About a week before my 24th birthday, I got a phone call from Dave Bonner, offering me a position at my hometown newspaper. I had just returned from a seven-month stint abroad, and I wasn’t …
This item is available in full to subscribers.
The Powell Tribune has expanded its online content. To continue reading, you will need to either log in to your subscriber account, or purchase a subscription.
If you are a current print subscriber, you can set up a free web account by clicking here.
If you already have a web account, but need to reset it, you can do so by clicking here.
If you would like to purchase a subscription click here.
Please log in to continue |
|
About a week before my 24th birthday, I got a phone call from Dave Bonner, offering me a position at my hometown newspaper. I had just returned from a seven-month stint abroad, and I wasn’t quite sure what direction my life would take.
I took the job. That was more than a dozen years ago, when I was fresh out of college and fancied being able to fit everything I owned into a Saab, ready for the next adventure.
But my adventure didn’t involve a cross-country trip to a new city. Instead, I saw a familiar place in new ways.
I rented a cute apartment above my favorite coffee shop, then later moved around the corner to live above the movie theater. I covered the Powell City Council and got to know local leaders. I made tough decisions as an editor that kept me up at night.
Eventually, I started writing about Park County School District 1 and walked the hallways of my old high school shortly before it was torn down. I attended more than 100 school board meetings, and I came to truly appreciate our local schools, students, leaders and staff.
For several years, I handled obituaries and met people while their worlds were falling apart. I helped grieving families write the final words of their loved one’s story.
While I have shared moments of sorrow with Powellites, I’ve also been blessed to share in their joys. That included meeting tiny new babies who arrived on New Year’s Day … or a few days later. It always amazed me how parents were willing to share their child’s first moments with me, a journalist they didn’t know.
In telling stories about people’s lives — the joyous beginnings, the tragic ends and all the milestones in the middle — I fell in love with community journalism all over again, and started to appreciate my hometown in new ways. Rather than seeing Powell or Wyoming as a place to leave, it became the community where I chose to live.
Not only did I discover where I wanted to be, but more importantly, the one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. In an unexpected blessing, I met my husband in the newsroom where we both worked. We got married in 2014 and later bought a lovely home — much more spacious than a Saab — and planted roots in the place where we both grew up. A couple of years ago, we welcomed our baby boy, who is adorably sweet and brings true joy to our lives.
Over the past two and a half years, I have felt torn between a community newspaper that I deeply care about and this darling child I love more than I thought possible. This past spring, when working exclusively at home, the challenges as a working parent became even more pronounced. My husband and I had recognized for a while we needed a change in our jobs, and 2020 emphasized that fact.
Since CJ and I both worked at the newspaper, we’ve had a hard time getting away. There’s always the next edition, always a looming deadline, always another story to write. While I love writing about this community — especially our exceptional school district — I longed for a lifestyle that wasn’t so tied to the newspaper’s publication schedule.
I also have come to believe what everyone says about kids: They grow up so fast. It is a truth I see every day in my baby, who is now a rambunctious toddler and will be a kindergartner before we know it.
So while the decision involved a lot of prayer and some heartache, it was clear: I’d like to be at home more with my family and not distracted by the next deadline.
I will miss writing regularly for the newspaper, but I hope to still contribute an occasional column or article. This also isn’t the first time I’ve written a farewell column for the Tribune. I initially started working at the paper in early 2003 as a senior at PHS. When I left for adventures in my late teens and early 20s, the Tribune graciously welcomed me whenever I returned home, whether for two months or 12 years.
As I leave this time, I am pursuing what I’ve found to be the most challenging yet rewarding adventure: parenthood. It is one I don’t want to miss.