End of an Era…Change

Change.  I love change and I hate change.  There are some things that I wish would stay the same forever; like my dear momma cooking tortillas and the smell of green chili roasting on the grill. 
Another anchor in my life is that on every Wednesday since dinosaurs roamed the earth, I would go to the mail and pick up the San Juan Record, so I could sit in my big over-stuffed chair and read it.  
It was a guilty pleasure I treasured.  I could count on this ritual; like the moving of the earth around the sun, there was a predictability that brought comfort to my soul. 
Our lives need patterns and cycles; they give us reassurance and bring peace and calm.
I love the feel and smell of a fresh newspaper and a few minutes to just flip pages and drink my Pepsi. 
Sure, I didn’t put the SJR on the shelf with my scriptures, but every Wednesday it was a must read. 
Okay, I confess I also used the SJR to potty train my dog Turbo. But really the Editor should be proud to know his paper informed us, reported news, helped us relive the agony and ecstasy of our sports, stirred the pot, and occasionally left us laughing or crying. 
But inevitably the SJR would land in the trash can or at the bottom of the doggy kennel. 
So what if it came to a good practical use like swatting a fly or starting a fire?  It fulfilled its mission found in its name; it made a Record of San Juan; it honored our dead, it announced marriages, missions, and sales.   
We all read the court report and obituaries to see if we were in them and the Letters to the Editor provided no end of entertainment.
I started writing for the San Juan Record 27 years ago.  As I poured out my guts with each article you helped me grow up, raise kids, work, coach kids, bury my dad, survive cancer, retire, travel around the world, understand that “elder care” was a thing, and go on a mission to Tonga. 
I get a lump in my throat, and a few tears sneak out as I remember some of the tender moments, we have shared. 
I have tried to write news but had no talent for it.  I wish I could say I broke a good story or made the world a safer better place.   But mostly I sit down to write, and it just comes out as a self-serving therapy session.
I have had hundreds of letters and kind thoughts from people literally all around the world that read the San Juan Record and reached out because I touched their heart in some manner, and in turn, they helped me and provided some light and hope I needed.
This is the last printed version of the San Juan Record and I am very sad.  We pause long enough to know that we are at the end of an era. 
The internet, digital media, the “cloud” and AI are like the giant asteroid that hit the earth and killed off the dinosaurs.  Printed newspapers have been going extinct for many years. 
Many printed newspapers struggle along, nurtured by love and tradition.  But the relentless pace of the digital world and shortened attention spans have choked out the small, printed newspapers like weeds in a garden.
I think there will be a sense of loss, sadness, and confusion, especially with the old people that don’t do technology. 
Many of the young people won’t even notice a difference because they already have an online presence, probably a personal AI assistant, and an Avatar. 
They bank, communicate, work, play, date, and stay informed in bits and pieces at literally the speed of light.
The picture of the small newspaper boy and the old CaveGuy sums up this proving of contraries, the dichotomy of our times, the juxtaposition of the old and the new. 
The graphic was put together in about five seconds using AI.  The young boy in the picture is looking energetic and announcing change like it “aint no big thing”. 
The old guy looks sad; perhaps even lost as he tries to figure out if he has a place in the new digital world.
I have become a student of important events and dates.  Somehow, we knew the events of 9/11 or December 7, 1941 would change our world. 
For me, in my little world, losing a printed version of the San Juan Record is such an event.  It doesn’t matter how much sadness there is, how heartbroken we are, or how mad we become, “the sun will come up tomorrow”. 
People will go to work and school, stores will open, Amazon will deliver a billion packages, Elon will make another billion dollars, and traffic will clog the roads.
Change happens.  We used to have bank tellers (actual people that helped you) and checkers (at Wal-Mart). 
New things came along, suddenly we had “webmasters” and “influencers”. 
Smart phones made us all stupid, and AI (artificial intelligence) is going to soon take whatever intelligence we had. 
However, just like the Babylon Fire, the scorched earth and devastation will bring new growth.  Even now, in the fire burn area, sprouts are poking their green hopeful stems out to a new world.
There are sprouts starting to grow at the San Juan Record.  There will be new delivery methods, new writers will emerge, more pictures can be shown,
I can make my column even longer (I’m kidding, ha ha) and Red Rock Radio 92.7 will step up delivery of local news.
Even me, the CaveGuy, the ultimate troglodyte and social introvert, is pondering how to adapt.
I thought about changing my newspaper column to My Cloud My View but thought perhaps that would be more fitting when I am dead.
We pause and say goodbye to an old friend, the printed San Juan Record. 
I don’t know if I can survive this digital asteroid, perhaps I will die out like the dinosaurs.  I hope not. 
I hope that all the readers of the SJR can survive too.  As I said at the start, “Change.  I love change and I hate change.”   
It’s going to be different, but we are resilient.  We survived 9/11 and Pearl Harbor.  We survived COVID and Bears Ears, we survived 8-man football. 
We can do hard things and the SJR will still be there reporting the news …except for me, I will keep writing my “self-serving therapy session” and rambling on about nothing useful, factual, inspiring, or edifying.  That won’t change.