On a whim and a prayer

I got started in this business 18 years ago, on a whim.

“Do you have a nose for news?” the ad read in the local paper. “Can you write about current events?” Normally, one would hesitate, if one were, for instance, the mother of four growing children, three still in elementary school, and with no formal journalism education or training — just a desire to do something meaningful now that my youngest was in school full time.

So, with all the chutzpah I could muster for a shiksa, blonde, 40-something, it’s-just-baby-fat housefrau, I applied for the job as community newspaper editor. What was I thinking? I got the job! What was she thinking? I started as the editor of the East Rockaway Observer and the Lynbrook USA (now the Herald) in 1999, and was thrown into the world of community news.

Boring? Never, ever. My first story was a news report/obituary of a young off-duty police officer who was killed in a local bar brawl. Uh, wait … this is not exactly fun. This isn’t what I signed up for. Where were all the bake sales, the man who grew the largest tomato? But this was real, this was news. I made calls. I got hung up on. I had to report it thoroughly, accurately, and sensitively. I had to get information from people who didn’t necessarily want to give me that information, so I could, in turn, impart that information to my readers in a timely manner.

And it was exhilarating. And sad. And exciting. And fulfilling. And infuriating. I covered more deaths, and wrote more obituaries than I wanted to for children who died way too early, whether from accidents or childhood cancer. I wrote about beloved centenarians and chose our outstanding Person of the Year annually. I attended and reported on school and village board meetings, local fairs and fundraisers. I ate great food, got dunked in a dunk tank, rubbed elbows with local politicians (with whom I didn’t always see eye to eye). I consoled distraught parents of missing children, ventured out into more than one snowstorm, and stepped in raw sewage caused by a mean lady named Hurricane Sandy. I watched a family of raccoons make a home out of a resident’s tree, and I interviewed some clowns (yes, real clowns) from the Barnum & Bailey Circus (see photo.)

All in all, it was not a bad gig. I’ve met so many wonderful people of all ages and backgrounds. But, as with all things, the time has come for me to put down my pen and make way for the new age of journalism. There’s been so much on the Internet lately about “fake news” but let me tell you this: that’s very hard to do in your local community paper. We are there with you, sitting at those meetings, attending the memorial services, and taking photos at the pie-eating contests. We, as with our elected officials, are your public servants, your chroniclers, with the responsibility of telling your stories, and those of your neighbors, and telling them accurately. That should never, ever change.

I will always be an “ambulance chaser” — it’s in my blood. I will always be in the thick of things, but now that I’m eligible for social security, have paid my dues, and can look back with pride at my career (more than one career, truth be told), I’m looking in a new direction. I wish I could tell you what direction that is, but I can’t. It’s just a well-thought-out, leap of faith that I will carry on, that I will soar, that I will be happy — right after I take a nap and straighten my crown.