The Press

Our friend Barbara lives on a cul-de-sac with a family whose son was killed in Afghanistan. It was all over the news. She said he was a great kid, they are a great family and it is a great tragedy. She noticed something was going on because of the military car parked in front of their house. And then the press arrived. Lots of press. The press kind of ambushed people in their driveways as they arrived home. Did they need to be there? Really? She refused to make a statement, as she wanted to protect the family’s privacy. She also mentioned that the biggest pain for the family was dealing with the military. The family arrived in Germany to escort his body home and were met with endless red tape. Just what a grieving family needs.

Our investment broker and friend was also a pilot. Years ago, he agreed to act as co-pilot to a young girl who wanted to break the cross-country flying record for a child of her age. I think she was 11 years old. Things went very badly the third day out. They crashed. He, the young girl and her father were all killed. It made the national news.

We went to our friend’s funeral. We had to hike in as the TV trucks surrounded the church for blocks and the press was actually in the church filming the ceremony. It felt very intrusive. It felt very wrong. If you tried to get through the throng of cameramen and reporters, there was a shove back. They were almost militant in their desire to “get the story” at any cost. They also got many facts of the story wrong.

That experience changed my view of the press forever. I had always thought of them as the bearers of truth and light and goodness. Woodward and Bernstein. Instead, I found that they are bullies. I hope to never be the focus of their lenses. I now question every story as I realize that it is always told through a personal lens.

The days of an independent press are gone. Base journalism and gotta journalism are here. Screaming each other down on TV is here. Black or white. Right or wrong. Left or right. There is no middle ground. There is no civil discourse. There is no depth to any story. Each side is called Nazis if they don’t agree with the other’s opinion.

I have given up newspapers. I read the news from the Internet. I watch a variety of news channels, as I believe that all project their own personal viewpoint to any issue. To get close to the truth, one must watch, listen and read all sides. The truth lies somewhere in the middle. I worry that people who only watch or read or listen to one side of the argument never fully understand the issue.

There is a current ad running on TV featuring some local news anchors. One comments that they are not just there to read the news but they are advocates. Advocates? Who hired you to be an advocate? We just want the news, not your personal spin.

Back to Barbara. The memorial service for her neighbor’s son was last week. She said it was very touching but just sad. She was also able to speak with his mother a few days later. I can’t imagine losing a child. My dad’s death sent me into deep grief. I don’t know if I could ever come out the other side of grief after the death of my child.

I hope his mom has the inner strength to allow the process of grieving to happen. Her life will never be the same but while adjusting to that fact, it will once again be clear that the goodness of his life will reveal itself with great memories. The pain will soften. It won’t come easily or quickly. The family has a long road ahead of them. God speed.