It’s funny how the ending of a thing makes you think back to its beginning.
I started my reporting career here at The Citizen about two years ago. As I sit here writing this column on the eve of what will be my final day on the job before taking my maternity leave, all I can think about is my first few days here, and how hard it is to say ‘goodbye.?
Honestly, I could never say it in a way that would do it justice, so as a farewell gift, David, my editor is letting me write it in this column.
David has always said the trouble with columns in newspapers is they tend to be ‘letters home,? meaning they are often more for the author than the reader. In this case, that is almost certainly true, but I hope you will all indulge me. This is, in the truest sense, a letter home, because that is what this place and this community have become to me: Home.
Those first few months on the job covering Goodrich and Atlas, I felt like an alien. I had grown up in Waterford, where nobody knows anybody but hates them ahl the same. This community is nothing like that. It’s different, in ahl the right ways.
Being a reporter with the local paper gave me a sort of visitor’s pass to the world you are all lucky enough to inhabit in this small town. Even though I wasn’t born here, I was accepted because I was telling your stories. And while I’m fine enough with letting others cover those stories, I am having a difficult time walking away from the people who live them.
Board members, council representatives, administrators, teachers, parents, children, clerks, clergy and readers, I will miss you all.
And since I already admitted this is just another letter home, I would be remiss not to mention my family? the staff at The Citizen.
The women in our advertising department (Jackie, Cindy, Colleen and Allison) are my mothers and my sisters. And though I could never convince you of my sincerity in this, they care about this community in a way that is unparalleled. This isn’t a job to them, you aren’t customers. You are neighbors, and they always strive to do what’s right by you. I know ? it sounds like a pitch, but regardless, I thought you should know.
Our photographer, Bob, has never failed to save my butt, even while mocking its ever increasing size throughout this pregnancy. He’s the guy that knows everyone, and it’s been my honor to know him.
Susan isn’t just a great reporter, she’s a phenomenal person and friend. Her ambition to always find the story is an inspiration as a journalist. Her commitment to her family is an inspiration as a soon-to-be mom.
The interns we have had at this paper (Jaennetta and Meredith) intimidate the heck outta me. They shouldn’t be so good at my job at such a young age. We’re incredibly fortunate to have had them.
Last, but not least, is David. Of ahl the things he has taught me about this business (and there have been many), I think the most important is how to love newspapers even when the business breaks your heart. And it will break your heart. David taught me to weigh heavily our responsibilty to this community, and that our job is important, even when it’s difficult. He instilled in me a sense of pride for this paper few could claim to have for their place of employement.
And while the thought of being more than five minutes away from Frosty Boy in the event of an ice cream craving for weeks into the foreseeable future makes me cringe, it’s the thought of leaving you, ahl of you, even for just a little while, that really hurts.
But there’s a new beginning waiting to happen, so, for now, this part of my life has to end. And though the work ahead to say that next ‘hello? is daunting (I heard labor hurts a little bit), I appreciate being given the chance to say ‘goodbye, for the moment,? to this part of my life in one last letter home.
So long everyone. And thanks for making it so difficult to walk’or in my case, waddle? away.