By Vivian M. Rothschild
Periodically, I have to spend a few moments trashing electronic photo files from my computer that have been permanently stored in our CD-ROM collection.
Last week, however, the task became wrenching, when I realized that I was trashing more than 100 pictures of suicide bombings and funerals from the last few months in Israel.
I slowed down a bit — well, a lot — taking the time to look at each and every one of the mangled vehicles, buildings and bodies, or the former smiling faces of people whose lives had been obliterated. I knew what it would do to me yet felt compelled to reflect on every life lost, every life transformed by disability or pain and every family rent by grief.
When I was finished, it occurred to me how easy it was to answer readers who have asked throughout the year whether the violence in the Middle East has made my life as a Jewish newspaper editor difficult. My life difficult? Hardly.
I haven’t sent a family member off to work or school, not knowing if he or she will return. I haven’t gone out to buy milk without first figuring out whether it’s a safe time to go, whether I should go to my usual supermarket or just to the small family store down the block. I don’t spend sleepless nights worrying about family members serving in active or reserve military duty or pleading with my teenagers to give up the things they love and stay home, where they have a somewhat better chance of being safe from terrorists.
In the U.S., of course, we face our own challenges. Thousands of families mourning loved ones or struggling with the loss of their jobs or sense of well-being will never live the lives they did before last Sept. 11. Yet without minimizing the brutality and scope of that day’s terror, most Americans thankfully do not yet fear for their lives on the relentless, daily basis that Israelis throughout their country do.
As Jewish Americans, we yearn for a secure yet elusive peace for Israel. We are concerned that the role of some of Israel’s neighbors in terror seems clearer to us than to the rest of the world, and about the resurgence of anti-Semitism that we never thought we would see again in Europe. Lastly, we must remain energetic about conveying accurate information to the Jewish and general communities regarding the challenges Israel faces, and to correct distortions in media reporting about them.
This past year at The Chronicle, we have tried to do just that, in addition to focusing our energies on strengthening our paper both fiscally and editorially.
With the aid of an independent expert in Jewish publishing, we have completed an in-depth business review and reorganization that has already brought promising results. And, despite a challenging economic climate, we have been buoyed by the continuing support of our advertisers, who recognize the return on their advertising dollar that loyal customers and readers bring them. We could not publish this paper without them.
Although the costs of paper, production and postage have risen, we are pleased that we have been able to maintain our subscription fee at $36. At $3 a month, we believe the Chronicle provides an unsurpassable value for keeping up with news of our Jewish neighbors and friends.
We have also begun successful subscription campaigns to welcome new readers into our Chronicle family and to welcome back those whose subscriptions may have lapsed.
We’ve said good-bye to longtime employee Jill Polacheck, whose work as a part-time advertising account representative was greatly appreciated. We also wish Zak Mazur best wishes as he begins his new job as Hillel Foundation-Milwaukee’s Jewish Student Life Coordinator. And we welcome to the editorial staff as of this week Elana Kahn-Oren, who returned last year to Milwaukee from Israel, where she worked as a copy editor.
Chronicle staff faced this year’s challenges with their usual dedication, supported by our advisory committee and federation staff who continue to help us with our financial initiative. In the spirit of Rosh HaShanah, I thank them all, and ask each of my staff members and colleagues to forgive me for any transgression that I knowingly or unknowingly committed against them — and wish them and the community a Shana Tova Tikatevu.
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