Then there would be many long minutes of commercials, mostly for products to keep one's bowels sleek, followed by filmed reports on regional murders, house fires, light airplane crashes, multiple car pile-ups on the Boulder Highway and other bits of local carnage, always with film of mangled vehicles, charred houses, bodies under blankets, and a group of children standing on the fringes, waving happily at the cameras and saying hi to their moms. It may only have been my imagination, but I would almost swear that it was the same children in every report. Perhaps American violence had bred a new kind of person – the serial witness
Bill Bryson paints a vivid picture of media in America, highlighting a jarring contrast between everyday life and the chaotic events covered in local news. He describes how television segments are often interrupted by lengthy commercials, many hawking products aimed at digestive health, which seem trivial amid the unfolding tragedies. These reports feature grim scenes of violence and accidents, frequently showing mangled vehicles and the aftermath of disasters, capturing the darker side of community life.
In a particularly striking observation, Bryson notes the reoccurring presence of children in these reports, appearing unphased as they wave at cameras amid chaos. This repetition leads him to ponder whether a societal change has emerged, creating a new type of observer: the "serial witness," who grows accustomed to seeing violence and tragedy as a norm in their lives. Through this lens, Bryson critiques not only media sensationalism but also the impact it has on community perception and childhood innocence.
