A Reporter’s Blessing: A Small Town

It’s a reporter’s job to keep to the sidelines of a story, to check their emotions at the door and just write the news. A hard job at any time, it becomes harder still when a story reaches inside of you and starts kicking you straight in the gut.

Such was this Sunday’s emotional gathering in the middle of Jeffersonville, a flash mob for Kara Passante, a town turned pink to power a mom’s fight against breast cancer on Mother’s Day.


I woke the way so many mothers did on Sunday, to a child hopping from foot to foot, anxiously awaiting the parting of my lashes so she could fill my bed with presents. Go ahead, tell me there is a better gift in life than a child’s hand-lettered missive. Now try saying it with a straight face.

It was from that scene that I was thrust out to work, to cover for the Democrat the story of another mom, a mom with two beautiful children younger than my own, a mom who graduated from a school up the road from mine on the same weekend. I didn’t know her so much as know of her, and yet her story rocked me when I first heard rumblings months ago for one reason and one alone: she isn’t just another hometown girl. She’s a mother. She is like me.

And so I left my little girl on Sunday morning like so many of the volunteers who gave up a chunk of their Mother’s Day. My mission was not as grand as theirs; I didn’t spend hours practicing a perfect dance. I didn’t volunteer flowers from my florist shop or help wrap balloons around poles.

Technically, I was there to do a job. But I’d be lying if I said I was a perfect reporter on Sunday. As I scurried back and forth, taking pictures and taking notes, I felt a swelling in my chest, a pride in my little corner of the world for the amazing things they could do. And I felt a pricking in my eyes, tears threatening to fall as fast as Kara’s own.

Sunday morning was a blessing for Kara Passante. It was a blessing for the people who shut down Jeffersonville to show one woman what a town can do. And it was a blessing for me to be allowed to tell that story. Call me a bad reporter, but I prefer to think of myself as an appreciative one.

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Comments

  1. Great article Jeanne! Beautifully written.

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