There probably aren't many people who read my story in the Bangor Daily News today about a Jump Rope for Heart event at a local elementary school. A lot of journalists I know wouldn't cover such an event unless told to by an editor. In a world where there is corruption, greed and tragedy everywhere, not to mention an endless supply of positive stories, assignments like this fall by the wayside too often.
But I had a couple free hours, so I went. I talked to the teachers and a representative from the American Heart Association, but what I was really looking for was any reporter's biggest challenge in an elementary school: finding a kid who will open up a little.
I was also the photographer, so I threaded my way through the gymnasium taking pictures. Jump ropes twirled and slapped the floor all around me as the kids rotated between four jumping stations. At one point I saw a girl I'd interviewed starting to jump over a long rope swung by two friends. Next to them was another team. Hoping to find a position in time to take the girl's picture, I tried to squeeze between the two swinging ropes. One of them hit me on the right shoulder and the other struck my left ear. Both teams had to stop and start over.
At that moment I thought of some reporters I know who cover wars and natural disasters, or who have spent time in prison. I know an African reporter who has been tortured and an American who has been held hostage. I'm honored to know those people and proud of how they represent our profession. They're heroes.
I don't know whether I'll ever see a war zone or natural disaster, but I do know that yesterday I was grateful that the worst shrapnel I've ever seen consisted of two jump ropes.
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