I’m taking a media ethics class taught by Conrad Fink this semester. Fink is a stalwart teacher at Grady College and a fervent supporter of his students. I’m not trying to kiss ass right now, but I just Googled Conrad Fink’s name to see what I could show my father, who is very taken with my anecdotes from Fink’s class.
The second hit on the first search linked me to a column Fink wrote for the Banner-Herald in 2007 – it’s a great piece about fallen soldiers and the small families and towns from which they come. Fink, a former Marine, recalls a boyhood pal who died in the Korean War. It’s a somber column, but there is the color and twist that we Fink students know and love – in this case, the twist is quite emotional. I suggest you read it.
An excerpt:
From long habit as a journalist, I rise early to read the newspapers. When I get to those lists of the dead, I read carefully their names and the names of those backwater towns most are from.
If nobody is around to watch, I stand up, straight like they taught me so many years ago, and I snap off a salute.
And there I am, an old man in his bathrobe, standing barefoot in the kitchen, trying to say something. But I don’t know what.
