Old-school journalism professors would have us believe reporters can’t form friendships with the people they write about. They must never have worked at a community newspaper.
Three years ago, I entered the tiny room that houses The Squamish Chief’s editorial department. Its walls were splattered with Test of Metal and Canada Wilderness Committee calendars. On them was a patchwork of highlighted dates marking major events – everything from Loggers Sports to Kite Clash. Although nothing more than a fish tank, this was the newsroom I wanted to be in. I had moved to Squamish for a crush, but the town had also snuck into my heart.
Reporting fast-tracked my education about Squamish’s social fabric. The community is rife with amazing characters, from volunteers who donated hundreds of hours to bettering the town to extreme athletes who make me shake my head. Being a reporter opened the doors into their lives. I had permission to ask questions that go unsaid at a dinner party, delving into a people’s inner workings, what motivates them, their fears and passions.
There’s an intimacy to an interview. As though shrouded by a cocoon, conversation flows uninterrupted. Trust is the key thread that ties it neatly together. When the shorthand comes to an end and the pen is put down, a new connection is formed. I jokingly liken it to a one-night stand.
I am leaving The Chief but not Squamish. For six months I will follow the wind around the world, venturing to kiteboarding locations from the Caribbean to Morocco.
In June I will return to this town and hope to weave myself back into its fabric, this time as a volunteer. I aim to work with organizations and committees that for three years I have watched and listened to like a fly on the wall.
Throughout my journalism career it’s the people, not the writing, that’s fascinated me. My time here has led me to respect many residents, from councillors who sit through seemingly endless meetings to environmental advocates who tirelessly stand up for what they believe. And I have broken that flawed golden rule. When my byline disappears from the paper this week, friendships will remain.
