Finally … Part Two

It’s been over two months since I posted the blog about WICB’s trip to Scare-a-cuse. I said it would be a two part installment, and you know what? It finally is – better late than never.

We last left our fearless radioheads as they neared Syracuse, ready to face the trials and tribulations of the city. Alright, you’re back with us? Great. Here we go.

I’ve never seen such a sketchy parking lot in my life. That’s saying a lot seeing as I’ve seen most of the parking New York City has to offer. This lot is literally a slab of concrete with numbers painted on the ground. No attendants, no fence, no nothing. Much to our dismay, we parked out cars and figured out how to pay. Right … about that. At the entrance to the lot there is a metal box set atop a pole. On the front, small slits were cut into the metal so that money can be put inside. Obviously we’re supposed to match up the number of our parking spot to the number on the box, Oh, okay. We can handle this – we’re college students. Ironically, it looked like this operation was being run by a five-year-old.

As an aside, I realized how slow I type. I thought I was going to finish this story, but it’s time to head to class.

Stay tuned for part 3!

Humbled

As challenging as the journalism curriculum is here at the Park School, I really believe students would not receive the same caliber of education if it wasn’t for our world-renowned student media. Through experiences I’ve had in classes as well as extra curricular activities, I’ve been motivated, inspired and humbled.

Late last Monday afternoon, Andrew Weiser, The Ithacan’s Assistant Sports Editor, and I traveled to Cayuga Medical Center. Andrew wrote the sports front last week, a story about the 5K for Kidneys fundraising event. I went along as the photographer. We had been trying for days to figure out how to illustrate such a sensitive story and were finally handed an opportunity when the story’s main source and 5K event fundraiser got permission for us to take a photo inside CMC.

As we traveled north on Route 89, I thought about my role as a photojournalist and how it relates to this story. What was I going to do through my words and actions? What kind of photo was I looking to take? I always ask myself these questions before I go on a photo shoot, but today I knew the situation was sensitive and that I was going to be tested.

Our source took us inside CMC and upstairs to the intensive care unit, a place I have been fortunate to avoid throughout my life. From the moment I arrived and took in my surroundings, I realized I was experiencing the ICU from a rare perspective – that of a visitor. Our source, a medical aide at the hospital, showed us around the wing which would have fit right in on the set of House: M.D. The space is clean and the technology is superlative. Flanking every hallway are desks, computers and carts for various medical purposes, some of which our source explained to us. Both Andrew and I were fascinated by his knowledge and by the space in general.

Symbolizing the sensitivity of the situation, a public relations representative from CMC had to get the patient to sign a release form and Andrew and I had to wear protective, disposable gowns while inside the patient’s room. To see someone in such a situation, hooked up to various machines and monitors, makes you realize just how much you have. While taking the photos, it occurred to me that I was holding almost $2,000 worth of camera equipment; it occurred to me that I had a brand new car sitting back on campus; it occurred to me that I was healthy; it occurred to me that I have family and friends; it occurred to me that I had been humbled.

When we’re faced with so many fantastic opportunities, such as getting a great education, driving a new car and using fancy equipment, we often forget the more holistic aspects of our life, such as our family, our friends and our health. To see this patient laugh and smile while they were inside an ICU really gave me a motivation to not forget the little things in life. I’m not afraid to admit that I often forget these things from day to day – I’m sure we all do.

Think about it. It’s hard to totally drop what we have, but as people, we should not think twice about helping those who have dropped something. As I watched our source care for this patient, I saw the embodiment of one of mankind’s greatest gifts: compassion. I was truly humbled.

You’ve one life
You’ve one life
One life left to lead

– “Faust, Midas, And Myself” by Switchfoot