Jeff’s Dark and Early Blog

I had a chance this morning to talk briefly with Rick Pretz.  He’s the father of missing Northland mother Renee Pernice.  He and his family showed up at the Clay County Courthouse, where Renee’s husband, Shon, made a brief appearance on a weapons theft charge unrelated to Renee’s disappearance.

I was amazed, during the short conversation that Pretz had with myself and other journalists, how he and his family have been able to maintain such character and strength through such an ordeal.

Most of us can only imagine what the family must be going through as the weeks and months continue to pass with few answers.  And yet, in the face of such frustration, Rick Pretz is a gentleman to the core.  He is kind and courteous.  He is determined and full of faith.

People like Mr. Pretz truly make an impact on those in my profession.  My job is to report the facts, and the fact is, Rick Pretz is a good man looking justice.  I only hope he finds it sooner than later.

I got a text message from Lisa Carter around 4 a.m.

It looked something like this…. 

I quickly assumed that Lisa had slept very little, if at all.  This made sense, since her Missouri Tigers had just knocked off Memphis in an amazing college basketball game.

As I took off in Cruiser 980, the text messages kept coming.  Over the course of the next half hour or so, we talked a little basketball and wished each other luck the rest of the way.  I am, after all, a die hard Jayhawk.

This basketball season has been a blast.  Both KU and Mizzou have been at the top of their game and it’s kept Lisa and I at the top of ours when it comes to picking on one another.

After this morning’s text talk, we decided we need to watch the game together if KU and MU meet in the Final Four.  Heck, we might even do a piece on it for the radio.

First, of course, KU has to win tonight.  Hey, anything can happen in a blizzard.

In this business, there are mornings when nothing is happening.  Today was not one of those mornings.

From a serious accident that shut down 119th Street in Overland Park to an Independence tragedy involving a pedestrian and a train, I put some serious miles on Cruiser 980 getting it all sorted out.

And that always seems to be the way it goes.

There’s either nothing happening, or there are two incidents on opposite ends of the world.

In the world of mobile breaking news, we end up spending a lot of money on oil changes.

I woke up this morning and immediately got in touch with Jayme, our producer.

“Anyone drowing out there?” I asked.

“Probably somewhere, but not here,” was her response.

We take severe weather seriously, and if it’s out there you’ll know about it.  What we try not to do, however, is make something out of nothing.  That simply makes for bad journalism.

This morning was a perfect example.  After assessing the weather in Cruiser 980 and making some phone calls, I came to the conclusion that most of the metro was going to end up in pretty good shape.  We kept our eyes open for flooding, talked at length about the bad weather in Johnson County, Missouri, and stayed true to what was really happening.

There’s no sense in making weather out to be something more than it is.  If it’s bad, we’ll tell you about.  And you can bet we’re serious when we say so.  That’s Operation Stormwatch, and I’m proud to be a part of it.

I covered the KU game on Friday at Johnny’s Tavern in Olathe, and ended up being part of something pretty amazing.

After interviewing fans, editing sound and calling in my reports, I ended my shift and sat down to watch the rest of the game.  My wife was supposed to meet me at Johnny’s, but my son was a little upset about the prospect of a car ride, so she decided to stay home.  So….I ended up at a table by myself.

After a short while, a middle-aged man named Kevin sat down across from me and started to make conversation.  I was alarmed at first because he was wearing a Missouri Tigers shirt.  My alarm didn’t last long.

Kevin ended up being the best companion you could hope for during a big game.  He cheered for KU right along with me, even high fiving me during the big plays.  We had good conversation, shared photos of our kids and enjoyed a nice afternoon.

Soon after, I did something I never thought I would do.  I cheered for the Tigers against Cornell.  I did so again on Sunday against Marquette.

After meeting Kevin, I decided I would pull for the Tigers, and every other Big 12 team until the end.  Unless, of course, they’re playing KU.

It just goes to show that even bitter rivals can find some common ground once in awhile.

Recently, while covering a breaking story in the dark and early hours of a not-so-typical Monday, I encountered a large man carrying a large wood stick.  Strange encounters are a part of my job.  I watched the man as he walked around his apartment complex, but didn’t pay him much mind.  As I said, I was working a breaking story.

Later in the morning, however, he returned.  And he had apparently gained some followers. 

The man, who was dressed a bit like Bob Marley, was followed by three other men, also dressed like the late reggae singer, and also carrying sticks.

They finally approached Cruiser 980, and informed me that their address included the numbers 9-8-0.

Teddy Roosevelt advised us to “speak softly and carry a big stick.”

He never met these guys.

It’s St. Patrick’s Day, but for me, it’s a bit more like Thanksgiving.

As I took off this morning in Cruiser 980, I couldn’t help but think of what a year it’s been.  In September, I gained a son.  In December, I almost lost a father.

The father of which I speak is proud of a number of things, one of which is his Irish heritage.  He even sings an Irish lullabye to my wide-eyed son, who hangs intently on every word, and then drools a little.

It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that my dad is a big part of my life.  We talk as often as we can, share of sense of humor one could only describe as odd, and have become great friends as time has passed.

That said, you can imagine what our family went through when we learned that Dad was in congenital heart failure just before Christmas.  It was like watching your hero start to fade in the distance.  I can remember looking at my young son while Dad was in surgery, wondering if he’d ever have a chance to get to know his grandfather.

Thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, and good people at Overland Park Regional Medical Center, Dad is still with us today.  He’s no doubt wearing his “Instant Irish” t-shirt and probably watching an episode or two of “Bonanza”.  If all goes well, he’ll be back to work next month.

So, as I said, today is more like Thanksgiving for my family and I.  Thankful for dad, or grandad, and that he’s still here to make us all smile.

Your star still shines, Dad.  And for right now, it still shines here.

It started with Lisa’s tiger.  I tried to ignore it, but then he had his picture taken in our studio.  That was the last straw.

It was early in the Big 12 season.  Our afternoon anchor and assistant News Director Lisa Carter was filling in for Ellen on the morning after Missouri knocked off Kansas on a last second shot in Columbia.  She walked in that morning decked out in black and gold, carrying a huge stuffed tiger.  Being the proud Jayhawk that I am, I was already taking the loss pretty hard.  But as they say, lose gracefully, so I laughed as Lisa paraded the tiger around the newsroom.

A few weeks later, it was Kansas’ turn.  Allen Fieldhouse was on fire as the Jayhawks crushed the Tigers in convincing fashion.  I was pumped.

The next day, with Lisa back on her regular shift, I brought in my son’s giant stuffed Jayhawk and waited.  When Lisa arrived, Jay was sitting at her desk.  To top it off, he’d taken a photo wearing her studio headphones.  That photo now existed on her computer desktop.  I thought I had the last laugh.  I was wrong.

Yesterday marked embarassment for Jayhawk fans as our guys went out in the quarterfinal round of the Big 12 Tournament, losing to a Baylor team that was 5-11 in conference.  Missouri, of course, won.

So here I sit, early on Friday morning, watching and waiting.  Will she bring back the tiger?  Will he eat my headphones?  Only time will tell.

They saw me coming and placed their bets.

Would it be Obama?  Something to do with the economy?  Was Kansas City on another list?

When I want to find quick public opinion on a particular issue at four in the morning, there’s no better place than the local diner.  It might be Denny’s or Pegah’s, or even just a coffee shop.

On this particular morning, I was walking up the sidewalk toward one of those establishments, when I saw the crew that works inside pointing at me and whispering.  They were taking bets again.

I find it flattering that I’ve become so close to many of these early morning waiters and waitresses that they anxiously await my arrival, hoping to learn a bit about the topic of the day.

But the best part of mornings like these are the people.  It might be a senior citizen reading the paper, or a couple of guys who just worked the night shift.  Whatever the case, when they sound off, we’re able to give you a true glimpse into the thoughts and opinions of our otherwise silent friends and neighbors.

It might be the most rewarding part of my job.  Giving you a chance to talk back.

It’s well known around the newsroom that I’m still obsessed with ER.  Yeah, ER.  It’s still on.  Most of you probably gave it up after George Clooney left in the late 1990’s.  Others may have held on until Anthony Edwards’ departure.  But no one watches it now, right?

I do.

I’ve seen every episode of the medical drama, now in its 15th and final season, and I’m counting down (along with Ellen) to the final episode set to air on April 2nd.

The point of all this is centered on a co-worker of mine.

Over the course of the past year, I’ve begun to realize that a character on the show is nearly a carbon copy of Eric.

Dr. Archie Morris, portrayed by Scott Grimes, is talented, hard working and friendly.  He’s also known for his loud and often hilarious comments that cause the rest of his colleagues to stop what they’re doing in disbelief.

That’s our Eric.  His jokes aren’t always funny, but the newsroom would never be the same without them.

In the spirit of ER, ‘you set the tone’ Bushman.  ‘You set the tone’.