I’ve always kept at least one toe in the water.
If you’ve been reading The Low Down in recent years, you may have noticed that my byline never completely disappeared. Even after I left the paper in 2013, my name could still be found sprinkled in an issue here, an edition there, a special section somewhere.
Whether it was interviewing bands or reviewing live shows, writing about hilarious hockey hijinks at the Meredith Centre or being pulled back in to write about David Taggart’s iconic night singing onstage with his childhood heroes, Green Day, I’ve been involved with The Low Down in some way since I started my journalism career back in 2008.
And if you ask me why, the quick answer is because I love it. I love The Low Down; I love the Hills and the people who call this place home; I love the quirky stories that are hidden throughout the community; the characters who make this place so wickedly weird; and the vehicle we are so lucky to have to be able to share these stories.
The Low Down, to me, is more than just a weekly rag; it’s a feeling I have in my belly; it’s the tingle that keeps me on my toes; it’s the sweet honey in my morning coffee, and deep down I always knew I would return in some way.
And here I am, returning in a huge way, at the helm of this amazing, feisty, award-winning weekly. The fact that I bought new pants and a new backpack for my first day shows you just how boyishly excited I’ve been for this new chapter in my life.
The Low Down is doing a fine job covering the quirks of the Hills, and I’m excited to build on this and add fresh ideas where there’s room to play.
I want the paper to continue to tell impactful, compelling stories that you won’t find anywhere else in the country. I want the paper to continue to give Indigenous communities and refugees a voice within our pages. I want to tell the stories that you, the reader, want not only to read, but the stories that you want to tell.
It’s extremely important to me to ensure our readers are well-represented within our pages. To do this, you’ll be seeing country-living stories that aim to teach you a little something while entertaining you: more hunting and fishing stories, more stories on local athletes and artists, and more quirky QR code pieces that put a little chuckle into your smile. These are the stories that define us as the little paper that could — the small but mighty rag that punches far above its weight every single week.
I don’t have all the answers. I won’t hit a home run every week, and there will be times that I write things some readers just won’t agree with. And that’s okay.
The late great Art Mantell and co-founder of The Low Down once told me that if you don’t ruffle a few feathers with your stories, you aren’t doing your job. I plan on doing my job each and every week.