Hill Country Living
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By Coulter Fussell
It was Move-in Week over there in Oxford, Mississippi. This past week I got emergency texts from two different people during the same couple of hours. The tone of the texts walked a line between exasperation and the beginning stages of panic. Separately, both people were “stuck” on campus and couldn’t get out. One is a Water Valley professor who was required to be on campus for work and one is my teenage child who innocently swung through Ole Miss for fun at exactly the wrong time. I’m happy to report that they both made it out alive and the teenager, despite becoming lost at one point, reported “baddies everywhere.”
Aren’t y’all glad that here in Water Valley we have all already moved in? And not all at the same time? Shoot, some of y’all never had to move in here at all. Y’all just arrived on Earth here and that was it. You all are the ones who can justifiably wear one of the “I’m So Water Valley…” t-shirts.
Speaking of local, I enjoyed reading the Herald article last week about the plight of many local newspapers dying-off. I guess “enjoyed” is the exact opposite of my sentiment because the content of the article is sad and frightening. Aside from losing access to current and reliable local news, it’s concerning to me what losing local newspapers and journalists might (and is already doing) do to historical research. When a group of people can’t collectively report for themselves what they deem important and newsworthy about themselves, then there’s a high probability that their history could be, at best, very difficult to find again and, at worst, lost forever. We’ve seen it happen before. Ironically, we’ve seen it happen within local newspapers!
There’s a time and place for both social media/crowd-sourced style reporting and trained, practiced journalism. These things are both valuable in documenting our lives and can work congruently for us. The difference for consumers is that one is free and one is almost free.
Yes, social media is “free” – if you don’t count your monthly phone and internet bills. Your local newspaper is $2.50 a month (or $1 a week if you get your copy from the PigSaver stand like I do and then wind up with two copies at the house because your spouse also picks up a Herald from the PigSaver stand on his trip to the store.)
Now, you could argue that you get more than news from your internet bill so you pay more. Quit lying to yourself, my friend. Make peace with the truth. You’re paying that internet and phone data bill to scroll local Facebook groups all day and night. Okay, fine… and Netflix.
I cannot tell you all how many times an out-of-towner has said to me “Your town is so lucky to still have its local paper. I wish we still had ours…” And then a misty dew glazes their eyes as a faraway expression overcomes them like they’re remembering their Grandmother calling their name from the porch.
The existence of our local paper makes our town distinctive and the exception. We still have the privilege and outlet to officially speak for ourselves. Be “so Water Valley” that you subscribe not just for yourself but for our town.
