Today I was given an expiration date

You know I went into the newspaper industry knowing that it meant little security, little pay, high stress and long hours. I had accepted these things, feeling as though the reward of a byline and knowing people were reading my shit was worth it. 

I remember picking up my first published clip in Pioneer Press. It was on a fall festival and took really no effort at all to write. But I fucking loved reading it in the newspaper that day. On that day, I felt as though I finally mattered. My far from acceptable wages came with the promise that the world was reading what I wrote. And therefore, I was worthy enough to have something to say that the world wanted to listen to. It was a wonderful gift that I was so appreciate to have. 

So to be told that the Chicago Sun Times is damn near on its death bed, which means I will soon have no job, means that my voice is being shuttered closed because of corporate bullshit that can't make it through this economy. Today I was told my newsroom had an expiration date, and suddenly those articles on fall festivals, back-to-school fairs and upcoming park district meant the world to me. They meant I still had a newspaper space to fill and I still had an audience to speak to. I still had a newsroom to come into, an editor to despise and damn good mix of people that feel more like family than co-workers. 

Could we really close though Sept. 29? This is supposedly when our buyer will pull out his deal, unless the union agrees to some serious set backs, essentially closing our doors. Everyone keeps saying some master plan will save us and this will not be a reality to deal with. But really? Is there a saving grace, hail mary pass, top of the 9th full count fast pitch to save us? The San Francisco Chronicle couldn't find it. The Rocky Mountain News must have put the wrong batter in because they are long gone examples of how the world is slowly turning its back to the wonderful gift of newspapers. And to me that is a fucking shame. 

I'm 24-years-old and am about to start my career over before it could even begin. And nothing will ever feel like it does when you are in a newsroom. Because working as a reporter means having a whole lot of respect, a power some too often abuse and the pleasure of meeting some amazing people who put their stories in your hands....trusting you have listened and trusting you have cared. 

I love my job and I hope not mourn its loss.