Look what I found!
I’ve been wondering for weeks about my first big news story, trying to find archives or records to help put it into perspective. From time to time the journal entries will mention the Low-Pritchard Foundation and stories we were pursuing. But they never said exactly what it was all about.
A web search proved fruitless. An editor friend who lives in the area had never heard of it. The current publisher of the Journal Opinion, Michelle Arnosky Sherburne, started working there about five years after I left. She didn’t know about it, either. She referred me to the town or state library for their archives and to the local historical society.
(She also invited me to stop by their offices next time I’m in town, which I’ll certainly do.)
My break came this week when I opened the box where I found my first tear sheets a few weeks ago. It was in a smaller box that I thought contained only old notebooks that I was ready to throw out. There’s another case of serendipity.
What’s in the box? Stay tuned. It will take me a little while to put everything in order and make sense of the articles, notebooks, and typewritten notes.
Another milestone this week: By keeping up the pace of a post a day, I’ve synced my posts to my journal entries. Now that I’ve caught up, I can catch a breather and slip in some contemporary content. Thanks for bearing with me while I marched double-time. Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.
In the coming week, the pace slacks off a bit. I took the journal on a week by the Jersey shore with my mother, where I dwelt on personal matters, beach babies, and annoying seniors. No need for that here.
The journal returns to writing about writing on the 18th. Until then, I have one freedom-of-the-press moment on the 13th. On Flag Day, the 14th, I will republish “Red, White, and Blue” from last July 4th to coincide with an op-ed I submitted to my old newspaper.
Coincidentally, over the next week I expect to have some longer blocks of time to work on the Bubble Wrap project, my clip books, and perhaps other longer works. I’ll tell you all about it in Episode 21!
Taking a breather at the end of a busy week, my wife and I attended another concert Saturday at the Leroy Anderson House in Woodbury, Connecticut. The Westfarms Quartet performed Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 13 in Bb Major, Op. 130. As an encore, they performed Anderson’s “Sleigh Ride” as arranged for string quartet, which was new to us.
The quartet, the longest of Beethoven’s chamber works, comprises six movements. This posed a question of etiquette for the audience, many of whom were more accustomed to light pops concerts of shorter pieces. Should they applaud between movements?
My wife and I were taught by our classical-music loving family members to save our applause for the end of the piece. (I confess I still occasionally slip up, and did again Saturday.) Why? Some say it’s to appreciate the work as a whole and the flow of the music. Others say it’s out of respect for the performers.
Jean Inaba, classical music host at Colorado Public Radio, begs to differ. She says that in their own time, classical composers and performers loved to hear applause between the movements and expected it. The expectation of silence is only a recent development, since the early 20th century. As a musician herself, she likes to know when she’s connecting with her audience.
What do you think? To clap or not to clap, that is the question. Share your thoughts in the poll or in the comments below!
In case you missed it …
Reading Time: 2 minutes I didn’t have the necessary devotion, interest, motivation, or drive to continue my legal studies. Had I subconsciously decided not to return to the law?
Reading Time: 2 minutes Biking through the countryside gave me a new view of the paper’s coverage area, and time to think about the stories I wanted to tell.
Reading Time: 2 minutes Does a reporter create a conflict of interest by accepting publicity work from the subject of a story? It could have become a tangled web.
Reading Time: < 1 minutes As a writer, I should care more about what other people think and less about what they think of me.