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“Here comes trouble.”
I get the
greeting above on a regular basis, and I suppose it’s justified. But I
don’t go out and look for trouble, honest.
In my
lifetime, I’ve been in a lot of trouble. I walked home from church when
I was three (in the city, mind you), got grounded on my fourth birthday,
and discovered how to climb the new chain link fence meant to keep me in
before my mother even finished writing the check to pay for it.
I don’t look
for trouble. Somehow, I just find myself there on a regular basis. It’s
not intentional, and it’s not really a mistake either. I’m just cruisin’
along, and I’m there. I guess I just don’t have the ability to see it
coming.
I actually
take efforts not to get into trouble. I try to get quotations and
information directly from documents involved or people involved, try not
to be too invasive into anyone’s life, show respect to those I deal
with, check with my editor or publisher if I have any questions.
It helps, but it doesn’t
completely solve the problem. Why? A friend once advised me, “Always
tell the truth. Just don’t always be tellin’ it.”
For a
journalist, that is much harder than it sounds.
It seems
that when someone else gets in trouble, and I print something about it,
I’m in trouble. Sort of. I’m not really in trouble, because I’ve done my
job, but inevitably, someone’s mad--at me.
I can understand that,
but what often trips me up is when I commend someone for a job well
done, or stand up for someone I feel deserves a chance, and people can’t
wait to make me eat my words.
There’s no
way to win, but I’m not looking to win or lose. I’m just looking to do
my job and survive.
The front
page of last week’s issue, in my humble opinion, was potentially award
winning. As far as news goes, from a journalistic point of view, there
was a good amount of news on the front page--honest reporting on various
tough subjects, and a human interest piece on our history.
The day
after the release of the newspaper, I came in to find eight messages on
my answering machine--four were angry messages, and the other four were
to tell me I was being slammed digitally and verbally.
From a
journalism point of view, any response is better than none, and thus,
unfortunately, the calls were another sign of a pretty good issue.
But, geez,
what a way to start the day.
Still, I appreciate it
when folks who are upset with me come to speak to me directly, so we can
discuss and come to some understanding. I rarely ever hide my sources,
and I am more than happy to share public record I have quoted, or quote
directly what someone has told me.
I have no
problems printing corrections in the rare instance where I misunderstood
or I was wrong. It doesn’t hurt my pride to say, “I’m sorry” or “I was
wrong” when warranted.
Sure, I am
sorry that some have been hurt by the news (facts) we printed. I am also
aware that many disagree with my opinion about the chief of police. Fact
is fact, and everyone has an opinion. With opinion, you can take it or
leave it.
In spite of
the phone calls and conversations I have had since last week’s issue--I
have no retractions or corrections for this week. No one, as of yet, has
shown me that I was mistaken.
When I
walked home from church at age three, my Mother was furious. I was
obstinate, saying, “Why are you so upset? I knew the way.”
When I
immediately climbed over the chain link fence around our suburban yard,
my Mother was dismayed. But as far as I was concerned, I had
accomplished a new feat. I had overcome another challenge.
I may have been grounded
on my birthday, but I simply forgot to tell Mother I intended to walk
six blocks to my friend Stevie’s house to see if he was coming to my
party. My intentions were good, I just forgot to ask first.
For a
journalist, trouble is familiar. Being wrong is much, much worse. So,
with no surprise, last week I found myself in trouble again.
So far, as for the
facts, I was not wrong.
As for my
opinions, no one has proven me wrong there either.
Uh, yet. |