Editor's Letter
I work in a big city, where the screams of a passing siren barely dent one’s consciousness and only the most sensational crimes make the local papers. Then there is The Gazette, the weekly newspaper that covers the small community in which I live. The village is only 30 miles north of Manhattan, but viewed through the prism of The Gazette, it might as well be on another planet—and in another century. It’s not just that the typography has barely been updated for the 20th century, let alone the 21st; its view of what really matters hasn’t changed either. If a week goes by when one of my kids isn’t mentioned because of a school play or a soccer game, I almost start to worry. And without The Gazette, I never would have learned that a “Wood Road resident reported that someone overnight stole his garbage can (and the garbage inside).”
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