There’s a framed saying next to my computer that says, “She turned her can’ts into cans and her dreams into plans.”
(It’s right next to a Hemingway quote, “Write drunk. Edit sober.” But we won’t go there right now.)
That inspirational message was a gift from some friends who did just that, opening an upcycled-furniture shop that has grown into a successful boutique.
Now it’s my turn.
By the time you read this, my little framed saying will be packed in a box, and my desk in the Beacon Journal newsroom will be clear. After 30 years at the newspaper, I am turning my dreams into plans by taking a leap into a whole new career, real estate.
It’s scary. It’s exhilarating. And it’s really hard to say goodbye.
I have been blessed with an enviable job. People invite me into their homes and let me stroll in their gardens. And all I have to do is tell their stories.
I’ve gotten to squire actor John Lithgow around Akron. I’ve chatted with humorist David Sedaris, who sent me a charming and oddly digressive thank-you note from Paris. I’ve worked on a construction site for the TV show Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. OK, I served food. It wasn’t glamorous.
I’ve done some pretty oddball things, like scuba diving, eating bugs and examining writhing beehives up close. And oh, yeah, there was the time I tried a yoga class in full view of patrons at a winery. To them, I apologize.
But my very best memories involve average people with simpler stories.
People like Juanita Geiss, a shut-in who made it her ministry to send greeting cards to folks at her church.
People like Ken Cochran, who built Secrest Arboretum into a showplace and was tireless in sharing his knowledge and his love for plants.
People like Larry Smith, who turned his grief into a giving opportunity by starting a free clothing closet with his late wife’s garments.
For every Juanita and Ken and Larry, there were a hundred others. They were people who touched my life, who humbled me, who reminded me just how privileged I was to write about them.
I’ll miss that, just as I’ll miss the phone calls from readers looking for advice or event information or just someone to talk to on a lonely afternoon.
To all of you who have read my words all these years, thank you. To those who were kind enough to offer a compliment or an encouraging word, an extra-big thanks. Those interactions were always the highlight of my day.
If you can grant me one wish, it’s that you continue to read the Beacon Journal and support responsible journalism. Newspaper work is a calling, not just a career. My colleagues work harder than you will ever know to uncover wrongdoing, make complex issues understandable and bring color and life to our community. More than ever, they need you — and me — behind them.
In the meantime, I’ll be around. For the time being, at least, you can still find me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/MBBreckABJ and on Twitter @MBBreckABJ , or you can email me at mary.b.breckenridge@gmail.com.
Keep in touch.
Mary Beth Breckenridge was the Beacon Journal’s home and garden writer. You can reach her brilliant and ever-patient editor, Lynne Sherwin, at 330-996-3856 or lsherwin@thebeaconjournal.com.