Since I was 17, I knew I wanted to be a journalist. Maybe I didn’t know exactly what that meant back then, but I knew I loved writing.
Since I was 17, I knew I wanted to be a journalist. Maybe I didn’t know exactly what that meant back then, but I knew I loved writing and telling stories.
In high school, I would help my friends write or correct their essays for fun when we were in class together. They couldn’t understand why I enjoyed working on their assignments so much; I couldn’t understand why they didn’t.
By Grade 12, I was already flicking through college and university catalogs to find something to study. At the time, I couldn’t wait to leave the family farm I grew up on in Northern Alberta and get “out into the world,” and my kind, hard-working parents were ready to support me. I flipped through the pages and stopped short at the Journalism Arts Program offered by SAIT in Calgary. I chose only what would make me happy, without even thinking about job opportunities or salaries, applied, and was accepted.
I studied photojournalism, but I always knew I wanted to be a full-time writer. Luckily, I was able to do both.
I was hired at the Williams Lake Tribune in 1994 by then-editor Ken Alexander. I traveled from Alberta to BC for the interview and he told me I got the job by singing the Rolling Stones song “Angie” into the phone. I couldn’t believe there was a job out there where I actually got paid to take photos and write stories, or have my boss sing to me. At 22, I had found my calling. I felt like I had won the lottery.
Thirty-four years, several newspapers, several editors and reporters, and thousands of stories later, I still feel that way.
I’ve had two great phases during my career as a Black Press journalist: 10 years as a hard news photographer and writer, followed by a brief hiatus when my kids were young and we moved to Fort St. John; then another 13 years as editor of the Williams Lake Tribune and in my most recent role as regional editor for Cariboo-North Thompson. Covering the big stories like the 2017 wildfires, the 2020 floods and the pandemic, I have enough memories to last a lifetime. I’ve worked with newspaper legends like Lorie Williston, Bob Grainger and Bill Phillips, as well as countless dedicated journalists, too many to list. In recent years, strong women have taken the lead, including Kathy McLean, Mary Kemmis and Ashley Wadhwani-Smith.
While it’s always exciting to cover big news, the individual triumphs and tragedies of the people and places I’ve had the privilege of writing about will be what I care about most as I take a slightly different path in my career—in communications.
The farewell is bittersweet because I love the newspaper and all the people I write about and work with, and I have only good feelings for everyone.
I encourage all of you to continue to support your local newspaper and all the dedicated staff who continue to work hard to keep you informed 24/7 in print and online. I firmly believe that journalism continues to play a critical role in maintaining a healthy democracy in our society by informing readers, holding elected officials accountable and connecting communities.
I know I will continue to support journalism. I also look forward to continuing to read my colleagues’ stories while I take a little break and try something new.
Thank you for letting me tell your stories, and I hope to return to journalism one day, as always seemed destined to happen. In the meantime, I’m hopeful that my dear, longtime colleague Monica Lamb-Yorski will take the reins.
As I prepare to leave my personal comfort zone behind and dive into an exciting new role as a woman in her fifties, I find some comfort in the following: To improve means to change; to be perfect means to change often (although I don’t claim to ever be perfect).
