Sleeping in past 6 a.m., leisurely cups of coffee, impromptu activities and being more available to my family.
These are some of the things I look forward to in retirement.
There are many more things I will miss – most especially my Observer family and the many treasured friendships that have been forged on the beats I have been privileged to cover.
My story bank of 20-plus years contains countless memories I hold dear. Topping the list are the ones that gave a voice to people fighting bureaucracy and others that celebrated community heroes often living anonymously among us. Also cherished are the ones I wrote with late Neskonlith elder Mary Thomas. She introduced me to a beautiful culture and many dear friends.
Also now ‘family’ are the Roots and Blues bunch who, when I was unable to attend the 2016 edition, organized mini Facetime concerts for me.
Other unique tales remain embedded in my brain.
Years ago when some local folks were raising ostriches, I spent an interesting 10 minutes in a pen with several young klepto-peckers, who nosily explored my hair, pockets, earrings, glasses and rings.
Thanks to former Shuswap SAR search manager Don Reed, I was painted in fake blood and left languishing at the bottom of a cliff in the cold of early spring after agreeing to be a “victim” for a training exercise. “Good acting,” said one of the searchers when finally settled me onto a stretcher – 45 minutes later. “Not acting,” I said, teeth chattering. “Get me out of here.”
I once donned turnout gear and went into a building at the fire department’s training facility. Parked between a reassuring fire chief Brad Shirley and a training officer, I got a fascinating lesson in fire behaviour. Many other stories captured my heart, a few I am grateful to say won awards, fewer yet got me in hot water.
Work in the newsroom has changed dramatically over 20 years. I walked in at a time when several staff members were out due to health issues. Then-editor Gord Priestman offered me a few hours a week and couldn’t promise more.
When it became evident I was not leaving, I asked him if he wanted a bottle of wine or a Valium.
At that time, reporters wrote stories. That segued into laying out pages and proofing. Now there is constant pressure to get stories up on the website and onto Facebook – pronto!
What hasn’t changed, is the dedication in this office. It is not uncommon to see people putting in long hours with nothing more than their commitment to producing a newspaper worthy of this community.
It has been a ride! And I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
Editor’s note: you won’t be missing Barb’s byline entirely, as she has graciously agreed to continue writing for us on a freelance basis — at home and on her own time. The Observer staff extends its very best wishes to Barb and will miss her talented writing, her dedication to her profession and her sense of fun in the newsroom. The Observer is inviting Barb’s readers to join us for an open house send-off on Thursday, Nov. 30 from 4 to 7 p.m. at the Observer office at 171 Shuswap Street.