Lane DeGregory and her mystical powers can make anyone cry

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Visiting the Tampa Bay Times felt like visiting a movie set. Desks had bobbleheads and mugs with cheesy slogans. People worked furiously on old computers trying to catch up on what happened overnight. And for some reason, there were a lot of TVs with VCR attachments.

I was so starstruck, I did even know how to talk to anyone. Every time a worker walked by, I stared as if they were a movie star. I even told one worker that he looked like an American version of Colin Firth. He replied and said he is Canadian and I regret talking to him and am still very embarrassed.

We spoke with Paul Tash, Tampa Bay Times CEO and IU alumnus, and I sat right next to him. I sat at the head of the table at the morning budget meeting and listened to discussion about what was going to be published that day.

I also met Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Lane DeGregory. In C225, I watched a video of her giving her best interviewing tips, and I interviewed her over the phone for a fake obituary, but seeing her in person was one of the greatest moments of my life.

She wore a black dress, a white cardigan with newspapers all over it and a lot of jewelry. The number of bracelets, rings and necklaces she wore gave her a mystical vibe. She looked like someone at a Fleetwood Mac concert or the nice woman from the farmers market who sells fair-trade honey.

She shared, along with photojournalist John Pendygraft, details about their latest work, “Lincoln’s Shot,” an eight-part series about a young boy named Lincoln struggling to find treatment for myotubular myopathy, a rare genetic disorder he was born with.

They worked with Lincoln and his family for three years to tell his story. Learning about the amount of time they spent with this family and how close they became with them was inspiring. They didn’t just do a few interviews, snap a few photos and leave. They spent the night at the family’s house, traveled the state and the country with the family and still talk to them regularly.

During our hourlong talk with Lane and John, I cried more than four times. I cried for the family, I cried for Lincoln, and I cried because I saw the impact journalism can make. It can be hard to remember what journalism can do, and days like this remind you of the effects of storytelling.

Because of this story, a law may be passed in Florida in order to help families like this deal with insurance and medical costs. Lane, John, Lincoln and his family spent the day before meeting us in Tallahassee speaking to their state legislature.

At the end of the meeting, we FaceTimed Lincoln and his mother, Maggie Hoyle-Germann. Our group sang “The Itsy Bitsy Spider,” and Lincoln and his mother sang and signed us a much longer version of the same song. Again, I cried.

Lincoln signed to us that Lane and John are his friends and that they’re family to him. I, of course, shed a few more tears, but I think I saw Lane cry a little too.

After the session, I texted Professor of Practice Kelley Benham French about how inspired I was by Lane and her story.

She replied, “Are you ready to take narrative now?!”