Tune in: NPR finds soldiers have limited access to mental health services

As an intern with media relations, I am sometimes asked to transcribe an interview or story. Typically, they are just important or interesting sections that NPR wants to include in press releases that we send to journalists. I had the opportunity to transcribe the interview portions from an amazingly interesting investigative piece by NPR’s National Correspondent Daniel Zwerdling.

In the story, which airs today on Morning Edition and All Things Considered, Daniel investigates soldiers who return to Ft. Carson (an army base in Colorado) from Iraq with emotional problems including Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Now, there have been similar stories about Iraq veterans - as somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 to 25 percent of people who’ve served in Iraq return with serious mental health problems (including depression, substance abuse and PTSD). However, in his investigation, Daniel discovered that not only do soldiers who feel distressed or helpless have a difficult time receiving help but these soldiers are often punished by their superiors and even forced out of the army.

I highly recommend listening to this investigation if you have the opportunity. It is both fascinating and unsettling to listen to the stories of these troubled soldiers, the officers who admit to mistreating them and the pattern of Ft. Carson officials forcing these troubled soldiers out of the army without receiving any benefits or treatment. Tune in today on All Things Considered (and, frankly, every day).

-Kyle Lowden

You can also listen to the story here.

Behind the Scenes on Election Night

Coming into NPR 6:30pm Tuesday night, I was excited (and a little anxious) about my Election Night duties. My shift officially began at 7pm and wouldn't end until 5 the next morning.

When I got to Studio 4a, the studio built specifically for election coverage, it was already a whirlwind of activity, much of it centering around the buffet table.

My job was call runner, which meant handing out cards to Online, Newscast, and the Board that listed the House, Senate and Gubernatorial races and projected the winning candidate. Julia Moss, the election unit intern (better known as my "Cross-country Sprinter" partner) and I frantically checked off the names of the candidates that Ken Rudin and Ron Elving (NPR's political experts) projected would win. The two of us developed an excellent system -- although, one time, I almost knocked someone over (sorry!) as I hastily ran up to the stage where Linda Wertheimer and Robert Siegel sat.

During downtime, which there was a lot of -- NPR being extremely careful not to call races too soon -- I was able to enter the studio and listen to the show. I was impressed by how smoothly things sounded, despite how hectic things were on the other side of the glass.

I am sad to report that my call runner position will probably be eliminated next year due to a technical upgrade -- man replaced by machine. But a note to the Fall 2008 interns: find a spot on election night duty. It was incredibly fun, even though by 4am I was speaking with 5 minute pauses between sentences.

- Bertina Yu

I thought I saw a...giant chicken superhero?

Strange things are occurring up here on the 3rd Fl. We just got visited by a costumed Halloween superhero wearing a chicken mask. It is this particular superhero's duty to bring Halloween spirit here at the news desks. Too bad he wasn't giving out interviews. :)

If you spot the chicken, take a picture and put it on the blog. Maybe you'll get an extra treat.

3rd Floor Block Party

At this very minute, I can hear the strains of the Beatles' song "Here Comes the Sun" being played, cheering up everyone on the 3rd floor of the NPR building on Mass Ave. Thank you to whomever is giving it a spin on the speakers. I have a personal attachment to this song and if you haven't listened to it before, you should play it on a wintery, blustery day for warmth.

-a Beatles fan

Finding Common Ground

“So a Hindu, a Jew, and a Mormon walk into a coffee shop….”

Stop me if you’ve heard this one. It’s not a joke; it’s my life—my life at NPR.

For the past month I’ve had the opportunity of working with the wonderful reporter-producer team of Guy Raz and Nishant Dahiya, outstanding journalists, and all-around good guys. Nishant is a master's student in international affairs and the son of an Indian naval officer. Guy is a Jewish-American who graduated from Cambridge with a master's in history, and I’m a country-music-loving die-hard conservative who just graduated from BYU with a degree in English. Talk about group dynamics. (Think “The View” with an added measure of testosterone). Before anyone goes putting Ms. Walters and her constituents on notice, however, I should qualify something: Guy is the only one of us with a strong enough T.V. presence to pose a formidable threat. Take care of him, and I think you can rest easy.

In all seriousness, travel time to and from interviews has afforded us ample time to discuss an array of issues and ideas, and we’ve had some truly fascinating conversations.

Once, we stopped at an outfitter on Quantico military base, and Nishant pointed out the sweet irony of the fact that the flak jackets and utility knives had “made in Vietnam” stickers attached to them. Another time, Guy introduced me to Newt Gingrich as “his biggest fan” and insisted I have my picture taken with him. He said it would be reassuring to my parents to see that their son wasn’t being “brainwashed by left-wing liberals” (his words). And once, we sat with rapt attention as terrorism expert Bruce Hoffman recounted the tale of a foiled terror plot at a counter-terrorism conference, only to have the conversation turn to Hollywood B-movies, the willing suspension of disbelief, and the worst action films ever made.

We’ve talked about God and war, democracy and justice, faith and foreign policy, baseball and fine dining. And while our palates seem to be as different as our political penchants, through it all we’ve managed to find some common ground, all the while allowing for moments of respectful dissent. We haven’t resolved any long-standing political crises, but we haven’t started any new ones, either. And I’m willing to bet we’ve all learned a thing or two along the way. I know I have.

P.S. Mom and Dad said thanks for the picture.

-Joshua Figueira, National Desk

Dear NPR...

At Morning Edition, one of my most thought-provoking jobs is reading and answering e-mails from listeners. I read up to 50 per day and respond to about 20 of them, signing each of my responses "Morning Edition"-- although it occasionally freaks me out that I have become a collective entity to my electronic recipients. I also become the listener’s advocate, directing notes to producers and editors if a particular story has generated a large response.

Many e-mails ask for more information about this or that, and my responses provide book names, story links and other facts. Often, listeners request information that I can't provide, because the "NPR" content they are interested in was actually produced at their NPR member station or by other radio networks. It's a common point of confusion among listeners, who think they are hearing a continuous, undifferentiated stream of "NPR" programs.

Then there are the many listeners who just want someone at Morning Edition to read their opinions . Those opinions can sometimes stretch on for pages.

Many of these emails are positive, directing a virtual pat on the back to reporters, hosts, or the shows in general. But others are outraged about our coverage, our omissions, our biases, or just the general state of the world. At the end of some there’s a familiar sign off : " Shame on you, NPR. Shame on you for becoming one of them." The "them" might be the Left, the Right and the Mainstream Media, depending on the listener's perspective.

Occasionally I feel a reflexive shrinking from the harsh criticism. Although I’m an intern, I’ve assumed some responsibility for this show and in some way, I’m being shamed as well. I'm also slightly outraged, thinking of the extremely smart and dedicated people that surround me each day. They put in hours on each of these stories only to have listeners disparage their work. "Who," I want to yell, " will do more for you?"

Being "fair and balanced" (a phrase I’ve heard several times here without any apparent sense of irony) means that you won’t please everyone - and if you do, you’re probably not creating great journalism. Once I've collected myself, the next moment of my emotional chronology is my pride in the outrage we’ve inspired. I marvel that there are people who really listen and take the time to write back three page rants with ten detailed questions - and who expect an answer from NPR. For many listeners (at least the ones that take the time to write) , NPR is a media that responds to the public. As listeners, they have a right to demand revision and change.

-Joanna Stein, Morning Edition

The Celebrity Status

Becoming an intern at NPR was an unexpected but pleasant surprise for me this fall. As a recent graduate with a master’s degree, I suddenly found myself with a lot of time on my hands over the summer, and in between waiting for news from various jobs, I had a recurring idea: why not apply for an internship at NPR? It had always been something I wanted to do in college, but had always neglected to go through with—I think I was a little intimidated by the caliber of past interns in addition to having absolutely no background in journalism.

Of course, after getting the news that I had been accepted into NPR’s internship program, I immediately told everyone I knew. My family and my friends, all longtime NPR listeners, kept making me promise that I would update them with any interesting stories I had during my internship. So guys, this one’s for you.

Do you remember running into your teacher at the store and being so taken aback by the fact that they had actual lives outside of their job? In a sense, that is exactly how I felt the first time that Mara Liasson stopped by my desk. She was friendly and easygoing, although I’m sure she was wondering why I was mute for a good minute or so, but she was very gracious about it.

It never occurred to me that I would be on the exact same floor as people I had listened to or seen on television; that is I never really thought of what it’d be like to meet all of these famous people. Because of their “celebrity” status, it’s sometimes hard to remember that they too do normal things like shopping, or taking care of the kids. I used to think that it would be really intimidating to talk to someone who was famous, or that I would be seen as an annoying fan. But one thing I always keep in mind now, particularly after meeting Mara is that the celebrities here at NPR are extremely approachable and after getting past that moment of being starstruck, I learned that it was much easier getting to know them than I thought it would be. Plus, I’ve heard that an NPR reporter sees Karl Rove pretty regularly at his local grocery store, which once again reminds me that we all have lives outside of our jobs.

-Bertina Yu, Washington Desk/Intern Edition Blog Editor

Addie's Golden Rule

Eight members of my family called this week to ask how things were going with the internship. This is heartwarming, since out of all my relatives - four parents, four grandmothers, and 30 cousins - only one person actually listens to NPR. But they've apparently realized over the years that my dream was to work in this building, and here I am. I'm not even paid, and I'm thrilled.
That's what I tell my grandmothers when they call me, and they're satisfied. But my friends from Brown, many of whom were virtually weaned on public radio, want to know more. Mostly they ask me if I eat in the same lunchroom as Robert Siegel.

And I say, "That's funny, actually. Because just the other day..."

Just the other day, I got back from shadowing Guy Raz on an interview and went up to the lunchroom. I stood in line behind a very well-dressed man and immediately thought something was up - people just don't dress like that in public radio. He turned around a moment later and asked my name.

"Addie Goss, what's yours?"

"Murblecose..." he answered, or something like that. I haven't yet developed the fundamental reporting skill of listening to people's names.

"So what do you do here?" he asked, and I explained that I'm an intern, that I'm the executive producer of Intern Edition, that I just graduated from Brown, that I biked across America this summer, the whole bio, rambling because this man was in a suit.

I finally gasped, "What do you do here?"

"I'm the President," he said. "Of NPR."

I fell in love with radio in middle school. But reporting for Brown Student Radio was something else - stressful, time-consuming, and never quite perfect. What kept me from jumping ship and taking the LSATs was that everyone in radio is so great. They're blindingly smart and creative. They're also humble and kind to stammering interns.

Kevin Klose kept me talking. We ordered and paid for lunch, then he picked up his soup and said, "Bye, Addie!"

That meant something. Remember people's names. If there's one thing I learn here, that's it.

-Adeline Goss, Executive Producer of Intern Edition