3/15/2024 0 Comments Mom hotwife texts tumblrShe left behind all the other adults in her family, in an attic, with a power saw. So this teenager wrapped her arms around all four children and rode in a swinging helicopter basket to safety and a crowded convention center. But there was only enough room for her, her one-year-old-son, a seven-month old nephew, two-year-old nephew with a heart condition and a three-year-old niece. She recounted her harrowing tale of water rising… escaping to the attic, being rescued by helicopter. That morning before I came so close to breaking down, I interviewed an 18-year-old woman with four children, all younger than three. They’d been rescued from their home in the outer suburbs of Houston, ridden several hours in the back of a box truck and were soaked to the bone, including the little children. That morning, before the incident with the twins and the near-crying on tv, I met a family who had come into the convention center in the wee hours of the morning. And even at the end of the day, typically, there’s an early call the next day and fresh assignments.Īnd yet - sometimes the story is so big, even veteran journalists become emotional. In part we ignore our inner turmoil because we have a job to do- more live shots, more interviews, more broll. But as standard practice, we ignore what the story sparks in us, in part, because our feelings are not the story. My theory is that reporters are there to document reality- to capture stories at a certain moment in time and allow viewers to feel whatever the story sparks in them. ![]() I made it through the live shot but felt deep chagrin at succumbing to my feelings. But I had to take long pauses, because my voice was quaking and the tears were close to spilling. I stepped to the side of the camera - directed my photographer to show the scene at the door and tried to explain what I’d seen, why I was reacting so emotionally. Carl Quintanilla introduced me from the studio and I said only one sentence before my voice broke. I kept the tears from spilling but felt only a tenuous grasp on my composure. My photographer watched and said, “Keep it together. I watched as one of the twins gazed around this noisy, crowded place and his face just crumpled and he began crying. These children were accompanied by a woman, presumably their mother, carrying a big bag of clothing. As the mom of twin boys myself, I always watch with curiosity the way other twins interact with each other. My eye was drawn to two children, boys with bright-red curly hair, about seven years old. Lines of volunteers made the chaos at the door seem even more overwhelming. Three days after Hurricane Harvey made landfall, the resident population at the mega-shelter downtown was skyrocketing. Two minutes away from my live shot for CNBC, I waited, watching a stream of people crowd through the doors at the George R. And my first day reporting was filled with stories that were hard to comprehend. It took my team hours to find a way past flooded highways into downtown. When I arrived in Houston- I was astonished at the flooding. And finally we heard her, “I’m coming.” I cried as she unlocked the gate and embraced her brother.īut we left her and Puerto Rico with no power, little running water and disaster, though not insurmountable, a far cry from the situation in Houston or Irma. A few seconds of silence seemed to last agonizing minutes. Finally, he exclaimed, “There it is! I see it.” We’ll pulled the Jeep into the driveway, outside a locked gate, and Victor yelled for his sister. ![]() We stopped four times for Victor to ask directions to his childhood home. Lush mountainsides were now barren and brown. Hurricane Maria had devastated the landscape. I felt incredible anxiety riding along with my photographer, Victor Calderin, as we drove across the length of the island and finally began to look for his sister. I felt myself getting emotional when the top executive for Crowley shipping in Puerto Rico began crying in his interview with me, so incredibly frustrated over the logjam of life-saving supplies stuck at his terminal in the Port of San Juan, with no drivers, no diesel, a shortage of passable roads to move essential goods to the suffering families who needed them most. ![]() Three hurricanes in less than a month have given me more than enough opportunity. This is how I make them.No reporter wants to cry over a story, much less, cry publicly. I write captions and longer stories with illustrative GIFs. I'm also very open to making captions for people if I think the idea is hot, so shoot me an ask! I love feedback and criticism, if there are captions you love or hate let me know. I make original captions about cuck-like topics.
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