Strands

Strands—sometimes I think that the media , with its sound bites and stories that capture the imagination for a day or two, remind me of these threads—strips of straw.

At first they burst onto the page and then disappear when another story pushes its way to the front. We may never find out what happened— if there’s an ending. The story may beg for a conclusion, may evoke sympathy, anger, curiosity — but it disappears as if written with invisible ink.

I marvel when the evening news shows a film clip of a horse being rescued from a ravine thousands of miles away, yet leaves you wondering about the sixteen families whose homes disappeared into the maw of fire—in a city in your state. That was yesterday's story.

I think sound bites and truncated stories and tales without follow-ups cater to people who never want to read the complete book—give them a digest— a bowdlerized version.