Saturday, December 02, 2023

Friday Night Music



This area is prone to droughts, but both nights I went out with friends this week brought unexpected, welcome rains. So much for weather apps. But hello to a new superstition about the rain dance.

Friday night was the chance to celebrate a young friend’s 36th birthday and also to see a bunch of people I used to work with before retiring four years ago.

The journalism community is a small one in the Bay Area, unlike New York or L.A. But a slew of talented journalists live and work here, and this was a rare chance for me to see several at one time. They are collectively, after all, our best chance against the wave of disinformation and conspiracy theories sweeping over the nation like an atmospheric river.

We sat outside in a covered booth at a place near the Oakland/Berkeley border; at one point the conversation turned to why people like us do this kind of work anyway. It’s not like anybody gets rich doing honest journalism and the risks and stresses of the craft are more closely associated with anxiety attacks and high blood pressure than the flashy awards they give us from time to time.

There is very little glamorous about the actual work.

These days it’s a profession in steep decline; jobs are scarce and the competition for them fierce. Most media companies sooner or later announce another round of layoffs; job security is a constant concern.

But none of this dampened the spirits of our merry little band of story-tellers Friday night. At some point we noticed that it was raining softly outside our booth. We could tell this from the music of the passing traffic. 

We ate bar food — onion rings and loaded fries; those who drink sipped their drinks. We traded our stories and tips like journalists always do. We celebrated our lovely young colleague’s birthday.

Eventually the rain lifted and the fog came in at the higher altitudes. We said our goodbyes and went our own ways into the night. But the music of the rain dance remained.

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