editor colorado
Official publication of the Colorado Press Association / coloradopressassociation.com / Vol. LXXXIV, No. 12
Slimp: Some papers show major circulation increases. PAGE 4
December 2013
Ink from the Ash
Black Forest Fire couldn’t take down a community or one determined newspaper owner By Cheryl Ghrist Contributing Editor
T
here was no escape from the heartrending web and television images of a community overwhelmed by the tragedy of nature that was the Black Forest Fire last June: At first – growing plumes of white, orange or black smoke filling the sky, as if ominous rain clouds were swelling from the ground. An all-encompassing brown, red and orange haze, hiding the sun and the community like dense fog. Red shooting flames edged in black smoke, in stark contrast amid green towering pines. Fire running up trees or across beds of dry, pine-needle groundcover. A house exploding in a ball of incandescent yellow flame surrounded by an eerie orange glow in the middle of a black night. Later – acres of ghastly black trees sticking up out of a white ash base that could have been a winter scene, but wasn’t. Neighbors hugging, crying, looking over all that was left of their homes. Gray foundation walls, lone chimneys, torched pickups. Twisted and burnt metal that could have been a furnace in this pile, a bicycle in another. Displaced residents finding someplace, anyplace to hunker down for one or a few nights. A wooden sign scrawled with “Black Forest Refugee Base Camp” alongside an RV parked in one resident’s burn site. And yet there were encouraging images as well. People leading their families, dogs, horses out of danger. Taking out treasured belongings in hastily-packed cars, trailers, campers. A tattered American flag hanging from an improvised sapling flag pole. Clothes, food and household donations INK on Page 7
Photo by Cheryl Ghrist Black Forest News & Palmer Divide Pioneer Owner and Publisher Judith von Ahlefeldt holds a burnt pair of scissors she once used to clip ads from her newspaper.
Symbolism in the sand Symbols are embodiments of ideas, beliefs and emotions that can unite us in a common cause. The military is rife with symbols — some obvious, like the U.S. flag, others less so. Which brings me to this Ziploc baggie of salt-and-pepper sand on my desk. It arrived by post some months ago, boxed and double-bagged. I have carefully unzipped it only a few times, gritting volcanic, glittery crystals between fingertips,
huffing in faint sea scent before sealing it up again. But this is not a gift for me; it is for my dad, the Marine. Today, the Marine Corps Birthday, and the day before Veterans Day, feels like the right time to give it to him. Last winter, at the annual convention for the Colorado Press Association, Larry Ryckman of the Denver Post displayed his DAVIS on Page 8
Kennedy’s firsthand account captures human cost of war By Rebekah Romberg
laurena mayne davis
In war, people die. This is a well-known fact. Yet, oftentimes the destruction and human cost is forgotten after a few years of war. People become absorbed in their own world and the latest news takes the spotlight. For Kelly Kennedy, however, war became her life in June of 2007. Kennedy, a former Colorado Press Association staff member, was imbedded in an infantry unit in Adhamiya, a district in the city of Baghdad. She was sent to Iraq to
cover post-traumatic stress disorder. “I had been covering post-traumatic stress disorder and they sent me to Iraq to see if I could find out more about it,” Kennedy said, beginning to laugh. “So I did.” Kennedy was there for some of the most gruesome days the infantry unit faced. The company lost more soldiers than any U.S. battalion since Vietnam. Still, Kennedy spent a fair amount of time with the men in the infantry unit. KENNEDY on Page 4