A 23-year roller coaster ride
Mark Pavilons

"As the rain falling out of the clouds becomes the life origin for plants, so the stream of creativeness becomes the source of life for a man. Let us feel the pulse of a creative spirit within a man, which sustains his or her vitality, for it is the only way for one to join the river of eternity. As this truth submerges a man in joy like the sunrays, he or she feels incredibly happy. The spirit of creativity like a stream flowing in a man and watering a dry land of his or her soul, refreshing it and awakening up new forces - a creation of action. It seems that time and eternity merge within a man. Let us aim at awakening within ourselves this state producing success and desire for harmony."

Augustinas Rakauskas

It's been said that time flies.

I think it's always gone by just as it should, hour by hour, day by day, year by year.

We don't often worry about the effects of gravity on our demeanor, or the effects on our skin, considering the earth is travelling at roughly 67,000 mph through space.

As a mere pup, I arrived on the Caledon scene at the eager young age of 21. To alter a very popular Hollywood movie phrase, I didn't "know nothin' 'bout birthing no stories."

And so it began, some 23 years ago.

I grew into my role and chosen career through the Citizen. I grew into myself and into my community.

You know something, time does fly, and like the massive suction produced by the intake manifolds on modern jetliners, it carries you along for the ride.

And the memories. You can't spend more than two decades in a job and not have them, in spades. My role at the Citizen provided me with plenty of opportunities to learn and evolve.

There was getting hit in the head with a puck at a hockey game at Mayfield arena, good enough for three stitches. It provided some interesting dinner conversation at our company party that evening.

I met Captain Mark Phillips (ex-husband of Princess Anne), singers Gowan and Kim Mitchell and movie producer Norman Jewison. I met heads of state and even an African chief.

I also met the likes of Ralph, Peter, Aldo, Tony, Terry, Pat, Carol, Ed, Sylvia, David, Ernie, Sarah, Debbe, Marion and a handful of Margarets, Peters, Johns, Bobs and Richards. I couldn't possibly list everyone who made my job fascinating. Some are very well regarded and all have a place reserved in my heart and thoughts.

By my estimates, I have likely encountered more than 3,000 people in my years at the Citizen - spoken to them, shook their hands and shared small talk.

Some left an impression on me and I hope I returned the favour.

Cleaning out my office and desk drawers was an unusual exercise, but one that was inevitable. It's amazing what a person can accumulate in a couple of decades. Like a packrat with exceptional hoarding abilities, I have amassed a veritable treasure trove of junk - lost files, books, pamphlets, faxes, sticky notes, folders, brochures, books, cards, trophies and more business cards than I could ever count. I filled three recycling bins, and then I filled them again.

Many of my belongings moved with me, from my family homestead to my first apartment to my first home. During each of these life changes, a few trinkets and possessions ended up in my desk, under my work station and in various boxes.

This recent chore was not unlike wrapping up a loved one's life. Twenty-three years is a substantial chunk of a person's life.

Some of the memories have faded, but most remain. There were many late-night assignments; driving through snow storms (and rear-ending a snowplow near Shelburne); developing photos and using hot wax to layout the newspapers by hand. I remember the first fax machines, laptops and Macs.

Regardless of technology, the job has remained essentially the same. Good, oldfashioned reporting, reading reports, interviewing people, taking notes and writing stories. While media have changed tremendously, you can't replace people. People interact with one another and that sets the stage for everything in life.

I have found that journalism seems to be a misunderstood profession. I am still asked if it's a hobby and do I get paid to write a column in the Citizen. Yes, people, being editor of a community newspaper is a full-time, professional-type job. It's just a bit more hectic and bizarre at times, since the source of all the news is, well, other people.

At times, I've felt like a counsellor, information officer and social worker.

Most will know me, not from my public appearances at almost every major event in Caledon, but from my weekly columns. These have been a source of great joy for me over the years. At last count, I've written close to 1,500 of them. I have my favourites and these are filed away, likely to be pulled out to embarrass my kids when they start dating!

My columns, in the past nine years, have focussed on family - relationships and children. While some criticize me for constantly writing about my family, I believe it's the cornerstone for all of us. What's more important than raising a family and being friends and mentors to the generation that follows? What's more vital than teaching the future doctors, lawyers and politicians about right and wrong, about compassion for our fellow men and women?

I'd like to think community newspapers have heart and soul and are reflections of those who write for them. I hope I've given the pages a personal touch.

While I'm leaving my current post, I'm not moving away.

My family has made a commitment to this wonderful community. It's home.

Hopefully, Caledon will progress as it should and opportunities will open up for our offspring to live, work and play in this place we've helped create. In a nutshell, we love this place.

I will be replaced and life will go on at the Citizen.

I will begin anew and be welcomed at my new workplace.

It's an exciting time. We don't really have the luxury of waiting for life to happen. We have to live it. We have to change, adapt and move forward.

As one door closes, another opens. When one chapter is done, there's one more waiting to be read (or written).

Thank you to all who've crossed my path and touched me in some way. Those experiences will accompany me always.