TO REACH OUT

Dear Spike:

Back when I was in the Navy, sailing on the Persian Gulf thousands of miles from my home, I received a Christmas card from a woman I'd never met. It wasn't long, and I can't even remember the exact words, but I remember feeling much better about the world, knowing that someone out there had taken the time to tell me that she cared.

I'm telling you this to explain why I wrote to another little girl this evening. Her name is Clara Anderson. She's four years old. And both of her parents lost their jobs this morning when the owners of The Rocky Mountain News announced that they were shutting down the newspaper.

I've never met Clara, but I just happen to know a bit about what her family is going through right now. And so I thought that Clara and her parents might like to know that someone out there cares.

Don't be afraid to reach out, even to strangers. It always feels good. And sometimes it helps other people feel good, too.

Love,
dad



Dear Clara:

At the moment, we’re strangers, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. After all, your mother and father have built their lives on talking to strangers and sharing their stories with others. I’m sure that hasn’t always turned those strangers into friends, but it makes the world a bit less strange.

That’s good work. It’s important work. And even though I’m confident your parents both know that what they do for a living is good and important work, it won’t hurt if you tell them, too. And tell them with a hug. Parents really like that.

Your mom and dad were among the hundreds of people who lost their jobs today when The Rocky Mountain News shut down after nearly 150 years. The newspaper business is in quite a bit of trouble right now, so the Rocky’s closure wasn’t a big surprise, even if it was extremely sad.

But something struck me when I saw a picture of you and your father on the Rocky’s Website, this evening. I think it was the look on his face. I think I’ve seen that look before. I was just a few years older than you when my father’s newspaper closed, but I can still remember the way he looked when he told us what had happened. He was frightened and heartbroken and outraged and probably a little bit nauseous. I’m guessing it felt as though the entire world had collapsed. I’m guessing he could have used a hug. And I can’t remember, but I sure hope I gave him one.

I’m sure that, at the time, my father would have had a very difficult time believing that someday his son would grow up to be a newspaperman. And I’m certain that, for your parents today, the future of newspapers looks even more uncertain. I won’t pretend to know what the years ahead will bring for your family. It’s possible that your folks will find work at another newspaper and they’ll be chasing deadlines for the rest of their lives. And it’s possible that they’ll never slug another story.

Whatever happens, you can be certain that your parents built their lives doing good and important work. This world is a place full of strangers. And they helped make it a bit less strange. You can be proud of them — and you should tell them so.

And when you do, don’t forget the hug.

Best wishes,
matthew