Seven years ago, I was certain I’d never live in Lewis County again.
Certainty, I’d learn, is fickle at age 18.
On March 15, 2021, 10 days after my 23rd birthday, I entered the reception area at The Chronicle on North Pearl Street in Centralia. Live 95 was playing Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream.” I remember thinking “I’m definitely home.”
Editor-in-Chief Eric Schwartz walked me back to his office, where he apologized for being late to start our interview but, “I was just three minutes late on deadline and I feel so bad about it.”
I stifled a chuckle when I saw Schwartz’s face. He was not joking. In less than one minute, it became clear there was a serious, dedicated newsman in front of me.
Growing up in Chehalis, The Chronicle was the local paper that occasionally misspelled my name in tennis reporting. I did always admire, though, that it captured the spirit and hilarity of Lewis County life so accurately.
When I went to college in Bellingham, my sister and I would still frequently share its articles, laughing with — or sometimes, laughing at — our hometown.
I moved home in March 2020. You can guess why.
After an online graduation, summer break and a fall internship, I applied for at least 75 jobs. After having just one interview by March 2021, working part-time as an intern with The Chronicle and part-time as a barista at Starbucks sounded good enough.
My internship was to last 11 weeks. In the meantime, I thought I’d look for a full-time job. Instead, it found me.
About three weeks in, I eagerly told Schwartz I was heading to The Cup in Centralia for a story about elementary school students decorating coffee sleeves.
“Careful,” Schwartz said. “You’re going to catch the news bug.”
By week 11, I had the news influenza. I asked twice before getting a full-time reporter position; I would have begged.
I met flood and wildfire survivors, members of and candidates for Congress, people who are homeless, state-level elected officials, centenarians, sixth graders, environmental lawyers, loggers, Forest Service staff, firefighters, police chiefs, leaders and members of several Native American tribes, anglers, teachers, activists, critics, and so many others.
I kayaked down the Chehalis River, cut down Christmas trees in the forest, had breakfast with veterans in Randle, went skiing, hiked at Mount Rainier, saw mountain goats at St. Helens and explored stands of old growth trees. I even covered high school tennis, where I learned W.F. West Coach Jack State may have been partially responsible for “Isabelle Vanderstoep.”
On adventure after adventure, I fell in love with Chronicle Photo Editor Jared Wenzelburger. We got married on Nov. 4.
In January, I’m starting a new job on the East Coast. Fortunately for me, but less so for The Chronicle, my husband is coming with me. Egotistical, cynical teenager Isabel wouldn’t believe it, but I fell in love with Lewis County, too.
I think of the Rotarians who celebrate good deeds and organizations.
The county and state officials who, however begrudgingly, always took my calls.
Ross McDowell and Erika Katt at Lewis County Emergency Management, who I could call at any hour of the day or night when disaster struck.
The fire chiefs who kept an eye on us reporters.
Veterans Memorial Museum Director Chip Duncan, who spent hours giving me history lessons.
Salvation Army captains Gin and Steven Pack, public health staff, the folks at Gather Church, peer counselors, volunteers and service providers who fight on the frontlines of poverty and substance abuse issues.
The Pinchot Partners in East Lewis County, who prove that real community is not sharing all the same values in the first place, but coming to understand one another through trial, conflict, humility and trust.
And the countless others who taught me that where respect exists, friendship doesn’t discriminate on the basis of opinion or identity.
I’m really, really going to miss Chad and Coralee Taylor, whose hearts for their community saved the local newspaper, and who always let me have my loud opinions. I’ll miss every Chronicle staffer, and the service leadership of Eric Schwartz, who works harder than anyone I’ve ever met.
With him at the newsroom’s helm, it is easy to fall in love with the job. People say when you love a job, you’ll never “work” a day in your life. Schwartz proves the opposite is true: The more you love journalism, the more you work. Hard.
News doesn’t stop for holidays, birthdays or weekends. But long hours aren’t the biggest challenge. Done correctly, journalism requires you to consider consequences without being motivated by them, to strike a balance between compassion and detachment, be understanding without being opinionated, and approachable without being easy to manipulate.
And, as emails and letters to the editor will remind you, you’ll never do it well enough for everyone.
Fortunately for its readers, The Chronicle is run by people who understand these nuances. Its walls and pages are filled by hardworking journalists, salespeople, obituary writers, receptionists and delivery drivers who are united by a singular mission: Telling Lewis County’s stories.
As a kid, I never realized that the newspaper misspelling my name meant it actually covers high school sports. Many counties across the state and nation aren’t so lucky.
I never realized obituaries help people learn about the deaths of their friends; that crime coverage often requires dulling down grotesque, traumatizing information; that floods saw journalists sleeping in the office and writing 3 a.m. updates as their homes flooded, too.
Until I had a role in it, I never realized The Chronicle’s newsroom was key in exposing abuse of power, land and people in Lewis County. Or that its day-to-day work covering community events, city council happenings and schools forms a thread that ties Lewis County together.
“Hey Packwood, look what’s going on in Pe Ell,” Schwartz once said of the job’s many responsibilities.
For those who follow, I pray they love Lewis County half as much as I’ll miss it. I don’t think they’ll have much trouble.
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Isabel Vander Stoep has been an intern, reporter and assistant editor for The Chronicle.
