I'm learning a newspaper is really just a business. I knew that, but I was thinking it was less business and more writing. Maybe some newspapers are like that, but not the Citizen. I'm okay with it being all about money and subscriptions and advertisements because it's still a weird job with weird liberal people that I love being around. The only republican, far as I know, in the whole office left today. He got a job offer in South Carolina.
His name is Cutter and most of his stuff is front paged. He even did a few breaking stories, really investigating whatever exciting things were left in Laconia. He uncovered that hazardous materials called "coal tar" were buried in a mountain several years ago starting this intense environmental investigation. And he's leaving in the middle of it.
Then there's John Koziol. He's a short guy with a growing bald spot and a beard that's growing gray. He speaks softly, so I have to pay attention. That's the way it is with anyone who has a worthwhile perspective; they're soft-spoken, so you perk up. In the office, John is a different person. He's got a weird sense of humor and he's got a solid head, so we get along great. He often gives me a thumbs up or a "rock-on" fist, tells me I'm working hard, jokes like he's serious. Calls me rookie. Calls me grasshopper
John took me out to lunch. We bought three bottles of this disgusting soda called Moxie that Cutter really likes. I tried it, tastes like puke. He bought me a sandwich, chips and while they were being made we took a walk around downtown Laconia. I've explored the little city a dozen times, but he gave me a tour. He pointed out the same buildings I took snapshots of, but gave them names and history and meaning. We walked by the river I've kicked things into and he told me how and where it flows into the ocean, the names of all the lakes in the Lakes Region. On top of a parking garage he showed me everything that I had missed.
John has the perspective of New Hampshire I wish I had captured in my short time here, but I missed it. He knows exactly what this place is and was and will be. I'm not mad at myself; frankly I don't mind, I just have respect for him. His judgment softens my scorn and I can feel at peace even in the midst of "swamp vampire Yankee hicks", as he puts it.
We gave Cutter a goodbye party. Everyone in the break room and a card that was signed by everyone that knew him and a cake. The cake was covered in little images of things that Cutter had covered over the years. Things like Baby Googly Eyes Elmo, which I didn't understand, but it was an inside joke no one felt like explaining.
John has pictures on his desk of when he was younger. A wedding photo. He looks so different now.
Maybe a newspaper is a business, but I think I love the people element of it.
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