Furthermore, Philip, despite his giving nature, isn't very good at understanding where his guest is coming from, and what they might want. Instead, he just says what he would want to hear, and this contributes to the guest's frustrations. This symbol, too, can cross over into the philanthropic world. Too often, those who choose to give don't pay attention to who it is that they're giving to. This is frustrating for all parties involved, and winds up being ineffective for both parties.

So the moral of the play, and of philanthropy in general? We, as donors, have to listen to the parties to whom we are giving. Really listen, rather than just hear. And then, we have to give without any strings attached. Only then, I think, can the world begin to view philanthropy in a less skeptical manner, and give the act the credit which it deserves.

My reasons for attending were both personal (see later for explanation) and professional. My professional reasons for attending mostly had to do with the fact that even though much of the work that professional communicators in philanthropy do these days is far less dependent than it used to be on getting stories placed and issues editorialized in papers -- now that there are more opportunities to connect directly with audiences (web sites, blogging, videos, etc.) -- we still wince when we read about another paper being shuttered. And at the same time, while this is an issue whose outcome we're probably not likely to have much influence on ourselves, as professional communicators we do care (or should) about what that outcome is (since it will ultimately affect how we do our jobs).

Needless to say there was lots of good talk during the session about the threats to our democracy if we don't have a vibrant and independent press and the means, will and capacity to support investigative journalism, in particular. One of the best lines: "If hospitals were to suddenly start disappearing, we'd be deeply concerned about the future of our public health. But why don't we hear the same about the threat to the health of our democracy from vanishing newspapers." Overall, the panelists and audience did a very good of demonstrating their concern for the future of newspapers, reminding us of the need for public officials to be held to account for their decisions, and the importance of an informed citizenry.

But after having had a chance to reflect on the panel for a few days, what struck me most about the conversation is how hard it is for most of us to let go of the past. It seems to me that just framing the matter as Internet to Newspapers: Drop Dead -- catchy or not -- in itself is making the statement that the threats on the horizon are greater than the opportunities that are also available. Of course, it's impossible to predict what might eventually replace newspapers, if they do disappear (or not), and how that will affect our lives. In fact, what brought me to that realization was a challenge from Nicholas Lemann to one audience member. He said "go for a week without reading the newspaper and see what you miss." The problem with questions like that is that they presume that once newspapers are gone so are news gathering and reporting and the skilled professionals who do that work. That just doesn't seem possible.

Don't get me wrong, I love newspapers, and for a very special reason. I had the privilege to work as a reporter at a daily newspaper while going to college, it was like getting two educations at once. My newspaper days set the stage for the rest of my career, and I wouldn't be doing what I do today without that experience. To this day I'm so hooked on starting my morning with the paper that I get angry and ready to begin dialing and complaining to customer service when it's even a few minutes late. But that's because it's what I'm used to. It seems like we could make far more progress toward figuring out the future of news if we just accept the fact that things are changing and will continue to change, and there's no harm in investing in, supporting, and experimenting with new ways to report and deliver news, information and commentary. Who knows, we might still end up with some form of traditional newspapers and the range of electronic supplements that, more or less, are still in their infancy.

There's no shame, too, in admitting how much we all are benefiting from -- and maybe even enjoying -- the seemingly never ending explosion of information that comes to us in ways we couldn't have anticipated years ago (especially those of us who reacted in horror when our manual typewriters were replaced with electrics). Even foundations have found great many uses from the new communications technologies to share information, connect with audiences and further the impact of their work in ways that were unimaginable years ago. As we noted in a report by David Brotherton and Cynthia Scheiderer (Come on In. The Water's Fine) that the Communications Network published last year on how foundations are -- or should be -- taking advantage of the new technologies:

People are becoming less and less dependent on traditional media for their news and information. They are turning to other credible places and sources. There is no reason foundations cannot be part of that mix and use that development to their advantage. But to do so requires that foundations play by the new rules and model their offerings after those organizations and entities that are attracting growing and engaged audiences.

To be clear, I'm neither predicting nor suggesting an end to the news business as we know it. But as I read the various articles written about the future of the news business, follow the conversations on the blogs, and hear what's being discussed at panels, I am reminded that it's how you start the conversation that can have a great impact on all that follows.

So, from now on I pledge not to ask what we need to do to save newspapers. I'm going to ask instead how -- over time, and with as minimum disruption as possible -- can we preserve what's working about how news is covered and reported and how can we continue to modify, supplement, expand what we have so we end up with something even better than we have now.

Postscript: In a piece in the Sunday, May 24 New York Times, David Carr wrote about a makeover for Newsweek magazine, which he describes as coming "at a time when current events are produced and digested on a cycle that is measured with an egg timer, not a calendar." In his concluding line, Carr offers this prescient thought:

The big talents and ambitious journalists that remain at Newsweek should probably spend less time reimagining the magazine and more time imagining a future when the physical product does not exist.

The benefit of the doubt is there for some...

Landlords typically start nonpayment proceedings in housing court after a few months of missed rent, depending in part on a tenant’s previous payment history; the goal is usually not eviction. “It’s not about, ‘If you don’t have the money, get the hell out,’ ” Mr. Nahins said. “It’s about, ‘Look, we want to work it out.’ Nobody wants vacancies in high-end apartments.

...in a place where the poor might not get that leeway. Regardless of the flexibility being shown by the renters or the mortgage, it's a classic case of "until it happens to you": people who were never aware of the foreclosure battle are suddenly on the front lines. Here's a great chance to acknowledge the hard working folks, like Mark (yup, I'm a homer, but the statement is still valid!), who have been working to keep people in their homes and realize their part of the American Dream. They'll still be there after the economy re-tracks, and they will still be standing up for people being unfairly evicted... its just that it won't be in the news anymore.