Outtakes 316

The Human Spirit

By Cait Collins

I’m continually amazed by the resilience of men and women. Throw the book at them and most will catch the volume. Take a look at what’s been going on in southeast Texas in the aftermath of hurricane Harvey. Although forced by rising water to leave their homes, these ordinary men and women are determined to return and rebuild. They are not wailing “Oh woe is me.” No, they are fighting back. Sure there are exceptions. There are the looters, the scam artists, and the quitters. But the fighters outnumber them.

Some people might say the citizens are Texas Tough, but they are just people fighting for their homes and lives. They are the very best of the human spirit. And they are not regulated to Texas. This is the humane endurance we write about. We take our characters from their calm, quiet lives, force them to reach bottom, and then crawl back to happiness or contentment. Without the day-to-day examples of normal individuals, we might have little to write about.

Humans who always appear to be on top of everything, who have no obstacles in their paths, who live well, are boring. Heroes are not born, they are made. And some heroes are ordinary men and women who rise to the occasion and excel. We need heroes, but we also need the average man who lives out his life going to work, caring for his family, and respecting others. The human spirit is the basis of all character growth. Never discount the ordinary man.

Outtakes 315

No Words

By Cait Collins

Have you ever been in a situation that was so intense and over-powering you couldn’t describe it? I can think of several situations where there were just no words that fit or would bring the event to life.

The John Kennedy assignation comes to mind. I was in junior high (that’s the old fashioned word for Middle School) when I watched President Kennedy exit Air Force One and run up into the crowd. He was young, vibrant, and engaging. A few weeks later he was dead. As a kid, I couldn’t define how I felt. Schools were closed, and we watched everything on TV. But it wasn’t real. Who would kill the President of the United States? Fifty some odd years later I still remember that day, and I still can’t make sense of what I saw or how I felt.

The Panhandle Wildfires. I remember an email from a writer friend trapped in her home. “We are surrounded by fire. Pray for us.” She and her family survived but others did not. I read John Erickson’s blogs and marveled at the courage and fortitude of cowboys. Yet I cannot put their situation and losses into words.

My first Presidential Press Corps was exciting. I enjoyed the rush of being investigated, finger printed, and receiving my first national press badge. I stood at the front of the pack with my recorder and microphone in hand waiting for Air Force One to land. When President Ford stepped to the podium, I had my microphone in his face and hoped he’d call on me. I had my question prepared. “Did you have a deal with President Nixon? Was the President’s resignation pending your promise of a pardon?” I never had a chance to ask my question, but I was a close to the President of the United States as the Secret Service allowed. How did I feel? Important is the only answer I have.

“Just a few flurries folks. Nothing to write home about. By morning we had 40 inches of snow on the ground. Mom and Dad had to dig the car out of a drift. Dad had to wade through chest deep snow drifts to connect the oil hose to the tank. I was afraid he’d die.

National and international disasters like the tsunami in the Far East that killed hundreds, destroyed property and left so many homeless. I saw pictures of people running away from the danger, but I couldn’t put myself in their places.

These events are just a few ideas of remembering incidents that should be fodder for our best stories. But our awe of events that are so important or disturbing causes us to freeze. Could I write news stories about the disaster in the Texas Gulf region? No, but I’m glad there are those who can.