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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Destinations

I had a dream that I was trying to climb a steep hill on my bike to get to an important meeting but every few feet the bike's chain would fall off. I'd stop and put the chain back on but a few feet later it would just fall off again.

"You don't even need to explain," my friend Tina said as I told her about the dream. "It's like you're pedaling and pedaling but not getting..."

The last two-and-a-half years since moving to Hollywood pretty much summed up in a dream - no interpretation necessary.

Once I realized the bike was broken beyond repair in the dream, I tried to hitch a ride but the cars were traveling in a different direction on a highway below. I woke up with that panicky feeling you have after dreaming you forgot to study for an exam.

But you know what? I have no doubt I'm supposed to keep heading up the hill one way or another. It's not just me who's trying to get to a destination - it's all the artists carrying a vision to use their gifts for the purposes God intended.

I don't know how dreams work but busted chain or not, this dream needs part two: reaching the destination. It's time. Soon.

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Katie, Come Home

I don't usually make New Year's resolutions but sometimes I make wishes.  This year I wish Katie would come home.

I started blogging because of Katie - her and others whose stories I've covered. I decided to record some of them in case I wanted to use the material to write a TV show about journalists.

Sometimes I feel like Haley Joel Osment's character in the The Sixth Sense. "I see dead people," the boy tells a shrink (Bruce Willis). While I don't actually see dead people, I can't forget names and faces, like Katie's.

Katie Eggleston, a recent college grad with surfer girl looks, was excited to start her first job at Allnet in Portland. It was the last day anyone saw her.

Police found Katie's car near the airport with her purse inside.  Investigators somehow concluded she'd run away with a lover.  I didn't get it - what 20-something woman runs off without her lipstick?


Katie's missing person's flyer

Still, cases grow cold quickly without solid leads. I kept in touch with Katie's parents as tips surfaced but eventually lost contact.

I recently found an old letter from Katie's parents. "We want to let you know how much we appreciate the straightforward reporting you did regarding Katie's disappearance," Katie's mom had written me about her missing child.

I knew I had to tell Katie's story again.  Maybe one day someone will come forward with a clue that sheds light on her disappearance.

A while ago Katie's friend posted a message in the paper in case she's alive: "Katie, it's okay, you can come home now."*

So that's my wish. Katie, come home.

*Bend Bugle, 5/4/2001 

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See...

Zoe Saldana in "Avatar." 

Heading home from the midwest.  After the icestorm, blizzard and freezing temps, I can't wait to hit the beach! Even 2,000 miles away from Hollywood though, I couldn't escape its influence.

After being snowed in more than a day, we decided to venture out to the theater in my sister's SUV. I was outvoted on which movie to see. Avatar 3D: 5 votes; Princess & the Frog: 1 vote.

The sci-fi flick tells the story of a blue-skinned tribe whose planet is threatened by humans. It follows two characters' journey from enemies to lovers.

When they first meet, the Na'vi being calls the Avatar/human man foolish. "You don't see," she tells him.

As I sat in the theater adjusting my 3D glasses, I kept thinking about that line for some reason.

James Cameron, the director who brought Titanic to the big screen, started developing Avatar nearly 15 years ago. Cameron said he couldn't produce the movie until now because, "technology needed to catch up."

Fifteen years from conception to realization.

"I see you," the Na'vi woman and the Avatar whisper after falling in love.

Zoe Saldana. Photo:  Plastic Pals

So maybe that's the point - love sees. Sees the craftsman who carries a dream for years without quitting even though the tools don't yet exist to bring it to life. Sees the pioneer who embraces the unseen, believing one day there will be a finished product. Sees the artist who, though the vision tarries, waits for it.

As we left the theater I thought, "I, too, want to see."

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Superheroes

Tobey McGuire stars as "Spiderman."  Photo: Oh My Magazine

"Can you be at the casting studio at 2:30?" my agent asked. "Sure," I said. Checking my email, I saw a problem.  The director wanted to see tall actors for a role opposite a Superhero. Though only 5'2," I knew I could nail the part: She's tough, lean and statuesque.  So I put on my 4" heels and strutted to the audition.

The director liked my audition. I would love to be cast as the Superhero. Who said crimefighters have to be tall? Tobey Maguire is only 5'8" and that didn't stop him from becoming Spiderman.

I was one of those kids who honestly believed that I was born with superhuman powers. Accompanied by my Superdoll, Dusty, I would climb the highest trees, whip bullies on the playground, race cars on my bike - all in training to save mankind.

I would tie a makeshift parachute to Dusty and throw her off a cliff into a pile of leaves (some stunts I knew better than to risk myself) to make her fly. 

One awful day, Dusty missed the landing pad. She crashed with a horrific snap on the concrete. Her head snapped off with a "pop" like the sound of someone prying off a bottle cap.

"Your dad came home to find you prostrated with grief," my mother recalls. "He got a shoebox and shovel and out to the backyard went gravedigger and chief mourner. The beheaded dolly was buried amid tears and deep sorrow."

She bought me a new doll but it was never the same as Dusty. 

That day I learned even Superheroes are mortal.

These days my definition of a Superhero is different. They're the ones whose faith births miracles.  Who love the unlovable. Who remain hidden so others can shine. 

Their courage produces a divine exchange: beauty for ashes; joy for sorrow; strength for weakness. Their names are Melissa, Steve, Phil, Esther, Jackie...friends who's hearts are set ablaze with a vision to rock the world with their gifts.

Oh, in my heart I still dream of whipping bad guys and ridding the world of evil. And if the call comes to play a Superhero, a less-than-statuesque physique won't stop me any more than it did Tobey.  Besides, like the world's top webslinger, I'm a journalist - already have the perfect cover.

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Rebirth

Looking out the window, I was surprised to see leaves falling from a tree. I live at the ocean surrounded mostly by palms and evergreens.  Early darkness is one of the only signs of the seasons changing.

I don't miss winter. Back in the midwest, covering the crime beat for TV news often meant spending hours outside in blizzard conditions; murders, fires, kidnappings - they don't stop for winter.

My photographer and I once got stranded in an icestorm when our satellite truck's mast froze in the air (a safety device keeps the truck from moving unless the mast is down).

No matter how hard Mike hacked away at the ice, the mast would refreeze faster than he could scrape.

We were stuck. Frostbite. Hypothermia. Possibly freezing to death...

We put in an emergency call to highway patrol. "The roads are impassable," the dispatcher couldn't tell when help would rescue us. "We've got to try to reach the accidents first."

We'd be ok as long as we had gas to run the heater.  A State Trooper eventually saved us.

We endured a brutal, fatal winter that year. I left soon afterward and never moved back.

Hollywood lately has felt like winter - barren. bleak. destiny choked under a mound of frozen dirt.

But watching those leaves fall reminded me that there's a season for all things. We survive the storms. Barrenness yields to rebirth. Hold on to the promise as long as it takes.

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Love Affairs

Tiger Woods. Photo: The Guardian

I wish it wasn't true, all the rumors about Tiger Woods and his alleged lovers. I promised not to write about sex and affairs and the wreckage you see in Hollywood but the topic keeps coming up.

Actually, it seems most people I know are longing for so much more in relationships.

It's easy to fall in love in Hollywood. Problem is it's usually not real love. obsession. creative synergy. sex addiction...

But so few of us seem to know what true love is that it's hard to tell the counterfeit.

"True love is often unglamorous," my friend Karin said. It often can't sustain the passion, heat and intensity of lust or a love affair born out of birthing a vision with someone.

You may be making a feature film together or putting on a charity fundraiser - it's easy to fall for your co-creator. even if one of you is married.  Creative connection - the reason so many actors jump from one bed to another.

So how do you know true love versus the fake? Well, I guess we're going on a journey to find out.

And just for the record, I don't advocate whacking a cheating spouse with a golf club. Abuse is never right in any relationship. Tell someone if it's happening to you.

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