It's always sunny in Windham

I got to be the bad guy the other day when I arrived at the scene of two homes damaged during last weekend's severe thunderstorms. Nobody likes talking to a reporter, I have found, and especially not when you have a tree lodged through the second story of your house. 

The best way to get someone who has no interest in talking to you, who is in fact insulted that you're stepping on their property to ask them what sound like inane questions about their home, their life or their loved ones is to empathize with them. Doesn't always work, but if you get lucky they'll bring down the barriers and treat you as if you weren't a member of the paparazzi. 

This time I got lucky. "I'm sorry for your loss," I told the two women I found sitting in lawn chairs and staring at the mess that once served as a focal point in their lives. 

"I can understand what you're going through," I say, after initially being brushed off. "My family cabin up in the Lakes Region was destroyed last year. Couple of trees took most of the porch and a portion of the house out. Same situation as this."

"Thank you," says one and the other nods slowly. 

We begin talking about the homes and the amount of damage and I don't come off as much as a walking turd with neither the sense nor the etiquette to let them mourn in peace. Often times, if you show a little respect and good manners, and display a certain amount of patience by not giving into the pressures placed on you by the editors waiting on the story, you can get the full story. 

The best example I can think of off the top of my head would be the death, allegedly by suicide, of a UMass student last year. Under the pressure of trying to get the news out, both myself and Eric Athas posted immediate stories on our respective online media outlets. Since the family wasn't talking and friends were being asked not to talk to members of the press both of us borrowed - in varying degrees - information from her facebook page. 

Both members of her family and her friends criticized our decision to do so. 

Which I don't question. Journalism is a double-edged sword that way. You do what you have to do to get the story out and ask questions later. 

Still, Will McGuinness found that middle road and resisting pressure from me to get a story on her life, alleged suicide, and mourning friends out as soon as possible he contacted the family and stood back, waiting for them to decide the appropriate time to speak out. 

What he got was a great story and a personal connection to the family that exceeded anything the other newspapers - competing to get her tragic, paper-selling story out - had. 

Sometimes a little patience, and a little deference, can go a long way. 

My Marathon Day

For the first time in about a month I felt like I was a reporter today. 

My day started out slow enough, visi

ting the various police chiefs and communications officers in the area, as well as stopping in at a couple of town offices. I'm happy to report I successfully found Atkinson. 

Around noon, as I was gathering material together that looked like it might turn into a story or two (and actually start to earn my paycheck) when I got a call from my editor informing me that an 21-year-old soldier and Afghanistan veteran was returning to Salem for the first time in over fifteen months. 

It was his first time home since his initial deployment a little over a year ago. 

I met up with David Wholley and about twenty other members of the Salem Department of Public Works erecting a flag display on one of the Route 93 overpass in Salem. Turns out the young soldier, Thomas Russell, was the son of Rick Russell, Salem's director of Public Works. 

His co-workers arranged for a squadron of DPW trucks to line the road, lights flashing, to line the overpass, while the town employees waved American flags as a motorcade of motorcycles - many of them ridden by off-duty police officers, fire fighters, and other town employees - escorted the vehicle carrying Russell and his family home from the Manchester Airport. 

It was just about then that one of the DPW guys got a call indicating that a water main had been struck by a construction crew digging a hole to replace a power pole on Main Street. Jokingly, they mentioned that they had another story idea to me and the other member of the press present. 

I quickly hopped in my car and ended up beating many of the public works guys to the scene of the accident. Nice.

I threw that story together after about a half hour watching water bubble up from a good sized hole on Main Street before wandering down to the town library. Free wireless is a plus, as I learned today after going to Barnes & Nobles on Route 28 hoping for a chance to check the ol' e-mail.  

Afterwards I met up with Thomas Russell, his family and friends, and interviewed both him and his parents on his return from Afghanistan. I always enjoy doing a story on a veteran...something about it just gets my journalism gears churning. He seemed like a great guy to go out with sometime, reminded me a lot of my little brother (also a veteran). The family was gracious in letting me interview them and offered me drinks and food if I wanted to stay. 

Thankfully, I declined. As I wrote copy back at the Salem library I got a call from the equivalent of a Collegian Night Editor letting me know that there was a major accident on Route 38 in Pelham. Mind you, I'm only halfway done with the Vet story and enjoying every minute of writing it up. 

I'm told this is my number one priority. I agree and hop back into my car, speeding off towards Route 38. After about ten minutes I arrive at the scene of the accident - 4 mangled cars and a completely backed up road. Glass scattered across the pavement, hot from a day full of sunshine with only the tinge of humidity. There is no blood, but I arrive late, maybe half an hour after the accident itself. This despite the fact that the rescue teams used the Jaws of Life to remove several of the passengers trapped in one car, including one woman five months pregnant. 

For the second time today I meet up with the competition. A photographer from the Eagle-Tribune and then a little later a reporter from the Lowell Sun. We meet up, exchange pleasantries and then laugh at how we keep trying to sneak into the scene of the accident to take photos when the police officers aren't looking. Despite the rivalry in this area between the Union Leader and the Eagle-Tribune, not to mention the Sun, we all get along well. 

Keep in mind, all the injuries were minor. I'm not that big of a jerk.

Long story short...I get my three stories in, complete with photos. Today was a good day.