DECEMBER 17, 2010
As Christmas approaches, I think many of us feel excited and anxious at the same time. I’m happy about the holiday lights, the ornaments, the fresh smell of pine from our Christmas tree….and then I’m, anxious about all the things I have to do, want to buy, wish I could buy.
In the past few years, my significant other and I have made it a point to keep Christmas gift giving to a minimum. Really. No more than 20 dollars on a gift for each other. It has been a card and a tree ornament. A hand written note of our favorite memories of each other. A single edition of a Wine Spectator. A book. Warm fuzzy socks.
I think sometimes we have the desire to please by buying. And, sometimes, we end up getting carried away. Is this year’s gift just as good as last years? Can it be better? Is it the latest and greatest? Might he/she be disappointed if it’s the wrong size, color, style, make or model?
Honestly, I would feel much better with something that’s home-made, something edible, something thoughtful than another thing to put on the shelf, something I’ll wear once and put away.
Christmas gifting is what you’d like to give. It’s also what you’d like to do for someone.
Of course, I’d love an iPhone or a plane ticket to Mexico City. But, I can buy those things myself. Honestly, I’m just as happy to share a glass of wine or a plate of fresh baked cookies with my loved ones and friends.
I'd love to hear from you....
Email: sphan@news10.net
Facebook: SuzannePhanNews10
Twitter: @suzannephan
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Friday, December 17, 2010
What a week.
DECEBMER 17, 2010
What a week. I’m glad the rain and stormy weather are here to wash away so much of the crime and grime in the past week.
I think reporters approach crime scenes in two ways: 1) It’s my job. Gather and sort the facts as professionally as possible. I’m an investigator piecing together what and why it happened, and I am sharing the story. 2) "My goodness. Someone was just killed here." The caution tape. The markers for the bullet casings. The poor family. How in the world could that possibly happen? Why did that have to happen?
On one hand, we do our job. On the other hand, it’s emotionally and mentally exhausting. Making that dreaded door knock. Dialing the number of a loved one. Talking to that best friend or the family member. It's definitely a very difficult part of the job.
On Sunday of this week, it was the gut-wrenching stabbing of two children in Vacaville—a 13 year old girl and her 18 month old brother--allegedly by a friend of her older teen brother. The big sister was stabbed 30 times. Her baby brother—10 times. But, they survived. Police say the teen girl was also sexually assaulted. It’s enough to make anyone ill to their stomach.
Then, the heart-breaking story about the 30 year old mother who died as she shielded her 2 year old son from gunfire. Talking to her brothers, her best friend, the babysitter/gal pal and learning more about the woman,mother, sister she was. It was senseless how she lost her life right before the holiday. She and her son had just finished taking Christmas photos. It was tough learning about suspected gang members and the way the shootout claimed 2 lives—the mother and another person’s—who happened to also be a father of a toddler.
It’s so sad. And, it’s reality for some people. It’s not an episode of CSI.
I wonder about the officers, the medics, the homicide detectives, the chaplains---how they deal with this type of reality day in and day out. As reporters, we compartmentalize everything. And, we do the best to get through the day, through the story, the follow-up stories, the followup interviews. Sometimes, its like riding a wave. I feel like I’m just holding my breath. And then, at the end of the day, or in this case at the end of the week, after a series of crimes, I’m ready for a good cry---during yoga class or while I'm waiting at a stoplight.
It’s true. That’s just me. Others cope in different ways.
It’s not a sign of a veteran or a novice. I’ve been reporting for 16 years now. It’s sign that we’re human. And, the things we see, experience, are exposed to, are sometimes extreme.
It makes the special stories even more important, the unique features even more worthwhile. The stories where we are able to breathe and share a bit of good helps restore my faith in humanity.
What a week. I’m glad the rain and stormy weather are here to wash away so much of the crime and grime in the past week.
I think reporters approach crime scenes in two ways: 1) It’s my job. Gather and sort the facts as professionally as possible. I’m an investigator piecing together what and why it happened, and I am sharing the story. 2) "My goodness. Someone was just killed here." The caution tape. The markers for the bullet casings. The poor family. How in the world could that possibly happen? Why did that have to happen?
On one hand, we do our job. On the other hand, it’s emotionally and mentally exhausting. Making that dreaded door knock. Dialing the number of a loved one. Talking to that best friend or the family member. It's definitely a very difficult part of the job.
On Sunday of this week, it was the gut-wrenching stabbing of two children in Vacaville—a 13 year old girl and her 18 month old brother--allegedly by a friend of her older teen brother. The big sister was stabbed 30 times. Her baby brother—10 times. But, they survived. Police say the teen girl was also sexually assaulted. It’s enough to make anyone ill to their stomach.
Then, the heart-breaking story about the 30 year old mother who died as she shielded her 2 year old son from gunfire. Talking to her brothers, her best friend, the babysitter/gal pal and learning more about the woman,mother, sister she was. It was senseless how she lost her life right before the holiday. She and her son had just finished taking Christmas photos. It was tough learning about suspected gang members and the way the shootout claimed 2 lives—the mother and another person’s—who happened to also be a father of a toddler.
It’s so sad. And, it’s reality for some people. It’s not an episode of CSI.
I wonder about the officers, the medics, the homicide detectives, the chaplains---how they deal with this type of reality day in and day out. As reporters, we compartmentalize everything. And, we do the best to get through the day, through the story, the follow-up stories, the followup interviews. Sometimes, its like riding a wave. I feel like I’m just holding my breath. And then, at the end of the day, or in this case at the end of the week, after a series of crimes, I’m ready for a good cry---during yoga class or while I'm waiting at a stoplight.
It’s true. That’s just me. Others cope in different ways.
It’s not a sign of a veteran or a novice. I’ve been reporting for 16 years now. It’s sign that we’re human. And, the things we see, experience, are exposed to, are sometimes extreme.
It makes the special stories even more important, the unique features even more worthwhile. The stories where we are able to breathe and share a bit of good helps restore my faith in humanity.
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