“What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 1:9)
During my senior year in high school, when I was 17, my mother left the job she’d had since before I was born and opened a business with two co-workers. It didn’t change much the skills she used — she continued to offer business services to medical practices — but it changed how she did it.
Now, nearly 30 years later, I find myself following my mother’s example. On Jan. 3, I’m moving to Emporia State University’s department of marketing and media relations.
When I started at The Gazette as a reporter on Oct. 4, 1993, my oldest son, Alex, was 6 months old. During the last 17 years, my co-workers — my “work family” — watched Alex grow up and celebrated with Greg and I the births of our next two sons — Luke in 1995 and Aaron in 1997.
They watched me struggle to find the balance between work and family. They laughed when I used military metaphors as I talked about our family schedule as the boys grew up. I’ve always felt that keeping track of what child needs to be where when and how that will be accomplished is no different than a general drawing up a battle plan. It all boils down to military precision.
Through the years, my Gazette family adopted our boys.
I remember in the summer of 1995 attending a co-worker’s housewarming party. Greg was out of town, so Alex stayed home with a sitter. But Luke, just months old, came to the party with me. As I walked up to the door carrying Luke, Ray Call, our former executive editor, stood up, reached out to take Luke from me and settled in on the porch swing with his wife, Helen, at his side.
I recall another time that Ray and Helen held an open house. Because of our schedule that day, the four of us at the time were the first to arrive. Ray grabbed our two boys and gave them a tour of the tree house in the backyard before other guests started to arrive.
Back when one of her nephews was enamored of Beanie Babies, Judy Price started collecting them. She would hunt and hunt for Beanies that shared my boys’ birth months, making sure they had new Beanies for birthdays.
Like all families, we who have worked together at The Gazette for the past 17 years have shared each other’s struggles and milestones. We’ve hugged each other as loved ones have died. We’ve shouted with joy at news of new homes and new children. We’ve celebrated weddings a bit more sedately — while shouting for joy inside.
Now, as my oldest child prepares to head to college, I find myself doing the same, a move that has me coming full circle.
When Greg and I moved to Emporia in 1990, ESU’s marketing department had an opening and I applied. I didn’t get the job. Instead, I was advised to talk to Ray Call at The Gazette. I applied, but wasn’t hired.
For about 18 months, I worked part-time in ESU’s counselor education department. From there, I spent a year at The Shopper before buying a bookstore — just months before I discovered I was pregnant with Alex. It was that move that brought me back to The Gazette, which decided to hire me this time. It helped that circumstances had two of their four reporters leaving as well as their features editor.
Now, it’s time to return to ESU in the same job for which I applied 20 years ago — updated for a digital age. It’s a move I couldn’t have made without my tenure at The Gazette as well as my involvement with Kansas Professional Communicators, a state affiliate of National Federation of Press Women. My connection to KPC and NFPW is its own story of serendipity.
Personally, I don’t believe in serendipity. Just as the writer of Ecclesiastes understood that “there is nothing new under the sun,” I know that, with the wisdom of hindsight, what seems like serendipity at the time is really the hand of God leading me along life’s path.
For both Alex and me, 2011 will be a year of new beginnings. He’ll move out, spread his wings and start to make his way in the world. I’ll again be the rookie.
I don’t know about Alex — he’s a teenage boy, and they don’t talk much — but I’m sad to leave and excited for a new adventure at the same time. Of one thing I’m sure — life is never boring.