By FRANCISCO E. JIMENEZ
Staff Writer
reporter@sbnewspaper.com
Francisco E. Jimenez
I am not a man of constant sorrow, though some people may disagree.
It seems like not a day goes by in which somebody doesn’t ask me what’s wrong, or if I am alright. It is safe to say that I am constantly lost in a thick forest of my own thoughts, and with some of the stories I cover, unspeakable things which I cannot always speak of, I find myself unwillingly treading deeper into thought like a swimmer being swept away by a current.
It’s all part of the job, I guess. I hate imagining what it must be like to be a police officer and having to see such monstrosities first hand. I hate imagining what it’s like having to go through something terrible, and then having to read about it in a newspaper or seeing it on TV.
Eventually it all becomes part of a day’s work, but when the clock strikes 5, the images and details of what I’ve learned do not take the day off.
“What’s on your mind?” my dad asks every time there’s an awkward silence during our weekly beer sessions. “Is there something bothering you?”
“No, I’m fine, just thinking,” I say.
“Everything alright?” asks Managing Editor Michael Rodriguez on a regular basis.
“Yeah…”
Sometimes these thoughts get in the way of my personal life. And they shouldn’t, but I’m only human. I’ll try to wash over these stains in my head with humor and music (and sometimes a few drinks), but some stains are just a little deeper embedded in the thread.
I’ve heard of others who are unable to handle certain stories, or are affected to such an extent that they leave their job entirely. I can handle it, I think. But I’m not Superman.
While I am bothered by a small majority of the stories I am assigned, I am able to look past the negativity and remain optimistic in most elements of my life and those around me. If I seem bothered or indifferent, I’m just thinking.
I seem to recall a conversation between Wyatt Earp and Josephine Marcus in the greatest movie of all time, “Tombstone,” in which Josephine questions Wyatt’s happiness. I believe it went something like this:
“Oh, he’s laughing. I didn’t think you ever laughed,” says Josephine.
“Yeah, I… I laugh sometimes,” retorts Wyatt.
“Yes, but how often? Are you happy?” continues Josephine.
“Am I happy? Well, I don’t know. I’m happy as the next man, I guess. I don’t laugh all day long like an idiot, if that’s what you mean.”
“Touchy about it, aren’t you?”
I hear ya, Wyatt. I hear ya.
Read this story in the Feb. 17 edition of the San Benito News, or subscribe to our E-Edition by clicking here.
Recent Comments