“Why don’t you people in the media report some good news? Why is everything gloom and doom?” In some form or fashion, I’ve been hearing those interrogatories for 34 years.
Quite often the answer is we’re giving the public what it wants. The bottom line is we all seem to gravitate toward all that does not fall under warm and fuzzy.
To wit: The talk around our neighborhood this past week is a new stop sign installed at Johnson Ferry and Bonnie Lane. If anyone likes it, I have yet to hear his or her encouraging word. Instead, it’s been a steady flow of “What are they thinking?!” and “They’ve screwed up my commute!”
Likewise, I have yet to bump into a neighbor who talks about how masterly a recently widened road is working. There’s something about good news that renders us mute. That is, until we suss out the dark cloud lurking within the silver lining.
A daytime talk show host gave every person in her audience a new car a few years back. The OMG factor was quickly squelched by: “Ya know, those people are going to have to pay taxes on those cars.”
The home team wins the championship, and before the first bottle of champagne is popped, we’re wringing our hands with agnosticism over whether they can do it again next year.
Our property taxes drop 1 percent, and it’s “thanks for nothing.” They go up a half-percent and we howl.
There is “bad” news we need to report. A flu outbreak in the community. Criminal activity that you should be alert for. World events that will affect financial markets, which will affect everyone’s retirement accounts. News we may not want to hear, but we need to hear.
If we are not vigilant, we can be a rather glum lot, despite our fervent entreaties for more good news. Perhaps we in the media are culpable of giving people what they want, but any more so than what we offer up to each other on a daily basis?
Happily, there are exceptions out there. There are some people who wake up every day with pretty much the same lot as the rest of us, but they’re smiling.
These are the people who have never lifted their middle finger in rush-hour traffic. They pay the same prices we do at the pump, are governed by the same politicians and subject to the same slings and arrows. And yet, they see the best in life. Trust me, this is not the stuff of mythos. They are walking among us at this very moment.
My late father-in-law, Ed Pearson, was one of those people: an unapologetic optimist. Even late in life with a titanium screw in his hip — as well as surviving two heart attacks, a heart bypass and diverticulitis surgery — he would always offer the same answer if you asked how he was doing: “Never better!”
At his funeral, several people expressed the same sentiment. They felt they had lost their best friend.
Apparently, Mr. Pearson had given the people what they wanted, too.
Jim Osterman lives in Sandy Springs. Reach him at jimosterman@rocketmail.com
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