Mr. Jones

I just got done reading Justin's latest update on JY on the Road. And I'm sad. Times are changing. In so many ways. As I was watching the video link on his blog on the death of the Rocky Mountain News it felt so personal to me, for him. I was never a paper reader, I've never been a news junkie. But I have listened to Justin for the past ten years tell me about how some of his fondest moments in life were associated with journalism.

When we first got married and were settling into it's newness, I was giving him a hard time about how antisocial he was at the breakfast table. He looked up and said "I read the paper when I eat breakfast. It's been part of my morning ritual as long as I remember. I get my toast and read my paper. So get used to it."It ruffled my feathers at the time, but truth be told, it's so Justin. I know him better now than I did then and I love that about him. He's a news man. He loves the stories.

It's been part of him well before I knew him. He said one of the most influential people in his life was his Journalism teacher in high school. Justin was goofing off in class one day and Mr. Mitchell pulled him out in the hall and shoved him up against the wall and told him in so many words, quit messing around, because you're good. Really good. So apply yourself and do something with it. So he did. He was the sports editor for his high school paper and again in college worked on the newspaper staff. He even won an award from the Georgia College Press Association for the best column written by any college student in the entire state. An entire wall in our basement, which I affectionately call 'The Man Pit' is lined with his media passes and press credentials. We have bins, that he refuses to let go of, filled with old papers and magazines. Some with stories by others. Some by him. He told me he was strolling through the airport one day and picked up a USA Today and flipped it open and there was his work. I remember him telling me how satisfying it was to see that, that all his hard work was paying off. Our bathroom is never at a shortage of books with stories in them from what Justin considers the greats. I'd be lying if I told you I myself haven't read my fair share of Rick Reilly. One Christmas tradition in our house is that every year Justin would receive the newest edition of the Best American Sportswriting series. It is not unusual for him to be standing in the shower and run headline ideas by me. He doesn't leave for a game without his recorder and like the people in the Rocky Mountain News video a pen and a paper are never far away. I find his papers with hastily written chicken scratch throughout my house. He's earned the nickname "The Mayor of Basketball" from me, because the man knows everyone. You can't go to any kind of sporting event without people coming up to him and shaking his hand and saying "Justin Young, how's it going man!". He goes into some pretty rough areas to cover games and it used to worry me. But now I just laugh because I know that Justin is one of the 'guys' in many of these rough spots. If anyone messes with him, they mess with a whole crowd. He has earned a respect in the industry that crosses all lines.

My point is...it's in his blood. He's a writer. So it makes me sad as we watch this death of an industry. It makes me sad that not only Justin, but so many journalists elsewhere find themselves at a crossroads of knowing what their passion is but struggling to find an available market to tell their stories. I can only hope that no matter where they go or what they do professionally, that the love of the story will never leave them.