I’m poised to celebrate my 20th anniversary working full-time in some facet of the television industry. In that time, I’ve gone from lowly peon to beloved TV personality, uh, and then back to lowly peon. Currently, I’m a beloved TV personality again — at least for the duration.
In my 20 years, I’ve seen a lot of technological advances, not that I’ve cared or kept up with any of them. In 1993, I didn’t know how to turn on a TV news camera. I’m proud to say 20 years later, I still don’t. God created videographers for a reason … they have an eye, a passion, a talent and a skill for shooting video that I do not possess. Well, that … and those suckers are heavy. (Um, the cameras. Not the videographers.)
Most, if not all, of my best friends are newsies. I’ve known a majority of these folks nearly half my adult life … and I wouldn’t give them up or trade them out for all the money in the world. They’ve simultaneously driven my crazy and kept me sane (shout out, Dana Wright). They’ve stuck by me through some of the best and worst life choices a human being could possibly make (word to your mother, Dre Fitzpatrick). They’ve foolishly allowed me to be the godfather to their offspring (that’s what I’m talking about, Kiki Crane). They’ve ensured I’ve become a gooder — er, better writer. (Chad Leabo & Wendy Lyons, this means you.) And they’ve permitted me to visit them on a moment’s notice and crash on their couch or floor … in their bed or bathtub without much hesitation. (Hugs to the rest of you for never denying me shelter.)
The TV news business is wholly incestuous. I’ll guarantee that I know someone (or someone by proxy) in every single TV market in the United States … uh, except for, say, Butte, Montana or Bismark, North Dakota. (Wait, I take back Bismark … I’m now Twitter friends with that infernal A.J. Clemente … who just got canned for dropping the “F”-bomb on his first night of anchoring.)
In all my years in TV, I’ve only had two archenemies. (That’s saying a lot …) One was Sarah Jarvis, who was an evil shrew to me from the day I started at my very first station in Des Moines, Iowa. We’ve since buried the hatchet, but it took a long time before I got over my disdain for her. It took a village … several peace treaties … and a couple bottles of wine. The other shall person remain nameless. If you really want to know who it is … may I just say … most of you are reporters, YOU figure out who it is.
In the last two decades, I’m proud to say I’ve covered the weirdest assortment of news. I was nearly knocked over by rushing water during a levee break during the devastating Central Iowa flooding of ’93 that inundated Des Moines. Lord knows I’ve seen my fair share of gruesome deaths. (Uh, videographer Mike Simms once hit a deer when we were coming back from a story about a disabled boy. An Iowa State Trooper saw it happen and commented, “Man, you done blowed that thing to smithereens.”) And I’ve sang a duet with Wynonna Judd who told me I sounded “like a big ol’ donkey schoolgirl”.
To any of the thousands of folks I’ve ever interviewed in the past 20 years, I’d like to say thanks (except for that weird “hat guy” in Eldora, Iowa, you know who you are). And to anyone who has believed in me, nurtured me and/or given me a shot (cheers, Bracco!), may I just say … I owe you an infinite amount of gratitude. Other than that weird wedge haircut from 1995, I wouldn’t change a thing.