Forced To Look In Strange Places

It's a day that's vague in my memory but one I'll never forget; vague enough that I couldn't remember exactly where I was standing until I saw the purple beacon.

My face became flush and I wanted leave.

But I couldn't. Besides, the windows were down and Jerry was singing loudly.

Look for a while at the china cat sunflower,
Proud walking jingle in the midnight sun.
Copperdome bodhi drip a silver kimono,
Like a crazy quilt stargown through a dream night wind.

It's a morbid thought if you really think about it. On the anniversary of a death that continues to cause more sadness than is necessary, and certainly more than he would want, I stood speaking to a piece of marble with gilded lettering. Below that stone lies the shell of a man who I consider a brother.

The small corvette and the golden fighter jet caused a visceral reaction as I thought about the accent and diction of my friend as he sat playing in his youth. When his friends called to play, did he invite them to come over with an offer of about n-n-n-n-nine marbles and a new pack of Oreos? I truly wonder if he knew back then that college was expensive and fatty foods were bad for you?

I think about Chris frequently. I think about the purpose of his death, or maybe I should say the purpose of his life. It's really the same, isn't it? And I wonder if he knows the profound affect that his death had on my life. Once in a while you can get shown the light in the strangest places if you look at it right.

More information about Chris Gulfman can be found here and here and here

My personal tribute to the Gman can be found at WhimsWeb. (link is now working again)

Hey Joe Died

It was me a hundred times over during the course of nearly ten years in the TV news industry. Somewhere on a highway shooting the scene of an accident was where I cut my teeth, or at least learned how to always white balance. When the weather was bad and driver visibility lessened was when I was dispatched the most.

I once did a 11p live shot in the sleet/rain on I-385 at the intersection of I-85. We were stationed at the apex of a blind hill so we could get microwave reception. The on-coming drivers saw nothing until cresting. They would then be blinded by the frezzi on my camera and any extra lights I could set up before deadline. Mix in with the weather and the bright lights the ohhh & ahhh factor of a big TV news van and a reporter. What you get is nothing but a journalists’ nightmare.

To me his name was Hey Joe. That’s what I said every single time I called the assignment desk at Fox Carolina. The response was always the same; a semi-husky and friendly tone of, “Hey Tim, what’s going on? How are ya?”

Joe Loy was one of those embedded Upstate journalists with nearly an entire career covering local news. Like most journalist that work in this market for more than five years, Joe knew everyone…and their phone numbers. He knew how to get from here to there no matter either location. He understood news and he understood Upstate news. There is a difference. He was a very sweet man who always had time for conversation, and he always cared, or at least seemed to care, about the hack pitch du jour.

Joe worked the assignment desk at Fox but would pick up a camera from time to time. He was certainly no stranger to it. While covering the subsequent gawker wreck of a major accident on I-85 in Spartanburg County yesterday, an impatient driver recklessly cut off a van along that stretch of highway. The van driver overcompensated trying to keep his vehicle out of danger. Investigators are uncertain right now if the van hit Joe or if it slammed into the news vehicle and the news vehicle hit Joe.

I wonder if the impatient driver was hurrying home to see his kids. Joe has kids, too. I’m sure the driver learned this information on the 11p news last night. He certainly didn’t stick around scene to find out. When the police find him (or her) and take him to jail, I wonder if his kids will miss their father. I also wonder if this man (or, again, woman) has enough integrity to step up to the plate and turn himself in. I wonder if he even knows it’s his time to bat or did his impatiens leave him blind to everything that happened, everything except that which was in front of him.

Joe died doing that for which his professional life was dedicated. He will be deeply missed.

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