'It felt like I was there'

People can say a lot of negative things about you in this job. Some of the criticisms are constructive and merited, other out of line.

You quickly figure out how to learn from the mistakes, fix problems and move on. You'll burn out quickly if you don't.

Instead, you have to get by on the nice things people say. Sometimes the compliments are few and far between, other times they seem to come in bunches.

I was fortunate to get a number of them during fair week. Between several nice comments from Fair Board President Ray Poynter Jr. and wife Heather, fellow Fair Board member Rick Johnston, Extension Educator Mark Evans and several barn superintendents, I was walking away from fair feeling pretty good even before Friday night.

Then at the annual 4-H Livestock Auction, I received some of the most memorable compliments of my career.

It started last summer with the kind of story you never hope to write, but eventually have to. On June 23, 2014, 17-year-old Riley Sutherlin died in a tractor accident on the family farm southeast of Greencastle.

I heard the call on the scanner and ended up writing the story that evening. Nothing about writing that kind of story -- and I mean absolutely nothing -- is enjoyable, but you walk away hoping you have done a service to the public's desire to know without doing harm to the family of the deceased.

Just more than a month later, I was in the house at the 2014 4-H Livestock Auction and witnessed the flood of kindness as one of Riley's pigs sold for $15,000 and another $5,000 was raised in his name, all of which went to the Riley Sutherlin Fund, which the family had established to support community youth involved in FFA and 4-H.

I wrote both stories while never speaking to the family about their tragedy, considering it too soon and not the way I like to approach this job.

For the auction story in particular, I simply relied on my eyes and ears. I was there in the fairgrounds indoor arena, witnessing something amazing. All I needed for that story was to trust my own instincts and senses.

Fast forward a year and I needed to write a follow-up to the Riley story, as the family had given back more than $5,500 to Putnam County 4-H'ers during the 2015 auction.

For this one, I needed to talk to Riley's parents, Ron and Alana.

During the course of the interview, the Sutherlins gave me what I needed for a story: The amount they had spent from the fund on Friday, some reflections on the kindness of the community and their own healing process, as well as some thoughts on the future of the Riley Fund.

But they also offered some kind words I never could have asked for. They were gushing in their praise of the previous auction story. They actually smiled when recalling a story that has to evoke pain even in the midst of joy.

With two children of my own now, I was amazed at Ron and Alana's ability to smile at much of anything.

Then their words made it even better.

"My sister lives in Texas," Alana said, "and she said that reading your story, it felt like she was there."

I have to admit, that's pretty much your goal as a writer. Normally it's a simpler task taking the reader someplace like a county commissioners meeting or a football game.

But on Friday, July 25, 2014, I witnessed something more profound than I'll ever see in a meeting room or on the gridiron. I saw a group of caring people from this community put aside whatever nonsense we normally let preoccupy us and support a family and a cause that really needed it.

It wasn't about the $20,000. It was about reaching out and picking up some good people when they really needed it.

I was there. I witnessed it. And for at least one of my readers, I apparently nailed the story.

I'm proud of that.

My high school yearbook sponsor was fond of saying, "No tears in the writer; no tears in the reader." At 16, 17 years old, I didn't really know what the heck she was talking about.

Half a life later -- and along with it a marriage, two kids, the loss of a parent and slow, painful process of losing of another -- maybe I finally do.

There were tears in this writer on that summer evening. I guess if I evoked a few tears in at least one reader, I did something right.