By Bob Stevens, The Muddled Male
Who
would have expected so much turmoil to have come into a simple man’s life from
a short email penned by a vacationing editor basking in the sun somewhere in a
timeshare in Mexico? The short version
of the message was that the two RCTOnline reporters who normally cover the Rich
County Commissioners’ Meetings were unavailable, and would I be so kind as to
fill in for them at the Commissioners’ first of April meeting. My first thought was that this was a hoax and
I was being set up as the fall guy in an April fool’s joke. “Nay, nay,” said my editor. All I would have to do is to attend the
meeting in behalf of the AWOL reporters, listen to the discussions and
presentations that occurred, and then write up an abbreviated version of what went
on. “How hard could that be,” I asked
myself. So I decided to be a nice guy
and do what I was asked.
Although
I arrived early, the room was already full of people. And it appeared that the meeting had started without
me and I was missing things I was expected to hear and report. I tried to use the same technique that I use
when I arrive late to Church by peeking quietly into the room and when no one
is looking, slip quietly into a seat on the back row so that everyone thinks
that I have been there all along. But a
kindly person with a smile on her face caught me in mid stride and informed me
that I was interrupting a crew meeting and moved me back into the hall and then
closed the door to prevent me from becoming part of something I was not allowed
to join. My editor warned me that I
might be thrown out, but I didn’t realize that it would happen even before I
started.
I
admit that I concluded almost immediately that a reporter’s life is not always
easy. Especially for an inexperienced
reporter like me who was only there because of a desperation assignment. I want everyone to know, however, that in
spite of my limitations I really did try my best. I came to my assignment packing a laptop, an
iPad, a picture of all the main characters with their name so that I wouldn’t
blunder and call Joe, Pete, a pen in case my laptop battery ran down, and my
hearing aids. The Court room where the
Commissioners meet isn’t the easiest place for an old man to hear. First of all those making a plea or a
presentation to the Commissioners sit facing the Commissioners but with their
backs to the audience where the reporters sit.
I tried turning my hearing aids up.
I tried turning my hearing aids down.
But no adjustment corrected the noise from people talking in the hallway
outside the court room door, or the sound of a copy machine kachunking out
copies somewhere in the region of the Courtroom. And as hard as I tried I never figured out
how to read the lips of presenters by looking at the backs of heads and
watching ears wiggle.
In
spite of all that, I accept responsibility for any error that may have resulted
from me misunderstanding what I thought I understood, or editing out something
that should have been left in. It is
interesting to note that I have been writing the Muddled Male column for about
seven years. In all that time I have
received two telephone calls and two emails.
Oh, and there has been a long time correspondence with a special fan in
Hamtramck, Michigan who is also a good friend.
Of course there is my sister who says she thinks my articles are
humorous, but she is partial to me because I have always been such a nice
brother.
But
with the article I wrote this past week regarding the Swan Creek Garbage Pickup Problem, I received two personal contacts
and two telephone calls within two days of the article being published. All of this is a preface to telling you that
a correction to that article has been included in this edition of the RCTOnline. Thank you for being readers and for feeling
strongly enough to contact me …. and for speaking kindly rather than
threatening to clean my clock.
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