My final TC column! Weird. Come to our farewell party/fundraiser next week to say goodbye - Jan. 11, 6-10 p.m. at the Garry Oak Room of Fairfield Community Centre, 1335 Thurlow.
Folks, it has been an amazing ride.
But 14 years have passed since I was first given the
privilege of writing a regular column for the Times Colonist. I’ve written
1,800 or so columns, and logged 1.4 million words on a vast number of subjects.
And it’s time to go.
I bless my lucky stars for a series of bosses who let me
write whatever the heck I wanted all these years. I’m grateful for the sheer
luck of living in a time and place where our governments know they have to
tolerate people like me nipping at them in the name of free speech.
But mostly I’m thankful to you, dear reader. Your
willingness to share your opinions, criticisms, encouragement and life stories
with me has made all the difference.
Back when I was
writing four times a week, readers’ tips accounted for at least half of my
column topics. On my own, I couldn’t possibly have found even a fraction of the
crazy, funny, tragic, inspiring and touching stories that my readers brought me
over the years. I’m the medium - the story-teller - but they’re the real deal.
The great joy of journalism is that it bestows on curious people
like me the right to ask nosy questions of virtually anyone. There’s nothing
saying that people will answer your questions, but it’s striking how often they
do.
And as they talked, I learned.
About the cruelties of the human condition. The limitations of
our systems. The breaking points and vulnerabilities. The impact of unintended
consequence.
But I also came to see that most people are good, and that virtually
everyone can be brilliant if given the chance to shine. What a wonderful gift
that has been, to know that.
From talking to so many disparate personalities in so many
states of wealth, health, freedom, rage, humour, vulnerability and frustrated
powerlessness, I came to be comfortable with anyone, and happy to hang out in
all kinds of scenes. That’s been a whole other blessing.
And now my partner Paul Willcocks and I are off to Honduras,
and to new stories yet to be told.
I know I’ll keep writing. Journalism soaks into your bones,
and observing the world is now a passion of mine regardless of whether I’m
getting paid for it. It won’t be easy to walk away from work I’ve been doing
since I was 25. But truth be told, I’m ready.
I’ve been in the business long enough to have seen the way
news cycles. A critical issue rises up in the public consciousness, lingers in
limbo for a very long time while people argue about what to do about it, and
with luck ends up “fixed” after much effort on the part of all concerned.
But then budget cuts, public apathy and a heartbreaking lack
of institutional memory eventually eat away at the gains. A decade or so later,
the original problem re-emerges, and the cycle begins again.
It’s just not possible to muster the same energy for a fight
when you know how the story ends. I find myself growing cynical and discouraged.
But I’ll still miss my front-row seat on all the action, and the doors I’ve
been able to nudge open in the name of people’s right to know.
I’ve loved being a journalist in a free country under six companies
that all valued a free press. It’s
become fashionable to make a fuss about corporate media controlling the news, but
that has not been my experience.
Even journalists sometimes forget the significance of that. Such
freedoms are far from a guarantee in this world, including in the country where
I’m headed. I feel our own governments’ growing reticence to stay open to
scrutiny, but I trust Canadians will keep their feet to the fire on this one.
Regrets? I’ve had a few. Sometimes I’ve been too pushy and
strident, other times naive. I thought my writing could play a role in changing
things, but came to see that the readers you most need to attract when striving
for change are the ones least likely to read you in the first place.
Nor do I get much feedback from readers anymore, perhaps a
signal that I’ve overstayed my welcome. It has felt lonely tilting at windmills
on my own.
But all in, it’s been a blast. Thank you for being the best
part of that. Stay in touch.