End of an era . . .

Today, a community icon died. Killed by technology, changing generational habits, poor management, and low standards, the Nanaimo Daily News has ended.

One of the indelible memories from when I was a wee lad, about six or seven, is that of our neighbour, Roy.

Roy and his family lived across the street from our small acreage. A veteran of the second World War, his mailbox was an old brass artillery shell. It fascinated me that he had it. Roy was a newspaper deliveryman whose job it was to would pick up bundles of papers every day from the Nanaimo Daily Free Press printing plant in Nanaimo BC and take them to Port Alberni. He would then drive around “Port” and deliver them to the newspaper carrier drop-off locations.

At some point, Roy needed time off and asked my Dad to look after his deliveries up-Island. If memory serves, it even included the use of Roy’s delivery van. On one of my Dad’s trips, I was able to accompany him on his rounds.  Although our trip was uneventful, I enjoyed visiting the plant, seeing my Dad interacting with the “guys” and spending the day with him while he worked.

Begun in 1874, the newspaer was called the Daily Free Press until the mid-1990’s when the name was changed to the Nanaimo Daily News. It enjoyed a wide circulation over 75% of northern Vancouver Island

Today was the last day that the 141-year-old Daily News was published. Purchased ten months ago by Black Press, it had undergone years of corporate neglect and poor journalistic efforts. Black Press claims that the paper lost $700,000 in the time that they owned it and they couldn’t pull it from the brink. I guess the fact that they already owned the twice-weekly competitor, didn’t factor into their decision.

Alas, it’s the end of an era . . .

Who would have thought . . . ?

I have used the term “never say never” repeatedly throughout my life.

And yet, I have fallen into the trap of saying “never” on numerous occasions.  Most notably: “I will never co-habitate with anyone, ever again”.  Wrong.  Also: “I will never marry again”.  Also wrong.  The latest “never” that has fallen is “I will never perform onstage”.  Apparently this is wrong as well, as is evidenced by my recent Facebook post:

“It is with a tiny bit of trepidation and a whole lot of excitement, I share with you that I am taking a giant leap from the theatre’s tech room, down onto the stage, as the “Narrator/Spoken Stage Direction” for [the local theatre’s] spring musical production of “The Musical of Musicals, The Musical!”. It will be the first time I’ve set foot onstage publicly since I played a page boy in Little Mountain Theatre’s production of “Sir Foppling Flutter” when I was 12 years old (which was, like, a hundred years ago). I’m thrilled to be working with co-directors Bill J and Alan W as well as many local theatre luminaries (who I’d love to name but don’t want to scoop their own announcements). I also want to mention that the awesome Nikita T is the musical director and even though I don’t have a musical role, I look forward to working with her too!!
The show runs Apr 21 to May 16 and rehearsals start next week. My next “stretch” assignment: learn lines . . . yikes!”

It would seem that co-habituating with, and subsequently marrying, a “dyed in the wool” community theatre man has influenced some of my decisions of late. Surprisingly, it was much easier to convince myself to do this than I had previously realized.  The genesis of this particular metamorphosis began as I was shedding volunteer roles in the past couple of years and, as is usually the case, I looked back fondly to some that I no longer participate in, including announcing for sanctioned goat shows at the local summer fairs and exhibitions.   That was a role that I enjoyed very much but now that we are “goatless townies”, I have drifted away from such endeavours.

Enter my hubby, a co-artistic director of the local community theatre company and his compatriot who decided to mount The Musical of Musicals (The Musical!) this season.  I had never heard of this show but a trip an hour away from home to watch another group’s production made me think that “I could be the narrator” of this show.

An embarrassing audition later and voila, I am now in the cast.

Wish me luck.  Who would have thought . . . ?