Today I’m parked in the lot at Trader Joe’s and as I get out, a young white man drives swiftly up in a dark blue pick-up truck with his four year old daughter. He pays his respects to my truck, telling me he’s so happy to catch up with me as he’s excitedly noticed my truck around Tucson and then asks me if I’ve seen a video which I’ve already forgotten the name of and recommends it highly. Then he proceeds to point to the beautiful, stark mountains that border Tucson on the north – just where I happen to be heading that day to hike at Catalina State Park – he points up to that mountain and w/tears in his eyes, he says that’s where bush unveiled his ‘healthy forests initiative’.
He went on, that same anguish and disbelief cutting sharply through-out his words, his face, his being, talking about attending that press conference and how journalists have deeply betrayed us all. He recounts how not one journalist asked the president any questions, questions that would get at the truth, questions that would uncover the motivations behind increased logging, mining and further decimation of our nation’s forests.
He echoed some of Gayla’s sentiments earlier about how journalists used to be our courageous and daring front line, dashing here and there to ferret out the truth in order to report the news, protecting sources, going underground, undercover, under lies and greed and filth to inform the rest of us.
“Journalists used to have a commitment to finding the truth, to justice – didn’t they? Or is this yet another myth about the good ole days?” he demands the answer from me.
“Yes, I believe journalists were the sheras and heros of my youth and young adulthood,” I concur.
We part and I head into the park to spend the rest of the day hiking in some of the most beautiful land outside of Tucson, my heart overcome by the tragedy set in place, yet my spirit enveloped in the joy and wonder of this land still with healthy old trees.
