Somewhere between May 14, 2018, and the one-year anniversary (this past Tuesday) of the mass layoffs that ended my 20-year career at The Salt Lake Tribune . . . I moved on.
I didn't realize it, in a concrete way, until Saturday. A former editor, and more than that, a friend, called to ask me to freelance articles for him on religious topics -- the beat I had when the layoffs a year ago forced me to take an earlier-than-expected retirement.
He also asked if I could fill in for a colleague on the same beat during her month-long vacation.
I was taken aback. Then, I felt somehow validated, that my decades of contributions actually still had value, that perhaps it all wasn't just a case of being deemed expendable along with so many others when the financial crap hit the bottom line fan, as it were.
Out of appreciation, and friendship for the good man offering, I almost said "yes." Then, deep down, a voice echoed: "No. Too late. There's no going back."
Oh sure, I could write again for the Tribune, see my byline once again on its pages. But what would it do to all the struggle, and the lessons and insights learned, over the past year?
And it took suffering, faith, and resolve to move on emotionally and spiritually through this sea change of career and purpose; to let grace and gratitude replace lingering bitterness, depression and pain with new purpose and perspective.
A lot of grace. A lot of hard work. A lot of receiving love, and then giving it back.
New opportunities to write and edit eventually came, chances to practice and stretch my skills -- and whatever gifts there may be -- in unexplored arenas where I did not feel the pressure to compromise what I held true.
On that latter bit, I'm not saying the Tribune ever forced me to write something I could not ethically or morally abide. But in the secular news setting, progressive world views, and alas, progressive (pretty much only) activism are on the rise generally; The Tribune, being comprised of human beings after all, has not been, and is not immune.
There are many still working there who continue to "fight the good fight," laboring to report and write fairly, and to assign stories across the spectrum. And, there are some who do not, so convinced of the rightness of their personal cause or cultural/political convictions that they blur the lines -- intentionally or subconsciously -- between reporting and opinion.
In this, the Tribune is hardly alone. Indeed, observing the industry over more than four decades of involvement in settings international, national and local, across a wide swath of beats, I'd say this is a universal and disheartening phenomenon.
So, back to the point. (There is one). I realized -- for reasons personal mostly, and professional to an extent, too -- I have moved on. Attempting to go back, for me, would be tugging at the thread of a new, personal tapestry crafted of too much pain and growth and eventually, joy.
I can't see how I could, now, revisit what was lost . . . Without dishonoring what was gained.
And so, with much affection and gratitude for the offer, I politely declined it.
You never finish a book, if you keep trying to read the previous chapter.
