Newsroom memories
When I worked the Saturday "late cops" shift at the daily newspaper in Syracuse, NY, editors liked to say they had space on the coveted Sunday front page -- just in case.
Just in case something really bad happened.
A triple fatal. A house fire. Shots fired that hit their mark.
Sometimes that's what we ended up with. A long night for me, a bad night for someone else.
I liked it better when I got on A-1 and no one had to die.
A quiet night meant I was able to work on more in-depth stuff -- a news story or feature that wasn't just the latest tragedy to be forgotten when the next one came along.
My priorities haven't changed.
I thrive on telling stories that take some time. Stories that make me lie awake at night, thinking of questions I should have asked.
Questions I can go back and ask tomorrow.
The tattered parachute
Count me among those who took a buyout from the sputtering world of daily newspapers. Change was coming at a frightening pace. My employer hit the brakes hard, closing bureaus, cutting back on expenses and beginning the inevitable shift to digital first.
I saw what lay ahead. So in 2007 I leaped, tattered parachute and all, into the uncertain waters of non-profits, freelancing and a position at a medical university.