Good tools for the independent journalist

The two best tools for freelancing are a good idea and a comfortable place to write. Cobble together those things with confidence and conviction, and there’s no limit to a freelancer’s potential.

As far as the rest of the tool list, it varies for each writer. Some prefer pen and paper to keyboard when crafting first drafts; others are particular about the word processing software they use. Still others extend their devotion to include the hardware itself: PC or Mac, tablet or laptop or desktop system — it all matters only in the final product.

However, there are a few tools, mainly reference material, that freelancers probably should warm to before they sit down to write. These materials tackle presentation and precision, probe the law and explain the journalist’s right to information. Not every freelancer will need all of these, mind you, but those intent on practicing journalism alongside the best reporters out there will find them to be valuable assets on the journey to discovery.

Style guides — Clarity and consistency are hallmarks of good writing and reporting. Making sure copy is clean and crisp is the least that freelancers can do for their readers, and editors, as those qualities are what keep audiences engaged from first paragraph to last. No matter how good the story, if it’s not easy to read or understandable those failures will reflect on the writer long after the story is tossed in the trash.

Of course, a dictionary and a good thesaurus are crucial to have on hand. But consider, too, style guides and manuals that detail the writing standards established either for general good communication or for specific publications, such as medical and legal journals, academic and government documents, as well as magazines and newspapers. Freelancers should assess the style preferred by a particular publication before sitting down to write, because sometimes improper style is enough for an editor to shelve or discard a story.

Journalists everywhere tend to consider The Associated Press Stylebook as gospel and have now for decades. Though each newspaper or magazine may also publish a “house” style guide for reference points close to home, adhering to AP style should be enough. For general non-journalism purposes however, the Chicago Manual of Style is one of the oldest and most widely used guides on the market, and includes a wealth of detail the AP guide does not. And rising fast in esteem, the Yahoo! Style Guide covers a wide range of topics regarding digital and online media.

Among the field-specific guides are the MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers, the American Medical Association Manual of Style, and The Gregg Reference Manual for business writing. But to satisfy uncertainty about which guides are out there, a long list of links to them can be found at OnlineStylebooks.com.

Shield laws — Also known as “reporter’s privilege,” these amount to legislation existing in at least 40 states and the District of Columbia that protect journalists from revealing confidential information or sources in court. Essentially, they prevent courts from forcing journalists to testify about how they obtained information related to a story. The laws vary with each state; there is no broad federal protection. Some shield laws apply to civil but not criminal cases, while others prevent revealing sources but not other information. Freelancers should educate themselves on the law in their respective states and the states they may visit to do their reporting. The nonprofit Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press is a good place to start.

Freedom of Information — Enacted in 1966 to promote and enforce government accountability, the Freedom of Information Act originally required unfettered access to much unreleased information and documentation that was in federal control but since has been amended several times. Consequently, variations on access exist not only in Washington, but also throughout the country, compelling many states even to establish their own “sunshine law” guidelines. As with shield laws, the degree of access can vary widely between states. The Society of Professional Journalists has a section of its website devoted to this topic and includes a drop-down menu listing links and contact information regarding sunshine laws in each state, as does the Reporters Committee.

 

Four ways journalists can use Foursquare

Just about everywhere these days, chances are good you’ll see walkers, talkers and (unfortunately) drivers with their faces tilted toward their smart phones as they text and tweet their every move. A byproduct of our digital lives has been an urge to let the world know where we are every moment, whether the world is interested or not.

This is a bane to the digitally uninterested but a boon to everyone else, particularly journalists, who are in the business of finding and talking to people. And topping the list of socially invasive tools with serious people-tracking capabilities is Foursquare, the 3-year-old location-based social networking site for mobile devices that now claims well over 15 million registered users worldwide.

Foursquare utilizes a mobile device’s global-positioning hardware to report where members are at a given moment when they “check in” at venues listed in the application database. The member can acquire “friends,” leave “tips” or advice about each location and post photos. Frequent visits earn travel points and the possibility of becoming “mayor” of that location. Furthermore, Foursquare awards “badges” for patterns of behavior, whether it’s visiting several coffee shops, seeing lots of movies or participating in product promotions.

The useful aspect for journalists is the digital trail Foursquare leaves; they can monitor member movements if they are “friended” by those members. In following this trail, it’s possible to track:

Frequent visitors — Foursquare lists real-time data on location, the current mayor, the latest tips posted by visitors, and the Foursquare identities of frequent visitors. Journalists can sift those lists for potential interview subjects if, say, it’s important to find interview subjects who are knowledgeable about particular locations or the clientele who visit them.

Personal behavior — When members check in at a location, all their friends can see where they are at that moment. Foursquare also displays lists of member badges, mayorships, tips, favorites and approximate arrival time at the last check in. Accumulated points hint at how often members are out and about, so it’s possible to guess an individual’s travel habits.

Trends — Besides seeing where people go, Foursquare shows how many other members are at a location. By clicking “Explore,” and then “Trending,” Foursquare shows potential social hotspots by listing all current check-ins, not just those by members’ friends. Want to find the most popular restaurant, the busiest nightclubs, the best concerts or surprisingly heavy traffic? Just watch where the Foursquare crowd is going.

Location information — Foursquare tips provide reasonably good detail from members about what’s going on at each location, whether it’s bad service at a restaurant or gridlock on the interstate. And Foursquare compiles the tips it receives, helping indicate whether a pattern of activity or potential news is breaking.

Foursquare isn’t the only geo-tracking social medium available, just among the most popular. Other tools worth trying are Gowalla, Loopt, Where, Yelp and, of course, Facebook, which added location-tagging about a year ago.

 

Are ‘aggregation’ and ‘curation’ journalism? Good question

 

One night over drinks awhile back, a old college chum confessed he chose journalism as his major because he thought it would be easy.

“My senior year in high school, I had no clear career interests and no prospects,” he said. “So, when we had a career day at school and a reporter came to speak, I listened and thought, ‘How hard can this be? People tell you things and you write them down. Cinch.’”

Many years and many more reporting awards later, he rolls his eyes when he thinks about that.

“If I really wanted ‘easy,’ I should have flapped my arms and flown to the moon.”

I think of that conversation now as journalism’s latest progeny compares news gathering to “aggregation,” or the more impressive-sounding “curation.” In more than one dictionary, the term applies to the preservation and maintenance of digital assets, or from far back in linguistic history, to cure an ill.

But just this decade, aggregation and curation have evolved into solid euphemisms for repackaging pre-published Web content — a boon to social media, which encourages users to share and trade information among private networks, and to “content farms,” or Web-based operations that generate large amounts of type intended to attract automated search engines.

Sure, Web-scraping serves a purpose by bringing together facts and figures  otherwise lost in the digital flood, allowing easier comparisons of those details for clarity and accuracy. Unfortunately, practiced aggregators and curators have compared themselves to journalists, saying that what they do is more efficient and socially responsive than journalism as it has been practiced in excess of a century.

Even seasoned journalists are swayed by the disturbing perspective gaining ground among the digital set and crystalized on the blog site GigaOm last week beneath the headline “Are aggregation and curation journalism? Wrong question.”

The GigaOm post by writer Matthew Ingram opened by taking to task the critics of an online piece in Forbes by blogger Kashmir Hill. She had summarized a long book excerpt about data and privacy from New York Times Magazine titled “How Companies Learn Your Secrets,” which Forbes recapped with the puckish headline “How Target Found Out A Teen Girl Was Pregnant Before Her Father Did.” The headline was sexier than the Times’ topper and certain to generate mouse clicks. And it did — almost more of them than the Times’s story.

Ingram called out the critics who bellyached about Hill’s “borrowing” content and Forbes recasting it better than the Times did. He insisted the recasting was a favor to the Times and emblematic of the new wave in attention-getting that traditional journalists must accept and surf readily if they are to survive in media. Ingram then surmised, correctly, that Hill’s product demonstrated the “new media ecosystem” where aggregation and curation can add value to news reporting and broadcasting.

(To Ingram’s credit, he highlighted a Forbes piece containing clear, precise attribution to the original source, a rare trait in aggregated Web content.)

But then Ingram’s train of logic derailed when it leapt forward to say this same aggregation/curation is identical to journalism, in that with both pursuits “information is provided that increases our knowledge about an important topic."

“Isn’t that a pretty good definition of journalism, not whether someone made a phone call or has a specific degree, or whether they travelled to a war zone or not?” Ingram asks.

In the end, he concludes, journalism’s top priority is “to serve the reader — either by informing them or entertaining them, or some combination of the two.”

Yes, journalism does have to serve the reader; that was the original point of it. But accurate, ethical and complete service can’t come from cut-and-paste tactics alone. It is, in fact, the goal of complete service that makes credible, responsible journalism much harder than it looks, and why my college buddy rolled his eyes at thinking journalism might be a “cinch.”

Any notion of simplicity my friend and I had was discarded in college. Where we attended journalism school, 90 percent of the studies had nothing to do with the physical act of reporting. It was a given that students coming into the program knew how to write, so much of the time we labored over law (the better for us to protect an interview subject’s rights and our own) and we labored over ethics (the better for us to be accountable to our readers by citing exact sources). We studied logic and policy analysis (the better for us to avoid having politicians and corporations pull the wool over our eyes), and we studied civil discourse (the better for us to conduct our interviews and research without fear or favor).

In other words, the professors were trying to develop something in all of us called “news judgment,” not just news gathering.

And we learned early a crude yet crucial truth about rooting out information: There are no stupid questions, only stupid answers. (Food for thought perhaps for GigaOm’s headline writers.)

A lot of those lessons have been honed for me by on-the-job experience over the years. And as I look back, I see that my schooling answered crucial questions that mere curation in today’s vein could not.

“Curation,” my friend muttered. “Sounds like another word for scrapbooking.”

Aggregation, curation — call it what you will — are just part of the whole in journalism. To truly serve readers and viewers, one must also understand where those should begin and end. Confusing those with journalism, or assuming a simplified method of information-gathering can fully replace it, is no service to anyone.

The keys to good journalism

The moment I thought "journalism" had died and I missed it came before speaking to a college class.

"Oh no, this isn't a journalism class," the professor told me moments before I stepped into the lecture hall. "This is media communications."

"Not the same thing?" I asked. “I thought I was here to address journalism students.”

"Well, yes," the professor said. "And no. Which is why I invited you."

Confused, I asked for clarification, which she gave: "Journalism is incorporated in all we do; it’s an element in all we teach. But journalism by itself, we don't do that anymore."

And my job here this day?

"Maybe I wasn't clear," the professor said, sounding apologetic. "I was hoping you could explain what journalists like yourself do in your day-to-day routine — tell them how the theory comes into practice."

This sounded simple enough. Problem was, the majority of the 45 students awaiting my sage instruction were seniors about a month away from sporting mortarboards. In my own college time, the “theory” we were supposed to learn came into practice almost immediately after freshman orientation. We all knew going in how to type on IBM Selectrics and use notepads, the professors presumed back then. Thus, their chief task was showing us how make something of the space between our ears, the most valuable news-gathering tool we had.

I doubted that anything I had to say to those 45 students would help them get a foot in a door at that point. Yes, they were savvy with networking and gadgetry. And yes, they probably knew how to knead an idea in as many ways as the prefix "multi" in multimedia allowed. But how much theory can anyone reasonably grasp when their eyes are focused on the space below the exit sign?

The key then, I believed, was offering the students less theory and more practicality. I didn't know how much of the latter their in-class lessons provided. From my experience, the lessons I learned outside class were the ones still rooted in my mind. So, I opted to pass along some of the same tried and tested tips that no text or learned lecturer had awarded me at their age. If even a few students caught a clue, I figured, they'd be better prepared than a lot of their peers.

Among my hard-earned pearls of experience:

Read. Everything — We tend to reach first for whatever we like to read, not what we ought to read. Delving into assorted writing styles expands one’s mind for using words. It’s said that the best way to become a good writer is to first become a good reader, because you have to know and understand how words work before trying to make use of them.

Research. Everything — The habit today is to sift Wikipedia or the first couple of pages of a Google search for key sources, when the truth is that both of those venues are suspect. Wikipedia is vulnerable to prejudiced editing, while Google permits paid placement to influence its search listings. Real research — probing everything from pamphlets to databases and interviewing assorted subjects — takes time and effort, and is perhaps the hardest thing about being a credible journalist. Get comfortable with such sites as PACER and Pipl and Portico, and learn how to conduct advanced searches on Facebook and LinkedIn.

Listen. To everything — Rare is the interview when the subject gets to the point right away. Journalists may have to sit through speeches, musings, even homespun tales before the golden detail they seek rings clear. That’s fine — just listen. Chances are that other important information can be culled from what sources are trying to say.

Develop a strategy — Don’t go blindly into a topic hoping a story will somehow magically appear in completed form on your computer or tablet screen. In advance of pursuing a story idea, figure out how best to go about that pursuit. In other words, have a plan of action before taking the first note or conducting the first interview.

Develop living, breathing sources — The trend toward news aggregation is fine for those happy with merely repeating other people’s ideas. But for the rest of us intent on generating original content, it pays to talk with reliable experts, witnesses and trained observers to discover first-hand information, no matter who they are. And after that, it pays dividends to stay in touch and keep abreast of what they’re doing, find out what they’re seeing. Who knows: these once-used sources could provide insight to other story ideas later.

Ignore titles — Along this line, avoid depending too much on people with big or impressive titles. I struggled mightily in my first weeks of reporting by thinking the titled types possessed all the salient details when it was everyone below them — administrative assistants, clerks, servants, etc. — who had this information. I realized then that executives only make decisions; subordinates are the ones who make those decisions happen, and by extension know where all the signed documents are stashed.

Be skeptical — The saying among my college professors was, “If your grandmother says she loves you, check it out.” The point: Never take others’ word as gospel, for they may have less information than you. Furthermore, there are people out there whose job it is to mislead journalists. Don’t make it easier for them to do their job by trusting what they say.

Be compassionate, to a point — Understand that everyone has an opinion and the interview may be where the subject feels a need to express it. Let people vent, if it puts them at ease, but avoid getting drawn into an agenda.

Talk it over — It helps to talk about your stories with colleagues to get their input, though the solitary nature of freelancing can make that difficult. For journalists going it alone, professional organizations such as Society of Professional Journalists, the Online News Association and the American Copy Editors Society offer venues for discussion, as do the American Society of Journalists and Authors, Freelance Success and Freelancers Union.

What running taught me about writing

(This post first appeared in The Independent Journalist, the freelancing blog of the Society of Professional Journalists.)

Thirty years I ran, in competition and at leisure, for my main source of exercise, pounding pavement and trails, hills and dales, until my body said, "Stop. Sit down. Take it easy now." The pernicious announcement was broadcast through my feet, knees and heels. Nevertheless, I hobbled on until exactly the day 30 years after I started running, then shelved my 278th and apparently final pair of training shoes.

The downside was divorcing myself from a diversion that had become second nature. The upside was finding more time to write, my other favorite thing to do. So I jumped into blogs and social media with the same vigor as running, even finished that first book I always promised myself and started tapping out a second. I didn't give up exercise, just reassigned it on my list of priorities.

Soon, however, I remembered that every leap has a fall, and mine came when the words suddenly didn't. Writer's block, a problem foreign to me until then, choked my confidence, turned sitting at a keyboard into physical agony, and made me wonder whether my decades-long love of words had waned. After all, as the saying goes, too much of a good thing ...

I puzzled over this alarming change. I went on book-reading binges and to coffee-house poetry readings to try shaking my creativity loose. I tried even staring down my computer, hoping for the moment the screen was less blank than the look on my face.

It was during one of these stare-downs that I realized the problem: I hadn't prepared myself properly to write so much.

As with running, writing requires a "training" method of sorts. Just lacing up the shoes and hitting the road without proper preparation invites injury and aggravation for runners; it makes sense then that sitting down to write without a plan can cause comparable aggravation.

So, before you type, think.
Have a plan — Blogs and books, tweets and treatises, they all require distinct writing styles, with the format for one unlikely to fit another. Settle on a style to suit the need. Be true to your voice. But do the research, determine word counts and writing time ... in other words, have a plan before starting to type. Knowing parameters can help keep a project under control and palpitations to a minimum.

Have good equipment — In running, comfort is king. Shoes and togs that satisfy this royal priority reduce injury, frustration and boredom. For writers, comfortable equipment, and a dependably cozy, ergonomically suitable place to lay down ideas address those same issues. The key is to eliminate physical distractions that may hinder the creative process. 

Have a goal or routine — At my peak, I ran 10 to 15 miles daily, regardless of speed, to satisfy my training expectations. As a writer, I aim for a minimum of 1,000 good words at each sitting, regardless of topic. Goals and routines serve as rulers; they help us see how far we’ve come and how much further we must yet travel. Of course, nobody starts running 10 miles their first day; one works up to that. The same with writing. Start small, then expand the goal as time and tolerance permit.

Have accountability — Did you miss your goal for the day? Mark it on a calendar as a reminder. Did you exceed your goal? Reward yourself in some way. The final arbiter is the person you see in the mirror. Be able to stare back at that person without the least twinge of regret.
Have some variety — For a while in my running routine, I chose the same route  because that one more than others gave me what I felt was the best workout. But opting for sameness invited a lameness to my training that curtailed my development. Writing the same way every day can be just as limiting. If prose is your forte, dabble with poetry. If long-form writing is de rigueur, break out with short stories once in a while. To help, keep a writing journal — a paper or electronic place to experiment with other styles and discuss progress with yourself.

Have a partner — Running, like writing, is an intensely solitary exercise, and solitude can be confining. Through partners, runners find motivation and challenge, especially if the partner is a somewhat better runner. Writers, meanwhile, benefit from partners who discuss ideas, edit their output, even nudge them along on daunting projects. Partners provide a perspective on writing that solitude may not permit.

Have healthy habits — To run or write, you need fuel. Lacking that, runners hit a wall and writers hit a blank. But not just any fuel works. The term “garbage in, garbage out” may be chiefly a computer programming term but suits writers well, too. You eat junk food, you’re going to have junk writing, because the mind is more efficient with a healthy diet. Additionally, a sedentary lifestyle has been found to diminish brain function. Get up and out on a regular basis if only to increase blood flow to the brain. Walk, run, bike, bend, stretch — whatever it takes. Writers will find the words come easier when there’s less garbage in their way.

How to get a newspaper editor's attention

(This post first appeared in The Independent Journalist, the freelancing blog of the Society of Professional Journalists.)

The calls, emails and tweets started flowing in around during the holidays, coming across my desk at a rate of about half a dozen daily. Many more landed among my colleagues. They usually say something like this:

"I wrote this piece and thought you might like it," says the introduction to one email.

"Sure, it's a blog post, but it's a subject that interests everyone," says another.

"I'd love to write about sports. I'm a big fan," says one caller.

This time of year, aspiring writers drop hints, notes and whole unsolicited stories on newspapers like new snow with the intention of publishing those stories and getting paid for them. I think of it as a different kind of holiday tradition: as Christmas-related bills mount, these optimistic writers try to salve their financial wounds by banging out what they consider "news" and expecting a newspaper editor to read it as such, thus publishing it in the next day's paper and paying generously for the writers' work by week's end, or at least before the next credit card statement arrives.

But most of these gratuitous pitches and contributions wind up deleted, erased, ignored, because their writers failed at good reporting.

Sure, newspapers long have relied on contributing writers or freelancers to report news particularly when their full-time staffs were swamped with other work. The need for freelancers is acute now since newspapers nationwide have cut about one-third of their staffs over the past decade.

But today as decades before, newspapers do not accept anything and everything submitted to them for publication as "news." The stories appearing in today's print pages or online are products of careful planning, research and attention to detail. Even breaking news coverage requires rapid incisive analysis by teams of reporters and editors — freelancers sometimes among them — to determine how and why something happened and why it's what journalists like to call "newsworthy."

So, before you ship that free-form story to the nearest newspaper, stop for moment to understand first what it takes to attract a newspaper editor's attention:

First, you have to read the newspaper — This sounds pitifully obvious. In reality, it's pitiful how many solicitations that come to newspapers are ignorant on their face, as the writers are blind to the newspaper's greater purpose. Each paper serves as a kind of window onto the community, and the communities themselves are distinct. Thus, what interests readers or is newsworthy in St. Louis may not warrant similar attention in Sheboygan, Wis., or Syracuse, N.Y. Reading the newspaper carefully every day reveals the distinction. Consider how a newspaper is organized and edited, and where certain topics routinely appear. In other words, study the newspaper before trying to write for it.

Sell the story, not yourself — Prospective freelancers often try to tell their life stories when all an editor wants to know is whether the writer's idea is worth attention. Concentrate on explaining the story's importance in one or two short sentences, focusing on the key questions all news stories try to answer: who what, when, where, why and how.

Remember, there is no "I" in news — What you think, feel or believe about the news is not important; don't try passing off a recent blog post or journal entry as a news story. Cite only the facts in a story pitch; leave out your opinion. Because everyone has an opinion, but not everyone has the facts.

Provide verifiable sources — Newspapers aim to steer clear of bias in its news, leaving that instead to the commentary pages, thus some editors may want to check the validity of a freelancer's idea before committing to it. Providing at least three independent sources that editors can contact if they wish will sell a story pitch better than if there are none.

Send your pitch to the proper place — Story ideas relating to sports should not go to the news or features editors. Find out who the editors are that work with freelancers and accept story ideas, and craft pitches and queries to them specifically.

Pay attention to quality, quantity — Besides determining the proper editor for submissions, make sure to spell the editor's name correctly. For that matter, pay careful attention to fixing spelling and grammar errors before sending any correspondence. Most newspapers also adhere to "style" guidelines outlined by The Associated Press. Furthermore, if a story calls for a specific length, say 500 words, avoid writing even one word more than that. Not following such a simple direction may prompt time-challenged editors to hit the "delete" key.

Keep an open mind about being edited — Even the world's best journalists need editors, so don't think your work is much better. But don't take editing personally. Accept that stories may be trimmed or adjusted for length before publication. Tight, precise writing and rigid adherence to a prearranged story length go a long way toward preventing this.

Small potatoes are better than no potatoes — It used to be that newspapers paid well for freelance work. These days, big paychecks are rare, $25 to $50 per published story being typical and non-negotiable.

Don't be discouraged, but don't be a pest, either — Upon making a pitch, if a newspaper editor has not yet responded, wait three or four days before following up politely, professionally. It may be that the editor has been busy, or is keeping an eye open for other ideas.

My mother, my grandparents, and Pearl Harbor

(Editor's note: This post originally appeared a year ago and has been updated to reflect new information.)

On a bright Sunday morning 70 years ago, my mother looked out her parents' kitchen window and saw black smoke rising in the distance.

Then she saw planes soar out of the smoke, and the whole world was forever altered.

That morning, my mother watched the attack on Pearl Harbor from her home. She was a child, living across the harbor from the U.S. Navy yard. My grandparents' house sat on a hill slope, their back yard overlooking the battleships moored in port a couple miles away, and on this Sunday morning in December my mother and grandparents saw the smoke, heard loud bangs coming from the same direction, left their unfinished breakfast sitting on the kitchen table, and went outside for a better look.

They heard the planes before seeing them. A whining roar, as if from a million large, angry mosquitoes, echoed across the hillside, gaining in volume, until the planes appeared as black darts flung across the bright sky. My grandmother remarked how unusual it was to see military maneuvers on a Sunday. My grandfather noticed these planes were unlike any he had seen parked on the airfields.

The planes came closer at incredible speed, and there were more of them each passing moment. It occurred to my grandparents that they should move back closer to the house when one plane, so close now the Rising Sun emblem on its fuselage was clearly visible, wagged its wings on approach to the slope, pitched starboard and with the tip of one wing carried off my grandmother's clothes line.

My mother recalls seeing the pilot's face. She says that given enough artistic talent, she could draw it now, 69 years later, from memory.

Everybody ran back into the house to watch the black smoke and noise intensify across the harbor, and it was at about this point when they saw a bright flash followed by the swelling bubble of an intense shock wave envelop the harbor and race up the hillside to rattle the kitchen windows. The USS Arizona, already critically wounded, burst nearly in two as the ammunition magazine ignited.

At that, the event became profoundly personal: What should we do? Where should we go? Neighbors were walking out into the streets crying, shouting, comforting each other, even as the planes continued to zip overhead. My grandfather, who had joined an all-volunteer civilian defense corps a year earlier as tensions heightened between Japan and the United States, expected he would be called to do … something. But no word came; the few phone lines around the island were jammed.

Hours later, a Jeep came down the street. The military police officer behind the wheel was going around asking every able-bodied male, particularly those who had guns, to meet in the town center for further instructions. My grandfather expressed concern about leaving my grandmother and mother alone, to which the Jeep driver responded, "Look, we're expecting an invasion by the Japanese. If you don't get down to the beach now to try stopping them, we're all screwed anyway."

So, my grandfather packed his only gun, a small-caliber pistol, and boarded a truck en route to a long shallow beach a few miles past Honolulu where Japanese landing craft loaded with troops were expected to appear overnight. Dozens of civilians in several trucks made the trip with him, including one man who brought the only weapon at his disposal: a pitchfork.

Upon arrival, the men busied themselves initially by digging shallow trenches and building defensive positions behind rocks and trees. Then they waited, the only sounds coming from the surf, the only light from the moon. And waited.

And waited.

By daybreak, the threat of invasion had subsided, though the intensity wrought from the previous morning never did. My grandparents' friends who were driving to meet them were strafed and killed en route, their bodies found in their car a block away. And thereafter until the war ended, the Hawaiian islands, not yet one among the United States, were under U.S. martial law. The rationing and blackouts common elsewhere in the nation during this period were many times more constraining in Hawaii because of difficulty protecting the islands' supply line to the mainland. And the happiest times of my mother's childhood ended as the freedom she had to play with friends and roam was curtailed by stringent rules on civilian movement except for essential needs such as school, work and hospital visits.

The onset of war ended my grandfather's job, servicing the pineapple harvesting equipment owned by Dole foods, as many industries on the islands shuttered during wartime. About a year later, my grandparents and mother left for California, riding a cargo ship under destroyer escort.

There was one humorous moment out of it all. When my grandfather returned from his beach patrol early on the morning after the attack, he went to put his gun away and noticed a box of bullets sitting open on the bedroom dresser. That's when he remembered …

He had forgotten to load the gun.