Hellogoodbye

I am writing a preview for an art event this Friday taking place at an African restaurant and I just spoke with the most interesting man. He travelled to Ethiopia (which, I never knew until today, is in Africa) and photographed the local people. He has such a cool vision -- to show people as they are, not as souls to be pitied, as we often see on informercials and in other parts of the media. He said he worked with a church down there and helped out with a program that employs people with AIDS and gives them a source of income.

Here's the thing . . . I LOVE this part of my job -- I love interacting with people who clearly have a heart for the world and a heart for God and do artistic, beautiful things. But simultaneously, it is my least favorite part of my job. I just talked to this man and I will never talk to him again. I tell hardly a fraction of his story, and half of what I write will be cut for space. I was only on the telephone for seven minutes. He probably could have told me dozens more stories. I'd love to know how he got into ministry, how he fused his artistic talents with his heart for people, how that has changed his life, why Ethiopia . . .the list goes on. I would love to meet this man, listen to him, build a relationship.

But that's not how journalism works. We don't put our hearts on the line in journalism. We listen; we write; we move on.

I hate it.