Recently, a Friday was one day that everything went wrong from morning until midnight; from a story assignment in jeopardy, to a smoke alarm that scared cat, and much more.
Most of it was due to insufficient information provided by Connie, Editor of White Water News. That morning I booted up my computer at 9 am. There was a message from Connie in my inbox asking if I could cover an event at 2:30 – no other information. I discussed the timing with my partner as we had planned to go shopping in Pembroke after lunch. We decided instead to go early evening, allowing me to take on the assignment. I e-mailed Connie back saying that I was okay to be her backup but to send details of what event and where. She got back with two contact names, Karen Coulas and Andrew Laird, which neither one I knew. I e-mailed her back again saying I still needed more details. She didn’t get back to me, so I did a little research. This was so unlike Connie to not supply sufficient information!
I found a telephone number for a K. Coulas in Cobden. I phoned the number to find that she was a cousin of Karen’s. She passed on her telephone number and I called it and did talk with Karen. She said there was a demonstration of some drainage equipment at Tim Regan’s farm at 2:30. She gave directions to her address on Egan Road; go west on Mountain Road and turn left on Stafford 3rd Line, which blends into Egan Road. Even at this point I had no idea what I would encounter or really why. I did manage to arrive at Karen’s place only to find the meeting was back on the road where I came from. I drove a fair distance, didn’t see anyone, turned around and went back to check with Karen at her place. She said I hadn’t gone far enough so back I went again until I saw a bunch of people huddled around in a muddy field, some with umbrellas as it continued to drizzle rain.
I joined the group. Evelyn St. Amour, involved with the Muskrat Watershed Council (MWC), was the only one I knew. I was to discover that the event was a presentation about a Snake River watershed, actually Mink Creek running into Snake River. I still was clueless. A teacher and the environmental department head at Algonquin were giving the explanation about the research that went into this sophisticated BioCord equipment and its functions. The system takes complex measurements for the controlled drainage of Egan’s farm into the creek and extracts nutrients from overflows and so preventing from entering the watershed.
It drizzled rain the whole time I was there. Because I hadn’t known what to expect or why, I was grasping at straws at the terminology being used. My meager notes were virtually illegible, poor handwriting as nothing to prop my notepad on and the ink smudged by the rain. I got pictures though. As I was leaving the field, my shoes were so laden with soggy mud, it felt like I was wearing steel-toed work boots. It would also be a while before my water-soaked jacket would be dry again. Back home, I spent four hours researching the partnership between Algonquin and the MWC. Still needing answers, I had to consult with my contact, one of the Algonquin presenters Monday and Tuesday to get the facts straight. By far, this was toughest reporter assignment I ever had.
We decided to broil steaks for supper before we left for shopping in Pembroke. The steaks flamed up, a smoke alarm went off. Our cat Muffin, orange colouring, who we found as an abandoned kitten three winters ago and took in, bolted through the door which was open for fresh air to enter the house. The cat had hadn’t returned when we left for town. I was a little worried. We made three stops in town and realized after we got home that forget one key item at Pharma Plus, CTC and Walmart. I will have to make another trip in. Muffin still hadn’t shown up and I was really worried as it was both wet and cold outside. I kept checking for him all evening. I finally decided to lock up at 11:55 and at that very moment Muffin was coming to the back door. A timid cat to begin with, he was really skittish then. He rarely ever gets any milk but this time I felt he deserved some for both of our ordeals.
I guess I can’t really put any blame on my editor. After all, I am the author of my own life.
