Strange emotions
Ok... it seems weird to even write about this, but it's been bothering me and I found a piece in a weekly alternative paper here in Vegas that seems to explain my emotions. Now that you're thoroughly confused, here goes.
A week ago Monday, on March 28, Polly Gonzalez, a local television news anchor, was killed in a car accident. There has been a tremendous outpouring from the public... a huge display of grief. I've shared in that grief. And I don't know why. It could be that I'm a little more sensitive to these issues with Beth's aunt's passing, but I'd be lying if I said I haven't had tears well in my eyes when Channel 8 shows a tribute to Polly. And it feels strange to me that I feel so emotionally connected.
It could be, that as a former journalist, I feel a little more connected to the news media. She happened to anchor the newscast I watched most and I had an appreciation for her style and integrity, and her personality. It's been a week and a half since she died, and Channel 8 is still running tributes to Polly, keeping it fresh in people's minds. Just last night was the public memorial for Polly where over a thousand people attended.
So today, while surfing the net for stories about Polly, I found one in the Las Vegas Weekly by Steve Bornfeld that talked about why people in the community may have been so touched by Polly's untimely passing:
"In this newsroom, the bulletin hit like a punch in the gut. Yes, she was a familiar face on our mediascape, a 10-year veteran of the local news scene and Las Vegas' first Latino anchor. And we grieve—on principle, out of human compassion—over the loss of one so young, with so much life still to live, leaving children to live life without her. But digesting the shock of a media personality's death is an odd sensation, a secondhand, peripheral grief attesting to the illusion of an extended family that television news creates. Grief and mourning are raw, no-holds-barred emotions, and when we lose someone within our own family, we expect to get walloped by it. Nothing halfway about it.
"Most of us didn't know this woman with the soft smile and warm eyes. We only allowed her into our living rooms and bedrooms, but it never got more personal than that. And when we lose her, we're caught between grief and voyeurism, simultaneously mourning and prying—from a distance.
"Television is paradoxical that way. It's a voyeuristic medium, creating a twilight zone of false familiarity.
"Few of us at Las Vegas Weekly knew Polly Gonzalez. All of us feel her loss."
I know the whole thing sounds weird... it feels weird. Any thoughts?
A week ago Monday, on March 28, Polly Gonzalez, a local television news anchor, was killed in a car accident. There has been a tremendous outpouring from the public... a huge display of grief. I've shared in that grief. And I don't know why. It could be that I'm a little more sensitive to these issues with Beth's aunt's passing, but I'd be lying if I said I haven't had tears well in my eyes when Channel 8 shows a tribute to Polly. And it feels strange to me that I feel so emotionally connected.
It could be, that as a former journalist, I feel a little more connected to the news media. She happened to anchor the newscast I watched most and I had an appreciation for her style and integrity, and her personality. It's been a week and a half since she died, and Channel 8 is still running tributes to Polly, keeping it fresh in people's minds. Just last night was the public memorial for Polly where over a thousand people attended.
So today, while surfing the net for stories about Polly, I found one in the Las Vegas Weekly by Steve Bornfeld that talked about why people in the community may have been so touched by Polly's untimely passing:
"In this newsroom, the bulletin hit like a punch in the gut. Yes, she was a familiar face on our mediascape, a 10-year veteran of the local news scene and Las Vegas' first Latino anchor. And we grieve—on principle, out of human compassion—over the loss of one so young, with so much life still to live, leaving children to live life without her. But digesting the shock of a media personality's death is an odd sensation, a secondhand, peripheral grief attesting to the illusion of an extended family that television news creates. Grief and mourning are raw, no-holds-barred emotions, and when we lose someone within our own family, we expect to get walloped by it. Nothing halfway about it.
"Most of us didn't know this woman with the soft smile and warm eyes. We only allowed her into our living rooms and bedrooms, but it never got more personal than that. And when we lose her, we're caught between grief and voyeurism, simultaneously mourning and prying—from a distance.
"Television is paradoxical that way. It's a voyeuristic medium, creating a twilight zone of false familiarity.
"Few of us at Las Vegas Weekly knew Polly Gonzalez. All of us feel her loss."
I know the whole thing sounds weird... it feels weird. Any thoughts?
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