Today was a rough one.
I spent the majority of it fielding calls and e-mails from livid sources upset about some recent coverage. I was called every name in the book, and retractions were demanded. They didn’t quite know or care (nor should they) that around our house babies were crying, cars were dying and personal issues were cropping up.
Dealing with these situations is part of the job and I take very seriously my responsibility to the facts – no excuses. But I guess the past several years of fluffy Boy Scout Pinewood Derby and blind kitten coverage thinned my skin a bit. I admit, those biting comments on my work got to me.
Then I got another e-mail.
A local man (a good man, doctor and philanthropist) had been born and raised in Peshawar, Pakistan. His e-mail dripped with the agony of someone who has experienced profound loss. It is his hometown, his safe place. Yet 132 children were mercilessly slaughtered there. He knew their families. He sent some of their school pictures.
It is almost 2 a.m. and for the past hour I have just held my little boy while he sleeps. The job of a journalist can be taxing. But it also puts into perspective the things that matter most in this world. Amid the swirl of craziness that life throws at you, hold your family a little tighter. They are what matter most. Treasure your safe place.