Heart vs... Heart

I've never been a believer of love.

Instead, I've lived my life based on a fairly tight-knit workaholic philosophy in which relationships are more like dream-killers than fairy tales.

Sure, I hear the sappy songs on the radio and think to myself for a brief moment as I picture a white picket fence and teeny baby clothes, ‘Gee, that would be nice.’

But the idea of settling down, getting married and having kids just never compared to the bigger picture of living the dream as a hot-shot journalist at a big-wig newspaper or magazine in the likes of Toronto or, even more ambitiously, New York City — you know, the ones with the fancy all-glass, high-rise offices with immaculate views and expensive pens.

Moving to Swift Current last summer and embarking on a career stepping stone at the Prairie Post has opened my eyes to the possibility of life as a small-town professional journalist I never before understood.

I have realized just how important local newspapers are to the community they report on and how every written word matters to the people who read them. And, contrary to my previous big-city ignorance, news does happen here.

Broncos hockey games, panic over the H1N1 pandemic, Frontier Days, events at the Lyric, floods and City versus RM disputes have made this last year an unforgettable and worthwhile experience.

Then, without ever really realizing it at first, into my life walked the man of my dreams ... And he ruined everything.

He’s a bona fide Saskatchewan boy, born and raised in Moose Jaw. He played WHL hockey in his teenage yesteryears, drives a rusted pick-up truck with a broken A/C and paints his entire face green in homage to the Riders on game day. None of which, I’ll admit, I’ve ever placed as top priority on my Prince Charming check-list.

But the 28-year-old railroader won my heart with a certain charm I can only attribute to his prairie upbringing. Flowers at work, a surprise fully-paid-for trip to Vegas — it was only a matter of time until I realized I was in trouble.

Before I knew it, I was running back and forth between here and Medicine Hat, where he lives now, nearly every weekend just to see him. After racking up the mileage on my Hyundai and about half-a-dozen speeding tickets between us, we realized it doesn’t make sense to be apart anymore.

So, I took a chance on love and said farewell to Swift Current. And although my fate as a journalist seems foggy at the moment as I bid adieu to my first real reporter job, I can confidently say this was the right choice for me.

My so-called claim to fame seems to have dropped in hierarchy on the priority scale, and I can actually envision myself happy not ever getting that high-brow position in the big city.

I want to thank everyone who has picked up the Post to read my articles each week. It has been my pleasure and I can only hope I have adequately reported on, quoted or represented you and your community over my time there.

So, call me ambitious, crazy or a fool in love as I embark on my new, modest Alberta life — and thanks again for allowing me the opportunity to get my journalistic feet wet in the city of Swift Current.

It’s been a blast.