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Dear Valley News

This is a letter about us—about our relationship. And its a hard letter to write. I’m sorry to tell you this, but after 17 years, I think its not working between us. Maybe you think that my telling you this in a letter is cold—impersonal even—but try to remember, our relationship has been all about cold, hard type. Every morning, seven days a week, you’ve provided the type, and every morning and given you my eyes and at least some of my brain, especially when there was coffee involved! But lately it seems like I’m doing all the reading (and subscription paying) and you’re not covering the things that I’d like to see covered, and when you do some local reportage, its shallow, vapid and makes the neighborhood I live seem like someplace I don’t even recognize. In other words, I’m reading you, but are you writing back?

I want you to know that I remember the good times. When I first located to the Upper Valley on a permanent basis, I was worried that there wouldn’t be any decent, discerning local reviewers for the eccentric art and music shows that a bunch of us organized in a small exhibit space we rented on South Main Street. And then Bill Craig showed up. He was a reviewer who believed in criticism with meat on its bones. He liked most of our shows. But when he didn’t like an exhibition he would savage it in his weekly arts column. The artists involved were horrified (there was Ego at stake after all) but I really appreciated that someone cared enough to be a critic. Then there was the article Bill wrote about the Woodstock Kennel Club when he reminded us that the dog is an animal that “returneth to its own vomit”. You published his—sometimes edgy pieces—and I was proud of you. Over the years Ive read some great pieces of investigative journalism and some wonderful entertaining bits that plugged the Museum here in a very meaningful way. But the paper seems to be getting more and more tepid. Remember our date for the Halloween Parade here? I sent you about three or four press releases for that, but you didn’t provide any coverage whatsoever—one of the largest, and certainly the most colorful, events of the year with live music, giant light-up puppets and marching in the streets. I know you were busy that night with girls field hockey (and thats a good thing) but couldn’t you have at least sent a photog for the fire jugglers? You know I want whats best for you, and photos of fire jugglers—hopefully—help you sell papers. Actually, a whole lot of the things that we have done here are public, vibrant, colorful and I hope, have helped you sell papers over the years.

Local dailies are dropping like flies and that must scare you a whole lot because lately it seems like you are trying to be something you’re not. I know you—and you’re a reputable, regional journalistic enterprise; but lately you seem to be making yourself over to be another “America’s Newspaper”—selling out for the lowest common denominator as the market share evaporates. I see more syndicated columns, more stuff you can get everywhere else and less unique content. If you’re trying to be like USA Today on my account, you’re wasting your time, ‘cause you know I Never read that newspaper—honest—and you're better than that—have some self-respect!

Another thing; and I’m only mentioning this because its affected our relationship; I'm not trying to make you feel bad. But I’ve noticed that you keep getting slimmer and slimmer. Its one thing being fit and trim, but honestly, I think you might have anorexia. The only part of you that keeps getting bigger is the advertising supplements, and honestly, those circulars aren’t your most attractive part. I wish I could help because honestly, I don’t know what the future has in store for you if you keep on the same road you are headed down. But I can only help you if you let me.

Of course, I haven't been totally monogamous with you. You’ve no doubt noticed that the Rutland Herald comes into the house daily, and 7 Days is, and the Spectator were, weekly visitors. I cant help it; perhaps I’m just interested in spicing things up…and then of course on some Sundays, there’s that big deal newspaper from New York City. But, come on, I just read that paper for the crossword puzzle, honest!

Over time Ive had trouble getting listed in the calendar section and what’s more distressing is that the volunteers for the local Historical Society and students from the Cartoon School with their movie nights have had trouble getting listed too. Makes us think that you dont care about White River Junction if you can’t even take the time to read our (perhaps overly creative) press releases and just list our events in the calendar section.

Then of course that last article you did on our downtown was the last straw. An article on a man who has harassed me and my friends for years. He is a monster who’s always yelling at local kids, inappropriately touches women when they are trying to come into my building, killed my cat and used the most viscous hate speech that Ive ever heard outside of white supremacist rally to taunt my friends and loved ones. And you described him as “gruff” man with a “heart of gold”. When I filed a report on him for the Vermont Civil Rights Commission it was a painful—wrenching. And you described me as “irked”. Wow. Seems like you have an idea of what you’re going to write and you’re not letting facts get in the way. That’s not a relationship, thats a one way street. It doesn’t seem like you need me any more. You're writing for someone vapid—dumb even. If its just a one way street that you’re traveling, you certainly don’t need, or deserve, my subscription checks any more.

So, lets agree that its best to make a clean break of it. Please cancel my subscription and refund the remainder of my account, effective immediately.

I know you’ll find someone new soon, in fact, with time, you’ll probably be a lot happier with those bland suburban cretins that you’re writing for now ever were with me. And I’ll still send you my press releases—not that I expect that you’ll cover our events here now—after that facebook page I created*. And I might even still read you, when I can pick you up at the Polka Dot for free—just don’t expect to be paying you another dime anytime soon… Its just too hard…

—Your Former Fan, David F. Ford. White River Junction, Vermont.


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