My favorite teacher had a phrase that, as an aspiring photographer, always struck terror in my heart: “Photography: The first 10 years are just practice.” I’ve come to realize that this saying applies to much of life.
As the Press finishes its 10th year, I’ve found myself feeling introspective. What have I learned over the past 10 years, be it about newspapers, small-town life, or the meaning of life in general? Here are some of my observations.
News is cyclical. Don’t believe me? Pull out a paper from 8 years ago. Guess what, we’re still wondering what to do about Devens. We’re still looking to create affordable housing in town. And the Bromfield soccer and field hockey teams are once again in the playoffs as our runners earn cross-country accolades. We sometime joke, “Change the names and the dates, and just pick up last year’s news item.”
Small-town life can bring out the best in people. When I think back to the great ice storm in 2008, I am flooded with memories of people pulling together. Neighbors checked on neighbors. Those with generators or even electricity opened their homes to neighbors less fortunate. Chef Paul settled in at the Bromfield temporary shelter to provide meals for frozen, bleary-eyed townsfolk.
They say crises sell newspapers, but they also give owners and editors gray hair! My coworkers and I have spent many sleepless nights struggling to cover difficult stories appropriately. What’s “right” is not always clear, and it’s always arguable what that is. My guiding principle in this regard always has been, “Does providing information in some way protect the public?” I’ve had to explain to many people that the police log is not selective. If it happens, we run it, regardless of whether it’s our best friend or our own children. I’ve fielded comments while working in the community and calls at home, after hours, when I’d rather be relaxing with my family.
We’re only here for a short time. One of the odder aspects of my job is preparing obituaries of friends and family. I consider it an honor and very much take to heart the last act of love that I do for those I care about and those whom others care about.
And that time flies! I’ve taken photos of toddlers who are now college students. If you think it’s strange watching your own children grow up, try multiplying that by an entire town! I’ve had the fun of feeling like a celebrity when I show up at the elementary school. I was even asked by a varsity athlete at a sports game recently how I was doing … during a game!
There’s a lot of love in this spunky little town. I’ve been fortunate enough to capture that, day in and day out. I’ve been dragged out many times to cover the news in bad weather when I’d rather be by my wood stove. I’ve stood on chairs and ladders, and I even fell off a stage once. I’ve forgone a market salary, worked late into the night after town meetings, risen early to capture events, and am constantly bombarded by photography requests. But at the end of a decade, I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s been an honor. Thank you for letting me into your private and public moments.
Lisa Aciukewicz is a co-owner of The Harvard Press, where she does photography and layout.
