Rocky Mountain News

About a year and a half ago, when I started networking to move on from The Palm Beach Post, the (Denver) Rocky Mountain News was one of the papers I got in touch with. When I watched this video about the paper's final days, I thought about all the newspapers in the country. I've heard that Hearst is considering closing the San Fransisco Chronicle, too. The Chronicle? The twelfth most read paper in the country?

You could plug a name of any number of newspapers into this video. I watch it and I see my newsroom. What used to be my newsroom. I wonder what it will be like when the rubble and dust and shrapnel of our economy clears. What papers will remain? What papers will come back? Will any of it return?

To me, newspapers are about connecting you with your community, letting you know what's going on, teaching you about others in your community, whether it be through an inspirational story or a tragic one. But, most important to me is something that will not come-up on blogs or websites. That's investigative journalism. Aside from the massive job losses and the community's loss of it's valiant daily informant, I think that's the worst part. The stories that make the reader mad or leave the reader thinking 'I don't want to read about this (scandal or that issue I didn't know about)!', the story that leaves the reader incensed to stand-up and do something. The story that enlightens us, holds a politician accountable for his or her actions, or calls out the local company for outsourcing.

I am not an economist, but I can't help but think, why is nothing being done to save our source of news? Where the hell are you going to read about what banks are being saved by the government or which car you may or may not be able to buy because the company is closing for good?

Not to mention, if the newspapers do rise from the ashes, it's going to be a hell of a rat race for all the journalists who lost their jobs and want so much to work at a newspaper again.


Final Edition from Matthew Roberts on Vimeo.

Losing Something Else

Sad news in Colorado, the Rocky Mountain News just announced to their staff today that tomorrow's paper will be their last.

The paper's story read...

In the past decade, the Rocky has won four Pulitzer Prizes, more than all but a handful of American papers. Its sports section was named one of the 10 best in the nation this week. Its business section was cited by the Society of American Business Editors and Writers as one of the best in the country last year. And its photo staff is regularly listed among the best in the nation when the top 10 photo newspapers are judged.

READ MORE

It's just such an incredible shame. What was also sad was that a few of the comments left by readers were quite nasty, like "Oh, and Scanlon... when writing your resume, remember that a paragraph contains more than one sentence."

Fortunately, there were more nice ones than rude ones. I guess that's the power of free speech. The newspaper situation is just so dissapointing right now.

I'm speechless.

Losing Some

Since the talk of buy outs started a while back when I was still in Florida, I have been gaining weight. Once I moved back to MA, I started going to the gym again regularly, but that didn't mean I wasn't eating all the same things I always eat and should be eating less of.

Now that I am in collar bone healing mode and can't even drive myself to the gym, let alone really work out all that much once I got there, I've decided I really need to try and crack down on what I put in my pie hole.

So, I am using the Self Magazine's Self.com website to track myself a bit. It's actually a pretty nice site in that you can log what you eat and it will track your calories and such. Since I am not working out, I'm supposed to be eating less even. Once I figured out my calculation, I discovered that I should be essentially starving myself. This is not an option of course, so really, I'm just trying to make healthier choices in what I eat and just, well, eat less of it.

This brings on quite a diabetic challenge as you might guess. My sugars drop more frequently now (I woke with a low of 50 this morning - it should be between 85-140, really). So, I have to be careful. I'm eating less, so it requires less insulin. I have to always keep that in mind now.

In an effort to inspire myself, I thought I would make a letter-sized poster of things that remind me to stay healthy. Whenever I see Jennifer Garner in anything, for example, it makes me want to stop eating. Now, I have no interest in doing that, but I thought a photo of her and some other strong public-types would help remind me to pay attention. Alas, I have been very unsuccessful in finding photos that work.

The only pictures of Angelina, Jennifer Connolly, Reese Witherspoon, Rachel McAdams, etc, that I can find have them looking insanely skinny in some haute couture (sp?) dress on some red carpet somewhere. I decided to seek out pictures of these women looking relatively normal. Something I can relate to, to a degree. I found a great one of Amy Adams...

So, I have been somewhat successful, but not really. I may print something up just to see. The point is, I don't want to make a poster of images that just end up making me feel defeated.

This, for example, doesn't help...

But, these might...

Everything's Amazong

I love this little clip I came across when someone posted it on their Facebook page. Very cool.
CLICK HERE

I Love It

Rachel's Blog!

My dear friend Rachel has been brave and ventured off to another world! Northwest China to be exact. She will be there for nine months, I believe, teaching English. You can enjoy her stellar writing and hear about her adventures on her new blog, Mandarin Orange.

Sixth Photo

The rules:

1. Go to My Pictures on your computer.
2. Go to your 6th folder.
3. Go to your sixth picture.
4. Blog about it.
5. Tag six more people.

So, this is not a terribly interesting picture. I wish I could change the rules, but rules are rules. This was taken at the home of a woman who's birth I covered. It was my first birth to photograph and if it wasn't nineteen hours long, it would have been exciting. It was exciting in the last two hours, but the first seventeen were exausting. I know - imagine how she felt. But, I took this photo because it's the date I was there, Christmas Eve. I just thought it was funny that she had a midwife appointment on that day. She obviously didn't need to go! The midwife came to her.

First and Middle Name

My friend Suzanne told me a funny story about something that happened with her daughter Maya, who's about four now.

The two of them were leaving a restaurant bathroom after washing their hands when Maya started to whine that her hands weres till wet.

"Well, Maya Jean," Suzanne said to her, "You can use the paper towels which are right there to dry your hands."

Maya began to whimper, "You yelled at me!"

"No, I did not yell at you, Maya."

"You used my name!"

Courage Campaign

"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

Oh, My Joaquin!

I was so sad to see this. What a space cadet! And I love his work so. Is he high? Just out of it? An idiot? I also actually wonder if he just has severe stage fright or anxiety, which, I know seems kind of weird for an actor, but it still could be the case. Place your vote on the survey at the right.
Um, hip hop?

OK, the video is no longer available due to a copyright claim made my CBS, but you can read about his recent weirdness here.

Love. It.

My friend Libby sent me this. I'm not too much of a sour-puss on Valentine's Day, but I think it's hilarious. I love the old lady.

Side Effects

Mom and Dad were telling me the other night about a side effect a friend had heard about on a TV ad for a medication, "I don't mind all the other side effects, but when 'oily flatulence' is a possibility? I'm not willing to put up with that!" he told them.

This led me to wonder, how did the pharmaceutical company determine that oily flatulence was a aside effect? I mean, how did that conversation go?
"Well, I had a slight headache and then I farted a lot." The test patient would report.
"Like, regular farting?" the pharmacist conducting the study would ask.
"No"
"What kind of flatulence did you experience?"
"Well, it wasn't greasy so much..."
"Acidic?"
"No, it wasn't acidic. And it wasn't airy..."
"Was it creamy?
"No, no creamy either..."
"Gritty?"
"No, not gritty. We were closer with greasy," the patient would think to himself, searching for the perfect adjective. "...Oily! That's it! Oily farts!"

Healing

Although it's uncomfortable to do so for long, I am now typing with both hands! This is progress! The bruise on my shoulder is a lovely shade of yellow now, but the pain in my shoulder lessens each day. Mom claims that having a pee-hued bruise so soon means I'm healing fast. I have to agree with her - it's been days since I've heard or felt the bone itself wiggling around in there. Just call me Wolverine. Or the cheerleader. Either one.

Sitting around all day has been a bit boring, but I've taken the opportunity to watch a few shows which have intrigued me from afar for a while now. On Wednesday and Thursday, I watched 15 episodes of The Secret Life of the American Teenager. It successfully intrigued me. In the evenings, Mom, Dad and I settle in for dinner and some Dexter, a Showtime show about a forensics blood spatter expert who's a moonlighting serial killer. Sweet.

letterman

25 Random Things

I was just reading a list of 25 random things, facts, that my brother wrote on his facebook page.

# 2. When I was young, I had a dream on Christmas Eve that I got out of bed, walked next door into my sister's room and looked out the window to see the silhouette of Santa's sleigh flying by in the distance. It was so vivid that, to this day, a tiny sliver of me believes in Santa Claus.

I couldn't believe it. I never knew this happened to my brother, but I sent him to this blog entry. Bizaare!

Sugarloaf - 1, Scott Family - 0

Heading off to our mountaintop adventure Saturday morning.

I wondered if you could feel the broken bone wiggle from time to time inside your body.

I now know that my suspicion was correct. You do feel the broken bone wiggling around.
Mom, Dad and I drove up to Maine with Dan, who owns a home made from a barn near Solon. He owns it with his wife, Jody. Dan rode with us and we met his wife who had been up here for a few days already. My brother CJ and his wife Jodi met us there a few hours later. It's a beautiful place with lots of room and dramatic high ceilings. We felt quickly at home.
Another reason for coming to Maine, aside from visiting our friends, was to go skiing at Sugarloaf mountain about 40 minutes from where we were staying.

My Dad has always skied, although not as frequently as he'd like over the years. My brother took-up skiing a few years ago, and during that time has regaled us with stories elaborate falls, big bruises, broken-down cars, and how it once took hours to get down a slope with a friend who wasn't advanced enough for the slope that they ended-up on when they got on the wrong ski lift.

One of the things I have been looking forward to since moving back up north was giving skiing a try. So, early Saturday morning Dad, CJ, Jodi, Dan and I headed off to Sugarloaf. Dan stayed with me after the massive project that was renting boots and skis, etc. and the others went on their way. Dan taught me some skiing basics. He was very good teacher and it wasn't long before I was moving right along, snow-plowing (or pizza-pie, as they now call it), and turning and whatnot. I even successfully rode the ski lifts a few times with him. This is important because it was a ski lift mishap that mortified me as an adolescent.

We all met for lunch and shared our stories from the morning. Jodi took a few falls and really walloped her head, so she was nursing a migraine at lunch. Dad was doing fine, but was "skiing blind" because he had given his goggles to me and as such, his eyes were watering all the time. I wasn't on my skis for more that three minutes before I fell; It was a good lesson; by all means necessary, stay vertical! Getting back up was a real bitch.

After lunch we all went together to putter our way down a green hill. These are supposed to be the easy ones. Even though we were surrounded my tiny kids with huge helmets whizzing by us,
I was a bit intimidated by the length of the mountain. I don't think it was steeper than what I was learning on in the morning, but I was still a bit hesitant. So, I wiped-out almost immediately, even though I was moving nowhere.

Dan coaxed me like a good teacher, and I was focusing on my turning. Big "S"s was the goal. I was not moving quickly when I took a turn to the left. I continued to turn and ended-up facing completely up hill. Then, I began to slide backwards on my skis. I couldn't figure out how to turn myself around, but I tried anyway. I'm not really sure what happened at this point, but one ski came up, I fell back while turning to my left. I landed square on my left shoulder and heard two good CRACK!s in the process. I continued to fall and made a very conscious effort to make the rest of my body go limp, so I wouldn't strain something trying to stop my momentum. Which, as witnesses reported later, was very little.

When I stopped moving I knew something wasn't right. Dan made a big "X" with his skis above us on the hill so no one would run over us (I learned much of this later) and I could hear commotion around us. "Has anyone called ski patrol?" I heard a woman ask. My Dad was at my right but I couldn't see him, really. Someone took my skis off me once I clarified that I was sure that only my shoulder was hurt. My goggles, which were keeping my face warm, completely hindered my peripheral vision, which added to this weird sensation of feeling like I was inside a bottle.

I tried to get up, but it was clear that I wouldn't be able to. I don't remember the last time I cried such big fat I'm-in-pain tears. I leaned against my Dad and while we waited for ski patrol and some stranger came up, "I'm just gonna check her pulse" he said taking off my glove, "I do this all time". You ski around checking people's pulses? I thought. He said my pulse was good, replaced the glove and got up and left.

I could hear a small child crying and Dan saying, "Well, it sounds like someone else isn't too happy either." Jodi and Cj told us later that a woman who offered to call ski patrol was teaching a class of half-pints. One of whom was not pleased to be skiing. Cj's description of the little girl was hilarious; she was skiing really well, listening to her instructor and following along with the class, but bawling the whole time.

Ski patrol showed up and, Jodi told me later, a little boy in the ski class with the cry-baby kept trying to help from afar, speaking up, "It's hew ewbow! It's hew ewbow!" while elaborating by patting his shoulder.

After checking my back and knees and whatnot and we slowly tried to figure out how to get me on the toboggan. Once in, I was wrapped in a blanket and strapped down. I could see most of my body on the sled, reflected in ski patroller Chris' goggles and all I could think was what a cool picture it would have made. Chris skied down the hill. It was freaky.

In an effort to not panic at feeling totally out of control strapped into a sled going down a long mountain, I would concentrate on wiggling my toes and breathing. And I'd cry. I did that too. Cause, oh my god, what did I do to my shoulder?! If I tore my rotator, I'll have to have surgery and it will be forever before I could shoot again. Not to mention it's my left arm, which is the arm that bears all the weight of the camera when I use it. Although, at least it's my left arm and I'm right handed, so that's good. Plus, I'd way prefer this over a knee. This is what goes through your mind when you are trying to keep your shit together while riding in pain on a sled down a ski slope at the mercy of a stranger.

As we got closer to the first aide station I could see people looking down on me through my framed goggle vision. They'd pass in my line of sight, then out. Strangers looking down on me, thinking the same thing I thought when I saw someone on sled that morning, "sucks to be them!"

Once in the station, my hat and goggles were removed and this revealed, from my point of view, three very sympathetic looking people leaning in on me. We carefully peeled some layers off to have x-rays done. In the meantime, Cj and Jodi were collecting up my stuff and returning my boots while Dan went and got the van. As I waited for the x-ray results, an older gentleman came in, guided by someone, "He got hit in the head with a lift chair" they reported as he sat down to have his bloody head cleaned and wrapped.

The x-rays returned. I had broken my collar bone out by my shoulder. I felt a bit redeemed for being such a cry baby. Plus, a break wasn't so bad. It will heal better than rotator damage would have.

So, I hope to be brave enough to take on skiing again sometime. Although they went back the next day and kicked the mountain's ass, Jodi said it best later that day of my accident when she said, "Sugarloaf Mountain - 1, Scott Family - 0".

Me in my rose-colored goggles.

Lunchtime. Dan calls the others to meet-up on Saturday.

My view of the barn on Sunday. A great place even with a broken bone.