I woke up one morning in Monument Valley and took this photo of the sunrise. Took the image to a printer and made a nice big copy for the wall in my room. Makes me happy to linger on that moment.
John Strauss
I woke up one morning in Monument Valley and took this photo of the sunrise. Took the image to a printer and made a nice big copy for the wall in my room. Makes me happy to linger on that moment.
I've had fun riding out into the country on my motorcycle and finding interesting places for aerial videography. I got my FAA commercial drone license a few years ago and use these trips for practice--and peaceful outings away from the city. I'm a former student pilot and this piece really gives the feel of what it's like to soar over the landscape and then dip down for a closer look.
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My family lives on a mountain in Tennessee, and I did this piece about my sister's garden. I liked using the high-angle view from the drone sparingly, but to pretty good effect.
I’m fascinated by TikTok and what its startling growth implies for online reporters and editors. Some recent data points:
“The app came into its own as a news-gathering and presenting tool in the early days of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Ordinary Ukrainians picked up their smartphones and documented the atrocities of the Russian regime, their footage viewed nearly a million times a minute in the war’s early days.
“The reality is that TikTok is where the audience is these days: a billion worldwide. So it makes sense for news outlets to be there too. The BBC has, for at least a decade or more, been seeking an audience of “replenishers” – W1A speak for younger viewers and listeners to replace the old, dying audience it currently has. (The average age of a BBC One and BBC Two viewer is well north of 60, according to the BBC’s director general, Tim Davie.) So far, it has done so relatively unsuccessfully.” (1)
Usage is higher among people 18–24, and much higher in parts of Latin America, Asia, and Africa than it is in the United States or Northern Europe. (2)
There’s still a relatively short list of U.S. news publishers on the platform, including The Washington Post, USA Today, PBS stations including WGBH,WBUR, YahooNews, Vice News.(3)
The Washington Post, for example, has 1.4 million followers, with its most popular posts including pieces on monkeypox (137,000 views), student loan forgiveness (144,000) and controlled-burning in forests (211,000).(4)
The Post’s TikTok efforts are led by Senior Video Reporter Dave Jorgenson, a graduate of DePauw University in English who launched the paper’s channel in 2019. Presented here are two samples of his work. Notice the two approaches, typical of the experimentation you would expect as we figure out how best to connect with audiences.
The student loan piece (above) from Aug. 18 has racked up nearly 900,000 views with a 10 percent engagement rate – the number of likes, shares, etc., over the number of total views. By comparison, the average on Twitter posts is closer to 0.5 percent.(5)
Check out the sophisticated production, with Jorgenson playing both parts as two people discuss repayments, complete with reaction shots. And besides the information itself, there’s a point of view: At the end, the person with debt is Googling up a question very much on the mind of skeptical, younger students today: “Was going to college a bad idea?”
A more recent Jorgenson piece, published Aug. 27, takes another approach. The description line says, “Want to give your phone battery a long life? The Post talked to scientists who study lithium batteries. Here’s some tips.”
What follows is a frenetic take on a Jack Black “School of Rock” moment as the backdrop for information about making cellphone batteries last longer. After only one day, the piece had more than 97,000 views and an engagement rate of 14 percent.
After watching these you may wonder, is this news? Set aside the format for a moment, and think about how the material relates to the time-honored seven values we use for evaluating newsworthiness(6).
A better question: Is it worth the effort? WaPo’s TikToks don’t link back to the newspaper’s web site, and don’t generate revenue, so a fair question would be to ask what the goal is, and how does this contribute to their success. One answer: As newsrooms seek to replace readers who are aging out, and trying to underscore their usefulness and relevance, they have to turn to the strategy we’ve always used: Meet the readers where they are, not necessarily where you’d like them to be.
Your thoughts are welcome.
(1) TikTok is not the enemy of journalism. It’s just a new way of reaching people
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/jul/23/tiktok-journalism-news-outlet-journalism-media
(2) Overview and key findings of the 2022 Digital News Report
https://reutersinstitute.politics.ox.ac.uk/digital-news-report/2022/dnr-executive-summary
(3) Here’s a running list of publishers and journalists on TikTok | Nieman Journalism Lab
https://www.niemanlab.org/read
(4) Washington Post TikTok
https://www.tiktok.com/@washingtonpost
(5) Your guide to social media engagement rates
https://www.adobe.com/express/learn/blog/what-is-a-good-social-media-engagement-rate
(6) These 7 news values can help you make smarter content choices
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| Unsplash/Luis Cortes |
I'm a former Gannett reporter/editor (Indianapolis Star) who left to teach college journalism in 2008, a couple years after total newspaper revenue peaked at $49 billion. In the most recent (2020) data from Pew Research(1), that number was $9 billion, or a decline of more than 80 percent. A good guess is that the decline will continue at least until 2026 when rising digital revenue stops the bleeding.(2)
What does this mean for online reporters and editors? As word of Friday's layoffs spread(3,4), we should note that there are many jobs in news and other communications fields. Even newspapers are still hiring, as staffers from the Atlanta Journal-Constitution and other outlets pointed out(4). TV news operations are dying for producers and web editors, jobs where excellent writing skills command big respect.
Hot days, cold days - every day's a walking day when you're determined not to miss.
My friend Coogan looked at me
for a minute, a slice of pizza stopping just short of his chin.
“You did what?”
“I walked today,” I said, not
sure what he meant. Coogan noticed the pizza again, took an absentminded bite
and continued, speaking around a thin-crusted mouthful of pepperoni and cheese.
“I mean – what was the other
part? The days or something.”
“Oh, this was Day 3,123.”
“Of what?”
“That’s how many days I’ve
walked without a miss.”
Now he was remembering. My
friends usually know better. This happens when you talk to a fanatic. A golfer
can recount every swing on a cloudy 18-hole Saturday. Pilots grow rhapsodic about the view from above, the
beauty of a surging stratocumulus. I knew a basket collector who could hold the
floor for an hour if no one collapsed or jumped out a window. The truth is, I
know better than to bring up my personal obsession, but if they ask me…
“That’s right,” Coogan said,
remembering too late. “The streak.”
“Well, no big deal,” I said.
“It’s now – “ I had pulled out my phone where I keep the log that has grown, at
least one mile per day, since Sept. 6, 2012.
“As of today, it’s 8,378 miles
without a day off.” Not smug or overly self-satisfied - just sounded that way.
Coogan turned his attention to
the pizza box between us, hunting for one of the small rectangles in the
flickering light of the gas fire pit. We were on my deck on a Saturday night, stars
just coming out, nobody around but a dog barking for company, two yards over.
We were in school together a
long time ago and have teamed up for a few trips and football games over the
years. Now he was my guest, driving back from seeing Glenn in New Mexico,
headed home to D.C., and just stopping by for the night. He had pizza, the
fire, and a break from the road, so maybe he felt the need to play along.
“How’s that going?”
“Oh, the walking? Yeah, I’m at
(consulting the phone record again) 3.0335 average miles per day on the
streak.”
“Yeah?”
“That’s for the streak, of
course. For this year, I’m at 3.8235.”
Coogan yawned. Guess it had been
a long day.
“That’s good,” he said.
“Not all the time,” I said,
finding a square he had missed in the box. “I told you about the duck, right?”
“The time that duck was taking
off as you jogged by and it crashed into your leg?”
“Yeah, that was weird. A
mallard. He was fine, maybe a little wobbly when he took off again. I imagined
him telling the other ducks later: “It was a beast, I tell you, nine feet tall
at least, and running at me….”
“But you survived,” said Coogan,
staring into the fire.
I ignored that.
In my phone’s Notes app is a
record, updated with each day’s mileage, and average steps for each month. I
don’t know why I count the steps, too. People are funny, I guess. If Coogan wasn’t
so tired, he’d probably want to know about some of my top days, like December
26, 2018 – 18,773 steps, sir. But that’s only about seven miles for me, and I
know I had a few longer days – oh wait, here we are: 10 miles on April 18,
2020; nine miles on May 26 that year; a few eight-mile days in July, August,
and November of 2019.
I continued looking through the
log. People don’t always show it, but you can tell they’re secretly grateful to
hear about these exploits.
“Ah, here we go - the list of
cities where I’ve run or walked. We didn’t do business trips last year, but in
2019 I did Austin, Detroit, Richmond, and San Francisco. Year before that: DC,
Denver, New York, LA….”
It’s hard to be humble with that
record, but I don’t like to brag.
“Yeah, that’s great,” Coogan
said. He wasn’t planning to travel until things settled down but had talked
about getting back to Zambia.
When we got out of school Coogan
spent a tour in the Peace Corps, working on development projects in west
Africa. He came back home and hitchhiked all over the country for a few months before
picking up a Yale MBA, becoming a senior vice president with a large retail
company and then going back to Africa again for a U.S. agency. He’s visited
more than 80 countries and can tell you about the second-longest plane ride in
the world, 18 hours from Washington to Johannesburg. That’s almost as long as
the ride from Singapore to Newark, New Jersey. He’s soft-spoken, very
well-read, and now semi-retired. He hikes a lot and has done a good chunk of
the Appalachian Trail.
My handful of cities didn’t seem
to register, but he was polite.
“Where do you walk around here?”
Nothing as interesting as the
Appalachian Trail, though Fort Harrison State Park is about 10 minutes away and
has some pretty interesting trails, yes sir.
“Mostly here in the
neighborhood,” I said. Fact is, I just get my miles done wherever I can,
usually listening to a podcast or a book. To stay out of traffic I’ll do laps
around the local high school parking lot, seven-tenths of a mile per lap.
As walking adventures go, it’s
been a quiet career, marked more by what some friends unfairly call a
questionable obsession with record-keeping than with fully embracing the gifts
of nature, the kiss of a cool spring morning, all that stuff.
But I’ve got the log. Coldest day: Minus 7 on Jan. 8,
2015. Now that was a morning. And it was 1 degree on Dec. 27, 2017. Probably a
four-sweater walk.
Hottest day: June 26, 2017 in
Phoenix, where it was 93 degrees at 6:30 a.m. But it’s a dry heat.
Earliest? A 3 a.m. run before an
early flight to San Francisco.
It’s been a life of adventure, sure,
but Coogan was a little tired.
“I told you about the dog,
right?” This was a harrowing experience, enough to turn a person’s blood cold,
surely.
“The time you got bit by a dog
in the neighborhood, and he knocked you down?”
“Well, he didn’t knock me down,
exactly. He just startled me a little and I was backing up, and --.”
“And you fell.”
“Well yeah, he came out of
nowhere. Usually, he was kept in by an invisible fence, but this time he just
charged right out.”
“Charged you?”
“Yeah.”
“Bit you, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said. “They had to
come out and call him off.”
“Who was that?”
“Some kid whose dog it was.”
“A kid?”
“Yeah, a little guy. He comes
out and says, ‘Pepper, get over here!’”
Coogan was still staring at the
fire, but he shifted a little and looked for his glass on the table next to us.
“Let me see if I got this
right,” he said. “You’re out running, and you’re attacked by a dog.”
“Right.”
“And a little kid comes out, and
he saves you from – Pepper, was it?”
“Well…”
“The little kid saved you.”
“Yeah, but...”
“From ‘Pepper.’”
“Just came out of nowhere, it
was wild.”
“Yeah, good thing you weren’t
killed.”
“Yeah, well you weren’t there,
Bub. Pepper was a violent offender.”
Coogan hid it well, but underneath
I’m sure he was impressed. We’re both seasoned citizens of the world, I guess
you would say. He looked into the fire and yawned.
“Well,” he said. “You’ve had
some adventures, that’s for sure.”
- John Strauss, 2021
Nobody should have to say this, but if you get the chance to take the COVID vaccine, do it.
I have a sister who joined other retired healthcare workers to help fight the pandemic. They would pay her, but she's volunteering. A nephew is on the front lines as a physician at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta.
And then there's an old friend of mine, in his 70s, with children and grandchildren, an active person and avid softball player. People his age can now get the vaccine in Indiana, and I told him that it was good to know he could get the shot.
But no.
"I'm not into taking shots I don't need," he wrote me, adding one of his trademark baseball references:
"If God is ready to call me up to the Parent Club, I'm not going to work to stay down here in the Minor Leagues."
This is where we've arrived in 2021: Death by lying. The enemies of truth insisted that COVID was a hoax, that it would disappear, that precautions weren't necessary. They knitted this with other threads of fabrication about the media, elections, and truth itself.
And so across the country, as we fight to get the lifesaving vaccine into the arms of the most vulnerable, there will be holdouts. It's OK to be cautious, of course. But people who refuse to protect themselves risk not only their own health, but will strain an overburdened healthcare system if they get sick.
You're a patriot, I told my friend. Do it for your country, your community. Do it so you don't catch this virus and spread it to others.
Yes, the Good Lord will call you when it's time - but he gave us the smarts to create life-saving medicine. That's part of the plan. We need you, my friend. Please think about being there for us.
(Photo: Health.gov)


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| Photo: Byteback.org |