Camels

Today I started to understand the saying “a camel is a horse designed by committee.” No offense meant to camels, but I watched three members of a select board argue over the wording in a job description. Some complaints were legitimate. Most weren't. Among things argued

1)Whether or whether not this position should include counting paper cups and plates.
2)Whether or not this person should be paid for the time they spend turning in their time sheet.
3)Whether or not the board should say this person is responsible for a given task that the person didn't do, but supervised the person who did.

There was a lot more stupidity than that. I would have left, but it was my paper's first time covering this town. As it turned out, the town administrator only started two weeks ago. I figured I could do both of us a favor and run a profile of him. It shows that we're covering the town, and it shows the town that he exists.

In other news, I'm looking for an apartment again. I knew this place was temporary, but I now have a date for when I need to get out. I have just about a month, and just about two weeks before I have to pay for the next month. So far I've communicated with two women I don't know about living with them. Don't read that the wrong way. What I mean is, I'm looking at living with one of two women Ive... you know, there's no good way to put this. I'm moving on.

It looks like I'm going to have about seven stories for this week, and I have two projects brewing. I think that's how I like it. I can feed the beast with pointless profiles and meeting stories, and keep my journalistic integrity by working on things that I think really matter. Right now, that's the effect of a national change in welfare law and the effects of explosive population growth.

In the mean time I should find some way to work on these at meetings. Tonight wasn't the first time I felt so bored at a meeting that vivisecting my own head seemed more fun. If I can just bring some material I'm working on with me, I can fill those dead periods with actual work. I'm wary of leaving a meeting early. The event a few weeks ago with the yelling, crying and accusations. The other reporter left before that happened. I got the story and she didn't. On a less selfish level, if all the reporters leave early, the board can hold any business they want to keep quiet until the end.

A final note. The board meeting tonight showed me that, even in these highly divided times, people on the ground can be reasonable. Of the five member board, I'd say two were fairly right and two were fairly left. The last was fairly absent. The four seemed to actually engage in dialog. They had entirely different thoughts on how things should be done, and figured out how to work around that. Maybe their superiors in Washington should look on them and remember how government should be conducted.

Numbers and big projects

I put another story in the can today, had Chinese food for lunch and started another big project... because I was bored. Then I called it a day after less than six hours. I ran to the library to see if they could answer a question for me. They couldn't. By the way, does anyone know what a law enforcement group in Tijuana during the late 30s would be called?

So the new project springs directly from the IRE (investigative reporters and editors) training. I looked up some census data because the US is approaching 300 million people. I talked about this before. Anyway, I asked my editor if any towns in the area had seen significant growth. He suggested three. I called up, looking for population data. I only got a hold of one town, but they've seen a 13 percent increase in the last five years—twice that of the national average. I see a medium range project here. Talk to some people, find out who's coming, why and what the effects are in the town. More people means more infrastructure needed and such.

IRE training reared its head in another place. I got my hands on the police statistics for the last three months for one of my towns. The stats showed a marked increase in traffic stops. I called the chief and asked why. Apparently, this state writes grants to local towns to put extra officers on duty for the expressed purpose of catching dangerous drivers and drivers under the influence. You gotta love how a little research and a little math can lead you to a story.

I got my first check today and I took it to a local bank. I'm going to set up direct deposit and get an ATM card (my second, but I'm getting rid of the first.) It wasn't as big as I would have liked, but I understand my normal weeks will be notably bigger. As a free gift for opening the account, I got a tool box. I actually thanked them. Since moving out of my mother's house, I haven't had tools. Now I do.

On another note, I might do a HUGE project. I got pissed off today. I picked up a local daily and saw that 150 local soldiers shipped out. I knew this was coming, and had called the national guard's PR guy, but he never got back to me. I called him again. This time, he got back to me. Eight of those soldiers came from my coverage area. Now they were gone. I could have gotten some good pictures and a better article. Now they're out.

Well, he might more than compensate. The PR guy says the national guard is arranging a press trip from here to Mississippi, where the soldiers are training. I might be on it. If this happens, it would be the biggest thing this paper has ever done, and I'll have only been here for a month.

Second Printing

My welfare story is coming together. I spoke to the PR guy at the state welfare office. He clarified some points of confusion for me. Local towns aren't on the hook for state welfare recipients falling out of line with state guidelines, but the are on the hook if someone runs out of their allotted five years of state aid. So, the federal change shouldn't shift a lot of the burden to the towns, but it's still going to be a change. The PR guy is going to put me in touch with the office that has jurisdiction over our coverage area and try to connect me with a welfare recipient. That's a story.

In other news, we printed yesterday. I got photo credits—I've gotten photo credits before, but it's been a while, and I've also never had so many in one paper. The editor seemed impressed at my record rainfall articles. He said he didn't realize I had talked to so many people. He doesn't know me as a reporter well, yet. That's what I do—talk to as many people on a subject as possible. One of my other articles came out bad. I'm not sure if he made a small change and it no longer mapped with my later writing, or if I made the mistake. In any event, that article came out sounding awkward.

Overall, yesterday was pretty laid back. I got in just before 11am and left just after five. A sliver of that was down-time, but I also spent a little while scanning the area dailies looking for national or state stories I could localize. I found two things, but I already know I can't localize much. The first was population growth. The U.S. is approaching 300 million, and this state's growth rate is above the national average. I thought I could write an article about where the people are coming from and what it means for the community. I narrowed my statistics and found the county that contains our circulation area had average growth nationally. That's less of a story.

I'm going to make an effort to write about teen-agers. One profile a week should be just fine. I think it could help circulation. Parents like to read about kids. Everyone likes to read about themselves, and kids like to read about their friends. That's a win/win.

A final note. I had a cool interview yesterday. This big ape of a man came in to talk to me. I asked him to because local police caught a burglar due to his call. I thought a little first person piece on this could be great. It turns out he's an ex-con just doing his civic duty. I wish I could print the ex-con part, but he immediately told me not to print it after he said it. Had a selectmen or other elected official done that, I'd print it, but this guy doesn't know the rules. I'm not going to string him up by them.

Oh. I've been eating turkey sandwiches for lunch. I ran out of turkey yesterday, so, today I'm going to treat myself to the Chinese buffet.

Happy 4th

I know I missed yesterday. I'm not going to apologize for that. It was the 4th of July. I worked half a day. I knocked off all the writing I could. I didn't even try to reach anyone. When I finished, I left and found some fireworks to watch.

I have to say, this town does 4th of July right. I've been to more impressive fireworks before—bigger budgets, bigger booms, but I don't think I've ever enjoyed a 4th like this. I arrived at the field and found probably 15,000 people sitting on the grass and watching the high school band play the classics. The band director M.C.ed his way through a few jokes. I found myself a spot in a baseball field, and the fireworks started. When they did, I scrambled for a better spot in the grass.

I've never been that close to such big fireworks before. I've been close to fireworks, small ones, but this was different. The weeping willow streams fell directly toward me. They filled the whole sky. At times, I had to turn my head to catch the edges of things.

Overall, a great show. Driving back afterward sucked, but nothing's perfect.

Today, I stalled again. I polished my stories and shipped them out. I kept gathering at the welfare story, though the details of that swiftly change. It seems that I was looking at an old copy of the laws. A newer version might let towns off the hook, but the new federal laws will cut a lot of people off from support. I'm not going to get into politics here. I have my ideas on how things should run, but hundreds or thousands of people suddenly getting their plugs pulled is a story.

But I sent out an email on that around 11. I finished polishing my stories around 12, and then I sat. The other reporter plugged away. He's been around long enough that the stories come to him. As a newcomer, I don't have that advantage, and I'm not working in a city where there's ALWAYS enough news to go around.

The editor fed me a couple ideas. They flopped, mostly. I asked if I could do a profile one of the office workers suggested, and the editor said okay. I idled for another hour, and then I went to meet the subject of the interview, take some pictures for the paper, and sit in on a meeting. Not much to report there, but I do have a funny anecdote.

I made some calls for one of the story ideas the editor fed me. I couldn't get my hands on anyone, and then a call came in. The receptionist took it, and transferred it to me. The other reporter was in the bathroom. The woman gave her name. I couldn't remember calling her, but she called form an organization one of the people I was trying to contact was in, so it was possible I called her and forgot. I asked her a few questions. She gave me a phone number and the call ended. The other reporter came out of the bathroom. I don't remember how it came out, but I mentioned the woman's name. It turned out the other reporter had called her simply to check the spelling of her name. The fact that she was associated with someone I was looking for was a complete coincidence.

On another note, I changed the site. Enjoy.

July 3rd

It's the day before 4th of July. Surprisingly, all the people I needed to call were in their office today. Work ethic was high, and I raked together six stories in a single day. One of them may be an award winner.

Wouldn't that be fun if it were true? I got a hold of a few people, I got a little work done, but, mostly, I didn't. We had computer problems in the office. I spent about an hour downloading and organizing pictures on the PCs today, only to find out that my editor could only access them for the purpose of the paper on the decrepit old Macs.

I did get some interesting pictures this morning. Somebody took a couple cans of spray paint to the underside of a bridge and graffitied a memorial to a recently fallen soldier. While the display was touching, the misspelling and the missing word in the passage on the wall made me laugh. They also painted a message in orange on the road. I have to give them balls points for that. I couldn't gather the courage to stand in the middle of the highway for 60 seconds to take the pictures, never mind however long it would have taken to paint it.

I also jammed my foot in my mouth. I called two police chiefs today. The first for the graffiti, the second for the old cemetery I mentioned yesterday. I called each once, and didn't get a response. Later, the other reporter told me he had one of the Sheriff's cell numbers. I took the number, dialed, and proceeded to ask questions about the graffiti. He responded with confusion, and I realized I was asking the wrong questions. This wasn't that sheriff.

After I crow-barred my foot out of my mouth, I found out that he had evidence that the jackhole in the cemetery case drove past the targeted graves, then backed over them with his car. When I checked the site, I didn't see evidence to that effect, but I saw it three days after he did.

I also met an interesting character today. The man farms for a living, and sells his haul at his vegetable stand. He taught me a few things about planting and local history relevant to my article on the rain and seemed nice enough, but I couldn't help noticing his nose hair blended perfectly into his mustache. Mostly, I found the man striking. I don't know how old he was, but I'd have to guess at least mid fifties. He had leathery skin and frosty stubble below a pair of frighteningly blue eyes that poked out of a baseball cap. His teeth looked like they spent a lot of time chewing on bottles given their concave bend in his jaw, but he had a distinguished voice. I think he'd make a great character in a novel about a region like this.

Playing catch-up

This is a bad sign. I couldn't even get through my first week without missing an entry... or two. I can't promise I'll be more consistent in the future, but this entry will sum up what the last few would have.

Thursday:

I discovered just how low the dress-code bar has been set. The other reporter showed up in jeans and a T-shirt. Wait, it gets lower. Pain stained the T-shirt. Yeah. This isn't a hard bar to make.

I discovered how lazy a day print day can be. I showed up at 10:00 or a little later. This seemed a reasonable hour to arrive, but left me short on rest. Neither the other reporter nor the editor showed up before 11:00.

I'd say I got about 50 percent of my work done in this hour. I made a few calls. I talked to a few people, and I started putting the bizarre town meeting to words. I didn't do a whole lot for the rest of the day. Mostly, we chatted. I was fine with this. It was still work, technically. I need to know the things about this area that they told me about, but it was certainly laid back.

Friday:

A couple stories are coming together for me. The first is a trend story of sorts. We got a lot of rain in June, the second most in state history. This is easy pickin's. To top it off, I've talked to a few people about how the wet weather has effected business.

It stopped one guy cold. He cuts down trees, and refuses to do this work when it's wet. Cutting down trees involves climbing trees. Rain makes trees slippery, thusly making this already-hazardous work downright dangerous. He already fell out of a tree once due to rain. He says he won't do it again, and that means he didn't really work this month. The highway department also told me they haven't been able to finish their hot-top or road lines, and I heard something about a local school not being able to finish their roof repairs because local contractors have a back-log. I have to check that last one out, and I'm going to check out more types of businesses as well.

The other story is the federal welfare change. I talked to a couple state legislators. They're going to get back to me. This story, I think, could be big. If the state drops its responsibility, it'll fall to the towns. They'll have to draw welfare funding from somewhere, and 70 percent of local taxes in this area go to education. Crack that math.

The day ended with a new story. Vandals destroyed headstones in a nearby cemetery that dates to the 1800s. I got some pictures. The historian in me says this is a tragedy, but I don't know anything more about the crime itself. I'll find more on that Monday.

Weekend update:

I spent a night at home. My mother went camping and asked me to watch the dogs. I informed my friends that I moved away. For the most part, I forgot to inform people as I left. Things happened so fast.

I left home early to cover a Sunday fourth of July celebration. I didn't get back from that until 10:30, and I drove 83 miles round trip. This is one disadvantage of living outside your circulation area.

I have to hand it to the town, though. They put on a pretty nice celebration. It started with an ice-cream social, proceeded to a folk concert and ended in fireworks. A guy gave me five bucks. I talked to him an his wife to get some quotes. They asked me if I had gotten my ice-cream. I said I didn't have any cash. No lie there. I stole 75 cents from my mother so I could pay the toll on the way back. I get my first check Wednesday. Until then, I'm living on plastic. Anyway, the ice cream was pretty good.

One last note: I do plan on changing the layout of this page. I've done some artwork and everything. I just have to figure out how to work with Blogger's formatting.

Time Wasted

This would have been posted last night, but my Internet connection cut out. So, no, I haven't missed an entry already.

Today I spent nearly three hours wasting my time at a meeting. I can barely remember the discussion that started the meeting—one concerning state aid and sidewalks and a small town's main street area. What I remember is an hour and a half of six people nattering over the specifics of a law that may or may not have prevented one of the town's boards from repairing a crumbling wall next to a grave yard. I've seen few things more pointless in my lifetime.

The show started after that. As soon as the next group entered, one of the selectmen recused himself and bailed. In the following moments, there were shouts, tears and accusations.

A salty character from the town's outer reaches closed a pet store he owned because the landlord kept jacking his rent. With that location down, he intended to resume activities at his first location: his home. Unfortunately, he announced this is a move. The selectmen interpreted this as a move that violated town zoning laws. As far as I can tell, it didn't. His business started in 1977, fully ten years before the town laid zoning regulations on its citizens. He was grandfathered in.

The select board chair remained cool amid requests that he recuse himself and the upset crowd in the room. Ultimately, they came to what seemed reasonable ground, but that chair made my skin crawl. My first impressions aren't always right, but I got the feeling that this was the type of guy that would beat his wife, wash his shirt and go back to work with a smile the next morning. He reminded me of Ed Deapneau from Stephen King's Insomnia.

The drama ended after 30 minutes. I spent three and a half hours, and all I got was one story and a creeping sensation that the head of this board was bad news. At least I got paid.

I capped the night by playing board games around the corner with a newly discovered group of friends. I'll call this the high point of the day, but I let it stretch to late. The time-stamp won't tell you this, but it's currently ten minutes of two in the morning, and I should get up no later than 9:00 tomorrow. Poor planning. At least that weekend's on it's way.

Better

I filed four stories today. I'll touch them up tomorrow, and they'll print Thursday. There I'll be, a full-time reporter with my first batch of stories.

Other firsts: today I got my first memo. Coincidentally, I received that after returning from my first meeting (at this paper, anyway) with a public figure I didn't entirely trust. I don't really care that this guy is probably in the closet. He can play the straight-man game all he wants. I don't trust him because he's one of those people that uses a lot of words that don't mean anything when he doesn't want to talk about a subject.

Anyway, work went well. We have a fridge now, so I can store my meat and bread. I found myself eating a second sandwich today, two hours after the first. I'm not sure if I was actually hungry, or feeding nerves.

What I had thought would be my best source for extra-curricular socialization proved not to be. There's a game store down the street. Unfortunately, they close at 8:00 most nights. When you figure I don't get out of work until 5:30-6:00, then tack on a 30 minute drive and dinner, that doesn't leave much time. I hate to think I'm going to have to find a bar. I can't afford beer I'd like to drink. Hell, I can't afford beer I don't like to drink.

Alright. That's it. I'm going to relax and go to bed. More tomorrow.