On the executioner's chopping block

This post and today's art are my opinion.

"Names are news." 
That was my guiding principle when I owned a community newspaper, because names, people, individuals  are the heart and soul of a community.
Yes, I wanted stories, and news, and scoops, but still, all of those were about people.
"No names, no news."

I chose the word "Executed" carefully in my last post about the death of the local paper, The Edmond Sun. Then other people chimed in about the official corporate speak announcement that failed to even mention condolences and gratitude to the abruptly unemployed staff. As one OKC journalist told me, "merging" with the Norman Transcript was "a stunt that won't work."
I've known for a while that the Sun's printing plant, that prints many other papers, including  UCO's student newspaper,  The Vista, was the real money maker, as the paper struggled to survive. But I know, and others do too, that the paper could have made it if it put community, and people first.  
Having stewed on this over the weekend, I couldn't help but think of the medieval executioner getting ready to behead those out of favor with the rulers. To do the job, he had to not think of the victims as people, but just doing his job so he could keep his. Nice and impersonal. That's why The Edmond Sun is no more...it wasn't people, or community, it was just a job that wasn't profitable enough.
For the record, I believe 11 people joined Edmond's unemployed ranks Friday, in one fell swoop.
I only knew four of them, but that doesn't matter. They were all furloughed without pay, and with 30 days of partial health insurance coverage. They are applying for unemployment, but being furloughed here has no promise of being rehired.
Of the 11, five were in news, two in ads, and four in the office. I won't mention all the names, but three I knew more than just as acquaintances included  Oklahoma Journalism Hall of Fame member and award-winning journalist, James Coburn who had worked at the Sun since 1986. 
Also among the casualties that I know are my friend Editor Mark Codner, and sports editor Aaron Albertson, and Kari Tompkins who handled digital and projects.
Executing The Sun is a disaster for Edmond, whether you subscribed or not, especially with no one left to cover local government or high school sports.  Who will the Norman Transcript have to cover Edmond?  
For Edmond, "No names, no news."
But for each of those "furloughed," it's more than a disaster. It's personal, because they're names, they're people. They at least deserved to be thanked for their service.
So, here's a salute to each of you for your dedication through the years.  You deserved better, and certainly more respect.

Dawn Dreams

"Dawn in Mesa Country," 11 x 14 watercolor, 300 lb. cold press d'Arches paper

Dawn has increasingly be a subject of my watercolor landscapes, not intentionally, but it just seems to happen.
Why? Not sure. The older I get, the less often I actually see early mornings since I'm not chained to job schedules.
Maybe it's because I miss them. I consider  the early mornings perhaps the best part of the day, especially as the days grow longer, and warmer.
The light seems purer, the colors richer, the bird song  more vibrant, whether I'm walking, or sitting on the back porch with coffee.
Years ago, I tried to be up at the "crack of dawn," and on the water in a canoe, watching the world wake up.
And now, as I attempt to bring more bright color and peace to offset the gloom of this pandemic pandemonium, dawn speaks to me soul.
Today's watercolor is another experience in that series, trying some new techniques on bigger, better paper to express what I feel, what I can do, so there are some faults in it, especially in composition.
But, it brought me back to the wide open spaces of vast landscapes of the mesas in the Southwest, especially New Mexico, and the brilliant colors  as the world wakes up. I'll try a better version of this idea again. 
In the meantime, to add color and thought and peace, here is today's effort in my DIY art school.

A victim of a different kind of virus

What follows, and today's art, is personal opinion.

Edmond's oldest business, The Edmond Sun, was "merged" today with the Norman Transcript. That's corporate speak for killing a local paper.
In this case, the corporation is cnhi, a conglomerate which owns many smaller newspapers, and this isn't the first one it has executed. The corporation won't sell papers that don't match its obscenely high  profit margin demands. It just shuts them down, and the Edmond Sun isn't the first. It probably won't be the last.
I know. Several years ago it did the same thing to my former newspaper, the Waurika News-Democrat. Local leaders tried to buy it, and cnhi said no.
People think that newspapers are dying, and usually blame the internet and the digital age. Some of that is accurate because papers have lost their cash cows, advertising. But the good ones are adjusting, changing, becoming hybrids.
Others though are not given the chance, especially those bought up by the large chains (now called "groups" in corporate speak) encountering debt load. Those corporations, their stockholders,  don't care about communities but just a bottom line, and paying off the debt.  Yes, there has to be profit, but rather than change with the times, or try to find local investors, it's easier to just take a tax write off and kill a vital part of the communities.
In small town  Oklahoma, we used to say a community's essentials were a school, a post office, a bank and a newspaper. 
It's no accident that the words "common," "community" and "communication" are interrelated. It doesn't matter whether you agree or disagree with everything a newspaper prints, or the overall quality of journalism.
Those are the crimes of killing a newspaper...you have weakened the community by depriving it of essential information, and you have undermined the bedrock of a free democracy--informed citizens.
It's pretty obvious in these last few years that the one thing America can't afford--people questioning vaccines, science, equality, etc.-- is more uniformed, ignorant people.
So thus the Edmond Sun, while the pandemic effects on its ad revenue are mentioned as a factor, is really a victim of  a different kind of virus. Corporate greed at the expense of community.

By Dawn's Early Light, new day, new month

"Dawn's Early Light," 6 x 9 cold press paper

A new month dawned, with 2020 now one third passed, in the year of the pandemic.
Excitement and hope seems to meet May, though seasoned with much caution, because the pandemic is nowhere eliminated. scientists and health care workers fear the worst could still come.
But at least we're through April, living up to T.S. Eliot's (1888-1965) famous lines:
"April is the cruelest month.
Let's hope so, even if May doesn't live up to 
British author Thomas Dekker 's (1572-1632) poem:
"O the month of May, the merry month of May,..."
Yesterday was the only day of the month I didn't complete a watercolor and post on this blog. Too much unsettled stress to try that antidote, though I did study some watercolor techniques via You Tube.
But--to try something different based on yesterday's studies--to greet the new day and month, today's watercolor attempts to bring more color and hope to offset the pandemic pandemonium.

Gateways to memories

Precious Memories," 5 x 7 rough press paper

Gates speak to me, including an old one out in the country northeast of the city I passed on a drive this week.

Don't know why, but they attract my attention and fire my imagination. If you search "gates" on this blog, you'll find many watercolors and articles over the years.

So many untold stories...maybe that's it. Perhaps the obvious metaphors. And somewhere, memories.

I'm reminded of the words from the old Gospel song, "Precious Memories."

"Precious memories how they linger

How they ever flood my soul..."

Memories add texture to our lives, and the more years, the more memories, the more texture.

Today's reaction to that aged gate I saw is broken down, a decaying farm house in the background, now only an opening to memories. Thus the rough texture paper, and an experiment in color, bringing texture to our lives, even when the memories grow dim with age.