Newsrooms in Kentucky discuss using artificial intelligence in local reporting

Marlowe's opinion on using AI to help with reporting 
has changed. (Photo by Lily Burris, WKMS)

News organizations in Western Kentucky are looking for ways to use artificial intelligence to improve reporting without sacrificing audience trust. 

Journalists at WKDZ, which is a part of Edge Media Group along with stations in Hopkinsville, Madisonville, Princeton and Elkton, are "figuring out how to integrate the newer technology into their workflow," reports Lily Burris of WKMS in Murray, Kentucky.

Edge Media Group’s CEO and owner, Beth Mann, told Burris, "AI is a technology that's changing. … We discuss AI every single day, and it is part of our conversation and training in all of our weekly meetings.”

Mann isn't alone in her search for the proverbial where, when, how and why of AI implementation in community reporting. Chris Evans, publisher and editor of the Crittenden Press in Crittenden County, regularly uses AI to get his job done. Burris reports, "A series of Associated Press webinars about AI usage in journalism made Evans feel more comfortable with the tool and helped him establish his 'guardrails.'"

Alex Mahadevan, director of the AI Innovation Lab at the Poynter Institute, "advises newsrooms on the ethics of implementing AI," Burris writes. "He said the big question in journalism is how much AI-generated content audiences should see and how to disclose when it’s used to maintain trust with them."

Over time, some reporters have changed their minds about using AI. "Edward Marlowe, a reporter at WKDZ since mid-2021, said two years ago he would’ve told someone it was out of the question if they’d asked him about AI. … Now [he] uses it for certain tasks," Burris adds. 

Evans thinks that as smaller news outlets get used to AI alongside their audiences, it may help local news services stay afloat. "Cost is a major factor in why Evans believes smaller newspapers could benefit from AI, especially those that can’t afford another employee," Burris adds. 

Private equity investments in public safety software leave rural fire departments with few affordable options

Fire department software may become too expensive 
for rural communities to buy. (Adobe Stock photo)

Rural fire departments have long relied on affordable software to track incidents and operations. But because of changes in software company ownership stemming from a flush of private equity investment "fire chiefs around the country are scrambling to manage shrinking options and soaring costs," reports Mike Baker of The New York Times.

Over the past decade, a handful of private equity firms have backed companies that are "aggressively investing in public safety systems, where tax dollars provide a steady source of revenue," Baker explains.

The fire-software services company, ESO, serves as an example. Investor dollars enabled ESO to buy up its competitors, shut them down, and push fire chiefs with few options to purchase ESO systems, which are priced significantly higher.

When the Norfolk Volunteer Fire Department in northern Connecticut learned ESO had acquired its former software system and was shutting it down, ESO offered Norfolk an alternative system that "would raise the community’s costs from $795 per year to more than $5,000," Baker reports. Norfolk Fire scrambled and found a cheaper competitor, but shortly thereafter, ESO bought that company, too.

Volunteer fire departments are common, comprising 85% of the roughly 30,000 fire departments across the U.S., and many already struggle to maintain staffing and equipment standards. Norfolk's fire department has turned to using "silent auctions and karaoke fund-raisers to help sustain operations," Baker reports.

ESO maintains that its cost increases support innovation. But ESO improvements may never reach most rural fire departments; in fact, climbing costs could push some back to using paper records.

The Rush at Rush Pond

Lunch on Rush Pond from left to right: Bruce Van Allen, Jeff Kann, Allen Starr and Michael Cosgrove.
(Photo by Tom Cosgrove)

By Tom Cosgrove
The Daily Yonder

Starr Lodge

Four of us sleep in borrowed beds at Starr Lodge; the fifth, our host — the one who left our Pennsylvania town decades ago for northern Maine — sleeps in his own with his wife.

Before the alarm rings, the truck is already loaded: two canoes strapped down, chairs wedged in, decoys packed, guns cased, a cooler full of food.

Up at 3:30 a.m., we move through the familiar motions.

No matter how many times we’ve done this, or how old we’ve become, there’s still a charge in the air. A quiet boyishness. A flicker of anticipation we pretend we’ve aged out of, but haven’t.

It’s the same energy we felt at twelve, finally old enough to hunt with our fathers — only now with the weight of time. We know these trips aren’t endless. We know how many parents we’ve buried. We know each other’s triumphs and losses. We know the years ahead are fewer than the ones behind.

Climbing into the truck, we recognize something sacred: we don’t assume we’ll all be here next year. 

Bruce Van Allen in the bow of a canoe paddling 
toward the take out. (Photo by Tom Cosgrove)

First Light

By 5:30 a.m., the five of us are at Rush Pond.

Two canoes — one with two of us, one with three.

Never perfectly balanced, but always enough.

We push off in the dark.

The sky is a deep, endless gray.

Headlamps off, eyes adjusting. 

Paddles dipping in and out: the only melody for miles.

We glide upstream, almost silently. The cold air stings just enough to remind you you’re alive.

We split into two spots, set the decoys, and settle into chairs.

And then, a miracle modern life almost never allows:

We sit still.

No notifications.

No meetings.

No cell phone calls.

Just breath, water, woods.

The rush at Rush Pond isn’t adrenaline.

It’s presence — the clarity that comes when nothing competes for your attention except your own heartbeat and the friends sitting ten yards away, doing exactly the same thing. 

This Year, Nothing Happens

No ducks committed.

No geese.

No shots fired.

The pond offered itself, nothing more.

But nothing is ever nothing.

This “uneventful” day will outlast most of the “important” ones because it held: 

hours of quiet company,

old stories retold and new ones added,

proof our bodies can still do this,

updates on family and friends,

honest conversations that stay on the pond,

silences that don’t feel empty,

the rare sense of being exactly where you’re meant to be.

Eight hours slipped by in a way modern hours never do.

Time didn’t race or drag.

It simply moved with us. 

The Photograph

Jeff Kann towing Michael Cosgrove and Allen 
Starr to the pull out. (Photo by Tom Cosgrove)

On the paddle back, Bruce and I reached shore first. 

Jeff, without a word, stepped into the water and began towing Michael and Allen’s canoe toward land.

I snapped the picture: one man, boot-deep in the river, rope in hand, pulling friends who’ve been part of his life for more than half a century.

It could have been any of us.

On a different day, it would’ve been.

That’s what decades do — they rotate the burden.

No drama.

No complaints.

Just selflessness.

The photograph captures what the hunt was never about — not ducks, not sport, not success — but friendship in its simplest form: someone stepping in to pull the load. 

The Real Rush

There’s always a moment on these trips when the truth hits:

We don’t get this forever.

We don’t get each other forever.

We don’t get mornings like this forever.

The rush at Rush Pond isn’t the hunt.

It’s the awareness:

We are here.

Today, all five of us are here.

No one is sick.

No one is grieving.

No one is missing.

No one is gone.

In a country where loneliness has become an epidemic — especially among men — showing up for each other isn’t nostalgia.

It’s survival.

It’s medicine.

It’s meaning.

Friendship isn’t the garnish.

It’s the meal. 

Rush Pond (Photo by Tom Cosgrove)

What We Bring Home

By late afternoon, we reach the take-out.

We load the boats.

Peel off waders.

Toss the gear into the truck.

Head to the house — still connected, still talking, just warmer.

No ducks.

No tailgate trophies. 

Nothing to freeze or brag about.

What we bring home is different: 

Five men still able to gather,

decades of shared history,

the memory of a quiet pond,

the comfort of presence,

the joy of not being alone in the world.

No guarantees for next year.

No guarantees for tomorrow.

Just this day, this year, this trip, this moment. Maybe that’s the real rush —

the rare awareness that today was enough, and you lived every second of it.

This article first appeared on The Daily Yonder and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Opinion: Bear camp illuminates wildlife and wild politics in this purple state

The American black bear is one of the largest and most
elusive animals in Pennsylvania. (Pennsylvania Game photo)

In Potter County, Pennsylvania, the resurgence of the state's black bear population and the legal means to hunt them helped build the region's reputation as a hunting mecca since the 1980s. The county became home to "bear camp," which serves to tell a deeper story about politics and life in this wildly purple state," writes Salena Zito in her opinion for The Washington Post.

"Bear camp is about much more than hunting, and for anyone trying to understand Pennsylvania politics, it’s essential," Zito explains. "It sits at the crossroads of rural and urban, illuminating Pennsylvanians’ sense of place and their traditions that transcend profession and party."

Bear camp is emblematic of how Pennsylvania folk see themselves — it isn't predictable, and "the core principles animating bear camp are not political," Zito writes. "Democrats, Republicans and independents can all gather at one camp — and not only get along but also work toward a common goal."

Bear camp participants come from a wide range of ages, professions and educational backgrounds. "When they arrive, they bond as a community to hunt the American black bear," Zito explains. "Keeping the camp thriving and attracting younger hunters is a testament to their unwillingness to let this tradition slide as so many others have in the digital age. For 40 years, this camp has not only survived, it has grown and prospered."

David Cunningham, one of Bear camp's founders, told Zito, "A lot of times, we don’t realize that our traditions — like the bonds that are formed here — shape us more than what is consuming the rest of the world in politics."

Collaboration, camaraderie and adaptation are hallmarks of Bear camp. When a bear is harvested, it is processed from "nose to tail," Zito writes. Little goes to waste, and family pantries are filled.

Pennsylvanians' resourcefulness and ability to shift to meet shared goals and uphold traditions are alive at bear camp. The state's swing-vote history speaks to a region and a people that aren't predictable — just like an election and just like a hunt.

Quick hits: Cold Case Card Deck to solve crimes; USPS podcast; Walmart's new milk plant; states snip SNAP snacks

Maine State Police hope their card deck 
will generate tips on unsolved cases. 
(Maine State Police photo via Midcoast Villager)

The Maine State Police are launching a Cold Case Deck of Cards initiative to generate leads for unsolved cases. "The deck features 52 of Maine State Police’s unsolved homicides and suspicious missing person cases and will be distributed to inmates in correctional facilities across the state," reports Jim Leonard of the Midcoast Villager. "This marks the first time the concept has been implemented in Maine. Similar initiatives in more than two dozen states have been credited with helping solve multiple homicide investigations."

Just because cranberries are tart doesn't mean they require a ton of sugar to become tasty. "Diabetics or anyone who wants to reduce the added sugars they’re consuming can try a few culinary tactics to lower their sugar intake while still enjoying this holiday treat," writes food scientist Rosemary Trout for The Conversation. "Don’t cook your cranberries much longer after they pop. You’ll still have a viscous cranberry liquid without the need for as much sugar. … For a richer flavor and a glossy quality, add butter. … Adding chopped walnuts, almonds, or hazelnuts can slow glucose absorption, so your blood glucose may not spike as quickly."

In a tribute to snail mail and history buffs, a new podcast, "People of Agency," offers listening excursions into "the stories of individuals who have shaped USPS over its 250-year history," reports Sean Michael Newhouse of Government Executive. The show is co-created and co-hosted by Aileen Day, a political communications consultant, and Maia Warner-Langenbahn, who co-hosts the "Well, I Laughed" podcast. In the show's first episode, the duo recount the story of Mary Katherine Goddard, who was "put in charge of Baltimore’s mail in 1775 and printed the first copy of the Declaration of Independence that listed all of its signatories."

In a bid to have more control over production and supply, Walmart recently opened its "second U.S.-owned milk processing facility in Valdosta, Ga., a $350-million plant supplying milk to more than 650 Southeast stores," reports Taylor Leach of Dairy Herd. While the company does purchase milk from local farmers, "some critics have warned Walmart buys milk from only a handful of large farms, putting smaller farms under further pressure. … The opening also follows Walmart’s recent investments in case-ready beef plants in Thomasville, Ga., and Olathe, Kansas."

Shaking your real Christmas tree before bringing it 
into your home can keep bugs from coming inside.

The holidays can be full of surprises, but discovering six-legged stowaways in your freshly cut Christmas tree shouldn't be one of them. "Bringing a real Christmas tree into your warm living room can accidentally wake up thousands of dormant bugs, turning your cozy holiday into a surprise visit from nature," reports Jenn Jordan of The Weather Channel. To prevent insect or spider visitors from entering your home, while your tree is still outside, give it more than one seriously hard shake. Many tree farms use mechanical shakers, which can also do the trick.

From the bubonic plague to cholera pandemics to deadly staph infections, bacterial illnesses often pose one of the biggest challenges to human survival. But with innovation, microorganisms can also help humans do remarkable things. "In the boulder-strewn desert east of Tucson, Arizona, miners are using sulfuric acid and bacteria to bring online the first new U.S. copper production in more than a decade," reports Ryan Dezember of The Wall Street Journal. Advances in technology are key to how this copper is mined. The enterprise uses "microbes to strip copper from ores that are otherwise uneconomical to mine." The Grand Canyon's state motto just happens to be Ditat Deus, which is Latin for "God Enriches." Last year, 70% of U.S. copper came from Arizona.

A total of 18 states have banned some non-nutritious foods from SNAP purchases. 
(Axios graph, from USDA data)

More states are restricting junk food purchases with Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program benefits to increase the federal funding they receive. "Six more states agreed to ban the use of SNAP benefits for junk food under new deals with the Trump administration," reports April Rubin of Axios. "The new waivers restrict the purchase of non-nutritious items like soda, energy drinks, certain juices, prepared desserts and candy." While which foods and drinks are restricted varies by state, all states with added nutritional restrictions will all receive more federal dollars to support their SNAP programs.