Open season on journalists

Teri Carter's Library

636655583869678439-Trump-01763 Photo credit: The Greenville News, June 25, 2018

The first time it happened, I was trying to pay my bill at the veterinarian’s office. I had just put my cancer-ridden 14 year-old yellow lab to sleep, and the new clerk was struggling with the computer, apologizing, asking me again and again to repeat my full name. Soon enough the gentleman in line behind me started-in. “Jesus,” he said at first, making the poor clerk more nervous than she already was, then he turned to me. “I know a Teri Carter,” he said with disgust. “I know you. Woman from the paper.” He paused and leaned in. “Because I read, you know. I reeead the paper.”

I turned and smiled and, not knowing what to say, I clumsily thanked him. But he kept on.

This is what it’s like to write about politics in the Age of Trump. Public confrontations. Threatening…

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