ED is now PI

Sometimes articles we write trigger intriguing discussions in the newsroom. That happened after I wrote "In memory of a lost son" (East Oregonian, 04/22/10).

While doing a precede story about today’s March for Babies, Melissa Hays said the reason her and her husband, Shawn, lost their first-born son was due to cervical incompetence. When she said this I kind of tilted my head sideways.

“That really is the medical terminology,” she said.

Associate Publisher Kathryn Brown, who previously worked as a registered nurse and family nurse practitioner, left me a voice mail saying the term "cervical incompetence" should be changed.

Think about it, when men have medical problems related to their family jewels, it’s called erectile dysfunction. Why not penile incompetence? The female condition that causes the cervix to weaken could instead be called cervical dysfunction.

I sent a Facebook message to Melissa and she concurs.

That Old-fashioned Christmas feeling

After I entered several photos for a story about the Christmas Carriage Parade (East Oregonian Dec. 6, 2009 "Carriage festival creates old-fashioned fun) - I knew only a couple would run, so I decided to post a number of them on my blog. The first few are people's attempts to stay warm as well as the Pendleton Chamber Ambassadors, who serenaded people along the parade route — getting them into the holiday spirit.

The first year I covered it there was a beautiful dusting of snow and it was bone-chilling cold. Although there wasn't any snow this year, it was still cold. But somehow, the warmth of the season makes up for the dipping mercury.

I ain't afraid of no ghosts

I had a good time covering the story of some ghost hunters at the Pendleton Center for the Arts (Who ya gonna call - East Oregonian, Oct. 25, 2009 ). I don't really believe in the whole ghost thing, but I like the adrenaline rush of being scared -- and face it, any old creaky building is at least a little bit scary.

Doug Sanders, director of the team from the International Paranormal Reporting Group, gives direction to a couple of his team members before beginning the investigation.



I wish this photo had more dramatic spider webs on the wrought iron gate - that would have lent itself to being more eerie.

James Haight can be seen through hallway windows as he writes down data in the ceramic room during the investigation. I thought I was being pretty "outside the box artsy" with this photo, but the copy desk didn't choose it to go along with the story.

When Tasha Haight was taking photos of the outside windows she paused while looking at the LED screen -- focusing on the upper left pane of the photo.

Later Doug made the comment that the way the window was, someone would have to be at least 15 feet tall to look out the window. I didn't say anything (because as a journalist I feel like I observe and record events, but am not a part of them, per se - although if someone offers to let me eat at an event that has food, well, yes then I'll take part in that : )

Anyway, my thought was looking down at the basement window from the sidewalk you can see into the room and a person standing 10 or so feet away from the window (inside) you'd be able to see them through the pane. (I know this because of the pictures I took, I could see things on the shelf across the room). I'm not even a detective or ghost buster and I could figure that one out.

Aracnophobia alert

Spiders are said to be small, inconspicuous and harmless to humans — like I wrote in a recent column, (East Oregonian , Sept. 3, 2009 Spiders: friend or foe?) whatever.

The webs formed a canopy — they were EVERYWHERE!!!

Up, down, all around.

Just looking at the photos makes me tense up.

Ain't that America

I was driving down the road with the top down on my Camaro. I had just grabbed a quick hot dog and as I drove through town, I noticed some kids playing baseball in the field.

Then the ditty from old TV commercials popped into my head, "I love baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet."

Now, it's stuck in my brain - I want some apple pie. It's funny how things like that stick in your head.

Another soundbite that I've been blasted by lately is, "High fashion hair with a home town style, that's what you'll find at Shear Illusions. Get the look that you've been looking for ..." (the video and audio clip plays for 31 seconds each time I navigate onto the East Oregonian Web site - which is quite often during any given work day).


I was getting my hair done the other day by Loretta Lowrance, owner of Shear Illusions, and she said she hasn't gotten a chance to hear or see it much. I pretty much recited it for her.

Anyway, I often wonder the impact of advertising. Before Christmas another video/audio clip played on the EO Web site about diamonds. The funny thing is, now six months later I can't remember who the advertisement was for - yet I heard it a multitude of times during the holiday season.

Although the ditty from the 70s commercial was to boost sales of Chevy vehicles, all I'm thinking about right now is wanting some apple pie. Anyone reading this can feel free to bring a piece to the East Oregonian office at 333 E. Main St., Hermiston.

National parks, national treasures

Sometimes it's painfully hard to stay focused on work. Time just drags on from the moment I finalize vacation plans until it's time to begin packing.

So when I was conducting an interview ("Library collection features national parks," East Oregonian, June 2, 2009) about the upcoming opening reception of National Parks of the West, a new collection that opens at the Pendleton Public Library on Thursday, it was all I could do to stay in the moment.

"Most of them are truly national treasures," said Betty Klepper, who donated funding for the project. As I talked to her I thought about my own introduction to the National Park Service, but more important, my re-introduction.

Growing up in California, I'd gone to the Redwoods many times, Redwood National Park wasn't established until 1968, so more than likely my first official visit to a national park was Crater Lake. While I thought it was pretty, as a kid I was more interested in playing with my cousins.

As an adult, I remember flying back from Arizona and the pilot said something about looking out the right window and you could see the Grand Canyon. Well, I could have had I been seated on that side of the plane. So, when John and I went to Arizona the following year during Spring Training, we planned a day trip to the Grand Canyon.

When I walked to the retaining wall and looked over the vast expanse of spectacular rock formations and erosion I was nearly moved to tears. My first thought was, "Why didn't my parents ever bring me here?" However, in retrospect, I'm glad they didn't because I probably would have had the attitude of "been there done that" and missed the beauty that was there.

As much as I enjoyed the experience at the Grand Canyon as an adult, my favorite visit to a national park so far has been Arches National Park. Although, part of that could be because that's when John and I discovered Moab, Utah -- which is a whole different blog.



Anyway, back to the Grand Canyon. I'm almost hesitant to post any photos, because they don't do it justice. The last time we went to the Phoenix area, our friends, Mark and Teri Briley, met us there. We cruised up to the Grand Canyon and stayed overnight at accommodations in the park.

Mark and I even got up before the daybreak to watch sunrise over the Grand Canyon. That was pretty cool. No one really thought I'd get up that early. I actually set two alarms and had a wake-up call.

Another really cool experience was at Carlsbad Caverns - again another blog entry.

Oh yeah, and I've been back to Crater Lake as an adult. And other than getting stopped by the park ranger (I did not steal the pic-a-nic basket) for speeding, it was a very cool experience.

Recycling rant

In the wake of legislators looking to revamp Oregon's bottle bill, ("Two sides of the nickel," May 3 East Oregonian) some people don't really understand what recycling is. Taking empty cans and bottles back to the store isn't about the environment - it's purely driven by economics and getting a nickel back.

Recycling is smashing the soup or refried bean cans, throwing them into a bucket in the corner of our kitchen; flattening cardboard boxes and tossing them to one side of the garage; putting newspapers in grocery bags stacked on the dog's crate; and putting glass jars in a bag in our shed. Then when the bucket is full of cans or the cardboard starts getting in the way or the stack of newspapers builds, John or I fill the Bronco or truck and drive to the recycling trailers a half mile from our house and put the items in the corresponding bin.

To me, this type of recycling is an inconvenience. I don't get paid for it, I don't get a pat on the back for it, I just get the satisfaction in knowing it's the right thing to do.

And about my pop cans and bottles, I can't remember the last time I fed machines to get my nickels back. Instead, they collect in the garage (the opposite side from the cardboard) and when they start to overflow, I donate them to can and bottle drives held by Special Olympics or other worthy organizations.

Then there's the cans I collect at work. I have a box under my desk ... which quickly began overflowing with cans and bottles, so I poured them into a bit plastic bag. It seems, though, it never went from under my desk to anywhere else.

Then when I was working on the bottle bill story I met a woman who was taking cans and bottles back to the store so she could get enough money to purchase her medication. I told her she could come to the newsroom and I'd give her the bag. It wasn't a big act of charity on my part - I don't know how many nickles it represented, but she was very appreciative. However, I was just as appreciative to get the bag out from under my desk.

Chchch changes

I thought this whole blog thing was my random thoughts, but Daniel Wattenburger, news editor for the East Oregonian, wanted us to write about things we'd like to get rid of most in the world (evidently someone is writing an editorial about spring cleaning).

Anyway, Yoko Ono would be at the top of my list. Her primal wailing IS NOT music. While my husband has some very eclectic taste in music - some of it I enjoy, some of it I tolerate and then there's Yoko. We have an agreement, I don't play Amy Grant when he's home and he doesn't play Yoko Ono when I'm home.

Please note, the name of the album is, "Yes I'm a Witch." No kidding.

Another thing I detest is when I get e-mails and someone thinks it's fun to use a rainbow of colors to write their message. USE BLACK FOR BUSINESS PURPOSES!!! It's easier to read.

I don't want this to turn into a big rant, so the last thing I'll mention is, I wish people would include the address of places when they send public service announcements for events, rather than just the name of the place. If I ever get to negotiate a contract for my work as the community editor of the East Oregonian, I would have it include an additional clause for me to get paid for how many addresses I have to look up.

Cynical on the surface

Sometimes I'm jaded. (Jaded, adjective, made dull, apathetic or cynical by experience.) But then other times I meet people and I'm just amazed by human tenacity.

I recently told the story of a young woman who lost her infant daughter in December. (Death leads to March for Babies, East Oregonian, April 3, 2009).

Our office manager came in and told me a lady was here and wanted to talk about the March of Dimes fundraiser. My initial thought was I had just written up a brief about the fundraising walks planned for Pendleton and Hermiston, but I grabbed my pad and a pen and headed into the lobby area.

"I lost my infant daughter and to avenge her death, I want to do something for the March of Dimes," 25-year-old Becky Macki said to me before she even told me her name.

Stories like this typically don't just fall in your lap. I truly believe fundraising for various organizations is important, but to put a face to the cause is incredibly powerful.

As I talked to Becky, who lives with her sister, Debbie Knarr, I found out they lost their father in 2001 and their mother in 2007.

"We're just two little orphan adults," Debbie said.

As I talked with them I felt somewhat like a voyeur - asking deep, personal and penetrating questions ... stuff normal people don't ask others the first time they meet them. I apologized for being intrusive.

I guess I'm not so jaded.

Doggone Part II

Just when I thought it was safe to write about Jai, our dog we recently had to have put down (Jai's last ride, East Oregonian, March 29), I got an e-mail from a reader that had a link to a poem called, "Rainbow Bridge."

You can read it by going here. But, if you've lost a pet recently you might want to have some Kleenex close by.

On a side note, a couple of days after we had Jai put down we got a sympathy card from Oregon Trail Veterinary Clinic. That initially surprised me because when we had our last German shepherd put down in 1999 we didn't get anything. We had taken him to a vet in the Tri-Cities because we couldn't get a cremation with returns in Hermiston. So, it just goes to show you, not only is doing business in Hermiston closer, it's more personable.

Doggone

Little did I know that less than three weeks would pass after a column published that talked about our aging Airedale terrier (Bring on the Kleenex, Jan. 3, East Oregonian) that we'd have to have him put down.

(As if you couldn't figure it out — that's Jai and despite his size, he desperately wanted the benefits of a lap dog. Although he detested the yapping of little ankle-biters).

It took even longer for me to be able to write a follow-up column. For people who say, "It was just a dog" - well you'll never understand.

The absolute unconditional love I've received from my dogs over the years is amazing.

When I come home from work, sure, my husband is excited to see me, but it's always the dogs that are standing at the door to the garage, moaning with glee. When I've been gone for the weekend, their intensity is kicked up a notch and upon return from vacation, honesty, I don't know what prevents spontaneous combustion from excitement.

I am the prehistoric canine goddess!!!

Old reporters never die, they just miss their deadline

Despite some larger metropolitan newspapers folding in these tough economic times, the East Oregonian continues to be committed to reporting news and events that are relevant and important to its readers.

Sure, reporters from Portland (and across the country) will run to Eastern Oregon when the Arlington mayor poses in her panties, but they aren't the ones writing articles about the typical everyday things people are able to read about in the EO.

So, yeah I got a little ruffled when I recently read reader comments on The Hermiston Herald (one of our sister newspapers) Web-site regarding its change in delivery days. The article stated, while the mail delivery rate would remain the same, the newsstand price would increase.

One of the commenters was appalled at the price increase - suggesting both the EO and Herald "... should be half price until either one sells enough ads to beef up those papers." (By the way, the commenter was able to read the article on-line for free).

The amount of advertising, which directly correlates to how many pages a newspaper can publish, is a reflection of the current economy. And it's not just our hometown papers ... have you picked up a recent copy of the Oregonian?

Since becoming the community editor Dec. 1, it's been a juggling act on how to get as much information on upcoming events in print with the confines of limited space. Remember, each Monday, the "Coming Events" calendar is posted in its entirity on our Web site.

And to our faithful readers and advertisers - thanks!

No more questions

Representing Team USA, local Special Olympics athletes Jilli Smalley and Thomas Hamilton, along with ski coach Sue Pearson, recently returned from the 2009 Special Olympics World Winter Games, where they participated in cross country skiing at Sun Valley Resort in Idaho.

Hamilton, of Milton-Freewater, received a bronze medal in the 1K, a silver medal in the 3K and finished sixth in the 4x4 1K relay.

Smalley, of Hermiston, finished fourth in the 1K and sixth in the 500 meter.

I interviewed the trio in January for an article ("The World Awaits," Jan. 4, 2009, East Oregonian) while they were training at Spout Springs Ski Area.

Jilli was just finishing up her lunch and was playing a game of cards before she headed back to the cross country trail. After we had talked for a little bit, Jilli turned to me and said, "No more questions."

Her mother, Kristi Smalley, was mortified by her daughter's response.

I said, "That's OK, I'm a journalist - I've been hung up on before."

Congratulations Thomas and Jilli!!!!

Real men knit mittens

I'm not a morning person, so typically I do my best work at night. One of the problems with that is if I've called someone, unless they know my direct line number, they can't call me back because the number that comes up on caller ID is one of the main East Oregonian numbers.

Such was the case earlier this week when I talked to Umatilla County Commissioner Bill Hansell about the Umatilla County Fair Board naming a path after his brother, Tyler, who died last year. ("Fair paves new tradition," Feb. 25, 2009, East Oregonian).

After reaching the recording, Hansell called back the next morning and was able to leave a message on my voice mail about his brother's first exhibit at the fair.

"Ty exhibited over 50 years ago as a boy ... so his history goes way back," Hansell said.

Because Ty was too young to participate in 4-H, he entered a pair of mittens into the open class exhibits.

"For some reason he got interested, briefly, in knitting," Hansell said.

Joyce Hansell, the matriarch of the Hansell brood, taught Ty how to knit.

"So there is this big strapping, athlete, outdoors man, rodeo man and a pair of mittens is how he got his first blue ribbon at the fair," Hansell.