Answering the phone in the office is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get. We do get our share of heartbreaking calls, and I took two over the weekend.
One was from the mother of a deceased cancer patient, who wanted to make a personal plea to the Minnesota woman hiding her son so he can avoid chemotherapy. She wanted the woman and her son to come out of hiding, and the son to get the treatment that will likely prolong his life.
I couldn't do it, and a lengthy explanation wasn't helping me get through to the caller. She hung up on me.
Another heartbreaking call came from a woman who was looking for her 16 year old daughter. This was the tenth time she'd run away from home. We don't get involved in these family situations unless police ask, and even then, police only ask when they feel the run away is in danger. I explained the station's policy. Again, the caller wasn't happy. My hands were tied. I didn't get a chance to say it, but once mother and daughter get together, a trip to a counselor can do more good than a television station ever can.
Then, there was my Memorial Day. It was a heartbreaking situation, but one where we could help, a little. A sign was dedicated in Peckville to two young people who died a week apart in 2007. Sergeant Jan Argonish was killed in Afghanistan. Danielle Faramelli was killed in a car crash.
Donations paid for the sign and a little landscaping. Volunteers did the work. Argonish's parents, and Faramelli's mother wanted to thank people for what they'd done. Argonish was 26 when he died. Faramelli was just 25. Both families were grateful their children will be remembered, that their short lives meant something.
Don't get me wrong. I wasn't feeling sorry for myself. I felt sorry for the callers, who were obviously going through difficult times.
I felt sorry for the families who lost children at such a young age.
Sometimes, life isn't fair.
