It’s after 11 p.m. and I am still at the office on Tuesday night. It’s been a rough day. I barely made it to City Council in time for the meeting. I got out of that gathering a little after 8 p.m. and still had several stories, including the one about what transpired at that very city council meeting, to complete. I had to layout a couple of pages and I was grumpy and had a headache after nearly 16 hours in the saddle.
To top it off, earlier in the day I had a talented part-time employee tell me they were no longer going to be able to work at the newspaper.
About the time I was resigned to the fact my day wasn’t stellar, I noticed the air in the office was a bit muggy. I checked. The thermostat was set at 73 degrees, as usual. However, the temperature was hovering at 77. My AC unit wasn’t coming on. Good grief.
I feel like I have been pushing the envelope the last few weeks, with staffing transitions, special sections to be published, a couple of fairs to cover, and a multitude of other issues.
To throw salt in the wound, if I hear, “Well, it was on Facebook!” or “Nobody reads the newspaper anymore,” one more time, I’m going to scream!
It can be a bit overwhelming putting together our hometown paper every week. It has to get to press on time and under deadline and a “gazillion” pieces have to fit together to make it happen 52 times a year, year in and year out.
I am sitting here late on deadline day, not because I am driven by financial greed, as the margins can be quite thin.
I continue to type, and take photos, and attend meetings, and cover community events, not because it’s “just my job” but because I care about this community and the people who live and work and play here. I see the birth announcements and obituaries. I’ve watched kids grow up and others grow old.
I share in the joyous moments and the fun times, but I also witness tragedy and heartache.
I keep an eye on politics and the local government “goings on” and I rub shoulders with the “movers and shakers” and realize we are all human.
Every time I have one of those days when I question my sanity for being a newspaperman, I am reminded of the rewards: a reader who comments about how an article made them think or laugh, someone who stops me to say how much they rely on their “little paper,” the grandma who buys extra copies when the grandkids are pictured, even the person who comes to the office to pick up a bundle of extras to pack for a move. I am proud of our newspaper team and proud to serve my community as the “newspaper guy.”
I promise to keep working, if you’ll promise to keep reading.