For every thing there is a season.
And now, as summer flourishes and ripens into August, it seems everyone is getting their holiday passports stamped, “gone.”
Yes, the holiday season has arrived.
It seems everyone in the world is either on holidays, going on holidays or just getting back.
I noticed on Facebook the other day several messages all related to holidays.
Facebookers have poured their weary, work-hardened hearts into messages such as, “I’m so ready. And, “If I don’t get to go on holidays soon, I will burst.”
I smile, keep my head down and my eyes on the computer keyboard. I tell myself it’s the journey, not the destination that counts. And then, unbidden, the little thought creeps into my head, “Nine days, I have nine days left.”
And so I continue doing my reporter-like stuff; writing stories, taking pictures, making phone calls. But, as much as news doesn’t stop, it seems it, too, wants to take a short hiatus or at least an afternoon nap.
Sources, the ones whose phone numbers are tattooed on your brain, because they are usually so helpful and so available have turned into nothing more than a recording. “I’m sorry, I am out of the office from now until forever, so have a great day,” says the voice that used to be live. The message is not meant to be mocking, so I try not to take it personally, try not to slam the phone down, and try not to look at the calendar and think, “Eight days, now I have eight days left.”
This year, preceding my holidays, I was shuffled over to another newspaper office. It’s all part of being a member of this big newspaper family called Black Press. Apparently, Black Press has lots of siblings and it is our duty to help each other out when one of us is gone on holidays.
And so, there I was struggling to leave my office neat, clean and tidy and minus the four coffee cups and stack of old news press releases at The Rimbey Review and shuffle myself over to The Sylvan Lake News.
The transition turned out to be fairly easy, except when I tried to identify myself on the phone. Of course, I know exactly who I am, most days anyway, but, no doubt, because of the shuffle I seemed to be a little confused as to whom I work for.
“Hi, I’m Treena from The Rimbey Review, I mean The Sylvan Lake News, whatever, I have no idea where I’m from,” I stammer.
Unfortunately by the time I get it figured out I will probably be back in Rimbey.
Coming to Sylvan Lake, however, has been awesome.
It’s kind of like coming home.
For 11 years I was part of the news staff here and for part of that time, I was ‘the news staff’.
It’s good to be back. Unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced that little black book I possessed so proudly years ago.
It was my book of sources, my reporter’s bible. Names, telephone numbers and even, if my sources were benevolent enough, cellphone numbers.
I think I lost it about four offices ago.
Anyway, it’s good to be back, if only for a short holiday season. And then I, too, will be one of those people on holidays.
Did I mention I only had nine days left? Or is it eight?