Our latest efforts

Jessica gave birth to our newest daughter, Anna Marie Trinko, at 8:10 p.m. Wednesday, Aug. 27, 2008. She's about three weeks premature, and she's requiring some extra special attention at the hospital until she masters the art of breathing.

If you'd like updates on her condition, my wife and I have taken advantage of the hospital's free Wi Fi, our laptop and endless amounts of free time between our visits to the Special Care Nursery to create a blog updating her progress. Help yourself, and please keep us in your prayers: http://annamarietrinko.blogspot.com/

Column: Anonymous letter raises issues about credibility

http://www.limaohio.com/news/crish_27411___article.html/story_anonymous.html

There wasn't a story in The Lima News on Tuesday about someone questioning whether sheriff candidate Sam Crish should be eligible to run.
You're not likely to see one in this newspaper, either. We looked into it, and we didn't find anything wrong. From looking at personnel records and talking to people involved, Crish was a resident at the Bellefontaine Road address he claimed as his home on election paperwork.
You might wonder why I'm telling you about a complete and total non-story in The Lima News. Based on some of the calls I handled Tuesday, we'd dropped the most important story in Lima's history.
It all comes down to an anonymous call, an anonymous letter and a little but extremely important thing called credibility.
The people who called Tuesday heard about an anonymous four-page letter our newspaper and several other media outlets received Monday. The letter questioned if Crish really lived at the home address he used on his candidacy form, citing an Ohio law that requires a sheriff candidate live in the county for at least one year prior to the qualification date.
The story really started for us nearly a month ago, when an anonymous caller asked a similar question. So we did what we do with any accusation like this: We looked into it.
Reporter Greg Sowinski looked over the sheriff's personnel files of Crish and some other officers who allegedly lived in the house last January. He spent more than three hours looking through them, comparing dates and residences.
He found nothing to suggest Crish didn't live there last January. Then he talked to the people involved. Those stories all clicked, too. Crish used to live near Indian Lake, then he moved to a house on Bellefontaine Avenue.
We talked about it and decided it was a non-story, a journalism cliché for something that's just not that interesting. A guy living where he says he does is about as exciting a story as a guy who pours milk on his cereal every morning.
We take our credibility extremely seriously. Each of our reporters does his or her best to be certain everything they print is true, to the best of their knowledge. Given that we'd already looked into the incident and found no merit, even repeating accusations in that anonymous letter would do nothing to serve the common good.
It's the anonymous nature of the letter that concerns me. I read several anonymous letters each month and receive a handful of anonymous calls each week, asking us to look into things.
After nearly 15 years as a professional journalist, I've noticed something: Anonymous sources aren't as reliable as people willing to put their names by their words.
Quite simply, most of these accusations end up being unfounded hearsay. It's often the result of rumors and innuendo, where no one bothered to check the authenticity of the information they've repeated.
You'll notice my name and picture is on this column. I stand by it. The stories we publish from our local reporters include their names. They stand by their work. Even our editorial page has the names of the men who helped craft that opinion.
Perhaps you don't believe anything you see with my name on it. That's your right, but at least you know who wrote it.
It's a cornerstone of good journalism. You can not only evaluate whether you believe something based on your experiences with that reporter, you can also judge whether you believe it based on who they quoted.
This Crish issue came from an anonymous letter that had incorrect statements in it. I don't know the motivation of the writer, nor can I ask since I have no name, phone number or even e-mail address. I do know the goal can't be to get Crish removed from the ballot, as the deadline to protest an independent candidate's petition was May 30.
As a reporter, I never used a source unless I felt confident in their knowledge about the story. Now as an editor, I won't allow our reporters to do so.
You should expect that much out of a news-gathering organization. You should be able to trust us.

Peace of mind from inside a bathroom stall

http://www.limaohio.com/articles/people_25777___article.html/restroom_time.html

Don't tell anyone, but I started writing this column from my bathroom.
I spend a lot of time in the restroom these days, and it's probably not why you think.
Lest anyone worry about my colon's health, it's just fine. The waterworks are just fine too. But I've found something while using the facilities I never noticed before.
Silence.
I find that as much as I like being a husband, a dad and a boss, sometimes you just miss that golden quiet that constantly surrounds you when you're younger.
It's harder and harder to take a deep breath and relax without some kind of interruption. At my desk at work or on the couch at home, there's always that threat of someone needing me to drop everything and come running for the crisis of the day.
That's the beauty of the bathroom. It's my fortress of solitude. No one would dare bother me in here.
The Fonz from "Happy Days" liked to ask people to step into his office, the men's restroom at Al's Diner. I, on the other hand, like people to step away from mine. I can't make a jukebox go by bumping it with my fist, either.
I always feel uncomfortable when people want to chat when they see me in the restroom at work. I've adopted this sanitary code: I try not to talk to anyone until we're both washing our hands.
Perhaps my joy at hiding in a silent stall is an indictment of how accessible people are nowadays.
If I'm within 10 feet of my desk, the ring of my phone or ding of my e-mail draw me back, no matter why I walk away.
If I'm within two floors of our children, the scream of a baby or pout of a first-grader push me into action, no matter how inconsequential her request seems.
That's the draw of the commode. It's out of hearing range from most other distractions. Most of the time, I wouldn't dare answer my cell phone from a seated position in that room.
And, most wonderfully, people feel uncomfortable interrupting your time inside a restroom. Apparently most assume you're doing more than taking a breather.
I hadn't realized how much time I spent in the downstairs bathroom of our home until our 6-year-old asked my wife if she could use "Daddy's bathroom." Apparently those five-minute visits made it mine. Perhaps she chalks it up to squatter's rights.
I love the people in my life dearly, but sometimes you just need a couple of minutes to yourself. Sometimes I'll pad out a visit to finish reading an interesting article. Sometimes I'll start writing something. Or perhaps it's just for a relaxing game of solitaire on the cell phone.
Some people solve their problems over a night's rest. I solve mine over five minutes in a restroom.
I'm not sure whoever decided the restroom was for the bladder and intestines only, anyway. I'll take my rest anyway I can get it - even if it seems like I'm flushing my free time down the toilet.