The Last Hurrah
Departing community reporter will miss the big personalities she has encountered
It has been a privilege to be a voice for people and to tell their stories.
Brenda Vowden
Fromthe famous words of the late John Denver, I’m leaving, on a jet plane. Well, the plane bit is ina few months, but the leaving part is imminent.
After 15 years working as a community reporter, Ihave been maderedundant, andamvery sorry to be packingmybags and departing the office.
I’m not a great one for “things happen for a reason’ or “it wasmeant to be”, etc. I’mmoreof a “it is, what it is” type of person. So— so be it— and all that jazz.
Onedoor closes— andmaybewith a slight slam this time— a nod to the times which are a-changing around us. Andwhoknowswhich doormay swing open in the future.
Fornowit’s hard not to look back andremember the thousands of people I havecomein touch with over the years.
Without sounding cliche, it has been a privilege to be a voice for people and to tell their stories, discovering the hidden gemsin our community and at times championing their cause. I’ve also managedto sneak almost every familymember— anda fewpets— into a story here and there, and to throwmy long-suffering husband under a bus or two along theway.
WhenI started this job, whichwas bywordof mouthfrommy neighbour’s son’s best friend’swife (true story) whoworked at the Napier
Courier andwas leaving, there were three of us running the ship— well two-and-a-half (Iwas the half), to be precise.
Over the years, systems changed, people left, wemovedoffices, and beforeyouknowit, Iwas holding the tiller.
As with most workplaces, people comeand people go, faces change, systems upgrade.
Working in a newsroomis a busy and often noisy place, with breaking newsand local events unfolding before your eyes, but it’s the little things and the big personalities I will miss.
The uproarious laughter at the lunch table, peopleheating their leftover fish in themicrowave and getting a good-natured ribbing for it, frustrated outbursts and clever quips in response, the shrill slam of the bell on the counter, not to mention the best boss a girl could ask for and, of course, those fantastic morning teas.
I’vewritten about knitting groups, cycling groups, women’s motorbike groups, tattooists, natural healers, woodturners, Taekwondofighters, dragon boat racers, dancers, skaters, Quakers, anti-scam experts— you nameit, wehave somuchdiversity just outside ourowndoors.
I’ve met somanyfabulous people toilingaway in our neighbourhoods whohave such interesting stories to tell. Ihope I bumpinto a fewof you along theway.
So Iwill try to slink off onmyfinal day, this timewithoutmylaptop slung overmyshoulder ormy trusty work phone inmybag— a lighter load to seeme offdownthe road to somewhereelse.