I’ve Never Shed Tears For A Journalist
Until tonight. Gwen Ifill died earlier today. That news disturbed me in a way that I’ve never experienced. And, when I watched the PBS NewsHour, my tears flowed at the stories her friends and colleagues told. I was moved by their stories of her goodness, talent, friendship, professionalism and mentorship. And, when they could not hold their composure, broke into tears at her memory.
I didn’t really think, before today, about her impact on me. She reported, with Judy Woodruff, and others, on the PBS NewsHour, and I listened. It seemed like a normal contract. I watch and listen to their reporting and move on, feeling more informed. I depended on their, her, ability to get to the core of the issues without rancor, or “bias”. Just honest, solid, grounded reporting on the day’s events.
I watched her cover the conventions, report the elections, and understood that she was well prepared and thoughtful in her coverage.
I never thought that she meant that much to me. Until today. In a tough week where I felt the confusion of the election’s aftermath. and discovered that I was not alone, I wanted normalcy as I made my peace with it. Then, Gwen died.
Normal will have to wait.