Everything in this newspaper is important to someone.
Its become something of a mantra for me, in recent years.
Small community newspapers are eclectic, to say the least. We publish photos of ribbons being cut at bakeries, and donations being dropped off at local food pantries. We print the school honor roll, the court report, and in-depth stories on decisions made by planning commissions and town boards. Sometimes we cover murders, abuse, and horrific car crashes, and when we do our community journalists often experience these tragedies as both reporters and neighbors as both professionals and human beings. We cover the referendum that will determine whether a new school is built and our readers taxes will rise. We publish birth announcements, obituaries, and the various things that, when wedged between those two bookends, make up the lives that make up our communities.
Ive learned more than I ever wanted to know about sewage, in order to cover the approval and construction of a new treatment plant. I interviewed a survivor of the Iran hostage crisis about what its like to be held prisoner in a foreign land while the world looks on. Ive interviewed grandmothers about their favorite holiday recipes. Perhaps most importantly, Ive interviewed little kids about what they want to be when they grow up, and what type of world they hope to inhabit.
Ive even eaten lutefisk a type of gelatinous Scandinavian fish that is usually only consumed as part of a dare in the warm hum of a local churchs kitchen. (I even liked it, which I think qualifies as a kind of small-town gonzo journalism.)