There’s an old saying about a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
That makes me think back to that cartoon series Ralph Wolf and Sam Sheepdog.
For old people like me, you remember the show. In every episode, both of them would hit the time clock and get to “work,” the wolf trying to get the sheep while Sam always managed to keep him at bay.
“Morning, Ralph.”
“Morning, Sam.”
I still laugh thinking about that series and how the same premise, over and over, worked perfectly.
But as in most cartoons from that era, there was a hidden, more subtle and adult message that lay within. The message might be different for different people, but the entire premise had to do with a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Now our resident wolf would dress in much more than sheep’s clothing, but the goal was always the same: Kill and eat the sheep. He always starved.
Yet he never gave up, which is how many wolves in the clothing of sheep seem to operate .
Over the years, I’ve certainly known my share of wolves. Some are subtle like being in sheep’s clothes while others are just flat-out blatant in their quest to stir the pot even if there’s just some boiling water.
I have always tried to figure these folks out but have not come up with many good answers.
Certainly, I have been accused of this, as well, but I just don’t see it that way. If I have a question, I ask it. I don’t beat around the bush or try to do some illegal recordings to get answers.
Just ask.
I have certainly been called many things in my life, some of which are not fit to print in a family newspaper. What I’ve found, though, is, in general, those who call me things are in reality trying to hide behind something they did.
It’s easy, especially in this day and age, to lash out at people and accuse them of everything under the sun. It’s much harder to actually do the digging and research to prove a point.
Yet that still does happen, believe it or not. There are those who try to invoke honesty and integrity into their actions in order to shed light on an issue that needs to be highlighted.
And then there are others.
With the onslaught of social media and “citizen reporters,” this has been taken to new heights. These days, people spew out whatever they want, knowing full well they are protected by the First Amendment.
They don’t really care if they hurt feelings and they don’t seem to really care about the communities in which they live.
That last point has been central in how I approach stories, large and small.
I grew up in a community of 200 people. You talk about how everyone knew everyone else’s business. I think it was a great training ground for the rest of my career.
Even way back then, I learned to pick my battles because if you said something stupid, everyone would know before you could turn around.
That’s how I have operated over the years. I know my surroundings and what those mean in the overall scheme of things. I also know how important it is to make sure you highlight the good with what is sometimes the ugly.
There is a balance when it comes to operating in this manner. I don’t take some great pleasure in exposing some wrongdoings in a small community. I also don’t back down when I know it has to be done.
But, again, there has to be that balance. The balance is motivated by knowing that in any case, making sure your community comes first is paramount. Life in a small town is much different than life in a big city.
In a big city, it’s easy to slam people and make them look like idiots because the chances you are going to be sitting next to them at the local watering hole are almost nil.
In a small town, people of all stripes are at the watering hole and the chances of an encounter are much higher, if not assured.
I think that is one of the reasons I decided long ago I wanted to be in small towns. It might be because of where I grew up but I think it’s mainly because I know I can make a difference and that can be beneficial to the entire community.
In the big scheme of things, no matter your background, if you live in a small town it’s an entirely different way of life. When officials from the Smithsonian Institution were here a couple of times earlier this year, that was a main topic of discussion.
Rural living has its own set of benefits — and hazards.
On the one hand, people can get together and make a difference in many ways, from raising money to leading an effort for local improvements.
On the other hand, people can get right up into your business, which is commonplace in small towns.
When you are in a position such as mine, it gets magnified a hundred times over. Owning a newspaper and writing stories about a region makes you, like it or not, a celebrity. And a target.
That’s where that balance comes into play. It’s where decision-making becomes the most important tool in the toolbox. Make the wrong one and you’ll know it quickly.
In Mariposa County, I think this is magnified even more. If we make a wrong decision, believe me, we hear about it without hesitation. If we make the right decision, sometimes we hear about it but sometimes not.
That part of human nature has never changed. People will tell you when they are not pleased but many times don’t bother when they are happy with something.
Such is life.
So what I am driving at here, you ask?
Not really sure. Sometimes, I just sit at the keyboard and begin pounding away. That’s the case this week and even if I do have a central motivation, this column is called “Between the Lines” for a reason.
I think sometimes my frustrations might boil in my head which then allows them to flow to my keyboard and onto the printed newspaper. Well, maybe all the time.
One of the reasons I wrote this column came when I looked at our front page last week. I believe it is one of the most balanced in a long time. It was rewarding to attend so many positive events and then be able to relay that to the masses.
Sure, it’s a lot of work going to event after event and having to take notes and photos and all of that stuff. But the rewards show themselves when I hit that “send button” each week.
Maybe Ralph Wolf and Sam Sheepdog felt the same way each week. They would scrap and fight and argue and then, at the end of the day, hit that time clock, tell each other to have a good night and then go at it the next day.
Then the sun would rise and they’d be right back at that time clock.
“Good morning, Ralph.”
“Good morning, Sam.”
“Good morning, Mariposa County.”
Greg Little is editor of the Mariposa Gazette and can be reached at greg@mariposagazette.com.
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