Fifteen Seconds

Haiti rescue efforts AP photo

As reporters leaving on dangerous assignments, we'd half-jokingly say, "Make sure I get my 15 seconds." 

See, a dead journalist is worth about 15-seconds on network news. Even though it could cost our lives, we were compelled to tell the story...just like now with Haiti.

As journalists, we learn to tell history in seconds. In 15 seconds, an earthquake flattens a nation. an assassin's bullet slays a civil rights leader. a levee breaks. a wall falls. a plane topples a tower.

But I'm Miss Hollywood now. I cover red carpets and wear lipstick. I'm not cut out for sleeping in the dirt and eating cold soup from a tin can.

Yet, something whispers that I was created to walk among the ruins, to comfort orphans, to hold the dying.

Yes, we're afraid for our safety. The head of the medical team I'm traveling with told reporters: "We know we're going into a dangerous situation, but people are dying because nobody is there to help."

Dying now not from injuries but simply because they need water. In an age of wireless networks, 3D and satellite, we can't get a drink to a thirsty child.

At first, I didn't want to go...fear. horrific conditions. overwhelming sense of futility. But as I told friends, "This is a moment in history in which I've been invited to play a role. How can I say no any longer?"

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