![]( "Ashley Kairis")
Ashley Kairis
A sad headline, right? I know — but sadly it’s true. I have given my notice to the Progress and in effect, to the community that I’ve called home for the past year. The way I see it, the least I can do is recount my takeaways from that year and express a bit of gratitude in the process in this last issue as a full-time staff writer.
I was trusted by our publisher Becky Long after a few months of community coverage to extend my writing to all other areas, primarily breaking news and local government, but also events, sports, columns and features.
These stories involved cases of murder, arson and even a controversial death of a pet pig. While I was and still am grateful for the growth I’ve experienced in covering these kinds of news topics, it certainly still came with its fair share of increased blood pressure. Late nights and early morning dips into the office chocolate jars became common as a means of coping with the high expectations I’ve always held for myself.
Why did I take on that stress and willingly put in the extra night hours from time to time? Simply because I take my role as a trusted messenger to the community seriously. By buying a paper in a newsstand or supporting the Progress through yearly subscriptions you each place your confidence in me that what you read is accurate and something worthy of your investment.
This is not to say I haven’t had a single error or name misspelling. I hate to burst this great bubble I have going for me, but I am a mere mortal. I make mistakes just as we all do, but I made it a constant mission to eliminate errors wherever and whenever possible.
Memories I will always cherish with Long are the relentless back and forth read-throughs and edits we would do with each and every breaking story, particularly ones involving criminal proceedings. It felt as though we operated with the same energy and mindset to make sure the story was first accurate and second a decent read. We would consider newsworthiness, word choice, flow and punctuation on the fly to ensure the best foot was being put forward each time.
This often felt as though the workload and stress reduced my brain to just two working cells, rubbing together just enough to produce a few last edits before press time.
For those who do not enjoy writing or deadlines, this might sound like torture. For me though, it is a constant rush and challenge. It can get disheartening too, though. Think of your line of work and how it would feel to give your work all you’ve got for the slate to be wiped clean and a reset button to be hit every week. It takes its toll and empties me a bit, but what keeps me going are the bits that replenish me — the feedback and the community I serve.
To all in this wonderfully weird Clay County community, you are a hoot. You took a freshly graduated college kid with little real-world experience and groomed me into the person I am. You’ve taught me so many valuable lessons that I would never have gotten otherwise anywhere else. On a lighter note, you’ve also taught me several words and phrases I never thought existed.
I’d hear “see yuns later” when someone left the room. I’d hear “golly bum” when things were going wrong. And the list goes on — “crazier than an outhouse rat,” “dog peter gnats,” “chitlins,” and “boondoggle.” Then there was always the “big mama whomp whomp.” Not sure what this is? I’m sure our sports writer Travis Dockery could fill you in.
Even more than the humorous vernacular, I have so enjoyed having a job that has allowed me to get to know so many people who make this community what it is. It’s very clear when you look at the comment sections on Facebook that Clay County is full of people with different opinions and experiences. But what’s pretty remarkable is that regardless of these differences, I’ve seen so much camaraderie in this area.
I’ve seen people make it their life’s work to help the homeless, I’ve seen money donated to neighbors in need, I’ve seen a woman put in 80 hour weeks of unpaid volunteering to help build and maintain the community morale and I’ve seen so many familiar, smiling faces at each quirky parade and well-planned festival on the picturesque downtown square in Hayesville. No matter what, whether I live here later in life again or not at all, I will never forget that courthouse or the people who gathered around it.
To my fellow staff at the Progress and to all community members who made my time in Clay County special, you may never know how much you made an impact in my heart and in my career. Thank you for allowing me to serve as your informant and your friend.