After a long day of making phone calls in the newsroom recently, I raced home to join a conference call for a regularly scheduled Conway Planning Board meeting.
I opened up my laptop, signed in and “entered” the remote meeting. Staring back at me was a woman I realized I’d spoken to before on the phone, and several others I’d never met before.
In the last few remote meetings I’ve covered this month, I’ve left my camera off — it always seemed most appropriate, as I usually watched meetings in my bedroom, sitting on my bed.
But as I was the only non-board member on the call and the members were curious as to who I might be, I turned on the camera, albeit briefly, to say my hellos before letting the board get to business. Sitting on the edge of my bed, it occurred to me that these individuals’ first sight of me wasn’t in a public meeting room or at a conference room table; it was from the privacy of my bedroom.
It was in that moment I looked around and saw the state of the room I was in.
Next to me, stacks of clean clothes lay in a disordered mess on my bed. My laundry basket on the floor was full of recently cleaned towels, and a small stack of dirty clothes were piled next to it.
To my left, I caught a glimpse of the suitcase I’m currently living out of until I move into a place of my own, and I cringed at the stack of unfolded sweatshirts sitting on top of it.
Aware that moving from the position I sat in would mean giving these people — these strangers who would soon become regular contacts of mine — a look at the disastrous state of my bedroom, I turned off the camera. It wasn’t really the first round of introductions I had in mind.
“What a strange time we’re living in,” I remember thinking to myself.
I started as a reporter at the Greenfield Recorder on March 23, about a week after the first state advisories were put into place and non-essential businesses were closed to the public.
To say the least, it’s been a weird few weeks.
As a community reporter, I rely on being in the community, getting to know the people and places I’m covering. In fact, that’s what has always drawn me to community news — the opportunity to really know a community, through and through.
But it’s hard to do that when you can only “meet” people over the phone or on a conference call.
In fact, in the month I’ve been here, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been out in the community. On those few occasions — for my safety as well as the safety of others — I spoke to people from behind a mask that covers half my identifying features and at a distance of at least two Golden Retrievers.
I have also yet to try the food at local restaurants that others have raved about, relax with a coffee at a local cafe, or grab a beer after work at any of the local pubs. Those things are important for getting to know a new place, too.
It’s hard to understand what makes a community tick when you’re forced to keep a distance from it.
I recognize that in the current situation, I’m incredibly lucky to be employed — at a newspaper, no less. I’m grateful for that, and I don’t take it for granted. I’m excited to be here and to tell the stories of the people who call Franklin County home.
Still, starting in this role has been unique to any other job I’ve held as a reporter. I’m relying on email, phone calls and video conference calls to make connections. And because we aren’t fully staffed, I’m jumping in wherever necessary in addition to reporting on South County, the area I was hired to cover.
I’m doing it, though, because I care about my job and I care about the communities I’m covering.
So for now, I’ll continue to be the voice behind the phone, the new name on the conference call, the reporter on scene with the green face mask. I’ll continue to tell the stories of Franklin County and I’ll do it in a way that keeps all of us safe.
When the time comes and we’re ready for life to “resume” to something like normal, I’ll be more than ready to really immerse myself.
In the meantime, I’ll remember to tidy up my room before I even think about turning on my camera.
Mary Byrne can be reached at mbyrne@recorder.com or 413-772-0261, ext. 263.