Looking ahead to the new year, we at the Star Herald are busy compiling our list of Top Ten Stories of 2002 (see next week’s edition).
Unfortunately, the events that tend to have the most impact on us — that really shake us up, anyway — are the bad news stories.
In Rock County and many other rural communities like ours, the growing meth problem lands pretty high on the list of "news with most impact."
I say that because meth addiction and its consequences seem to undermine all that is right and good in small towns like Luverne.
I’m not so naïve as to think drugs weren’t here when I was in high school, but meth is different.
All the professionals from law enforcement to doctors and treatment counselors agree it’s among the most damaging and addicting drugs they’ve seen.
To me, the saddest truth about meth is its availability and affordability to kids.
It’s sad because kids are more vulnerable to addiction and to the physical brain damage meth causes. It’s also sad because the most promising teens can ruin their lives over mere curiosity and seemingly harmless experimentation. That’s all it takes to get hooked.
It tops my list of bad news stories in Rock County because of its far-reaching effects on everyone besides the addicts, not to mention community resources.
It would appear, for all practical purposes, that the small-town appeal of this small town is quickly disappearing.
We have all the depressing elements of any inner-city neighborhood: drug abuse, burglaries to support the addiction, violence in the home — often as a defensive result of the addiction despair, and ultimately, a drain on community law enforcement and social services.
Amid sad stories like these, it’s important to look for and recognize hope.
One little story that won’t make our Top 10 list of news in 2002 may very well serve to restore our faith in Luverne and Rock County.
On the front page of today’s paper is a story of goodness, generosity and love that shines like beacon.
It’s a story about how a community rallied to make a Christmas wish come true for a talented young pianist who wanted piano lessons, and ended up with a piano as well.
I wasn’t involved in the process, but tears welled in my eyes, too, when Cassandra sat down plunked out a simple tune of "Silent Night."
It was a touching and gratifying sight — particularly for everyone who worked to make it happen.
Sleep in heavenly peace, Cassandra. You and yours really do live in a blessed community, despite its flaws.
Have a bright and hopeful 2003, and remember to notice little beacons, especially when things start getting dark.