Gracious

Your piece about Broder was a refreshing reminder that someone on this blog can write and think creatively.

David Broder is cut from the fabric of a moment in time that appears mysteriously and disappears with the same defiance of predictability. Maybe such a phenomenon cannot be explained. Perhaps it can only be imagined as a "Brigadoon."

On a more prosaic note, permit me to comment from experience that the rules of David's "day"
required civility, courtesy and respect. In that era we all began and were mentored on small town dailies owned and edited by local families. To be chosen as a reporter was the equivalent being mentioned favorably in the Sunday sermon or giving the valedictory address. Most moms and dads earned the right to be considered exemplary.
The community conventions would not tolerate any
failure of a family to strive to achieve standards of personal conduct, intellect and taste that would produce individuals with strong though resilient characters. Inherent in the process was a determination at all levels of existence to approach the sensual realm with moderation and at all times to protect our bodies and minds from a host of pathologies.

We were schooled to understand that our "calling" as news gatherers and writers was devolved from the same constructive core as the minister's or the doctor's or the school principal's.

"Get it right and do no harm that is not consistent with Christian justice." That's what my first publisher demanded of his editors and reporters.

And we newspaper people were honored. I enjoyed respect and good will at the "drug store" where I went each afternoon for a "cherry coke" with a fresh faced, scrubbed girl in a starched pinafore who talked about making peach cobbler and making the decorations for the Fourth of July Celebration and helping her mother take meals to a family whose mother was too ill to manage.