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Chapter 9:

Thick smells of ashes and gas are in the air... The back of Frankie's room of house she stays has been sheared by bombs. The front looks just as it always has, but the back is open with the walls torn away...

The way this is described in the story (more so then above to remind you were we are at this point in the book), makes me think of those who have gone through tornadoes lately. The fact that the lamp is just as it was, coats on hooks - Harriet's Coat, among others, the letter to Frankie on the table still wait for her. This really painted a real picture in my mind. I could really "be" there when I read this. She calls for her friend, Harriet, wouldn't we have done the same??
Murrow had said in the book - We do not create mood, we tell what there is to tell. Our job is not to persuade. Just provide the honest news. One person to another. And when there isn't any news, why, just say so. This news is not atmosphere. WOW hasn't news changed from the early 1940's?? I think it took all the "Not's" out of Murrow's statement and went full steam forward. The more drama the better, the more blood, demise, and loss is the way of news today. If they can't find news, they don't just say so, they CREATE IT! No wonder most people don't watch the news anymore... and they don't call it "news" but "Shows". I think it is just sick... and no I rarely watch the news, or their hype. They are too opinionated and have agendas in my opinion.

When was the last time you heard a reporter say, "There are many positive reports" (as Frankie did) and mean it?