I went to a memorial service in D.C. recently. It was for the wife of a long-time colleague who led teams of people to produce the best radio I have or ever will, hear.
Carolyn Jensen Chadwick had grace and dignity and many of those who spoke at the service talked about, (in a very funny way), how much of a pain in the [neck] she was at work. Story after story was recounted of how Carolyn was very respectful and very determined. She knew what she wanted to hear when listening to raw audio. She knew how she wanted the story to sound and yet, she still trusted her instincts when it came to people. I sat there wondering what I could do in her memory.
My connection to her was through running the program where interns from all over the company got the chance to conceive, research, develop, pitch, report, produce and edit their own story. Carolyn's department was the "high end." They spent months massaging sounds as part of the story. The people who made that happen were audiophiles and Carolyn was their leader. We who are public radio geeks all aspired to have stories like the ones they told-- stories that were written and sounded meticulous, intelligent, thoughtful and necessary.
When this series went on air, I would put on a pair of good headphones, close my eyes and just listen. Carolyn set an example and during the service, I voiced a concern that certain aspects of this kind of storytelling are fading away. I saw many colleagues that day, many of whom I could recall instant memories from late nights, early mornings, countries, states and cities where we worked to create high end, textured radio stories similar to the ones Carolyn produced. Each one of the people at this service were the kind who went out of their way to talk to someone who didn't know anything about documentary style radio, but wanted to learn.
After the service, I chatted for a while with my former colleagues. We reminisced about the old times, made fun of each other for getting old or having gray hair, (or in my case, little hair). Most of us had moved on to other things. We didn't bemoan the old days so much as remember why we we lived them in the first place. And, I resolved to do what I could to continue to share what I know. Being a mentor is very important in this day and age. There are many ways to tell a story and many places where those stories can be distributed.
As you build your career, at some point you are going to make a huge decision: figure out who you are and whether you want to contribute to their conversation or start your own. Finding work that is fulfilling can't be done right out of the gate. You have to build and collect. That is, you have to build a solid reputation of doing quality work and then collect colleagues who will verify it, honestly and easily.
During the service I was reminded of the tradition of telling stories in Native America. Elders -- who were responsible for keeping the tribal language alive-- handed down the traditions and stories of ancestors to the next generation. At the memorial service, I heard colleagues handing down the stories from an elder who had left us physically, but not in spirit.
Each of us will one day be in a position to share. I hope that I continue to lead by example and do just that.
Just as many in that auditorium did for me back in the day.
*Chantal de la Rionda edits this blog
