Love Canal: A Short Story

I opened the door to absolute chaos. Bright lights-camera flashes-blinded me. Before I could even get my bearings a cacophony of screeches assaulted my ears. I peered through the flashbulbs to see a pudgy man, much resembling a pig, shouting hoarsely. As he noticed my gaze, his beady eyes lit up. He beckoned to a scrawny boy lurking behind him. As they approached, the boy pulled a notepad and pencil out of his pocket. I made a frantic attempt to retreat into my home and avoid this unexpected onslaught of the media, but the pig-like man was too fast for me. He was quite speedy for such a round man.
“Mrs. Gibbs! Mrs. Gibbs! It’s the New Internationalist!” He exclaimed. I disguised my groan as a dazzling smile.
“Good day Mr… Pardon me, what’s
And I like your ideas,” I grinned. “Getting the media involved is a great plan. I’ll contact them soon.”
And that’s just what we did. Over the course of the next two years, I succeeded in getting the attention of the mainstream media. The story of Love Canal became a national sensation, spurring groups of environmental activists into action, enabling those whose voices weren’t heard to rise up, and giving other towns like Love Canal hope. We’d petitioned and rallied and dealt with the crushing force of journalists when they smell a story, all so that President Carter would grant Love Canal a federal state of emergency. People said I was crazy, but the dump that the government forced me to stay in had hurt my son and I wouldn’t give up. I was doing it for Michael. All of this was for Michael.
I hurtled back into the present with a gasp. Mr. Swyene stared at me as if I was a different species.
“Mrs. Gibbs, are you quite alright?”
“Fine, fine. I’m fine.” I stammered. I was better than fine. I was
I knew that anything I said could turn up in a newspaper, and saying something foolish would lead to certain embarrassment. But I couldn’t think of anything. The only option was to make something up on the spot. So I spoke from the deepest part of me, the part that is always there, affecting everything I do, pushing me to be the best person I can be.
"Average people and the average community can change the world. You can do it just based on common sense, determination, persistence and patience."
“Wonderful!” Mr. Swyene gushed. “Did you get that?” He asked the boy standing next to him, who was busily scribbling on his notepad. The interview went on like this for a good half hour, then Mr. Swyene marched off, taking the thin boy with him. As they left I managed to escape into my house. With a deep sigh of relief, I flopped down on the couch. It looked as if I could finally escape this town. I’d better start packing now, I thought. Because I’m not wasting a second of my new