Five Cent Piece
Journalists are not mythical creatures from different realms, who only sniff out the stories and leave destruction in their wake. No, they are members of a community, this community. Every community. Members who care enough to sacrifice their lives, as well as social and mental well being, to bring their community the news.
Relief and absolute exhaustion coursed through his veins like fire, the warm glow alike to taking a sip of whiskey.
Being in a position to help someone, often leaves us disillusioned. Being in a position to help someone, and succeeding means more than a simple gesture of kindness or a smile. Genuinely helping someone, rescuing them from fire-breathing dragons, or a speeding car. There is no drug that potent. Or tiring.
After a three-day battle to find a child from Newcastle who was kidnapped, Five Cent Piece looks back at the wild ride and reflects upon the decisions he made.
To be able to self analyse, one must be able to be fully objective. A task made all the more difficult by emotions telling you to forget what your brain tells you is only good sense.
When the life of a child is in danger, there is no time for good sense; only action. The nay-sayers will proclaim you a fool, and tell you to leave these sorts of things to the police. Phrases like ‘that is what they are there for’ and ‘you are too emotionally involved’ come to mind.
Who are you to tell others what to do with their lives? Bad actions will call for worse consequences, thus rule of thumb pronounces a sentence. Good actions will get you nothing but criticism.
Sure, there are many who gave Five Cent Piece a pat on the back, and said well done. An oddly satisfying experience. But, as always, there are the sour grapes that say you did it all wrong.
Some lessons are to be learnt from this. Journalists are not mythical creatures from different realms, who only sniff out the stories and leave destruction in their wake. No, they are members of a community, this community. Every community. Members who care enough to sacrifice their lives, as well as social and mental well being, to bring their community the news. Most important of all, just because a reporter is not holding a note pad and scribbling furiously, does not mean he can’t remember every word you say.
Sitting on a pile of old newspapers, Five Cent Piece had an emotional epiphany. After three days of no sleep, food out of boxes and too much caffeine and nicotine, the tears came easily. Pure relief, pure exhaustion and pure anger pushed the boundary too close to home, and he cried. He cried, had a nicotine fix, and then laughed.
Taking a sip of coffee, he reads the comments from readers on the Internet. And smiles. No one will know what it takes to do this job. We live our lives like the world owes us everything, and criticise openly.
Ask yourself, what is society coming to in our town? What has become of the handshake or a solemn vow? What has become of simple, honest human interaction?
There are no quick fixes, or simple answers. There are only people who do, and people who don’t.
