Over the last couple of decades, local newspapers have become a sort of comforting white noise in our lives. We don’t want them to disappear, but we also aren’t excited over the arrival of each new edition.
I intend to change that, as impossible as that may seem in an age where attention spans are short and screen time is long. About twelve years ago, I began working with the Plainsman, selling advertising with a staff of veteran salesmen and journalists. With the guidance of Mark and Kim Davis, I gradually learned circulation, printing, and publishing, while Curt Nettinga taught me the basics of what a newspaper should look like.
Still, the newspaper continued to feel a bit like white noise – until the day that noise suddenly stopped.
As I began to tell staff that we had to lock the doors and shut down the press, I finally started to see what a newspaper is for its community, and, more importantly, what it could be.
We’re taking this opportunity to make the paper more than white noise and to shape it into the community’s paper. After 140 years of publishing, Ben and I know we’re only borrowing the pages from the publishers and editors before us before we hand them off to the next generation. We want to ensure that those pages reflect our community as it is today, with its diversity and its youth.
On that note, I’m going to stop writing this column and ask that you help us fill the empty pages by submitting your engagement and wedding announcements, your suggestions, and your comments. As always, if you’re reading this, I thank you for supporting us and local journalism.

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