Opinion
The Quiet Pond
In a small pond tucked behind a stand of cattails, a group of frogs lived peacefully for many seasons.
Each morning, the frogs greeted the sun with their usual chorus. It wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs — a mix of croaks, chirps and the occasional off-key ribbit. The sound carried across the water, a reminder that the pond was alive and well.
One year, a pair of herons arrived.
They didn’t make much noise at first. They simply stood at the edge of the water, watching.
Some of the younger frogs noticed right away.
“We should speak up,” one said. “We should make noise so others know they’re here.”
But an older frog shook his head.
“Best to stay quiet,” he said. “We don’t want to draw attention.”
So the frogs lowered their voices. Their morning chorus grew softer.
The herons waded in a little deeper.
A few more frogs disappeared.
Again, the younger frogs grew uneasy.
“We should warn the others,” one said. “We should be loud.”
But the answer came back the same.
“Keep your head down. Stay quiet. It will pass.”
Days turned into weeks. The pond grew quieter still.
Where there had once been a chorus, there were now only scattered croaks.
One evening, a small frog climbed onto a rock in the center of the pond. He took a deep breath and let out the loudest croak he could muster.
It echoed.
Another frog joined him. Then another.
Soon, the sound spread across the pond — loud, sharp and impossible to ignore.
The herons, startled by the sudden noise and movement, lifted their wings and flew off in search of calmer waters.
The frogs kept croaking long after the birds were gone.
Not because they liked the noise.
But because they had learned something.
A quiet pond is an easy place to overlook.
A silent voice is an easy one to ignore.
The frogs in the pond learned that silence made them easy to overlook.
That lesson applies beyond the water’s edge.
In recent weeks, elected officials have used terms such as “misinformation,” “disinformation” and “biased.” After the farragutpress published “Concerns mount over greenways, property use and town planning,” the paper was directed to the Society of Professional Journalists Code of Ethics for a refresher.
To be clear, that story did not recount past votes or meeting actions. It reported what residents were saying — their concerns, their fears and their questions about what could happen to their property.
Those concerns did not appear in a vacuum.
They followed discussion of a proposed capital improvement program budget, comments about eminent domain from a sitting alderman and a February decision to use eminent domain on Union Road. The town’s plan lists the Turkey Creek Road multimodal project — formerly the greenway extension — with $500,000 in 2027 and $2.2 million in 2028. A lawsuit filed in July 2024 by property owners sought to stop expansion through front yards. Officials have said the project might be completed within the existing right of way, but the lawsuit has paused that path.
Fair questions remain: Has there been an effort to resolve the lawsuit outside the courtroom? What will future projects, including Evans Road — listed for design and engineering in 2029 — mean for property owners?
Elected officials have a platform backed by authority. They speak at every meeting. Citizens, by contrast, are often limited to a few minutes at the podium.
That is where a community newspaper matters.
For generations, local newspapers have provided a place for the public to be heard — not filtered, not dismissed, but documented. Reporting on citizens’ concerns is not misinformation. It is part of the record.
A quiet pond is easy to ignore.
A community that speaks — and is given a place to speak — is not.
