tv, but it was also a workplace shooting.
The workplace Amanda had just started in so recently. The city Amy and Bill had just moved to.
Those first days in a new market are like a courtship, everything is fresh, you explore your new hometown like you explore a new romance. The little things are thrilling. There is so much too see, so many people to meet, and you are a blank slate.
That would no longer be their experience.
I texted with Bill. I didn't want to disturb Amanda.
Amanda always very sweetly made a point of telling me how helpful my knowledge had been to her in the start of her career.
We had gone through an awful flood in Binghamton together. We were hungry and tired and emotional and I can remember her wanting food from Ground Round in the worst way but we were all living on junk.
I worried how Amanda would cope, in a new workplace, in unimaginable circumstances. The new kid at a station filled with grief and stress.
I watched her reports, a little shaky at noon, but then at 5:00 CNN dipped in just as she was starting to report the lead story on the worst day WDBJ will ever have.
She was perfect.
A jump shot with nothing but net.
She later told me she had no idea she was on televisions across the nation.
I have tried to be helpful over the past few days, even if it was texting her my cock-eyed and inept attempt at taking a #WeStandWithWDBJ picture.
On Friday I went back to work, relieved to be distracted from my sadness.
I found out at the last minute I would be filling in in our Pocono Newsroom.
My first story involved a school construction problem.
My second gave me chills.
I would be doing a preview of Wally Lake Fest.
Like Allison Parker and Adam Ward I would be standing on a deck, over looking a man-made lake, interviewing a chamber of commerce official about an upcoming festival.
At first I thought I could use gallows humor to laugh off the coincidence.
But as I was on that deck over looking that lake my emotions swelled again.
After the interview, as Dan T. got the last shots I sat in a rocking chair and silently cried.
I didn't have to imagine what Allison and Adam were doing before they were attacked, I was doing it.
Even though I have been communicating with Amanda, I have no idea how the WDBJ crew is getting through this.
There is grief, then there is grief in the center of a media firestorm, and by the way you are the media.
Amanda is a centered lady who can do yoga poses I can only dream of, but I worry whether this trauma will linger with her.
Bill and Amy have each other and Piper the world's funniest hound, but I feel so sad their honeymoon phase in Roanoke will be forever marked by death.
We have all lost a bit of innocence. It started with the obscenity shouting photo-bombers making a spectacle of shaming women while they report the news. But now any illusion that a live camera can protect us is gone.
I have to say, I am not afraid to do live shots.
I still believe auto accidents are the biggest risk we face. We are in the snow in unfamiliar territory, or we step out of a truck and run towards the news forgetting to look both ways.
One of my favorite books is The First Hour I Believed by Wally Lamb.
It deals with the way a Columbine witness experiences trauma.
I recall a character talking about circles, and a ripple effect.
Amanda may be the closest to the center, with Bill and Amy by her side, but we are all feeling this.
We are all still trying to wrap our heads around it.
It took parts of my brain a long time to realize the World Trade Center wasn't there anymore. Not the TKTS booth, not Windows on the World, not the great big Citibank branch. But eventually my brain caught up with reality.
When it comes to the unimaginable deaths of a morning reporter and photographer, I still have a way to go.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Thank You
It all started with Spiedie Fest.
I cooked my heart our for that little 3rd place trophy, and went home exhausted and happy.
Ironically as I was uploading my pictures, I got the email which started the ball rolling on my future.
I knew I needed to stay through the HD conversion, the flood anniversary, and Making Strides Against Breast Cancer.
These last two months, knowing my days at 40 were numbered, really let me take it all in.
What I never quite expected was the outpouring of love I got both in person and on Facebook.
The night before "Strides" we went to Octoberfest at the German-American Club. My husband was stunned by all the people who came up to wish me well.
As we walked back he said turn around and look at all this. Remember it for when things are not going well.
Strides was super-emotional for me. I took this job when I was still finishing up rehab after being treated for breast cancer. I was in sort of rough shape at the time, but 2 years later I am in much less pain.
I am so grateful I had the chance to tell my story at Strides, it wasn't really appropriate for the sign-off of a newscast. Also I will always be thankful to Lori for downloading my good-bye song from Dreamgirls.
I wish my husband had not missed taking a photo of the ribbon cutting..anybody got one?
There is of course Miss Elaine and Sistas Upliftng Sistas. Elaine and her lovely lasses walked in Strides, danced with me during my good-bye, made me a video, and threw me a party and even made me a trophy!
Hard to Say Goodbye Suzanne Music Video
WICZ was a wonderful place to work, and I will always be rooting for news director Suh Neubauer and GM John Leet, and the rest of the team. Hey and there is still a football show I named! Suh even made me the best cupcakes, I don't know many news directors who bake for departing anchors.
Outside of work, the time I spent with friends, the beautiful (for the most part) weather, all lead to an enchanted week.
My last meals were delicious, great food at Moxie, Water Street, Bud's in Apalachin, one of the friendliest restaurants in the world.
Speaking of food, for two years I drooled at Wally and Mary Roper's food pix, and just in time I got to come over and have a spectacular dinner on the lake.
I have to say, it did take saying good-bye for me to fully appreciate what makes Greater Binghamton so special.
You don't get it your first day, your first month, or even your first year.
As you get to know the area, it's most special quality is not spiedies or even the hills, it's the generous spirit of the people.
Thank you for giving me a wonderful send-off. You will always be in my heart.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Meanies
Don't pursue a career as a news anchor if you can't take a few snide comments. Usually they are not to your face, but come via the internet. The vast majority of people I actually meet are exceptionally nice.
I don't know why the internet brings out the meanies. I mean are people really this mean, and the internet just takes away the shame?
I notice this in the comment section of our station's website, and in other open comments sections of newspapers and the like.
People post and then "flame" each other.
So what is it that makes people so mean online?
I don't know why the internet brings out the meanies. I mean are people really this mean, and the internet just takes away the shame?
I notice this in the comment section of our station's website, and in other open comments sections of newspapers and the like.
People post and then "flame" each other.
So what is it that makes people so mean online?
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Storms x 3
Breaking news normally follows a pattern. There is a big burst of news, followed by follow-up stories.
This week was so strange because we had essentially the same story, a storm, at the same time, 3 days in a row. Not only did mother nature not have much mercy for people dealing with the storms, she also doesn't have much respect for deadlines. The storms happened right around newstime.
Still, there were grace notes in what was a challenging week. I am not sure how I would react if a tv crew showed up and wanted to go in my flooded bathroom, but bless the couple in Johnson City who let me do just that.
Also cheers to the people I met in Binghamton who let us know about the sinkhole on their street, and played along with my questions.
http://www.wicz.com/news2005/viewarticle.asp?a=18409
This week was so strange because we had essentially the same story, a storm, at the same time, 3 days in a row. Not only did mother nature not have much mercy for people dealing with the storms, she also doesn't have much respect for deadlines. The storms happened right around newstime.
Still, there were grace notes in what was a challenging week. I am not sure how I would react if a tv crew showed up and wanted to go in my flooded bathroom, but bless the couple in Johnson City who let me do just that.
Also cheers to the people I met in Binghamton who let us know about the sinkhole on their street, and played along with my questions.
http://www.wicz.com/news2005/viewarticle.asp?a=18409
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