Episode 2- Beet soup

Over the past two and a half years here at the newspaper I have covered just about everything you can imagine, from corpses and fires to School Committee meetings, rat infestations and science fairs. Since I have been working as education reporter, the general excitement of the stories I cover has been scaled back- drastically.
Along with the eternally boring tasks of trying to follow education industry trends, combing through city and state budgets and following the movement of administrators, much of my job is devoted to essentially glorifying everyday things that children do.

Since the particular paper I work for is in Lynn, many of the students I deal with are "underprivileged" Which is PC for poor, immigrant or misbehaved. Because this is the case, people in this city appear to be especially excited when these children do every day things in school like, say, have a science fair, or put on a play. I routinely receive messages from parents bragging that their kid did this or did that, and I would say 95 percent of the time it is pure, unadulterated crap.

Now, if I get a message or a request I can typically ignore it, but sometimes you are tricked. Sometimes you get suckered in y a hook you can't avoid and then BAM! Immigrant kids showing you their art work and you can't escape.

Welcome to my Thursday.

Since it is August, when the news is typically slow, and I am usually fairly lazy and unmotivated as it is, I am always looking for what we call in the business "easy hits." That is stories that write themselves, or press releases you can re-write and add a quote to. Not exactly investigative journalism.

Today I thought I had the perfect hit. Congressman John Tierney was in town to visit one of the schools in the city that has managed to put together a viable, rather impressive working farm on top of some concrete abutting the school.

I have been to these things a million times. Politician shows up, gets a tour, talks to a kid, snaps a photo, says something nice and bounces. Easy hit.

Not today.

I arrived at the Robert L. Ford Elementary School, which would be in the heart of the ghetto if, in fact, the ghetto had a heart, to find a multicultural band of children doing some farm work and a few onlookers. Pretty standard stuff.

Until I turned the corner and realized that it was going to be a long afternoon.

Set up in front of about two-dozen folding chairs, already half-filled with parents from the neighborhood, was a stand, where an old woman was cooking food from the garden in a cooking-show type style. Now, if this were the only addition to the program, I could have handled it. But it wasn't.

After greeting a few people I knew in attendance a small Hispanic boy ran up to me and handed me a program. Yes. A program. Never a good sign.

Before I had a chance to glance down at the agenda for the afternoon, I saw the Congressman arrive. Dressed like the president on vacation. Almost a suit, but no jacket and no tie. Also not a good sign, because that means he doesn't have anywhere important to be and will not be doing the 15-minute baby kissing appearance.

Still without looking at my program the event began as I stood, unshaven, dressed in cargo pants and sneakers, next to the unimpressed Congressman.

First up, the after school program will put on its new dance routine. Fuck.

As Michael Jackson's "Bad" started blaring from a boom box and the multi-cultural band of children began erratically dancing like they were standing on hot coals I took my first glance at the program and my worst fears were realized. This dance performance is far from the only mediocre childhood act I would have to witness today.

The next 90 minutes of mine, and the increasingly less interested Congressman's life were filled with nonsensical skits, awful singing and dancing performances and the ever-popular slam poetry. Which is bad enough coming from adults, let alone fourth graders.

Finally, after a solo Stevie Wonder performance by some kid who looked like he was waaaaaay to old to be in elementary school, the Congressman was able to make his speech. He was gracious. He said he loved the art. He said he loved Lynn. I know he was lying. And if he wasn't, he is a better man than I.

As every good reporter does, I waited until he uttered his last word, scribbled his comments down in my notebook and tried to take off before anything else happened. But my plan was thwarted. Thwarted by the very man I had just heard speak.

"Hey Dan, can I just add something to the story? I want to thank so and so and so and so."

"Sure." I said. I took his comments down and was ready to go when, for the first time ever, having met and interviewed this man probably 80 times, John Tierney decided he wanted to shoot the shit. Really?

The conversation we had was cordial, and centered, surprisingly, around a mutual hatred of beets. In fact, the usually drab politician humored me so much I was about to leave my own personal hell with a smile on my face when the little Hispanic kid who gave me the programs came back. This time he had a tray of food.

"Mr. Congressman, would you and your friend (me) like some beet soup?"

Fuck. How the hell do you say no to an underprivileged Hispanic 8-year-old? Damn kid probably spent all day making that beet soup.

I let the Congressman take the first sip, but quickly realized he was waiting for me to do the same.

"I'm going to treat this like I did when I was in China and they made me eat the 700-year-old egg," he said, Taking a sip.

Well. I've never been to China, but I figured, what the hell. My face could not hide the disgust as I struggled to get down the first sip. All I could do was smile, turn away and throw my bowl in the trash. Sorry, Kid.