InDenverTimes.com SIGN UP!

While it’s no secret that the Rocky Mountain News is no longer in service (missed its 150 year anniversary by a scant few weeks) I am proud to say that a few folks in Denver are determined to see the paper live on and evolve into a paid online subscription. If 50,000 people pledge to pay a pitance for online access to news and commentary by some of the most famed Rocky reporters (at least 30 former employees have agreed to write for the online paper) the voices of Colorado that have rung throughout the state can live on. SO for 16 cents a day readers can bring back its beloved paper. 16 cents people?!?!?!?! I find 16 cents a day walking down the street or checking the couch coushins! If 50,000 people can pledge their pennies then the online paper dubbed InDenverTimes.com can deliver the news that has been so missed since the Rocky‘s closing on February 27, 2009. PLEASE visit http://www.InDenverTimes.com and pledge to subscribe. We have until April 23 to reach the goal of 50,000 subscribers. Together we as a community can determine whether big corporations like Scripps hold the fate of our beloved paper or we can band together and decide to make a difference and take responsibility for the revival of the hub of our Colorado news. And trust me, the world is watching us. If we can prove this model works, who knows who will follow suit.

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HELLO James!

Ok, those who know me understand that I’m not a very religious person; however, I KNOW that there is something after this life on earth. The Universe has its way of showing us that those we care about even after they’ve past are looking out.

I was hastily getting ready for work this morning and as an afterthought decided to pack a gym bag at the oh-so-slim chance I’d head to the DAC in the evening. I haven’t been to the gym in an embarrassing  four months and did not have a gym bag in sight so I went for the first large tote within reach (stuffed behind a wall of purses and scarves). I quickly grabbed my gear and was about to shove it in the bag and run out the door when I noticed  a copy of the Rocky Mountain News, nestled inside the bag.

I got a chill and lifted the paper out of its resting place. The dateline read July 12, 2008. Another chill. I carefully opened the paper and turned each page, hesitantly not quite believing what I was holding. Then on page 6 there it was “QUITE BY ACCIDENT” a story of two women brought together by an organ donor written by James B. Meadow, the last story I ever pitched.

James, I don’t know why you decided to show me that everything is OK when you have so many loved ones in need of comfort, but I thank you for letting me know you’re doing your thing wherever you are with your shiny earring and mischevious grin.

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Goodbye James

The world lost a talent today that it will never get back. James B. Meadow was taken unfairly and cruelly from his family and loved ones. What a sick joke that has been played in Denver and to the Rocky Mountain News family. On Friday, February 27, 2009 the Rocky Mountain News published its last newspaper. A family of reporters, editors and a community that loved its paper was ripped apart. One week later, on Friday, March 6, 2009 a Zorro with a pen and his word, James B. Meadow, former reporter of the Rocky, collapsed during a bike ride near Chatfield Reservoir. Resesitated and airlifted to Swedish, James’ fate was unknown.

Today I received word that I could visit James. He was unconscious, but stable. Nonfamily members were permitted to stop and send their thoughts and prayers to James and his family. I had adored this man to the nth degree. I cut my teeth in PR pitching him story after story and fondly recall him referring to himself as my “worst nightmare” when I answered the phone. When I was fortunate enough have him pen the stories I so wanted published, he turned words into poetry, into art  and with such care readers often blogged that he deserved to win the Pulizter.

As I entered the hospital and followed the painted tiles that lead me to the Critical Care Unit I was started to see the mass of Rocky faces stunned and pale inside the waiting area. James had taken a turn for the worse. The worst. No brain function. No activity. Brain dead.

Brain dead? This was a mistake. James wrote stories about tradegy and loss, he was never the subject! There must be a mistake.

No mistake. I sat in silence for a few hours as the news sank in. I was introduced to friends and loved ones, all speaking in hush tones and embracing one another in a sad and unjust reunion. I stared into my Nalgene, knowing I didn’t have the memories that most everyone else had, that I didn’t truly have the right to be amongst these grieving souls, I’d only known James for a scant three years, and the majority of our relationship had taken place over the phone, with me begging for a story and sharing friendly banter inbetween pitches -but I couldn’t get myself to leave.

I needed to say goodbye.

I had never been to a Critical Care Unit before. I had never entered those doors before. Walls had never felt so sterile, floors had never shone with such a harsh glare it nearly blinded my senses. Then suddenly, panic. This was real. This wasn’t a story James had crafted on his computer, this was the end of his story.

Sobs overwhelmed my body as I rounded the corner of the stark hallway and saw a sea of blurred faces wide-eyed, lost and without words to ease the pain that weighed like anvil on each of their hearts. James was in that room. Tubes, ventilators, morphine drips and IVs circled James. His swollen hands rest at his sides. It didn’t look like James. He didn’t look real, but then again I’m sure his soul had taken flight long before I came to his bedside. I didn’t know what to say to his wife. This woman who’s grief I could never comprehend sitting beside her husband.

“James was an unoffical mentor to me,” was all I could say. “He’d want you to keep writing,” she said ever so delicately I thought her words would break once past her trembling mouth.

I touched his shoulder and said goodbye. I couldn’t stand to be there another minute. I was furious. I was hysterical. I was scared. I was confused. I thought I was going to see James and talk to him and send my wishes that his recovery would be speedy. I did NOT come there to say goodbye! I was NOT ready to say goodbye. And I tell you what, there wasn’t a single person ready either!

I don’t know what to take from what happened tonight. It doesn’t feel real. James was one of the good guys. I miss him.

One of my favorite stories from the poet. http://www.rockymountainnews.com/news/2008/jul/11/quite-by-accident/

Another one. No words.  http://www.rockymountainnews.com/news/2008/apr/07/parents-savor-gift-of-a-life-reborn/

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