"Sew?" is a sculpture by my mother Rita Ferrugiari (known until her recent surprise elopement as the Fabulous Miss Rita Brown). The New York Times publishes images of artist's rendering of the T. My mother's mixed media version, a labor of love made of pins and needles, thread, sequin beads, scissors, measuring tape, mirrors, beads, antique buttons, trim a bobbin and a label on a meticulously hand-cut wood base, courtesy of her new husband, Mike, is shown above. For a quarter of a century, my mother has been reading the Sunday Times, section by section, all week long. I asked her this morning what she thought of digital and print media.
The New York Times has finally hired an editor to handle social media, I told her.
"I just read an article about it this morning," she said. "The death of newspapers. The article says it's a myth."
"In the New York Times?" I asked.
"No," she said. "The local paper. Hang on. I'm checking. It wasn't an article. It was a full page ad. John F. Sturm. 'The Reality About Newspapers,' that's what it's called. He's the President and CEO of the Newspaper Association of America. I can mail it to you if you want."
I already had it up in front of my screen from
another publication that came up first on Google. The piece lists several "myths" and "realities."
"Myth: If newspapers close, you will still be able to get news from other sources.
Reality: Newspapers make a larger investment in journalism than any other medium. Most of the information you read from aggregators and other media originated with newspapers. No amount of effort from local bloggers, non-profit news entities or TV news sources could match the depth and breadth of newspaper-produced content. This is not a portrait of a dying industry. It is illustrative of transformation. Newspapers are reinventing themselves to focus on serving distinct audiences with a variety of products, and delivering those audiences effectively to advertisers across media channels."
As a
journalist, I resent the implication that my work can best and only be delivered on paper. As a blogger and co-designer of a
Virtual Newsroom, the idea that somehow "blogging" is less valuable than working in print for an established publication is outrageous. As a person with a mother who lives in a small town and has never experienced news in a digital format, I have moments of extreme sadness when I think of all the people in the world who subscribe to newspapers or randomly find those left behind by other people and learn something about the local, regional, national and global systems within which we can choose to struggle for transformation, for new ways of being and doing. Less newspapers mean less chance of that happening.
"I read the New York Times because it relaxes me," my mother said. "I read things that I wish I hadn't read, like about the mothers in Africa who have to stand around for so long when they are having babies because there are no doctors and the babies come out on their own. So many of the women die from infections after birth that there's an orphanage right next to the clinic. I can't even call it a clinic. It's a crude, dirty room, and these people who aren't even doctors cut open their stomachs a layer at a time with no sterilization. Then the babies go to die at an orphanage next door."
Hearing this from the person who delivered me into the world choked me up.
"When I read the New York Times Travel Section I can go anywhere in the world," she said. "I can sit here in this tiny town and see things I wouldn't normally see. I love the New York Times, I don't care what anybody says about them. And I thought it was very worthy, when they published your photographs in the Travel Section."
When I Googled
Elisabeth Bumiller's article, I found that the digital version does not contain my photograph, so I'll close with an image of my mother, who was once on billboards over Times Square and in many print publications.
This blog post was inspired by New York Times reporter Brian Stelter who, two hours ago, tweeted "Figuring out what to write next. Any ideas?" As soon as I read the question, I knew what I was going to write next. I don't think that's much help to Brian, though...