I’m sitting here working late at night on the paper, Monday evening. As I’m writing headlines, I pause at Al Batt’s. Choosing headlines, especially for opinion pieces like columns, is a balancing act. In a few words I have to attract attention to the piece while also reflecting the writer’s intent. There is no “right way” to do it–only the “way” that suits the moment. Perhaps it is the character of Al Batt’s writing, perhaps it is the lateness of the hour or the length of the day, but I find myself thinking back to a time when I was new to the task and when it cost me much more effort.
Those first days, now more than seven years in the past, I spent oh, so much time, struggle and concentration on each of those headlines. I look back fondly on those times. It's pleasant to recognize how much I’ve learned, and to sympathize with that beginner who worked so hard at something which–from my present perspective–was not as earth-shattering as he believed. The day-to-day concerns which seem like mountains are often only really molehills; the worries of any given time period meld together into a much larger picture, and so, individually, have very little impact on our future.
Monday I interviewed my aunt, Julie Arnold, who recently became the owner of the Willows restaurant in New Richland after being one of its employees for most of two decades.
Despite patronizing the Willows nearly all my life, I didn’t know she was my aunt. But, to give me credit, she didn’t start dating my uncle John Arnold until 2014 and didn’t marry him until years later.
Julie was nervous during the interview. She felt, as she puts it, “out of her element.”
I thought it went great. We spent almost two hours together talking about her life, the Willows, and plans for the present and future.
Last week I forgot about an appointment until she stepped into the office. I quickly put together the papers for said person. (Grand Marshall recommendations from readers for Farm and City Days in New Richland).
I told Jennifer Weber, who stopped over to get the nominations, whom I felt should be considered. All the individuals I mentioned are worthy and of an older age.
One of the nominations was Darlene Abraham.
And who else would walk into my office moments after Jennifer Weber left, but none other than Darlene herself.
She made my day with the nice words she shared.
We spoke for a few minutes and I mentioned the paper wanted to write about her.
“What would you have to write about me?” she asked.
Darlene has lived in New Richland nearly all of her life.
She told me how as a little girl she had dreams of moving away, (in my words) to the big city lights. But she came home.
“Living here is a blessing,” she said.
She told me about her mom, who lost four family members to pneumonia, in 1936, all while she was pregnant with Darlene. Later she said gave credit to her good upbringing, to God, and her mom.
I told her we need more of that in the world. And that was what I would want reflected in her story.
Stories like that make me feel good. And those are stories I want to give ink to.
Yes, we also report the news, but if we can share valuable lessons, learned over a lifetime, with our readers– that is priceless.
Before I forget, or put it off another week, Darren Wagner stopped into my office last month. I had not seen Darren since I was a little kid and did not recognize him at first. Right away I had the feeling I knew who he was, as often happens in the newspaper’s office.
We got to talking. I wish he had stayed the entire day, but he settled for about a half hour.
He told me about how he met his wife Jane. They were together nearly their entire lives from 8th grade. The teacher put Darren and Jane next to each other in class because, according to the teacher, Darin was quiet, so maybe he would rub off on Jane. Little did he know, she rubbed off on him.
The rest is history.
Jane was a stay-at-home mom and Darren said that was the best decision they ever made as a couple. “Look at how our kids turned out,” Darren told me.
I couldn’t agree more.
I’m really grateful I was running late that morning. If I had left on time, or even five minutes sooner, I would have been out the door.