The Report Of My Death Was An Exaggeration

I love the work of Samuel Clemmons. You know…Mark Twain…the author of “Tom Sawyer” and “Huckleberry Finn.” He actually wrote several million more words than contained in those two books, but that is about as far as most people ever get into his repertoire.

I often wish that I could have lived in the earlier, easier times Mr. Clemmons lived in during the 1800’s. I think that I would have fit in better back then. Of course the idea of any time in history being “earlier” and “easier” is a matter of perspective—hindsight being 20/20 and all that…

My title of this posting comes from Mr. Twain’s words that are very popular but are often slightly misquoted. Here is the actual wording:

“James Ross Clemens, a cousin of mine was seriously ill two or three weeks ago in London but is well now. The report of my illness grew out of his illness. The report of my death was an exaggeration.”

I’ve seen this quotation reproduced, mis-quoted, and otherwise mutilated many times before, but I believe that the above wording is accurate.

In addition to Clemmons being a well known writer, he was also a media critic in his day. He worked for newspapers, he knew news people, and, like me, he knew that many if not most “reporters” were idiots.

I’ve just spent another couple of hours watching the professional media “piranhas” attack West Virginia Governor Joe Manchin at his press conference following the statements of the Bennett K. Hatfield, CEO of International Coal group.

Twelve people are dead, but the reporters are circling the bloody water looking for who or what to blame for the mistaken news of survival reported earlier. All they have to do is look in the mirror to find the answer. I’m afraid that I fall into this same group since I jumped on this Blog at midnight and repeated the news that I had gotten—SECOND HAND.

This kind of thing would have probably never happened in Mark Twain’s day—a time before an instant, 24/7 news cycle.

Heck, it probably wouldn’t have happened in the 1970’s or 80’s.

Gosh do I ever long for the days before fax machines, Federal Express, and E-mail. Yes, sometimes it’s damn convientant to have instant gratification via electronics and technology, but often times it’s better to let things cool off a little, sleep on it overnight while you consider what you’re thinking and what you’re going to say as a result.

My heart goes out to the families of these twelve men that elected to make their living working underground. The media is going to spin in circles and flap their arms and raise general hell about the accident and the secondary story of the survivors that ended up being dead in the end.

Some poor woman stated in an interview that she intended to sue the mining company for the error? On what basis? She can certainly sue if the company is proven negligent, but can she sue simply because she spent an extra three hours believing that her husband was alive when he had actually succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning hours before?

They will probably assault the safety record of this mining company and portray the EVIL capitalists in the business of making money at the risk of life and limb of innocent Democrats that continue to elect Robert “Pretty Pretty” Byrd to the US Senate. Jay Rockefeller will probably have to convene a Congressional investigation as a result.

In the end, it will be much ado about nothing—except a tragic day in the mining business.

My Grandfather elected to go to work in the Red Parrot coal mine in Prenter, West Virginia in the 1920’s because it was the best paying job in his little part of the world. My relatives today choose to work underground in the mines or drive giant coal trucks down crappy, winding, twisting roads in Ohio and West Virginia because that job is better than no job and they think that the higher pay justifies the risks that they choose to take.

Where I come from, you make your choices, and you accept responsibility for the outcome.

We don’t need government and the media to insulate us from life’s realities.