The Unseen Here and Now . . .

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Stuart Revercomb

Stuart Revercomb is a marketing consultant and joyously married father of four children. He seems to remember someone once telling him he ought to be a writer. "The Unseen Here and Now" -- Thursdays.

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August 9, 2001

No News Is Good News (Mostly)

I'm not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way I discovered "the news". Which is to say that I discovered that there was a wide, wide world going on "out there" that I had never paid attention to - if I knew "It" was going on at all.

As a young boy I remember vaguely the images of the Vietnam War being played out nightly on our TV in the den. I can recall the sullen look on my parents faces as they watched the young reporters crouched behind a tree line or bent over in the long grass beneath the relentless rotor wash of a drab green helicopter. They always gave the details of the days "activity" with a sense of urgency and excitement that seemed to slam hard against the solemnity of the "body count" that was sure to follow. The anchorman in the studio never seemed to have the enthusiasm of the correspondents in the field. The somber finality with which he gave the figures always made him look old.

But it really wasn't until much later in my early teens that I began to search and look and listen for the news, picking up the daily newspaper that arrived at our house in the afternoons and giving it a thorough read to discover what had happened in the world that day. It didn't take long to discover that the greater planet that I lived on was a very, very, very strange place.

It still is, as far as I can tell - if not more so. Which is most likely due to the fact that, as recent census data boldly suggests, we have more people. More people equals more opportunities for weirdness in the world - and "normalness" as well - whatever that is. But pick up the paper and you're far more likely than not to read a headline that will question every ounce of rationalism you once held - not to mention your faith in those who share the planet with you.

Somewhere along the way I guess I became addicted to the news. Not the weird stuff, but the everyday material. It seems I had latched on to the notion that it was everyone's duty to know the salient details of what was happening in the world - whether that was where the President happened to be that day or what Hollywood movie was playing best in Japan. It didn't matter that the more urgent news of the day was generally buried in such fare. "Knowledge was power" and "information was king", and the "superhighway" on which it would soon travel was just around the corner.

But thankfully I was saved from being consumed by the ever growing details of the world. I'm not sure how it happened really. I guess it came as part of the slow transformation from who I once was to who I am on my way to becoming. But whatever the case, it did happen. Much like being on vacation or losing one's watch, the first few days can be somewhat uncomfortable, but soon comes the glorious freedom that one only finds unencumbered by schedules and details and places that one has to be.

But sooner or later the vacation must end - the future must be planned for and the buck must be made. Just as sometimes we really do need to know what time it is. Which is kind of like the news. There are times when you really do need to know what's going on "out there". But most of the time you don't. When we watch the clock too closely , we often becomes it's servant. When we immerse ourselves too deeply in the details of the world, we can become it's slave as well.

If you're like me it's easy to get depressed by the news. The daily onslaught of misguided people doing the most unimaginable things to each other and themselves is almost more than the human heart can bare. If you're to survive it, you have too grow some pretty tough skin, which it seems most of us manage to do.

But such armor is far from impregnable. Even those of us who become masters at sloughing off the horror and tragedy that plays itself out upon the baroque stage that is the world, must concede that eventually some of it gets through - ultimately doing its worst in the hardening of our hearts in lieu of our skin.

Recently I opened my own Newspaper. It's only published in the back of my mind, but I try to read it when I can. I call it the "No News Newspaper", and in it I fit all the news I can imagine that did or didn't take place today, because of the unseen and unappreciated work of others. It helps balance the rest of the fare.

Here are some of today's top stories.

"A family of four arrived safe at home in South Carolina, because the alcoholic that would have taken their lives is in treatment at The Rescue Mission instead of behind the wheel."

"12 people did not die from the West Nile Virus due to the unceasing efforts of scientists and healthcare professionals throughout North America."

"There was no shooting today at a local business office because several months ago someone simply took the time to listen to the needs and understand the pain of a fellow co-worker".

"42 underprivileged children went to summer camp because of the sacrifices of 14 "privileged" teenagers.

"The cure for cancer will come 47 years sooner because a young couple trusted a whisper from within, greater than the world around them."

All of them hypothetical? They certainly are. But you can count on the fact that similar stories are taking place all around you. Call it the random result of chance manifesting itself in the occasional good outcome... call it the working out of Grace through simple lives by a loving God that will have it no other way. Call it what you will, but the next time you fold up your paper in frustration, remember the equally endless stories that none of us will ever read - remember the "No News Newspaper" is also at your door.

Read it every day.