Mary Garofalo's Blog

Yesterday I was on my to work. It was one of those rainy New York City days -- the kind of day where you hate venturing out because you know you're never going to get a cab and no matter what, you're going to end up soaking wet.

So you can imagine my delight when I saw a taxi rounding the corner and it stopped directly in front of me. As I opened the door to hop in I thought maybe I should buy a lottery ticket - could this be my lucky day? From the corner of my eye I looked up to see three men madly running across the street like Apache Indians. They were waving their arms and hollering as they headed towards me! I couldn't help but notice how well dressed and well groomed they were in their Brooks Brother suits and Ferragamo shoes. It was then they started yelling that this was their cab and what was I doing. I calmly told them to relax, I explained to them that I had not seen them across the street waiting for a taxi and that I was more than happy to relinquish my ride to them, despite the rain. You would think the gesture would have disarmed them - a simple thank you would have been enough. No, not these guys, they practically pulled me out the cab.

 But, it was then that something very strange happened. A homeless man sitting at the corner in the rain jumped up and began yelling at the three men. He scolded them for showing no class and yanking a woman out of cab. He was relentless. He shouted that their mother's should be ashamed of them and that for three guys dressed so nicely they were simply empty suits and, these were his words, "dirt bags". The men simply drove off no apologizes, no thank yous and no class. It was the homeless man who stood there apologizing to me for their rude behavior.

It was a cathartic moment for me which left me shaking my head. The guy with the dirty, wet and ripped clothing..a man who didn't have home or a job and needed a meal had more manners than the three jokers who rudely took the cab.

I told him that his mother taught him well and yes he indeed had a tremendous amount of class!

A great New York story and a great lesson for all us about not judging a book by the cover.

My job here at FOX 5 affords me the wonderful luxury of visiting lots of different work places. Some I envy, some I don't. I often walk into these office environments and thank my lucky stars for the job I have and the freedom it gives me. But, I will never forget the worst job I ever had.

I was 18 and a teenager looking for any all summer work to help pay for my college tuition. There were summer openings at a huge Hostess Potato chip plant in our town. I thought how bad could it be? There were definite advantages. First, the pay; it was double minimum wage. Plus, I wouldn't need to bring a lunch, I would have all the potato chips I could eat. Well, that was true -- and to this day I can't even look at a potato chip.

When I started the job, the rules were clear and heavily enforced; no talking at all, bathroom breaks would be timed, coffee breaks could not exceed one second beyond 15 minutes and lunch, no more than half hour.

Employees were crammed into a tiny lunch room where eating outside (no matter what the weather) was actually better.

I tried my hand at bagging potato chips. The most important part of that particular job I was instructed, was filling the bags up with enough air to make them look full. Heaven forbid we put in one more chip than was allowed. I never liked the idea of "fooling" the public so I would always fill the bags up as full as I could possibly get them with potato chips. Basically, I put in two bags of chips for the price of one. Well, I didn't last too long at that job so, I was reassigned to what was the worst job in the building.

My day began at a conveyer belt beside several gigantic fryers that cooked the potatos.

As the chips came off the belt by the thousands, my job was to pick off all the burned chips,with out any gloves mind you. I was told the gloves might damage the good chips. It was a wonderful philosophy: who cared about our fingers, at least the chips were not getting damaged.

The heat in that area of the factory was excruciating sometimes close to 100 degrees, not to mention the huge oils bubbles that would form on the individual chip. When I went to pick them off, the bubbles burst and burning oil would splat onto my fingers and hand. I did this 8 hours a day for an entire summer. I believe that to this day my fingertips were so burned that I no longer have a proper print. I still have little feeling in my fingertips.

I was happy to go back to school. In fact, I learned the biggest lesson of my life in that factory - something I've always taken with me:

You will have a very long, lonely and agonizing life unless you truly love what you do. Thank God, I do.

I just got back from a one week long vacation with the family. What was I possibly thinking? Frankly, I am THRILLED to be back at work.

Picture this; we had to drag everything but the kitchen sink with us-- two huge pieces of luggage, one carry on case with cameras and DVD player (an absolute must if flying with kids), another bag with food, milk and snacks, still another bag with toys and books, then the car seats and two carriages! Ugh!

And, that wasn't even the worst of it. As we snaked our way through the security line, our family was one of the unlucky few to be flagged. That meant we had to take the kids and all our "stuff" and go to a special area of the airport that houses a new type of screening machine. Basically, you walk inside a closet like contraption, stand there for a few seconds while a huge puff of air is blown on to you. It's suppose to detect explosives. That's fine if you are an adult but, trying to get a four year old and one year old to go through that process was virtually impossible. So now, I had two screaming kids, one angry husband, four annoyed security agents and a mom ready to lose her mind.

The hotel was yet another saga. This was going to be a special trip for my little boy! All year he had begged me to take him somewhere with a waterslide. So, after some considerable research we settled on a hotel with a cute and not so scary waterslide that was situated in the shallow end of the pool. The hotel itself was a dump but the waterslide was the selling point! The hotel assured my son would love it and he did.

It was all worth it to see the look on his face the first time he came down the slide. And, for close to 5 hours my little boy was ecstatic -- up and down the waterslide he went until he was thoroughly exhausted. The world was wonderful again.

Until, the next day--then disaster set in. For some insane reason the hotel waterslide person approached us with the unthinkable...he told us our son could not use the slide any longer. Why? We pleaded! We begged! Did he not realize that my life would be miserable from that point on?How was I suppose to explain this tragedy to a 4 year old?

The so called "waterslide boss" decided that my little guy wasn't that strong a swimmer except my little guy never had to swim. You see, my husband and I were waiting at the bottom of the slide for him every single time he came down. We were his lifeguards!

But, nothing could change their minds and, for the next two days I had a hysterical little boy who couldn't understand why he couldn't go down the waterslide. We laid by the pool day in and day out and longingly watched the virtually unused waterslide . It was calling my son's name. It got so bad that we actually had to pack up all our "stuff" and check out of the hotel. I did it gladly.

Frankly, I need a vacation from my vacation!

I always thought it was so cliché when people said to me, "When you become a parent everything changes". You can see it on our website--

Oh, how arrogant and ignorant I was. Yes, my beautiful children have made me a different person! I learned just how different when I worked on a major story involving our troubled foster care system.

Two years ago I broke a story about a foster care agency called ST. CHRISTOPHER'S INC. We spend months and months working on this investigation. We exposed the disturbing facts about how case workers for St. Christopher's were fabricating visitation reports. Some of these social workers hadn't actually checked in the foster children under their care for as long as year in some cases. The agency was only concerned about the money they would lose if the ADMINISTRATION FOR CHILDREN SERVICES found out the truth. Nobody was protecting these children!

I was given an agency catalog with the names and addresses of each foster child in their care. I spent the summer knocking on doors checking up on hundreds of children. I remember walking into some these foster homes and thinking how could these beautiful children go from bad to worse. They had been abandoned by their parents, many had been been tossed from home to home.

"Vacant" was the only way I could best describe the look in their eyes. I will never forget how one adorable 4 year old boy stared at me with such intensity that I burst into tears. He instinctively knew I was briefly visiting his sad world and, like everyone else in his life I would like be leaving. He pulled at my skirt and asked me if he could come home with me. What could I say to a child who in his own way was begging me to save his life?  No one prepared me for the depressing days of summer I would experience.

Thank God St.Christopher's was stopped from doing business with the city and, some of their employees indicted. But I wonder every waking moment about the children and about that little boy. What happened to them? What happened to him?  I think about how their lives are kept secret, everything hidden under a veil of "confidentiality".  I think about when they reach a certain age, the system spits them out, often times these kids end up in shelters. I was painfully reminded of all that recently when I worked on a story entitled "SAVING BRANDON". 

 

 

 

So many of these children are alone. They are taken care of by a system that is so desensitize to their needs. How can we save them all? I realized now we can only save one child at a time.

I was overwhelmed by the eloquent E-mails and letter you have all written on Brandon's behalf. I pray like all of you that Brandon is saved and this little boy is returned to a woman who has made amazing sacrifices for him. I pray that Brandon know the love that comes from family --the special love we share with our children.

Thank you for all wonderful letters you have sent with the hope of saving Brandon. We all wait with bated breath for the Supreme Court decision. Stay tuned.

As an investigative reporter I’ve often felt that pump of adrenaline rushing through my body as I put myself in some pretty uncomfortable and sometimes even dangerous situations. I’ve always prided myself in being able handle just about any scenario. But, boy I faced my toughest one yesterday!
No, it wasn’t a bad guy caught in the act of scamming some innocent soul. This one affected me far, far worse. It cracked me! Let me explain:
Before I entered the strange subculture of motherhood, I would watch in HORROR as moms stood nervously above their children, who kicked, screamed and carried on in a crowded public area because of some insignificant crisis like not enough candy, not the right toy. How, I thought, how, could anyone allow their child to act like this and, in public no less. Well, I learned the hard way.
I took my son out on Sunday to buy a mask for Halloween and while in the store he spotted a cowboy outfit, gun and all. He wanted it! I didn’t! So, having watched many episodes of NANNY 911, I kneeled down to his level, looked him directly the eyes and I calmly said, “I’m sorry sweetie, we just don’t allow guns in our house, not even a toy gun”. Surely, this would work...
I watched it on television...it always works...wrong!!
My son erupted in such anger it left me speechless and in shock. Yelling at the top of his lungs in the middle of this store, “NOoooooooooooooooooooooo”
IIIII Wwwwwwwwwwwwwww Itttttttttt” His body slithering all over the floor. I felt the blood rush to my head. My eyes were blurred, my body burned in an embarrassing heat that overcame me!
As a small crowd gathered to watch the spectacle ---I could see the looks...some of pity, some of concern but, mostly those of horror. I was sure I was responsible that day for a dozen women calling for appointments with their doctors to tie their fallopian tubes. What could I do?
I scooped up my three year old Tasmanian devil, kicking and screaming ---shoved him in cab and headed home for the exorcism.
Yes, I thought, I had officially been baptized into motherhood!

I love to cook!
I work so much I don't get a chance to cook as often as I'd like to so, I'm sharing some of my favorite recipes with you.
Things I love to cook when I have time.

MARY'S BBQ RIBS,

1 rack of baby back ribs
1 8oz bottle Soy Sauce
1 Onion
1 Package of Bay Leaves
1 Bottle BBQ sauce
1 Bottle of Ketchup
1 cup of Honey

Cut baby back ribs into strips
Pour bottle of soy sauce with equal amount of water
into a large pot
Add onion and bay leaves
Place ribs in pot
Boil over medium heat for an hour
In a separate pan mix 1 full bottle of BBQ sauce and
1 full bottle of ketchup and 1 cup of honey
Move baby back ribs into the pan, cover with tin foil and bake 350 degrees for 1 hour

I hope you like my yummy dish - more to come later!
BAM---

I was in beautiful SARATOGA SPRINGS this weekend for the ASSOCIATED PRESS BROADCASTERS AWARDS.
I had an absolutely wonderful time and I met some terrific broadcasters from across the state.
We exchanged lots of war stories and had some truly interesting conversations.

FOX 5 NEWS won lot's of awards. Personally, I was honored with the AP AWARD for BEST ENTERPRISE
REPORTING for a story I did on HOMELESS SEX OFFENDERS. The station won for BEST LOCAL NEWS PROGRAM,
BEST NEWS SPECIAL ( congrats to my crazy office mate John Deutzman, who keeps losing his cell phone and doesn't realize it's in his hand), BEST SPOT NEWS, and BEST NEWS SERIES.

I sat at a table with some great radio broadcasters from Bufalo. I was born and raised near Buffalo in Toronto, Canada. We were only a two hour drive from Buffalo so, it was like sitting with family, we all had a lot of
things in common. I grew up on IRV WEINSTEIN and WKBW EYEWITNESS NEWS BUFFALO. It was a station known for it's continual coverage of local fires. We used to say WKBW had a asbestos building on
LACKAWANNA AND MAIN STREET - because it seemed there was fire on that corner every night. Irv was agreat television and true legend.

Speaking of legends, my husband and I stayed at a really unique landmark hotel in Saratoga Springs called the
ADELPHIA. It's one of the oldest hotels in the state, built in 1879. It was like going back in time and sleeping in a Victorian mansion. We loved Saratoga Springs so much we picked up a real estate brochure to check out some properties. Too bad the weather was so awful this past weekend - rain and fog - I'll have to talk to Nick Gregory the next time we visit there. See ya!