Doing this for as long as I have, there are a few things about my job that I've noticed over the years.
Perhaps the biggest realization is how much it has altered my perception on any number of things.
When I hear that a team is doing well in a game series, I used to ask, "What was the score of their last game?" Now I ask, "When's the next game and who's the team's opponent?"
And in the wake of something sudden and tragic happening, I used to ask, "Was anyone hurt?" Now I ask, "Does anyone have any photos or would I be able to go and shoot some myself?"
I hope you won't find that last one callous or that you think I've lost some of my humanity. Let me assure you, while some in the media game do operate like as if they've developed a thick, crusty layer of sarcasm and cynicism when it comes to the world around us, I go out of my way to not let myself develop such a shell. I've retained my full humanity complete with all of our human emotions, perhaps even to a fault when it's come to some stories in the past. The Town of Outlook vs The Outlook in the spring of 2019 immediately comes to mind, but I digress.
No, I like to think of myself as a journalist who captures all sides and retains his ground-levelness. Which is why when it comes to stories such as the one that we've all seen unfold recently over in the small town of Davidson, where five people horrifically lost their lives due to suspected carbon monoxide poisoning (investigation is still ongoing) and a fire that broke out in the home, I'm right there in feeling all the anguish and sorrow with people. What a sad and terrible thing that happened in that community, which isn't that far from Outlook.
I should know, because I hopped in my SUV last Friday and drove down to Davidson to capture some photos. I'll tell ya, I could almost feel the sorrow surrounding the whole thing, you know what I mean? Vehicles were still driving past what's left of the home on Ottawa Street, casting glances and shaking their heads, unable to fathom the sadness of everything. The property, with most of the house's outer layers charred black from the fire, had been fenced off as the investigation is still ongoing.
The thing that really grabbed my attention though was when I looked to the ground and saw stuffed animals lining the perimeter of the fence. Cute little animal dolls dotting the property, begging to be played with by some young kids who need an activity to keep them busy.
Only those young kids will never see another stuffed animal again.
Stories such as this remind me of a few other instances in the past where a community area came together in the face of tragedy, or helped someone who needed it the most. While the actual occurrence - a fire, a car crash, that sort of thing - is often the central part of the story, sometimes it's the aftermath that can really grab attention.
That was certainly the case when it came to young Outlook resident Kolbjorn Friggstad over a decade ago.
'Kol' was born September 27, 2002 and unfortunately, he lived an all-too-short life before succumbing to cancer on May 21, 2012 at the age of 9. However, although that damn 'C' word decided to take him far too young, I like to think that Kol's life and his story brought a ton of people together because people, I'm telling you, you wouldn't believe how quickly and tightly this community and beyond came together when the Friggstad family was going through treatments for Kol, extensive traveling, and everything in between.
There were food collections with container after container and hamper after hamper of food dropped off at the family's home. There were pledge drives to raise as much money as could be collected to aid the family in combatting the costs associated with Kol's health. There were auction events that were held. Local stores collected donations. There were even people inspired by Kol's story, including my friend Stephanie Murphy, who not only raised some money for the family, but she actually decided to shave her head to match Kol's look at the time.
Kol was even named as Outlook's latest Youth of the Year, and I had the opportunity to sit down with the family and interview the young man. I found him to be funny, observational, and someone who even at just nine years old, seemed to be wise beyond his years. He was excited to have won such an award, the family was beyond grateful for all the good that citizens had done for them, and if this were a feel-good Disney movie, Kol's cancer would have magically deteriorated, he would regain his full health, and he'd be a 21-year old young man today, likely in the midst of university studies.
But real life isn't a Disney movie, and some endings are cruel in their harsh reality.
Kol passed away a couple of months after collecting that award. The ongoing stories you'd hear in the community surrounding the strength of that little guy came grinding to a screeching halt because it was now over.
But the thing is, it's just like I described above. Sometimes in life, it isn't so much about the central focal point of the story. It's about what happened BEFORE, DURING and AFTER. It was about the fundraisers, the food hampers, the community events. And it was about the inspiration, the trials and tribulations, and the life story of this young man that no one would soon forget.
Tragedy does indeed have a way of bringing small towns together.
A fire can wipe out the lives of five people or a disease can take a young boy, but tragedy can never stop communities from pulling together to help those in need when they need it most.
And I'll be right there, happily capturing the humanity of it all.
For this week, that's been the Ruttle Report.
