The room is dark. The house is lonely, except for a burning candle for a reading light. The front page lays open on the dining room table.

Shaking, a dazed woman clicks on her television in an upstairs room. She has only heard about deaths overseas, but cannot be sure if her son is one of the dead...

Live footage, interviews and photographs flash before her in short rushes in between speedy commercials. No names, no faces. She sits, waiting.

She hears a loud noise near the icy window. It is only the wind.

A smiling anchorwoman appears with the greeting, "Welcome back to our report on Panama. Over to you, Dave."

"Thank you, Deborah. Here are the names of the American soldiers dead..."

The dazed woman stared in disbelief. The brief mention of her son's name was ultimately terrifying...

As she screamed and sobbed for her son, she heard these warm words of comfort emanating from the soft glow of her color television:

"That's our news for tonight! Thank you for watching. Hope youAll join us next week on Channel 3 News...LIVE!"



To the Editors: This piece has not been written for shock value or morbid purposes. It is simply a dry, personal statement of distaste for the mediaAs treatment of sensitive issues. Although it has been inspired by the December 21st broadcast of "Prime Time Live," there should be no obvious coincidences. n