Mean Streets

Sweeps stories 4 & 5 deal with the most dangerous intersections in the area. I really like the pacing of the first one.
Click here for part 1.

The second one has some good shots, but falls off at the end. I think we'll just call this a TCS.
Click here for part 2.

Bingo!

Is this the new face of Bingo? Does it look like it belongs in Reno? Some think so, and it's sweeps story #3. Props to DMC for the classic bingo shots.

Check it.

Cold Case

My second sweeps story of the month aired the same day as the weather. Chelby wrote it, and then I helped her edit the copy to better fit the video. I even took over the keyboard for part of it. We had no file video, so I had to really think on this one. Luckily the victim's mom was more than happy to get this story out, and she provided us with a wealth of pictures and some great sound.

I'm happy to say that my prediction about the first story being the best is turning out to be wrong. With two stories aired, another airing tonight, and two more on Monday, it's going to be a good month.

Click here for the story.

Breaking Wind

A tornado claimed the life of a St. Helena parish man, and I was first on the scene.

Another week on call, and I'm wondering how much sleep I'm going to lose out on this time. It should be a slow week for call, since Ken Brumfield had a busy week last week. I'm really glad we switched weeks.

I'm fully expecting to be called out early Wednesday morning, because severe weather will be coming through in the wee hours. Tornado watches are in effect until daybreak. It's not until 7:00 am that I'm called to travel to Hillsdale damage. Ok, but where is Hillsdale? After four years in this market I've only traveled to about half of its out-of-the-way towns and communities, and Hillsdale isn't on any map I've got in the XTerra.

C-squared gives me some directions over the Nextel, and I'm off. An hour later I run into Deputy Ricard and he leads me on a tour of the damage, starting with the scene of the only death in the state caused by last night's weather. Ironically the man had left the travel trailer he usually lives in to stay in the house. Ironic because his trailer was untouched, and the house was destroyed. As I take in the damage and fire off shots, I notice that I seem to be the only media here. I might have been beaten by a town paper, but I beat all the major outlets by nearly two hours.

Kenny B and Chatty are on their way with our combo truck, so I grab the rest of the damage I can get to and meet them back at the scene. I switch to truck op and beam our live shots back to the station via satellite for the rest of the afternoon, with one brief interview with the Governor at 5:30 pm while Ken edits the package for six.

The story lead Noon, Four, and Five, and we were live at Six with a VOSOT at Ten. The best part is that we beat all the Baton Rouge and New Orleans media to the story. Oh, and that other Baton Rouge station didn't even show up. While we were live at Noon, they were reporting AP wire copy.

Click here for the Noon live shot.

E-mail Story

Here's the link for my first sweeps story of the month. Also, probably my best of the month.

Click here.

Cool Site

A link soon to hit the sidebar is www.gamerdad.com. It's a site created and run by parents who play video games with their kids. From what I've read, it can be a valuable resource for those of you who want to know what games are kid-appropriate. Check it out.

What's Happening!?!?!

One of my favorite activites has fallen by the wayside.

I once had a passion for video games that could not be quenched. The frequently fluctuating images held me enthralled for hours on end. When I was younger, nothing could get me up earlier than the new game in the living room that I had either just bought or rented. Five A.M. is an early wake up on a school day when the bus doesn't stop until 7:30, but it was a small price to pay for two whole hours with no distractions. The worst offenders were the games that didn't have passwords to continue, or batteries to back up saved games. Some of these could be left on the shelf, but others, such as Blaster Master, feel like the one that got away.

Lately I haven't found a game that could get me up before work. It could be that I find it easier to stay up late than get up early. The last game that kept me wanting to play was Halo. Anyone who has played this game knows that it's superb gameplay is backed up by an exceptional plot, and a healthy dose of physical comedy. The week that I rented Halo was an exercise in sleep deprivation, because I was only getting about two hours of sleep before going back to work. It played like a good book: just one more chapter, then I'll go to bed.

I'm not sure if it is the choice of games on my shelf, or the lack of time management, but I haven't touched a game in at least two weeks. I think of them often, because many of them are highly regarded titles, but when I do, I can't decide which one to play. I've also played on the good system in the living room, and it's hard to go back to the cheap system in the spare bedroom. I set the cheap system up as a late-night haven to crawl into when my night-owlishness takes hold. It's a place where I can make noise without waking the Mrs., but it's barely half the quality of my main system. In fact, I'm spending good gaming time right now to get these thoughts down. Lack of proper seating also diminishes the gaming experience. I need a decent chair to slouch down into while immersing myself in the worlds displayed before me by the flickering phosphors.

I guess you could call me a game-oholic. I've got an itch that could use some scratchin', but life has gotten in the way. On the plus side, I've started reading a lot more. That's really where my spare time has gone lately. Of course some books can keep me up into the wee hours of the morning, too. I guess I'm just helpless in the throes of my addictions.

Personality Traits

Some recent conversations have got me thinking about...me.

Who am I? I know who I am, but how do other people see me? I try not to think about it too much. After all, I'm just the guy behind the lens who is trying to be as non-descript as possible. I consider myself somewhat shy. Meeting new people is not high on my list of favorite activities, because I have a horrible time remembering names. Seriously, it's nearly instantaneous, unless I make a concentrated effort, then it might last until the end of the day. The news business is not for someone who suffers from social paralysis at the thought of meeting new people, but I thought, "Hey, I'll just make pretty pictures, I won't have to talk to anyone." Oops. I found out the hard way that I have to do just as much talking as the people who get paid to do it, sometimes more.

This is where my recent ruminations begin. A certain blonde reporterette and I were cruisin' FEMAville. We were looking for someone with a wind vs. water claim from the storms, and our sure-thing interview had fallen off the radar. We soon discovered that most of the people you find at 11:30 a.m. on a weekday in a FEMA park are not homeowners. We were adrift on a sea of people, so Cassie began dialing for a lifeline.

Movement at the periphery of my vision drew my focus, and I turned to see a kindly woman strolling toward my window with a hopeful, questioning look on her face. A push of a button lowered my glass barrier while I fervently hoped that Cassie would end her call before I had to do too much talking. No such luck.

Long story short: her sound makes the whole package work. To hear Cassie tell it, the woman didn't have a chance once I turned on the charm.

This week one of my glass-toting bretheren suggests that I would make a good news director. He says that I would be a natural, since I'm a fair person and have a good way with people. I must admit that I've kicked around the notion of dropping back a few markets and giving it a shot, but I don't currently feel that I've got the experience to take the helm of a newsroom in this sea of information.

Sure, I can get along with just about anyone, but I don't feel like it's anything special. I just keep my mouth shut until I have something relevant to say. Apparently I've always been that way, because my mother says that I didn't speak until I could form complete sentences.

So, if others perceive me as a decent human being with an easy smile and natural charm, I guess I'll have to live with it.

My Parents Are Dead

Don't freak out or anything, because they are perfectly fine. This is just the title of a "sprawling, six-page, epic."

I hope y'all like it as much as I do.

FACE!

Bringin' Da Funk

Last week we were kickin' it with the Southern University Marching Band. This is their first year without Dr. Isaac Greggs, who is as much a Louisiana institution as Huey Long or Edwin Edwards. After doing this story, I don't think the band has anything to worry about, but their opponents certainly do. They will be playing at half-time during the Saints game on Monday Night Football. Who knows what they'll do for that show, but I'm sure it'll be a treat.

You can see our story here.

Cameron Missions

Father's Day brought a wonderful gift to my Dad. One he could enjoy all week long.

My sister has been living in self-imposed exile in the Great Northwest. A few years ago, as she was staring down the great unknown of a life after college, she answered the calling to become a missionary. This could have meant travelling to remote destinations, devoid of civilization or even running water, but she became involved in domestic missions and was assigned to the campus of Portland State University in Portland, Oregon. Her mission was to help start a Baptist Collegiate Ministry on that campus, which is no small feat in an area where organized religion doesn't define the culture as it does here.

A large part of her request to be stationed in the PDX is the familial history of the city. When our parents got married, they moved to Vancouver, Washington, just across the river. A few years later I was born, and two years after that the three of us moved back to Louisiana and the rest of the family. So now we have a reason to visit, other than just to go.

In her two years of service, she grew to love the area, and it really is a perfect fit for her. She came to the conclusion that it was part of The Plan for her to stay there and continue to spread the Good News in whatever way she could. Hurricane Rita gave her an opportunity to bring some of that work home.

Relishing the chance to negate the impotence of being two thousand miles away, she got a team together and flew to the coast. Blessing were bestowed all around, and the small group attacked the problem with gusto, and copious amounts of DEET. Apparently Northwesterners suffer greatly from the bites of our mosquitoes, as I witnessed welts woefully oversized for our common annoyances. The heat was also a sore spot with them, with the man of the group usually being the first one up so that he could start the truck to get the A/C going while they ate breakfast. Their mornings consisted of cleaning up my parents yard, while their afternoons were spent teaching Vacation Bible School at what was left of the First Baptist Church.

For their troubles, they were rewarded with a trip to the beach with complimentary fire and mosquitoes, and an old fashioned shrimp and crab boil to end the week. While here they got to experience some of the best and worst environments the parish had to offer. Through it all they kept smiling and toiling away, reveling in the new skills they were learning and the young lives they were helping to shape. I hope their lives were as touched by this trip as the lives they touched.

Taking the Reins

Enough complaining, it's time for action.

Long ago Lenslinger got fed up with the assignments he was handed, and took matters into his own hands. I don't want to take on that much responsibility, yet, but I do plan on taking a more active role in deciding what stories I cover. It could have something to do with the mediocre story ideas coming from the morning meeting.

Three weeks ago I did a heat story with Scott. Last week I almost did another heat story with Scott. After wringing our grey matter for the first one, what could we do to make the next one different? Seriously. It's August, it's Louisiana, and it's hot. It was hot 10 years ago, it was hot yesterday, and it will be hot again tomorrow. In fact, it'll be hot until October. It's nothing new, and it's not news until something extraordinary happens.

The final straw, though, was our coverage of the officer's funeral one week ago. When he died, I knew his funeral was going to be the top story for that day, unless someone more important was killed, or a local refinery exploded. Somehow, the decision was made to only have one crew cover the event, and do a noon live shot. Ten minutes to noon, the producers have thier collective panties in a bunch, because the procession is leaving the church and heading to the grave site. The only problem is that the crew is stuck doing the live shot at the church, and the shot we can't miss is about two miles away from them.

So it falls on me to somehow get ahead of the procession so I can get the shot of the hearse rolling in under the giant flag suspended by two of the fire department's ladder trucks. By the way, I'm all the way across town at the station, where I have been for the last hour or so, with no assignments on my plate that would have conflicted with getting to the location ahead of schedule. Someone should have realized that a funeral that begins at 10 AM will probably end at 12 PM, so we might need another crew to cover the other end of the procession while the first crew does the live shot and makes its way there. I would have gladly gone in a live truck to set up a second shot, to be used in the second half hour of our noon show, to properly honor the fallen. Instead I have to drive like a man posessed, but I got the shot.

After all of that, I resolved that I would now attend the morning meetings. Maybe I can be the voice of reason, providing some insight on how things might actually happen in the field. If nothing else, my story ideas are just as mediocre as anyone elses!

Some Days...

Some days I wonder what this job costs me, in the long run.

In my personal world, everything is fine. I woke up this morning, went to work, turned a decent story and came home safely to my wife, who is cooking what promises to be an excellent dinner. One can't ask for more of a blessing than another day of life, and all the experiences it brings.

The story I worked on today is a happy story, filled with smiling faces and fun. It isn't the story that has me blogging tonight. The family of Cpl. Christopher Metternich is on my mind, and also the family who lost their home this afternoon to a fire. His story can be found here. The short version is that he died in the line of duty. He was riding his department issue motorcycle when someone pulled into his path from a side street, and he broadsided their car.

I had no part in covering that story, but it touches me just the same. It forces me to realize what can happen to my own father, who also wears a badge, but it also forces me to look at what I do. I worked on one other newsworthy event today, which was the house fire I just mentioned. We arrived on the scene shortly after the fire department, and I proceeded to get great video of the firefighters working to get the blaze under control. I can't say they were working to save the house, because it was beyond saving. All they could really do was keep it from doing more damage to the homes around it. That phrase I just used, great video. That is what I said when calling the station. "I don't know if anyone is hurt, but I've got great video!"

This family has lived in this house for 30 years, and it has been reduced to charred rubble and ten seconds of video in a newscast, and all I have to say is that I have 'great video.' One family has lost all their posessions, but fortunately no one was hurt. Across town another family is greiving the loss of a husband, father, brother, and son. His loss is also felt by his extended family, his brothers and sisters behind the badge, for whom this is the third officer killed in the last two years, and the second one within a year.

These are the events upon which my job is based, but what does it cost me, as a human being, to do this job? How long can I keep working without losing part of my soul in the process? Heavy questions, for which I don't currently have any answers, but I know they will be provided for me. All I have to do is listen, and treat each day as if it is a gift, because it is.

Burton's Secret

South of Lake Charles stands a statue honoring Mr. Burton's Endowment.

Burton Coliseum is the first landmark visitors see after landing at Lake Charles Regional Airport. Standing watch in front of this structure is a statue erected in honor of the man for whom the building is named. For years people have passed this statue as they entered to attend graduations, basketball games, and rodeos, but I wonder how many have seen the secret.

I don't know Mr. Burton's history, but he must have been quite generous for his name to be so prominently hung. At some point a statue was commissioned, to show the man in as favorable light as possible, I'm sure. He is represented as a smiling man, wearing a rumpled fedora at a rakish angle, and carrying a newspaper. This feature is the key to the secret.

I have no knowledge of the artist's intentions, but one naturally envisions the sculptor critically reviewing this piece from every angle, assuring that each detail is perfectly rendered in harmony with all others. If that is so the result cannot be an oversight, but an intentional double entendre.

From most angles the statue seems innocent enough, just a kindly gentleman, casually surveying the landscape. All it takes are a few degrees of movement to reveal Mr. Burton's Endowment, and the Secret of Burton Coliseum.

Coming Soon

I've got more posts written, which will be up soon, but I think that after going for a month without a post, three in one week would be overkill. So, expect another post either this weekend or early next week.

The first is one I've been waiting to write for a while, about a certain statue that many McNeese graduates know very well.

The second is about a recent trip back home. I think I've run out of photo space on Blogger, so I've gotta figure out which web host I want to use for the Cameron pix.

Y'all come back now, ya hear?

Electrical Storm

It's been a while. Personal issues have kept me from having the heart to write.

It seems that all I've had the energy to do lately is comment on other's blogs, leading my own to collect dust in this corner of the World Wide Cob-Web. Well, I'm back, for a while at least.

U2 fans will recognize the title of this post, which has become one of my favorite songs. Weather has always fascinated me. It could have something to do with growing up in the swealtering heat of Southwest Louisiana, where the roiling black clouds rarely meant dangerous weather. Instead they held the promise of relief from the heat with a chilly downdraft and cool rain. The most special part of the storm would be the lightning. Nothing man can create can compare with the awesome power one experiences watching the best show money can't buy.

My favorite bolts crawl among the clouds, streaking along from one end of the sky to the other. I hope to one day capture a still image that truly conveys the majesty and wonder I experience every time I witness one of these works.

All of these photos were taken from my back yard during a recent storm. Gotta love digital for learning how to shoot something like this. I'd have wasted a whole lot of film.

Da Boids

The week began with rain. Last week was filled with rain. We almost didn't recognize the droplets of water, hurtling to earth from the lofty heights of the cumulonimbus clouds, because we hadn't seen them in so long. This lead to a frenzy in the newsroom, not unlike that found in the story of 'Poule Petite.' That's 'Chicken Little' for those of you who don't parlez Francais Acadian.

With Monday's rain the Free State of Livingston parish lifted the burn ban issued several weeks ago. When it comes to crisis events that begin with a 'W', our Wildfire/West Nile reporter extraordinaire, John Pastoreck, is on the case.

As a special shout-out to the "Ole 'Polisher", I managed to fit in a closing shot to bring a tear to his crusty eyes.

He has a link to it on his page, but you can also find it HERE.

Independence Day

Happy Fourth to all!

It's a great day here in Baton Rouge. The sky is filled with clouds, bulging with precipitation. If that seems like sarcasm, it isn't. Since the hurricanes of last year, we've only seen rain a handful of days. That's not good, since it's been nearly a year.

The parishes on this side of the state have been fighting wildfires for the past few months, so todays downpours are more than welcome, even if they interfere with a few cook-outs.

It's great having a holiday off for once, and I would like to thank those men who help cast off the shackles of England 230 years ago. This has been the greatest country in the world, and it can continue to be so, but it won't just happen. The citizens of this nation need to be involved in the running of their government. Don't just sit there and complain about nothing being done, take action. Ordinary men did just that nearly two-and-a-half centuries ago.

Tomorrow the rockets' red glare will have faded, and the bursting bombs will have echoed their last for another year. I ask that, as citizens, you take the intiative to make a change in your community. Those government officials that actually do something can't do everything themselves. They need everyday people to do their part as well.

Night Lines

I would like to commend Jake Tapper and his crew for the great work they did on the War Games story that aired tonight on Nightline. It raised some good questions about who is getting paid as a so-called expert, and what expertise they actually have.

Unfortunately the anchor, Cynthia McFadden, had to add her own commentary at the end of the piece. Instead of saying something intelligent and giving the viewer some extra information, she chose to disparage the game featured in the story, and also the people who play it. She commented that 'Certainly none of us would endorse such a game, or allow our children to play it.'

Many of the people who play it aren't children. Most are probably in the vaunted 18-54 demographic to which broadcasters are increasingly trying to appeal. I'm sure attracting that demo is part of the reason for the current format of the show.

A Reuters article from a few weeks ago reported that the gaming industry has an $18 billion impact on the nation's economy. What does the gaming community think about the news media? Gamers feel they have a target on their backs. Publicity seeking zealots like Jack Thompson villify their hobby so he can make money. What's worse is that he exploits greiving families to do so. Gamers are not the anti-social gunmen-in-training that the national media make them out to be. The sick individuals who perpetrate these killings would do so anyway. Their parents have failed them by not being involved enough to teach them the values they ought to have, or see the direction their lives are taking.

Games are not the problem. I play them and consider myself a gamer. I am also a journalist nearing the age of 30. Playing video games hasn't caused me, or millions of other gamers, to attempt to take out a building full of people. If games had that kind of power, gamers would have already taken the country by force.

The Great Conjunction

If you've seen The Dark Crystal, you know what I'm talking about. If you don't, watch it and learn.

I must have been feeling the effects of that celestial combination on Monday. After spending the morning watching the mud fly in committee, we were directed to do a story on sex offender IDs. Since the ole 'Polisher left, I have taken residence in Huey's Habitat. Surprisingly I have found that I actually enjoy the time spent there. My great-grandfather was a representative in these same hallowed halls, and maybe some of that blood runs in me.

Grumbling about the lost opportunity to provide our viewer (do we have that many?) with the proof that LA politics have changed for the better, I steered my steel horse onto River Road. "Let's go to a park and grab some MOS," says Cassie, earnestly trying to stay positive, but not quite feeling it. "How about City Park Lake?"

As we make our way along Dalrymple Dr., we spot a lone blanket with three people on it. At this point we didn't know the treasures this blanket would hold for us. As we pull into the parking lot, the trio becomes a quartet. We can see two women and two children, what luck! One of the women is a lawyer, and her brother-in-law, who is a pediatrician and father of the two kids, is on his way. The whole family is a gold mine of sound and we walked away with a tape full of the mother lode.

We shoot a killer stand-up and head back to the station.

Hands down, this is the best package I have ever put together, thanks to some excellent teamwork in the field and back at the station.

Check it out.