My journalism journey, part 34

My mom and Aunt Bernice weren't the only people visiting me when I got the call from Grand Rapids. My college friends Gloria Walach and Mike Vallone had stopped in Macon, Georgia, along with their two children, Jamie and Maggie, during a spring vacation trip.

I was partly responsible for bringing Mike and Gloria together. We all knew each other during college, but Mike was dating my best friend, Roxane Ziomek, for most of our college years. Roxane finally decided she wanted to date someone else and broke it off with Mike, although he wasn't happy with that. Eventually, they parted as friends and we all got along, although I was the one who stayed closest with Mike and Gloria over the years.

When I was leaving for Montana, Roxane threw a farewell party for me at her place and invited most of our college friends, including Mike and Gloria. They hadn't seen each other for a few years, but after that party, they started communicating. Gloria was going to law school and eventually moved to Washington, D.C., for her first job.

They continued a long-distance relationship, which grew more serious until finally they decided to get married in the summer of 1988. When Gloria told me they were getting married, she said, "You got us together. Your party got us dating."

They had their son, Jamie, the old-fashioned way, but Gloria couldn't have any more children. So they adopted Maggie from China, a quest that took nearly two years. "Maggie" was a combination of their names: M (Mike) and G (Gloria). She was nearly 3 years old when she came to their home in Westchester, Illinois.

So when I got the call from the Grand Rapids Press' news editor Andy Angelo about a job, Mike and Gloria were the first to know. I didn't tell my mom until I had more facts. Both were excited for me. It would mean I'd be closer to my family and friends for the first time in nearly 15 years. And it would mean a big jump in income. I would finally have a decent amount of money coming in.

Now, I did not get into journalism to make a lot of money. Nobody really does. When I was in my high school journalism class and Sister Cathy Campbell had us tell about what we wanted to do with our journalism skills, I said, "I want to be a sports writer for the Chicago Sun-Times and cover the Chicago White Sox." Big dreams for a shy young woman, who had no self-esteem. I had problems talking to our high school basketball players at Guerin High School in River Grove, Illinois. How would I ever talk to a Major League Baseball player?

Sister Cathy looked at me, then the class and said, "That's great, Eileen. But don't go into newspapers. You'll never make any money there."

Truer words were never spoken. I didn't care. I was it in for the thrills. Writing and reporting gave me an incredible high, better than any drink could ever do. And when I moved onto the desk, I got the same feeling from tracking down correct information to fix an error or writing a killer headline. Money was nice, but I loved what I did. That was more important.

But here was Angelo offering me real money, something that could really support me. And here was a major metro newspaper, the second largest daily in Michigan, considering me for a job. I must be worthy, although I never saw myself as such.

We made arrangements for the interview, getting me up to Grand Rapids for a three-day trip in the middle of the week. I had Tuesdays and Wednesdays off, so I was leaving on Tuesday, flying out of Atlanta to Detroit, then taking a puddle jumper to Grand Rapids. I'd spend all of Wednesday interviewing and taking a physical, then fly back Thursday. The idea was to get back Thursday night so I could work.

The interview went very well. Andy got me from the airport and took me to a bed and breakfast in the historic district of Grand Rapids. It was lovely; I had the bedroom and a sitting room that overlooked the garden.

We went to dinner that evening and then he took me around the next day for my physical and drug test (this was pretty serious if I was going through the drug test already). I had dinner that evening with two copy desk staffers, Sue Thoms and Jerry Seim. I felt very comfortable with both, and Sue would become a good friend later. Jerry, I later would learn, played the drums in a local rock band called the Honeytones, which was led by the religion editor Charley Honey and included music critic John Sinkevics. The Press' staff was talented in so many different ways.

I met the paper's executive editor, Mike Lloyd, while there. He asked me how I learned about the job. I told him I found it on Editor & Publisher's online site. I said the Internet was the way to go, everything was going to be online. "You're in print media, how can you say that?" he said. (Mike loved to provoke answers from prospective employees.)

I remember that conversation, thinking back. How strange that few in the media prepared for the explosion of news online that has devastated print media (and killed my career in the process). I thought so many weren't looking ahead to how the Internet could help print at that time. Oh well, hindsight is 20/20 vision, I guess.

On Thursday morning, I got back to the airport for my trip home. It was raining in Grand Rapids, but we got off the ground and back to Detroit with no problem. But the gate was changed for the flight to Atlanta, then the plane was changed because of mechanical issues, delaying the flight. Then the flight was further delayed because of storms in Atlanta.

So the flight that was supposed to get in at 2 p.m. didn't get in until after 7 p.m. And I was supposed to get an airport taxi back to Macon (I had reservations) but the one I reserved left at 6 p.m. and I was sunk. The other group providing this service had one more run back to Macon, and I pleaded with the driver to give me a ride home. He agreed and even drove me back to where I had parked my car.

It was nearly 9 p.m. when I got home. I already called my boss and told her I would be late twice, then told her I wouldn't get in at all that night. She knew I was interviewing for a job so she just found a substitute that night and I took a vacation day. I was tired and hungry when I got home. Kittle and Cinnamon, I could see, were lonely and had missed me.

A week, later, I heard back from Andy, who offered me the job and said he would get someone in touch with me to make arrangements for moving services.

By the end of May, I would be out of Georgia and back to the Midwest.