The thing I learned today is that things don't just happen.
I had been working on a story for my university newspaper. The story itself wasn't bad, but I just kept feeling like I was writing stories just to have words on a page so my managing editor wouldn't yell at me. I knew this was not how a journalist should act, but I just couldn't seem to help it. I felt stuck as a writer.
I was zoning out a little during an interview for this particular story. I couldn't seem to get motivated to be a journalist, I was just hoping to squeeze by. And then my interview-ee changed everything just by a simple sentence.
"I never did figure out the trolley system."
I'm not even sure why this particular sentence made me sit up and start listening. But thank God it did.
Even though this statement had nothing to do with my particular story, I stopped asking my questions on my list and started asking my interview-ee about this trolley system he couldn't figure out.
The more he talked, the more deeply I could smell my next story.
I decided I would figure out this trolley situation, no matter what. I was determined. I felt like I had this breaking story, even if it was just about a trolley. Or so I thought, anyways.
I did something that is rare for me - I talked to everyone I could think of about this trolley. I had talking to administrative people, but I didn't really seem to care when it came to this trolley. I wanted to know.
And then I felt like I hit a wall. I couldn't find anyone who really wanted to talk to me. I talked to three or four admin people, but they just didn't seem to see how this story was relevant, even though I was determined.
So again, I did something that all journalists do, but that I typically avoid like the plague. I ran after my story. Quite literally, actually.
I saw the trolley sitting on campus as I walked out from a class. I hadn't prepared for an interview, I didn't even know what kinds of questions I would ask, and I hadn't spent the typical twenty minutes I normally spend mentally preparing for an interview. I just decided to get on the trolley and start talking.
I could hear the trolley motor from several hundred feet away, and I suddenly was hit with a terrible thought; it is about to drive away. I might miss it.
So I literally ran from my class to the trolley. It was exhilirating running after a story like that.
I smiled at the driver and he kindly opened the door for me. I didn't know what to say, so I just started talking.
"I'm a writer. I mean, I'm an editor. For the Lee Clarion. The school newspaper, I mean. Well, it's called the Lee Clarion. Can I talk to you? I mean, for a story. Cause I'm writing a story about the trolley. Well, not the trolley itself, but like the trolley system. Oh, can I record this? I have my recorder."
This is literally what I said to the poor man. And even though I blubbered all over myself, he agreed to talk to me.
I was embarrassed by my outburst, so I decided to be incredibly professional. I stood right next to him on the trolley, my recorder practically in his face, doing the Journalist Nod as he talked and doing the Journalist Ear, which means that I was half listening half thinking up my next question. After getting all the Important Facts from him, I wondered if maybe our interview was over. I mean, it had only been 6 minutes and 14 seconds, but I seemed to have all the Important Facts I needed.
And then told me I should take a seat. I sat down.
An hour later, I stood up and got off the trolley.
It's not that the trolley driver and I had an especially deep or theological conversation. We just talked. About life. About people. About goals and dreams and hopes and places we've been and places we hope to go.
And through this incredible hour long conversation with a kindhearted, God-filled trolley driver, I remembered why it is that I am a journalist.
I am a journalist because I love stories. There is nothing that makes me happier than listening to someone just talk. It doesn't have to be particularly powerful or life-changing, it's just truth.
For that brief hour, the trolley driver and I made a difference in each other's lives. He told me that he had been feeling depressed, that he had been wondering about his life and what God was up to, but that I refreshed him.
And even though I didn't say it to him, he refreshed me as well.
So if you are looking for me around campus and you can't seem to find me, just look for the trolley. I will probably be on it, just riding around with the trolley driver, my new friend, and talking.
