Dear Brian,
When I opened the paper this morning and read the account of your terrible accident, I was shocked. Only the past week, we had made plans to meet after Thanksgiving about articles for your new magazine. As my former editor at Citypaper, you did what you could to help me learn the craft of newspaper writing. You took a shy intern, and with what little time we spent together, inspired at least enough interest that I stayed in touch with you and the industry. I admired your wit, your intelligence, the collection of posters in your office, and most of all your total lack of caring.
As a Philadelphia journalist you knew better than to care about anything other than the people of Philadelphia. Powerful union officials, major politicians, wealthy socialites - no one fazed you when you were doing your job. Haters, fan - who cared? You gave them all hell. And created a legacy as someone who truly cared about the little people.
And that's why Brian, as you lie right now in a medically induced coma, I pray that the strength you showed so many times in the face of overwhelming odds comes though. Because we still need you here. Your young wife, your bride who you bragged about so many times, whose pictures you showed me, she needs you. A city still struggling to define its new identity. New mayor. New championship. Old struggles. Guns. Budget cuts. We need you to get through all of that.
And, in my own most selfish of hearts, I need you too. Because I'm not done learning from you.
All my prayers,
PG
