It’s almost dawn; I’m no closer to finishing this assignment than I was 24 hours ago. My deadline is in 8 hours and I still have nothing, nothing but a blank screen on my laptop. I’ve completed all the research; listened to the interview over and over and read my notes so many times I have them memorized. So why am I having such difficulty putting this one interview into my latest article? I’ve written articles like this once a week for twenty years, so why can’t I write this one? Shaking the cobwebs from my brain, I stand, head to the break room and pour myself another cup of coffee that tastes too much like mud. Returning to my office, I sit and stare at the blank screen, the only sign the computer is working is the blinking curser.

I sigh a heavy sigh and think back. It all started 10 weeks ago when the editor handed me my latest assignment. Reading it, I figured it would be a breeze, just another simple story. Meet, interview, and write a piece on the famous entomologist, former CSI and now professor of forensic science Gil Grissom and his wife. I should have known when it took me almost 3 weeks to get a hold of Dr. Grissom and another 4 weeks before we could actually settle on a date that was agreeable for all, that this was not going to be a simple story. Those weeks of complexity in scheduling this one interview should have prepared me for the man himself, but it didn’t.

I arrived at the Grissom home at the scheduled time, and was greeted at the front door by a lovely young lady with blonde shoulder length hair and smiling blue eyes. She couldn’t have been more than 13 or 14. “May I help you?” she asked politely as she stood in the doorway.

Smiling at her I replied, “My name is Ashley Waters, I’m from Insider magazine. I have an appointment with Dr. and Mrs. Grissom.”

The young lady opened the door a little wider, “Oh yes, please come in.” She escorted me into a relaxed, but elegant living room. I knew both Dr. and Mrs. Grissom had done well for themselves and were among the wealthiest in Las Vegas, but you wouldn’t think that from looking at the modest home they shared. It was a two story brick in an upper middle class neighborhood a few miles east of the strip. I turned back to the young woman before me as she watched my reactions. “May I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you.” I replied.

She smiled at me and turned to leave, calling over her shoulder. “I’ll tell my dad you’re here.” Then she was gone, leaving me alone to explore.

Making a mental note to find out the young ladies name, I surveyed the photos on the mantel each in a matching silver frame, polished until it shined. They were placed in the order the event happened, I thought as I picked each one up and looked at it. The first was of Dr. and Mrs. Grissom with the young lady who had just exited the room they were at a Christmas party. It must have been taken a few years earlier. The child looked like she might be 7 or 8 in this picture. The next photo was of the infamous CSI team known throughout Vegas as the graveyard shift. They looked happy; I’m guessing it was taken before Conrad Ecklie separated them. Next was a photo of The Grissom’s at their wedding, followed by a photo of the entire wedding party. I recognized many of the faces including Captain Jim Brass and Dr. Al Robbins. I knew from my background material both men were very close to the Grissoms. Also in the shot was the teenager who had just left the room and Sam Braun, the owner of a couple hotel and casinos. I remember reading about his problems with the law a few years earlier. I also learned from my background notes that Mr. Braun was Mrs. Grissom’s father. He passed away last year after a short illness, leaving everything to her and her family. The next three photos were family shots, first was a recent one of Dr. and Mrs. Grissom looking into each others eyes and smiling wrapped in one another’s arms, followed by a family portrait of the couple, the blonde from earlier and a toddler. He looked to be about 18 months. The last of the pictures on the mantel was the two children smiling at something with Dr Grissom in the background. Peace, pride and love written all over his face as he watched the youngsters.

I moved around the room, exploring the collection of butterflies that graced one wall while the other walls displayed paintings and hangings that were in contrast to the insects. I should have realized then and there that this was a unique couple, who worked hard at keeping harmony in their marriage and in their life. A couple who had found the fine art of compromise, and used it to their advantage, but it would be much later in the interview, maybe even days later, before that would even begin to dawn on me. Again I made my way to the mantel. The photo of the Grissom family beckoned me. I picked it up again and admired the small family, they looked so happy, and something you don’t see much of in this day and age, especially in my line of work. It makes me a little jealous, silently wishing I could experience that happiness, but my work never allowed for that luxury. Sitting the sliver frame down, I turned to see Dr. Grissom standing in the doorway watching me.

Stepping into the room he spoke. “My daughter said you were here. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“That’s all right, I know how busy you must be. That’s a lovely family, you have Dr. Grissom.” I said walking closer to the middle of the room. He just smiled the now famous lopsided grin and motioned for me to have a seat. Sitting on the sofa, he sat in the chair by the fireplace. “I’m Ashley Waters and I’d like to thank you for taking the time to meet with me today.” I babbled on. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous. I’d interviewed far more famous people than this man.

He sat quietly watching me for several minutes before he spoke. When he did, his voice was calming, smooth and quiet, as if he sensed my apprehension. “Ms. Waters, please relax. Contrary to what you might have heard I do not bite.”

Relaxing a small amount I sat back in my seat and watched this interesting man, while getting my recorder and notepad out. Dr. Grissom was a handsome man in his middle forties, with salt and pepper curls and a baby face which he tried to cover with the mustache and beard. He was dressed in faded blue jeans, red Tommy Hilfiger Polo with the UNLV Rebels logo on the left chest with staff written under the logo and white snickers. When I had everything in place I looked up to find him watching me. Clearing my throat, I asked. “Dr. Grissom, will Mrs. Grissom be joining us?”

He shifted a little in his seat and crossed his legs. “Please call me Gil. Catherine is finishing up some business and settling the children. She’ll join us in a few minutes.” Once he was sure I was ready he continued. “Why don’t we go ahead and get started?”

“Fine.” I said and reached over to hit the record button on my recorder. “Dr. Grissom…Gil, how did you become interested in entomology?”

He chuckled and looked at me with a knowing smile. “Ms. Waters, I know of your magazine and I’ve done some investigating of my own. I know why you’re here and what you want to know and it’s not how I became interested in entomology. I’m sure you have all that information in the file you no doubt have on my wife and me.” He reached for the bottle of water, he’d brought into the room with him. Taking a slow drink, he continued. “You’re more interested in the personal aspects of our life, the dirt as they say in the journalism world. So why don’t we cut to the chase and you ask the questions you really want to know the answers too.”

I had to admire this man. He didn’t beat around the bush. “You’re right I do have all that information. What I don’t have is information on your private life, your family, friends and interests. How you and Mrs. Grissom met, fell in love, started a family. Those are the things my readers want to know. Those are the pieces of information the public would like to find out about. You are such a private man that, no one even knows the names of your children, except your closes friends and they won’t talk.” I felt my throat go dry as I spoke.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to drink?” He asked as if sensing my uneasiness.

I smiled at his gentleness. “Water would be nice, please.” He stood, exited the room returning a minute or two later with a bottle of water and a glass filled with ice. “Thank you.” I said taking it from him and sipping some of the cool liquid, while watching him make his way back to the chair he had vacated only minutes before. “Dr. Grissom, why don’t we start with how you and Mrs. Grissom met.”

He sat quietly in his chair looking off somewhere as if remembering. “We met at the French Palace. Catherine was a dancer and I was there for a bachelor party. I wasn’t really into strip clubs, but I was glad I went that night. That’s the night I spotted the most beautiful woman in the world, the woman I never dreamed would someday be my wife. As soon as we, my friend’s and I entered the place, I saw her sitting at the bar. She captivated me the entire evening. When she danced she had such grace and elegance. I couldn’t understand what someone like that was doing working as a dancer in that sort of place.” He stopped talking and turned to the doorway. His face changed from one of a man remembering a sad, but special moment to that of a man watching his happiness enter the room.

I turned to where his eyes had gone. In the doorway stood a tall, strawberry blonde. She looked very much like the child who greeted me at the door a few minutes ago. She smiled at me then moved to sit on the arm of the chair that held Dr. Grissom. The woman had a figure most 20 year olds would kill for and legs that were endless. She was dressed casually in soft faded jeans, an oversized mans dress shirt and barefoot. I assume the shirt belonged to the man beside her. He smiled up at her and kissed her lightly, before taking her hand in his.

Looking back at me, his smile grew even wider. You could see the emotion these two had for each other in their eyes and their simple touches. “Ms. Waters, I’d like you to meet my wife, Catherine.” He turned to her and continued, “Catherine this is Ms. Ashley Waters from Insider magazine.”

“It’s nice to meet you Ms. Waters. I hope Gil hasn’t been giving you a hard time.” Catherine Grissom smiled looking from me to her husband then back to me. I was immediately at ease in her presence.