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STAMFORD, Conn. My Christmas morning started like so many others, waking up earlier than I wanted to, just before 7 a.m. I had to decide whether I would try to go back to sleep or give in to my childlike excitement and sneak downstairs to see what Santa Claus had hidden under the tree.
The kid in me won out, and I got out of bed. As I made my way into the gift-filled living room of my mothers home in Old Greenwich, I checked Twitter on my phone to see whether any news was breaking in Stamford. That's how I heard the unfortunate news of a big fire on Shippan Avenue.
At that time, I didnt know how big the fire was or that five people had died. I just knew it would not be a normal Christmas. I immediately got dressed and took off toward Shippan, hoping I would not need my press pass. I had only a notebook and pens which were actually a Christmas gift from my brother and I hoped my phone could take good enough photos to go on The Daily Stamford.
Once I got to the scene, or as close as I could get to it, I saw all of the firefighters, police and other emergency personnel, and the gravity of the situation hit me. I began shooting pictures and taking notes about the scene, hoping I would get hard information soon.
A short while later which seemed like forever in the early morning freezing cold with no shower or coffee Mayor Michael Pavia and Acting Fire Chief Antonio Conte approached the barrier where I was huddled with a couple of other members of the media. It took no time to tell by the blank impressions on their faces and tears in their eyes that the news was bad. After hearing about the fire and that five people had died two adults and three kids I tweeted and headed home to write up a story.
I was home for about an hour and a half, which included writing a story, a call to editors and a shower, with no Christmas celebration whatsoever, before I headed back. Once I returned to the scene, I realized I was competing not just with the local media outlets, but with news representatives from New York as well.
A few neighbors came by to see what was happened, but they couldnt get within 10 feet of the barricades before a television camera and microphone was stuck in their face, and they would just as quickly back away. Charles Mangano was the exception, as he came by to share his thoughts and video of the damage he captured with all of the media members.
It was weird: I forgot it was Christmas. As people came by and as more media members assembled, someone would mention the holiday and I would think, Oh yeah, it is Christmas. At that point, I felt I had forfeited the holiday: I wasnt giving any presents, wasnt going to open any presents, wasnt going to listen to Christmas music and wasn't going to have any association with the holiday at all.
Shortly after another news conference with Pavia and Conte, I headed back home to write. Sitting at my desk, I realized I had nothing left to do but wait for updates to be announced. Feeling relieved, I reversed my thinking and decided to salvage Christmas with my family.
Of course, Christmas with the family this year would also include constant checks of Twitter and phone calls to the fire marshal, police and Stamford Hospital. So, thats what I did, taking advantage of every free moment to make sure the story was up to date and for the most part it worked. But it did stink, I was writing while everyone else was eating dinner. And when I was eating dinner, the table was being cleared. And not to mention the emails and phone calls from the editors.
It may have been my least favorite Christmas ever, but I have to keep it in perspective as I think about Madonna Badger, lying in a hospital bed after losing all three of her daughters, both of her parents and her home earlier that day. So, as I watched my 5-year-old godson open up his gifts and as I played with him, I realized it wasnt a bad Christmas after all.
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