Most people nowadays become a journalist because they have an issue in mind that they want to tell stories about. That’s not how it happened for me. Instead, I grew up in a newsroom, back in the days of the pica ruler, glue sticks and film cameras, because of my mom, your Kimberley Bulletin editor, Carolyn Grant.
I have fond memories of visiting Mom at her first newspaper office, the Red Lake District News, and watching her lay out the newspaper using scissors and glue. She even let me cut a few columns out and paste them into their spaces. Could I really do a job that involved a craft everyday? When we moved to Kimberley in 1997, my mom got a job at the Kootenay Advertiser.
I remember phoning her all the time at work: “Mom Eric hit me!” “Mom I’m hungry!” “Mom I hit Ally and then she hit me back!” Eventually Mom moved to the then Daily Bulletin. She immediately loved her job and was immersed in this community like never before. The phone calls eventually began coming not from us but our teachers — like the time Selkirk Principal Terry Oscarson called because my brother wouldn’t stop bouncing a ball against a locker and disrupting a math class.
After sorting that one out, I imagine deadline was tight that day. During high school, Mom was always dashing out to photograph events or cover city council meetings. I’d drop by her office to say hello and she’d send me down the Platzl to drop off her negatives or pick up her prints while she stayed behind for another interview or to tap away at her keyboard.
She’d always have time, no matter the deadline, to hear about whatever drama had happened back at Selkirk that day. Thankfully, she never published any of it. Our chats were always off the record.
One time I do remember the journalist becoming the story was when a group of high school bullies followed me down the infamous blue stairs. I called my mom as I ran. When the bullies finally cornered me at the bottom, ready to throw down, Mom appeared out of nowhere, and they dispersed like mice.
I spent a semester in high school archiving the Bulletin’s old tomes. I’d listen to the way Mom skillfully interviewed the Mayor or MLAs or MPs, wondering if maybe I could do that one day. I had so much fun in that tiny blue office on Spokane Street with Mom and Nicole Koran.
It hasn’t changed at all over the years, besides maybe my mom’s ever growing collection of pictures of her grandchildren. When it came time for me to head to college, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I was good at writing, loved horses and punk rock but couldn’t really cobble together a career from those three things (honestly I’m still trying).
So, I looked at my mom, who really enjoyed her work, her colleagues and her role in the community and thought, “Well that sounds nice.” And off to SAIT I went to study journalism. I fell in love with it immediately.
I began to understand how important my mom’s work was and came to respect her on a whole other level. Later, the Bulletin and Townsman team took me in for my first job, setting me up for what has so far been a pretty awesome career. I learned in those years from Mom and Barry Coulter how to meet any deadline, fill any page regardless of the availability of news and always have an ear to those who have a story to tell.
I also survived being deskmates with Trevor Crawley, even through that time a spider crawled out of his mess and onto my marginally cleaner space. Over the years, my chats with Mom have turned to deadline war stories, tales of pesky runaway sources and other foibles from the newsroom. You may know a few of those tales yourself from her own recollection in these pages, but I’d like to tell you a bit more about my mom, the other side of Carolyn Grant.
My mom is one of the funniest and most clever women I’ve ever known. She is non-confrontational, but a hardcore momma bear when one of her kids needs her. She’s picked me up in the middle of the bush at 2 a.
m., no questions asked. Let me use her car (and crash it three separate times in as many months).
Made me laugh in the darkest moments. Hugged me tight when I just needed a shoulder to cry on. Been an equally brutal partner and opponent in Euchre and Trivial Pursuit.
Now, she’s a grandma of five beautiful boys (Hunter, Drake, Dawson, Harrison and Ellis). We always joked that she would retire and become a laundry troll in one of our basements. I know that doesn’t sound like success, but for us, her daughters, we are so excited to have our Momma Bear with us.
So welcome to your well-deserved retirement, Laundry Troll — I mean Ma. Your grand babies can’t wait to see you every day and start the next part of your story. (But do know that the laundry situation around here is out of control.
Feel free to start ASAP.).
