I was in sixth grade. Our class was on a field trip to the local newspaper. It was a paper in many ways similar to where I work now ‚Äî a small community-based daily. This daily had an afternoon edition, which meant that instead of printing around midnight, the papers came off the press just after lunch. Us students had walked through a very active newsroom and ended up on something like a catwalk that overlooked the press room. The machines were spitting off newspapers, the rumbling sound made it difficult for us kids to talk to each other or to the teacher. At the end all of us kids were given a paper off the press. I can remember it was still warm, and there was a sweet, rich smell of ink. I knew then that I wanted to be a newspaper reporter. Now the presses in the back of our building will be silent forever in a couple of weeks. It is for a good, well thought-out reason, I understand. Everyone here is saddened by the lost jobs. What also saddens me is the silence coming from the presses. I‚Äôve seen a lot of changes in the news business ‚Äî admittedly some good, some bad ‚Äî but always something is replaced with something else, until now. Yes, the papers will roll off another press, but not here.
It seems like a death
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