An argument for the importance of local journalism
Ed.: April 9, 2026, is the inaugural Local News Day, led by a coalition of journalists, nonprofit leaders and media innovators.
A few days ago, I held a stranger in my arms in the parking lot of the Community Food Co-op under the afternoon sun, and we cried. If I didn’t already understand the importance of local journalism, at that moment, it sparked.
I spent the majority of my childhood growing up in the rural town of Cordova, Alaska. Only accessible by water or air, and with a year-round population of only 2,400, it was impossible not to form a tightly knit community. But when it didn’t come from the mouth of a friend or neighbor, it came from The Cordova Times.
I was a junior in high school when I realized that journalism was the path I wanted to pursue. It seemed like a logical conclusion: I love to write, I love to take photos and I love to talk to people. When my senior year began in 2022, I reached out to The Cordova Times to see if they had any internships available. Excited by my interest, they created one out of thin air for me to participate in. For the rest of the academic year, I worked to compile event information, create graphics and take photos of local happenings.
Perhaps even more exciting than photographing the town’s annual oyster “shuck and suck” that year was the publishing of my first independent story, which explored the history of Cordova’s Iceworm Festival. I realized then that I wanted a life in journalism: a life of meeting people, of hearing their stories and sharing them with the world.
As my final year at Western Washington University approaches, I think about my experiences in journalism thus far. Namely, I think about last week. I was speaking with shoppers about their budgeting choices outside the Community Food Co-Op in Bellingham. As I prepared to pack up and move on, a voice called out to me. I had already noticed him out of the corner of my eye — he was sitting next to an empty cup of coffee, petting the small dog that ran circles around his feet. He asked what I was doing, and I told him. I asked if he wanted to share his two cents, and he obliged, so I pulled the digital audio recorder out of my jacket pocket, plugged the microphone back in and asked him what he thought.
I sat next to him on the curb as the traffic passed by. He spoke of the unaffordability of grocery prices briefly with a solemn voice that betrayed the heavier topics weighing on his mind. And then, the tone shifted. He told me of his brother he had lost years and years ago. Of the time he spent incarcerated. Of his home, now long gone, and the countless evils he had endured, answering a question that I had never asked. And yet, he spoke of his spirit and his emotion, which remained unbroken. And as he sat there, teary-eyed and spilling the contents of his heart onto my lap, I realized that I was crying too. I put down my microphone, stood up and said: “This may be a weird question, but can I hug you?”
He nodded, we embraced and he whispered a “thank you” into my shirt sleeve as we held each other in the noise of passing traffic and rolling shopping carts.
You get to learn many things as a journalist. You learn how to take “No, I’m not interested in an interview,” or “Get that camera out of my face!” and turn it into “No worries! Have a nice day.” What I learned last week — or rather, what I confirmed — is that to be heard is a necessary component of the human experience. As a journalist, you have the unique role of being the world’s listening ear. And what seems at first to be a Sisyphean task becomes clear when you realize that the world starts in your community.
When Cordova’s ferry system lost millions of dollars in funding and left us stranded, The Cordova Times was asking questions. When the plane carrying our swim team to competition crashed, The Cordova Times was there to share our experience. And when a stranger needed someone, anyone, to hear him, I had the honor of being that ear.
Local journalism is more than a vehicle for information. It’s a platform on which the stories of your community stand, available to all and preserved for history. Within every community – every person – is that man that I met in the parking lot. To be a journalist is to have the power to inform, to share and to change. To have the time and ability to listen. No matter where you go, there is someone that needs to be heard.
— By Jae Ranney
Also read in Salish Current:
• “‘Lyra’ sheds light on power, dangers of journalism,” July 14, 2023
• “Local journalism is key for healthy communities: forum,” March 18, 2022
• “Forum set on vital need of local journalism for strong democracy,” Feb. 17, 2022
•“Reporter’s Notebook / Pursuing the story of the ‘Freedom to Worship Protest’,” Oct. 23, 2020