It wasn’t a shock, so why does it hurt?
The little country newspaper where I first work is closing its doors. It’s one of hundreds going online only thanks to a mega corporation swallowing it up and spitting it out. Mine isn’t the only heart aching today.
The paper first went to print on foolscap paper in 1872. I didn’t expect to feel so emotional to hear it was going to not be in physical print. Somehow if feels like it won’t be real anymore. For all those locals who have thumbed its pages twice a week—and ended up with ink stains because newspaper ink never really dries—the loss will be real.
I know it’s about economics, but it’s also about history, and love of a community for its own and its own stories. It’s been a way to stay connected and the face of the region. Who will we be when we don’t see our world reflected back to us?
No one else from ‘outside’ is going to care about the small town issues the way the families who’ve graced its smudgey pages ever will. But every time a small-town paper dies, a little of the town dies too.
My old photo albums were filled with cut-outs from the news and sports pages, about my family and friends, my school, local events. My brothers doing sport, one winning a half-scholarship to boarding school, more sports results, stiff staged photos of school leaders, social photos at Bachelor & Spinster Balls and other local events.
Those clippings are stored out of access at the moment (thanks to a pesky virus) or I’d share some pics here. Perhaps from the day I represented the newspaper in a grape-stomping event in the main street for our harvest festival. I’m not saying it was rigged, I am saying I climbed the scaffolding in my bare feet and stomped like a madwoman, with fairly high hopes of winning the media event. After all, I was local, and the television journos were from Out Of Town. It was fun.
Anyway, I’m glad I had that experience and many more and the chance to see my small world in print. For 148 years, the people of that small town did too.
As our country’s small-town presses fall silent, I’m more thankful than ever that our fiction writers are keeping our small towns and country stories alive.
I’ll be doing my bit. Stay tuned to this blog for snippets of Ryan’s Return in coming weeks.
If you haven’t downloaded my free short story His New Year’s Wish, hit subscribe.
And while you can, spend a gold coin or two on your local newspaper. It’s your world in your hands.