Just an Observation

After I made the decision to retire, several months ago, I began to think about what I would write, for my final byline in the May 28 edition.

Full transparency, it did cross my mind to devote a full page to all the “Off the Record” information divulged through the decades, but no worries. 

As has always been the case, your secrets are safe with me.

Actually, they are now probably more safe than ever, because my memory is far from what it once was. In other words, I probably now forget about as much as I remember.

When I started my second round in the newspaper business in February 2003, after having worked at The Fulton Daily Leader for about 10 years in the late 70s to the late 80s, I was a little apprehensive.

My first round of employment, I had tasks assigned to me, from proof reading, to type setting, to page layout and advertising sales. 

It was a fast paced, daily newspaper then, in a fast paced, high strung, fully staffed working environment. 

Martha Mahan was typing faster than anyone I had ever seen on a typewriter. Rita Mitchell was a close second to her speed. Eunice Mitchell’s columns, so witty and insightful, were anticipated each week, and William Mitchell was my actual “boss”. He was in his twenties. 

Our staff included a bookkeeper, several reporters, a sports editor, an advertising manager and a couple of sales people, layout, production, mail room and print shop employees. 

Those first 10 years, I was taught by the best, and for that, I am grateful.

After having my second child, I realized the sometimes all-consuming hours required might not be a fit for me any more. Reluctantly, but certain of my priorities, I changed jobs.

That period of my life was also one for which I am thankful, as Col. R. Henry Ivey, hired me as his secretary, at his office on Central Avenue. I knew absolutely nothing about law. He was South Fulton’s City Attorney at the time, and handled mostly probate and real estate cases. He was patient, kind, generous and accommodating, always reminding me that family came first. 

At that time, I also began to do some substitute teaching at South Fulton Elementary, Middle and High School. I worked part time for the Andrews family at Southside Drug, I also helped my parents in their workshop, painting, staining and varnishing my mother’s folk art pieces. Each of those employers, each of those “jobs”, taught me valuable life lessons.

I really, during that period of time, never entertained the notion of going back to the newspaper business. I did still read the paper. I remember being sad when I saw it had transitioned from a daily paper, to a weekly paper. I probably didn’t understand at the time, why that happened, as I do now.

Flash forward about 13 years, and my oldest child was starting a family of his own in Memphis. My youngest was 15 and counting the days until she could get her license. I saw an ad in the Leader, about a position as an ad manager, opening. That was the position I had when I left the newspaper before.

I wrestled with the idea. 

When I researched the option, I realized the Mitchells were in the process of selling the business, so their time would be limited there. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take the plunge if they were not going to be a part of the package.

Someone whose advice I respected told me, “Just because you decide to do this now, doesn’t mean you will do this forever.”

That was the mentality I embraced, and I accepted the job. 

So much had changed, but so much had stayed the same.

My duties and responsibilities increased and changed through these past 22+ years, after I returned to the newspaper. Many of those responsibilities and assignments took me way outside my comfort zone.

By nature, I am an introvert. I am not comfortable in large crowds. I prefer not to do anything that calls attention to myself. I would rather people not notice me. I would rather not be in charge, but I will do whatever is assigned to the best of my ability.

One by one, each of those traits were pushed to the limits.

Circumstances arose gradually, which forced me to push past the limitations and the boundaries, self-imposed and otherwise.

My job, my role, my responsibility was to produce a newspaper.

So that’s what we did. 

We produced a newspaper in the midst of floods, when I took off my heels and walked with bare feet through several inches of water which covered our office floor. 

We produced a newspaper in January of 2009, during the infamous ice storm, depending on gas fueled generators to push each computer to the limits, until finally we unplugged the huge monster of a desk top and drove the newspaper van an hour and a half away to plug it in at another newspaper business, and finish up that week’s edition. We then brought papers back to our East State Line office and inserted circulars into each one, in the dark, to make sure they were delivered on time.

We produced a newspaper as we packed up the East State Line building, and we moved as much of what we could pack onto trailers and in the back of cars, down to Main Street, and set up shop there.

We produced a newspaper during a pandemic which made me question whether we would be able to withstand the impact of shutdown after shutdown, in the retail community and beyond.

We produced a newspaper when our staff went from many to few.

When I use the word “we”, I am not just referring to myself, and the newspaper staff. 

The word “we” also includes you. 

You, the reader, you, the subscriber, you, the advertiser, have been right there with us, helping us continue to do our job. I can not express, all the words in the world can not express, my gratitude for the role each of you played in our success.

The people I have come to know, because of my job, most likely I would have never come to know, otherwise. 

Governmental meetings, school board meetings, parks board and planning and zoning and tourism and ambulance service board meetings, Banana Festivals and Chamber banquets and Pecan Festivals and ribbon cuttings, gradually became my comfort zone. 

I learned to observe. I learned to listen. I learned to pay attention. I learned to ask questions. I learned to accept rejection. I learned to overcome defeat. 

Admittedly, one thing I never learned, is how to keep my facial expressions from speaking louder than my voice. 

It took me a while to realize, when I am covering a meeting, I am FACING the board, or the commission, or the committee. 

Before I end this final submission, there are a few things I want you to know.

Each time I have reached out to you, to ask for your help in publishing a graduation edition, or a Christmas greeting in the Letters to Santa section, or a retail promotion, and you said yes by purchasing an ad or participating, I thank you. 

Believe it or not, even those of you who may have said no, or who didn’t return a call, whether it was accidental or intentional, I understood. 

The times I had to write an obituary, for someone I knew, the times I had to report things that I knew would impact someone’s life, someone I knew, it hurt. 

There have been instances when I would hear someone say, after something was published, “I guess you will really sell some papers this week.” There have been weeks I would have rather not sold a single paper, than to have published what I had to publish.

One last thing.

I know this may sound dramatic. 

But each time I would go to the post office and see renewals in our P.O. Box, or each time you brought in a subscription renewal, and I entered the information and put your check in the register, or processed your card payment, I said thank you. 

Each time I opened that envelope, and saw that you believed enough, in the importance of a little, local newspaper, I literally thanked you, out loud.

It’s always been “we”, who produced a newspaper.

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