Before his time

I tend to rag on the Portland mainstream media, but today I will not do so. I pause my snark and reflect for a moment on the news that an Oregonian reporter, Zane Sparling, has died. He was only 33 years old. He had a rare form of cancer. Readers didn't know.

Sparling, a Lake Oswego boy, had journalism in his blood. After college, he knocked around in a couple of other cities before getting back to Portland, first as one of the kids at the Merc, and starting in 2021, with the O. In the latter gig, he was thrown right into the riots that gripped the city, and he did an outstanding job with that story as well as with many others. It seems he could always be counted on to turn in excellent copy.

I didn't know Sparling beyond what he published, but reading his obituary, I felt a little tingle of recognition. Many wonderful people put their hearts and souls into telling stories so that others may hear and learn. The best reporters are smart, they are funny, they are thoughtful, and more often than not, they are kind. They go home to their own lives and problems, and try not to take everyone else's with them until they plunge back into their next shift. For the great ones, it isn't easy.

Sincere condolences to Sparling's loved ones, friends, and colleagues. To say he will be missed is – as my current colleagues, the tax lawyers, say – a gross valuation understatement.