With apologies to Timothy Leary for mutilating his iconic counterculture mantra of the 60s, I nonetheless am compelled to employ it to demonstrate my stance on the Senate trial of Donald Trump, who is already impeached and thus, to his horror, will be forever linked to Bill Clinton.
Now on to another topic.
So sad to read of the fatality on Hwy 81 in my electronic News-Times. In 30 years of newspapering I’ve stood at so many such scenes I can’t even remember them all.
Which brings me to community (read: hick town) journalism compared to its big city cousin.
It’s great to be so mutually familiar with the folks you cover in the microenvironment of a town like York, but it has a heartbreaking downside, too.
It’s always a shame when bad things happen to good people, but much worse and infinitely more personal when those good people, their families and friends are folks you know.
It has always been, for me, the worst part of the job by far.
It’s even worse, I believe, for first responders in those situations. How tough to be one of the hands-on folks involved in such deep tragedies. My sympathy for law enforcement and especially firemen and EMTs whose exposure is of necessity closer, more vivid and emotional than anyone else’s is constant. I think of them often with appreciation.
My job is to stand back and take carefully thought out photos to record the news aspect of what just happened here. Our industry – and me personally – has been vilified for what we do. Yet do it we must, even though we hate (H-A-T-E) having to be anywhere near the scene.
It’s an expectation of the vast majority of our readers and one we are compelled to satisfy whether we like it or whether we don’t.