Newspapers and Community

Summers in Northern Michigan will always hold great memories for me growing up.

As Kid Rock says in his song All Summer Long, “It was summertime in Northern Michigan.”

He wasn’t wrong. It’s a thing here.

As a Michigander one of our favorite ways to vacation is to head “up north.” It’s a descriptor and a destination all in one.

Up north is where you go camping, head to the state parks, visit the Great Lakes, or if you’re like many people from the “mitten,” cruise along the river in a canoe or tube.

Many years of annual canoe and tubing trips took place down the Rifle River.

Our tradition was filled with treasured memories, as a group of 30-plus family and friends spent hours floating along, sharing stories and laughter.

Each year we would hold special themes. One year it was a hat theme, one year we wore our favorite costumes. But the most memorable occasion was when we were asked to memorize and recite our favorite poem.

As we glided down the river each one of us took our turn reciting our memorized lines. Some poems were funny, others were sad, most were thought-provoking and hit you right in the chest.

Each person’s recital was followed by applause and congratulations, and my mother won the undisputed first-place prize with her memorization of an 840-word poem by Shel Silverstein. Yes, 840 words. It was quite remarkable and is something we talk about to this day.

These events were not planned or promoted on Facebook, and the memories are only contained in our minds, our photo albums, or an occasional old dusty photo frame.

The town I grew up tubing and camping in, is located within the county I now cover, as the sole reporter for the county newspaper. And I absolutely love the small-town feel these communities have.

I grew up in a small town and read the local paper every week. I remember always daydreaming about my name being in print, underneath something I had written, and thinking about what a personal, human connection that was – to be able to reach others through the written word.

I had written several stories as a child in school. These stories won awards and allowed me to meet a few famous authors, most notably Norman Bridwell, the author of Clifford the Big Red Dog series.

These moments, as well as having read bedtime stories every evening as a child, helped to instill in me a lasting love for reading and the written word.

As a small dream come true, I was able to begin my journalism career back in 2007, working for that same paper I grew up reading.

It was there that I actually began to learn about the meaning of “community.” As I worked there for the next five years, I was immersed in the local activities and events held there and in the five neighboring towns the papers covered.

I fell in love with the fact that whenever I met and interviewed someone new, for a moment, I was able to peek in the window of their life or profession, get a small glimpse of their corner of the world, and then convey that world to others.

Going to your garden variety of club meetings, church events, carnivals, parades, local government, and school meetings, and about every non-profit organization event, play, fair, homecoming, and quilting show you could think of, allowed me to see what it means to be a part of a community of people who care.

Neighbors who show up for another. The neighbor you see at the gas station, the person who helps jump-start your car on a chilly winter morning, is the same parent of the kids you buy girl scout cookies or fundraiser candy bars from the rest of the year.

In a world filled with social media and daily doses of misinformation, where facts and true journalism seem to be a dying breed, local newspapers seem to maintain reliability and trustworthiness that is hard to find.

The one thing that remains important to me is the power and strength that lies in our neighborhoods and our local newspapers.

Power to shape, build, rebuild, heal, and continue on despite whatever life throws at us. These are the ties that bind.

Community is where real life thrives. Community is where our kids are raised, our dreams are planted, and connection isn’t just a like on Facebook or a retweet on Twitter. Small-town newspapers reflect that.

And that’s why I love them.