Well, this is it!
The final time you’ll read my column in this newspaper.
This newspaper that has been my home for the last 30 years. This place is so intertwined with my inner-most identity that I can’t say this is going to be easy. I will mourn the loss like a piece of me has died. Because in the moments when my emotions swing back from the feelings of freedom, I find my heart is broken. Such a twisted mess of emotions I have with the sale of the newspaper.
Growing up, this place dictated my parents’ every moment, it seemed, which made me never want to go into the business. But as I sat at college orientation being pressured to pick a major, to pick it NOW, I panicked and said the first thing that came up in my brain: journalism.
And that’s the sad truth about it.
There was no magical moment when I was finally able to start studying my parents’ passions. But as I got into the field, I liked it. I even joined the college newspaper and interned at the state capitol to cover it for the paper.
Then life happened.
With a year and a half left in college, I became pregnant with our first child, Kadence. I moved home and began commuting to Missouri Southern and also began work at The Record.
That’s what you do when “a crisis” happens. You go back to your roots. At least that’s what I did.
In 2004, I earned my bachelor’s degree (in mass communications with an emphasis in print journalism), and began to work full-time at the paper.
A few more years and now Matt and I have four kids, a farm and have much too busy a life for me to carry on the torch here at the paper.
And, as I was so coldly reminded when my dad suffered his stroke, the paper must go on.
I’ve always known I couldn’t do the paper alone (remember, my parents had each other), but when I was forced to think about the newspaper at a time when I felt like my life was being uprooted, I knew that this was not the life for me. It has been my life, yes, my past and my upbringing, but I don’t feel like it’s my future.
When my parents approached my brother and me about selling their dream and their blood and their sweat and their tears and their years to Ryan, my answer was immediate and sure. “Sell it.”
And then I cried.
And I’m crying right now as I write this.
Because the newspaper is in me.
The ink is in my blood, cliché, but true. The people who work here are as much family to me as my blood family.
I’ve known Tish and Rosemary and Sandi about as long as I can remember, literally. My connection with them is deep, as are my feelings about Cheryl, Gina and Wanda. The Record family is as loyal a
group of people as there is out there. I love them. I don’t say that lightly.
So what’s next for me?
I plan to spend as much time as possible being a wife and mother. I can’t wait, actually. As for my “life on the farm,” you’ll still be able to keep up with all our shenanigans at my blog at http://www.myhomeonthefarm.
Thank you for reading my column and for all the wonderful feedback you’ve given me the last few years.
I appreciate your readership to my parents’ newspaper, and I invite you to continue your loyalty to Ryan.
See you around town!
This column was published in the Dec. 26, 2012, Lawrence County Record.
Categories: Life on the farm
My name is Ginia Oehlschlager and I'm a small-town gal from Missouri. Join me as I document my crazy life on the farm with my husband and four kids. I'm always looking for frugal, simple ways to live the life God set before me. Where faith, family and fun come together on the farm.