Pat Curry
Not everything on live television goes as planned. Truthfully, that's practically every day. Today was no exception. We did a segment this morning bringing together family members with their soldier-children via satellite from Camp Phoenix, just outside Kabul, Afghanistan. Everything was coordinated--the satellite window, the families getting to the station early morning, the soldiers ready in front of a camera using an armored tank as their background. Everything looked rosy on this Memorial Day.
And just one of those unplanned glitches happened during the segment. We could hear them, but they could not hear us. A call to the satellite center confirmed the soldiers would not hear us. The anchors did the best they could to present what was to be an on-air reunion. Primarily four mothers and their four sons would appear ten-thousand miles apart with the ability to see and talk to each other. The segment might have looked awkward, strained if you were watching. There was a lot of, "can you hear me?" until finally the segment ended as quickly as it began. The awful phrase in our business, "technical difficulties" was announced. Ouch. Yet, the best part was not even on TV.
Not surrendering to the expensive technology of the station or satellites, or the military, a relative of one of the soldiers called Spc. Ronald Pendleton from her cell phone. Pretty soon the cell phone in the studio was passed around, as was the one in Kabul. The soldiers scheduled for the segment got summoned from their barracks back to the camera, and we did it all over again, family style. Families got to talk to their loved ones, see them, laugh and cry with them.
Afterward, I didn't care so much about the television part as I thought I would. Because what I saw in those other moments was equally if not more touching. Four mothers, four sons, separated by ocean and harsh terrain were no match for the will to reach out to each other. One by one, each took turns on both sides of the earth passing the phone from person to person, and the goal was achieved. Moms talked to their sons, beaming smiles from Kabul, misty eyes in the studio. Words weren't necessary; the families knew patience and resourcefulness would win out. If only the world could see the love displayed between these families, maybe we'd all declare peace.
For the hour the audience didn't get to see them, four mothers, their sons, and invited loved ones brought out hankies, rubbed their noses on their shirt sleeves and getting what they came for. A series of private moments punctuated by laughter and tears followed. Toni, the mother of SSG Jeffrey Knodel, had a lot to say. She told us how she has baked 1200 cookies a month ever since her son had been in the service. That goes back to the time he was stationed at the North-South Korean border, in Iraq, and now here. A prouder mother I never have seen. And a brave one at that.
Spc. Ronald Pendleton talked to his daughter. The phone passed to Nancy Trieb. Sgt. Kenneth W. Depenbrok, her son, now had her attention. I have four brothers and sisters and never felt the emotion I was witnessing in these moments. By the time the satellite ended, the room was no longer filled with strangers. People were talking, and hugging. The families were grateful for the opportunity to see their sons. They understood the difficulties of overseas communication, and didn't care if we watched their reactions on TV or not. They have their own mission, as do their sons and daughters.
My own thoughts were bogged down by the technical failure of the audio system. Of course I wanted it to work out the way we planned. But the plan didn't work, so we improvised, and it took a family member to remedy the situation, much like we'd expect our military to improvise upon finding an at-first unremedial situation.
So the plan as we mapped it out didn't work so well for the television audience, but I think it did for the families, They got what they came for. That's what I felt watching and listening. I would like to name the soldiers and mothers who braved not just a war, but the private moments we saw of them talking to each other from a television studio. Family bonds were more important than feeling awkward with cameras aimed at them. So here we go: Spc. Ronald Pendleton and mother Jackie Gibson Banks. Sgt. Kenneth Depenbrokand his mother Nancy Trieb. SSG Jeffrey Knodel and mother Toni. First Lt. Jeffrey Fleming and mother Cathy. And for all the family members who came with them.
I will write more about them during their mission. About a quarter will be home by November and a fundraiser is already being organized to welcome them home. A very dear man named John Mars is doing all he can to make sure a proper homecoming will happen. Alongside that, he's also trying to make it easier for returning veterans to find their way back to our American culture and back to a normal way of life. So much more to come. And thanks again to the families and soldiers from the Illinois National Guard who participated. We would gladly have had all of them on if possible. But a slice of bread is better than no slice at all, and today being Memorial Day was a perfect opportunity to show the faces and characters of them and those who stand behind them. I salute them all.
Not everything on live television goes as planned. Truthfully, that's practically every day. Today was no exception. We did a segment this morning bringing together family members with their soldier-children via satellite from Camp Phoenix, just outside Kabul, Afghanistan. Everything was coordinated--the satellite window, the families getting to the station early morning, the soldiers ready in front of a camera using an armored tank as their background. Everything looked rosy on this Memorial Day.
And just one of those unplanned glitches happened during the segment. We could hear them, but they could not hear us. A call to the satellite center confirmed the soldiers would not hear us. The anchors did the best they could to present what was to be an on-air reunion. Primarily four mothers and their four sons would appear ten-thousand miles apart with the ability to see and talk to each other. The segment might have looked awkward, strained if you were watching. There was a lot of, "can you hear me?" until finally the segment ended as quickly as it began. The awful phrase in our business, "technical difficulties" was announced. Ouch. Yet, the best part was not even on TV.
Not surrendering to the expensive technology of the station or satellites, or the military, a relative of one of the soldiers called Spc. Ronald Pendleton from her cell phone. Pretty soon the cell phone in the studio was passed around, as was the one in Kabul. The soldiers scheduled for the segment got summoned from their barracks back to the camera, and we did it all over again, family style. Families got to talk to their loved ones, see them, laugh and cry with them.
Afterward, I didn't care so much about the television part as I thought I would. Because what I saw in those other moments was equally if not more touching. Four mothers, four sons, separated by ocean and harsh terrain were no match for the will to reach out to each other. One by one, each took turns on both sides of the earth passing the phone from person to person, and the goal was achieved. Moms talked to their sons, beaming smiles from Kabul, misty eyes in the studio. Words weren't necessary; the families knew patience and resourcefulness would win out. If only the world could see the love displayed between these families, maybe we'd all declare peace.
For the hour the audience didn't get to see them, four mothers, their sons, and invited loved ones brought out hankies, rubbed their noses on their shirt sleeves and getting what they came for. A series of private moments punctuated by laughter and tears followed. Toni, the mother of SSG Jeffrey Knodel, had a lot to say. She told us how she has baked 1200 cookies a month ever since her son had been in the service. That goes back to the time he was stationed at the North-South Korean border, in Iraq, and now here. A prouder mother I never have seen. And a brave one at that.
Spc. Ronald Pendleton talked to his daughter. The phone passed to Nancy Trieb. Sgt. Kenneth W. Depenbrok, her son, now had her attention. I have four brothers and sisters and never felt the emotion I was witnessing in these moments. By the time the satellite ended, the room was no longer filled with strangers. People were talking, and hugging. The families were grateful for the opportunity to see their sons. They understood the difficulties of overseas communication, and didn't care if we watched their reactions on TV or not. They have their own mission, as do their sons and daughters.
My own thoughts were bogged down by the technical failure of the audio system. Of course I wanted it to work out the way we planned. But the plan didn't work, so we improvised, and it took a family member to remedy the situation, much like we'd expect our military to improvise upon finding an at-first unremedial situation.
So the plan as we mapped it out didn't work so well for the television audience, but I think it did for the families, They got what they came for. That's what I felt watching and listening. I would like to name the soldiers and mothers who braved not just a war, but the private moments we saw of them talking to each other from a television studio. Family bonds were more important than feeling awkward with cameras aimed at them. So here we go: Spc. Ronald Pendleton and mother Jackie Gibson Banks. Sgt. Kenneth Depenbrokand his mother Nancy Trieb. SSG Jeffrey Knodel and mother Toni. First Lt. Jeffrey Fleming and mother Cathy. And for all the family members who came with them.
I will write more about them during their mission. About a quarter will be home by November and a fundraiser is already being organized to welcome them home. A very dear man named John Mars is doing all he can to make sure a proper homecoming will happen. Alongside that, he's also trying to make it easier for returning veterans to find their way back to our American culture and back to a normal way of life. So much more to come. And thanks again to the families and soldiers from the Illinois National Guard who participated. We would gladly have had all of them on if possible. But a slice of bread is better than no slice at all, and today being Memorial Day was a perfect opportunity to show the faces and characters of them and those who stand behind them. I salute them all.
