The Park Record is grateful to Amy Roberts for her column contributions over the past 13 years. This is her final column.
It’s been 13 years since I started writing this column. Well, a column at least. In the spring of 2010, I casually mentioned to my friend and then editor of The Park Record, Nan Noaker, I would be leaving the country for a few weeks; off to South Africa for the FIFA World Cup. She knew I had a background as a writer and a journalist and asked if I’d chronicle my experience for the paper. I said sure.
When I returned to the U.S. a month later and submitted my copy, Nan asked if I’d be up for writing a weekly sports column. I agreed. A few years after, Larry Warren retired his column and Nan asked if I’d consider leaving the sports page for the opinion page. “Ok,” I replied, thinking, “How hard can it be?” I sure was naïve back then.
While I say it in jest, it is true that Nan deserves credit for giving me my first international assignment. Which, fatefully, has evolved into many more since. Not for The Park Record, of course. On a small-town paper’s budget, I don’t even get sent on assignment to Kimball Junction. Rather, I’ve had editors from various outlets reach out after reading my column or being introduced to it by someone who does. And long story short, I’ve been able to freelance for some pretty impressive publications. Which, at this point in my career, I have decided to focus on more. Meaning this will be my final Red Card Roberts.
I have always enjoyed the freedom that comes with writing an opinion piece — I don’t have to hide my bias or present both sides of an argument. I don’t have to chase sources or fact check myself into tedious oblivion. An opinion piece is what I think and why I think it. I don’t have to give a damn if someone doesn’t agree with me. I get to write from the heart and tap into my creativity. At least, that is the way it’s long been in newsrooms across the country, including The Park Record.
With the recent changing of the guard, I’m not sure that will be the accepted custom any longer. Which, to be clear, is the right of any editor. Just as it’s my right to decide how much of my style I am willing to modify for a few extra dollars every month. And I’ve come to realize that I just don’t have the desire, time, or energy to do so. When you can earn roughly 35 times more per word elsewhere, simplify your life, and not run the risk of pissing off half the town, a difficult decision gets a little less so.
But still, it was a decision I wrestled with. Over the years this space has allowed me to share meaningful stories (and outrage), hold power to account, spotlight hypocrisy, and express my heartache in a way I simply could not verbally. Being able to write about my grief after my sister died also allowed me to find a way through it. This tiny corner of the newspaper has given me a chance to discover my own voice, if not my own path. I certainly wouldn’t have guessed it would lead to the opportunities, friendships, and frustrations it has. The frustrations mostly being over the paper’s unwillingness to recognize the Oxford comma.
I estimate I’ve turned in roughly 650 columns since 2010. That’s probably close to about 400,000 words, surely at least 575 Sunday evenings spent in a panic that I didn’t have a topic, 2,000 hours willing my fingers to move across a keyboard, and countless unsolicited conversations about why the words I wrote were “spot on” or “dead wrong.”
Say what you want about my style, but playing it safe has never been my goal — I’ve always gone with principle over popularity. A belief that has certainly made people angry — once to the point I feared for my safety. But over the last 13 years, I have also made people laugh, cry, and hopefully — if it did it right — think.
Thank you for 13 years of agreeing, disputing, debating, considering, supporting, scoffing, challenging, and most of all — reading.