Still going

A15.

That was the last page of The Herald-Mail that I laid out that will be printed at the Frederick News-Post.

Our company has found it cheaper and more flexible for us to print our newspaper in Mechanicsburg, Pa., on the presses of the Patriot-News. The press here in Hagerstown was removed a few years ago, a casualty of expensive repairs and too few parts.

I've witnessed newspaper transitions before. I've watched computer systems evolve... and devolve. I've watched printing presses stop printing forever. I've watched entire jobs be outsourced and centralized.

You'd think I'd be used to it.

In some sense, I am. The new deadlines brought on by the switch — they're a lot earlier — have caused me some consternation, but not the gut-churning borne by others in the newsroom.

Our publisher has said that the reader knows we, as a printed product, must "close the gate" once every 24 hours. We'll just be closing the gate earlier. The content will be in the paper, just on a different cycle, he said.

He's right.

Sure, people can visit our website, but not everyone does, particularly the older generation. And we're the only game in town when it comes to detailed stories about the happenings in Washington County, Md., and beyond. Television will parachute in, and even then, they'll only gloss over the story.

In other words, our product still has value to a significant group of customers.

But here's why I am feeling a little uneasy. It's not because of the here-and-now of this printing change. It's because of the dramatic shifts I've seen in the industry since I started 15 years ago.

It seems as though things have accelerated faster in the news business over that decade and a half than they had in the previous 30 years combined.

The Internet, social media, smart phones and tablets have led to the "digital first" philosophy. More news outlets will follow that path as their print readers shift their habits — or die.

I wish I could say that A15 had some ground-breaking story or really cool layout on it, to help mark the last time I put a page into the FTP program (called CyberDuck, by the way).

But it didn't.

Probably 80 percent of the page was advertising, leaving me enough room to run the weekly best-sellers list, printed Thursdays in Publishers Weekly, and an Associated Press story about how one of the Fiats used by Pope Francis on his visit to Philadelphia was sold at auction for $82,000 (the money benefited various Catholic charities).

Then again, books and the Catholic Church have had to weather many storms over the decades and centuries, even as the times have changed.

And they're still going.

Calling for Jane Jetson

They say that social media postings are the highlight reel of your friends' lives.

Sure, there are lots of photos of laughing, smiling children and adults.

Check-ins at restaurants for glorious meals or bars for tasty beverages.

Status updates musing on how lucky one is to have such a great family/wife/kid/dog/cat/guinea pig.

But what's not posted — the dark stuff — is really what makes up life.

The stresses of work. The arguments with parents or spouses or kids. The mounting debt brought on by trying to provide for your family while battling seemingly unending bills.

Or your own psyche.

I know those things are out there, too.

Yet, I'm human. Perception becomes reality, even if I know better.

So, with that, I'm thinking of letting go of social media.

That's tougher than it sounds, and not because of the huge role the medium has played in my life over the past decade.

I work for a news-gathering service. Part of the way we disseminate the news is through social media.

I've not gotten the kinks worked out on that end of it, so that's why I'm just thinking about it for now.

What about you, gentle reader? How have the creations of people such as Zuckerberg and Dorsey and Musk affected your perceptions and realities?

Is it time to get off this crazy thing?

Formula for a long life

A glimmer of hope:

I laid out the editorial pages for a few days last week, and I received a letter from a 92-year-old gentleman entitled "My formula for a long life."

It was over the word count, and I had to trim it from about 560 words down to about 400. No small task, as this fellow wrote about keeping a positive attitude, healthy lifestyle and positive associations with people, despite losing his wife to Alzheimer's after 69 years, battling a brain tumor, radiation treatments for prostate cancer, triple-bypass surgery and seeing the front lines in Europe during World War II.

Much was accomplished by rewording sentences, losing adjectives and cutting extra sentences. But I was worried I'd lost his voice in the letter.

As we do, I called him to verify he wrote the letter and to get his OK on a slimmed down version of what he wrote. I read it to him over the phone.

Here it is:

My formula for a long life

To the editor:

First and very important are three things: faith, family and friends. My faith has been important since I was put on the cradle roll at 1 year old at the very church we attend now. It has been my strength through many trials and fills my life with happiness.

I also have three words that mean a lot to me: attitude, activity and association. I think we must have a good attitude about life. For instance, I was married to a beautiful lady for 69 years, the last five of which, we had to deal with her Alzheimer's. My attitude is that we had a wonderful marriage, raising three sons, and we had many years enjoying our grandchildren. Things happen in life; the attitude is to be thankful for what we have.

I also think we should be active, to exercise our bodies and minds. I've been very active all my life. I worked until I was 77, repairing, refinishing and selling furniture, along with playing tennis, bowling, dancing and singing. Since retiring, I've added golf.

Third, association. By this I mean to associate with people of good character. If I associate with people who use drugs, gamble, drink to extremes, smoke, use profanity and many things I shouldn't do, guess what? I would be doing the same things. Don't misunderstand me, I love all kinds of people, but I just don't think some lifestyles are good for us.

Now, as life subsides, it is still good and I've found a new love. About two years after my wife, Kate, died, I invited out to dinner a nice lady we bowled with. After a time, we thought it would be nice to get married. We are both very happy and satisfied. I'm very glad Mar Jo is my soul mate now. She goes to my church and sings in the choir with me. We also entertain in nursing homes, senior centers and other places.

This completes my formula for a long life, and it has been a great journey. I still enjoy life. It gets more exciting with each passing day. Love is either here or on the way. 

I am 92 and still active using my formula. I've had a brain tumor removed, triple-bypass surgery, 40 radiation treatments for prostate cancer and am a veteran of World War II in action in Europe. As you can see, it hasn't all been easy, but my formula worked for me. Best wishes to you.

"That's perfect, thank you!" he said.

I hope the folks reading the Letters to the Editor on Monday think the same thing about his letter and his formula for a long life.

And I hope, one day, to have even half the life this gentleman has had.

Silly thing

As we finished up graduation season, the copy desk at The Herald-Mail encountered the term "Silly String" for the first time this year. 

A quick Google search found Silly String is the trademarked name of the foam — at least, I think it's foam — product.

This led the copy editor in me to wonder: Is there a generic term for it? 

For those who are asking, "Why not just call it silly string?" the simple answer is that newspapers should avoid using trademarked names. Do we know for certain the students didn't use "Goofy String"? Or maybe they used "Fun Streamer"?

Yes, this is the kind of thing copy editors think about. And the Associated Press Stylebook, loathsome as it is at times, is what we're supposed to use as guidance when we encounter trademarked names.

Other examples include Dumpster (AP says, "Use trash bin or trash container instead"); Band-Aid (AP says to use "adhesive bandage"); and Kleenex (AP says to call it "facial tissue").

Yep. Even Rollerblade should be called "in-line skates," AP says.

So, what about Silly String? There is no listing in the AP Stylebook. And I don't have the money to get an account with AP's online stylebook, on which a forum might have addressed the issue at some point in the past.

Another Google search landed me on Wikipedia, which suggested "aerosol string."

Um, no.

I mean, "After the diplomas were awarded and the class custom of spraying aerosol string completed..." just lacks the same punch.

For simplicity's sake, we decided to leave the name Silly String, capitalized, and prayed that no one from one of the competing manufacturers gets upset, should their product have been used at the Greencastle-Antrim High School graduation in Greencastle, Pa., instead of the brand name.

I Will Follow You Into the Dark

When I first heard this song nearly a decade ago, I thought it was about a guy who saw love of another as the one, true faith.

But recently, I listened to this song again and came to a different interpretation.

As some of you are aware, I just went back to working the night shift for a daily newspaper.

For decades now, newspapers have been forced to reinvent themselves to varying degrees of success. No one really knows exactly where they are going. But it's for damn sure the old way is breathing its last. 

Some of us, though, are too in love with the newspaper life to simply give up. 

Though uncertain, we're sticking with her. 

Listen up

The scratchy static of the police scanner.

The sports guy loudly asking, "What was the score?"

The ticks and clicks of dozens of keyboards and mice.

I'm back in a daily newsroom.

I started as Sunday editor at The Herald-Mail in Hagerstown, Md., on March 31. My job is to plan and execute the Sunday edition, as well as picking up copy editing and layout duties the rest of the week.

Before I can plan and execute, I have to learn the system here. That's nothing new; I've worked at five other newspapers in the past 14 years. Each place had its own quirky computer system and house style.

But for the past year, I worked for a business weekly based in Harrisburg, Pa. My week was split between the home office and the "satellite office" down Interstate 83 in York.

While relatively pleasant, neither location felt like a newsroom.

And so, as I end my third night on the job, I take in the sounds, sights and... yes, smells... of a daily newspaper's headquarters.

It feels good.

Newspapering is an abusive relationship

I’ve often said that the newspaper business is an abusive relationship.

We love it. We defend it. We live for it.

But it beats us down. It treats us badly. It slowly kills us.

Yet, every day, we go back in.

I once had a journalism professor, Larry Lain, say that it’s the newsprint itself. The ink that ends up staining your fingers seeps into your bloodstream.

In truth, he tried to get away from the industry. He started out at a small Midwestern newspaper, but grew tired of the crazy schedule. He became a high school English teacher.

The principal made him adviser of the student newspaper.

Then he decided to get his master’s and his doctorate in communication. 

After becoming a professor at the University of Dayton, he was made adviser of the student newspaper.

“You can’t get away,” he told us the day the 2000-2001 Flyer News staff gathered for the first time.

Little did I realize, as I took on the mantle of editor in chief that year, he was right.

I’ve tried to leave it. I’ve applied for jobs outside of the industry.

But then I get assigned a story that sends me hunting down experts and documents. Or the emergency dispatcher comes across the scanner calling out a three-alarm structure fire. Or, as of late, I’m told to design the cover of the newspaper, with popping graphics, splashy photos and prosaic prose.

That’s why I disagree with Dr. Lain about the ink being what gets in you.

I think it’s the instant gratification.

I pour my soul into a piece of work, then I have to wait less than 24 hours to see the results. And not only do I see the results, but tens of thousands of others across the area get to see it, too.

I love it.

My work day starts when the sun is setting and isn’t over until there’s an hour or less till last call. My schedule changes weekly, depending on who else on the copy desk has vacation, or if there’s an election or major catastrophe that requires all hands to be on deck.

The pay... well, it’s better than it was when I was a reporter, but it certainly doesn’t match my friends who are engineers and actuaries and college professors. I’m certainly the poorest of my college friends, financially.

But I love this job and I keep hoping it will love me back.

There are a few flickers.

The boss says, “Good job with that story.” A source sends you a thank you note. The publishers provide free food.

And I’ll be back at the desk tomorrow, ready to take on the next assignment.