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Show Capital life stark, real fast 8c tough WASHINGTON Years from now we will all look back and remember re-member where we were the moment mo-ment the war started. It will be especially es-pecially significant in my life because only five minutes after the bombing began, I found myself standing out in the rain in front of the White House. r BRENDA BAUMGARTNER Colymnist I am currently working as an intern for ABC news in Washington, Washing-ton, D.C. Two months ago, with much reservation, I bid a tearful goodbye to my husband and five children in Woods Cross to spend three months studying the broadcast news business firsthand. It has been terribly hard being away from my family, but the experiences expe-riences I have gained will hopefully further the career I have worked so hard at. The night the war started, I was with a camera crew filming a discussion group called, "Women with AIDS." This in itself will be memorable because tTie conference was held in a very poverty stricken area and the discussion was so frank at times, I found I had a hard time looking anywhere but at my feet. "Visual aids" were used to explain ex-plain the proper fitting of a condom, and then were placed in the middle of the table like a modern art centerpiece. I was impressed with how open the people were about this touchy subject; however, I almost lost it when the caterer from a local Mexican restaurant came in and began arranging the chips and salsa around these "centerpieces," not noticing what these objects were. Before the conference ended, the cameraman's beeper went off, notifying noti-fying him he was needed at the White House to wait for any word from the President. As we pulled up to the White House gates, I was told I did not have the proper security clearance to get in. Hank Brown (his claim to fame is being the actual ac-tual cameraman to film President Reagan being shot and wounded by John Hinckley in 1981) handed me $10 and said, "You'll have to take a cab." So there I stood in front of the White House, no umbrella, in the rain, along with about 500 protesters. pro-testers. I had never hailed a cab in my life, but after several tries I finally landed one and then sat there wondering what was happening and worrying about my brother who is in the Army Reserves. When I made it back to the bureau, bu-reau, the place was like an ant hill. I sat out of the way in the news room and watched as the anchors and editors scrambled to air the most recent re-cent news without a hitch. I called my husband and said, "I just wanted to talk to you while this is happening." He was aware the war had started but was too busy bathing my twin sons and scraping pizza off the kitchen floor to share my anticipation. Since that first night, the momentum momen-tum of news has remained steady. It has been so fascinating being here (I still get star struck every time I pass David Brinkley in the hall or ride in the same elevator with Ted Koppel), and yet I never quit wanting wan-ting this time to pass quickly so I can get home to my family in Woods Cross. Years from now when I think back to where I was the night the bombing started, I will always remember re-member my feelings of anxiety and confusion. But more than that, I will remember how good it feels to know that people were allowed to protest, the press was allowed to report, and my little family was safe at home enjoying the freedom we have because someone fought for us. ( |