I WANT TO BE ON TV
John Twork
It was a late October evening three and a half years ago when the telephone rang as my husband and I were watching the ten o’clock news. I picked up the receiver and was pleasantly surprised to hear David’s voice. Ever since he got the job at CBS News he hardly ever had time to call us. First we casually chatted about his career in the Big Apple, and he asked me about life back home. But suddenly during the conversation, his voice shifted to a much more serious tone.
“Mom, I have something to tell you,” he said. “There’s going to be an invasion of Iraq within the next few months, and we’re going to send someone over there to cover it.”
I remained speechless, anticipating what David would say next. After a short pause he continued, “Well the thing is mom, my boss wants me to cover it.”
I remember screaming out in my head, “No, there is absolutely no way in hell that you are risking your life to go over there just so we can be entertained by play-by-play from the battle field. You’re my son!”
But I could not say anything more than, “Honey, that’s going to be dangerous. Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Don’t worry mom,” he said. “I’ll be traveling with the military, so I’ll be safe. Plus if I do this, I’ll have a really good shot at getting the national anchor job that I’ve always wanted.”
“But is it really worth it?” I said as my trembling hands struggled to hold onto the phone against my right ear.
“You know how much being an anchor for CBS News would mean to me. I’m telling you, I’ll be fine mom. I’m going over there and I don’t want you to worry about me.”
So I did not have any choice but to say goodbye to my son, as he headed off to war armed only with a microphone and a notepad. I remember the last words he said to me after hugging his father at the airport and then turning to me.
“Mom, this trip to Iraq will be just like the old days when I interviewed you and dad with the toy microphone; remember that? Please don’t worry about me mom. I’ll miss you. I love you mom.”
David kissed me on the cheek and smiled, and then turned to embrace his wife whose eyes were filled with tears. After he told her how much he loved her, David walked towards the ticket counter and disappeared down the jetway to his plane. As I watched him walk away, tears ran down my face over the spot where he had pecked my cheek; that was the last time I ever saw my son.

When David was five years old, I remember the time he ran up to me one night and exclaimed, “Momma, Momma, I want to be on the TV.” For Christmas that year, Santa brought him a colorful plastic voice recorder that he carried everywhere with him until it finally broke and we had to buy a new one. David used the recorder to interview me and his father all the time. “What are you doing?” he would ask into the microphone and then hold it up to my lips for a response. After I answered his question, he giggled and rewound the tape to listen to our recorded conversation. David was a natural-born journalist.
Our son grew up so fast, and before we knew it he had earned a degree in broadcast journalism from the University of Missouri. David started his broadcasting career as a co-anchor for an NBC affiliate in Charlotte where he worked for seven years before he was hired by CBS news as a field-reporter. He loved working in New York City and covering important news events that affected the entire nation.
David also met and fell head-over-heels in love with a beautiful young woman from Manhattan named Michelle. Three months after their first date, David proposed to Michele in Central Park, and by spring they were married. David was very successful at a job that he loved while being newlywed to the woman of his dreams; his life was nearly perfect.
The U.S. military invaded Iraq at 9:30 PM on March 19, 2003, and as soon as the Air Force finished bombing Baghdad, ground units moved in with troops, weapons, supplies, and imbedded journalists. Apparently David was traveling with the Army National Guard 56th Armored Brigade along with a cameraman. They were supposed to be covering the combat operation for the CBS Evening News, but instead they became a part of the evening’s headlines.
On March 21 at 5:30 in the morning the phone rang and my husband answered.
“Yes, this is he,” said my husband to the voice on the other end of the phone. There was a long pause, and then he softly mumbled, “Okay.”
After he hung up the phone, my husband turned to me and squeezed my hand tight while tears filled his eyes. I looked up at him and my heart sank. I knew what happened.
“There’s been an incident involving the unit that David was traveling with. The thing is,” he paused and took a deep breath as he choked back tears, “Our son is dead.”
I remember sitting in the dark bedroom with my face in the pillow, crying, and praying that David was still alive, even though I knew that he was not.
That night CBS News ran a special report on David and his cameraman whose humvee was ambushed on its way to Baghdad by members of Saddam’s Iraqi army. According to the report, two soldiers and the journalists were taken out of the vehicle and shot to death. I just could not rationalize those words in my brain; my son was shot to death.
Michele was devastated over the loss of David. “He’s my husband,” she screamed. “Why? Why did he go? Why did he die? I love him so much.”
Friends and family tried to console us, but it was hard to accept the reality. I stayed away from the outside world and cried for two months straight, until I gradually started coming to terms with David’s passing, and began thinking about the long, prosperous life he lived despite his short time on earth.
Since he was five years old, David wanted to be on TV. He had fulfilled all of his dreams, except for his final ambition to be a national news anchor. David was born a journalist, and he died doing something that brought great joy and happiness to his life.
I still have a vivid memory of David’s bright face the last time I saw him and he kissed me on my cheek. He was so happy to have a great job and be married to Michelle, the love of his life. He knew that going to Iraq was a risky assignment, but he also knew that it was his responsibility as a journalist. It is difficult for me to talk about my son’s death, but I am very proud to say that in his short life, David left his mark forever on his family and friends, and TV- both in life and in death.