Next year the Carnegie Center will observe and celebrate its 21st birthday. I’m sure there will be articles about what it has meant to Lexington and the people it has served through its teaching, tutoring and mentoring programs.
I want to talk about what it has meant to me and how grateful I am for its contribution to my life. Back in the ‘90s, my retirement activities had gotten a little old and my husband, who had been my research and writing partner during our years working at the university, suggested that I should try writing unrelated to research. I then wrote an article about life in Lexington as it had been and was no longer.
He, that husband who had been the editor of a professional journal, used his editorial skill to make suggestions about my output. I made changes he suggested, but put the article away, assuming it had little merit.
A couple of years later he suggested that I might like a class being offered at the Carnegie Center on non-fiction writing. I dug out the laid aside article and enrolled in the class rather diffidently to see if I really could write.
There were about 15 people in the class, taught by Jan Isenhour then. The custom was that the class members read their pieces and the class and Jan gave gentle critiques to the author.
I was asked to read anything I had brought, as was customary for new class members.
I did. There was a deep silence, during which I thought, “Well, that teaches me that I am not a writer. I will have to look for another hobby.” Then a man said, “Well, it has to be published.” And the class agreed. I went home on a cloud, hardly able to wait to improve it and return to class, where I stayed for the next several years.
One day the Chevy Chaser came, a new neighborhood paper being run by two young men full of promise. I read a notice saying that unsolicited articles would be welcome, I sent in my article. I heard nothing. About two months later it appeared in the Chevy Chaser. I still heard nothing except from my classmates, but I was excited to see it. Then a couple of months later, the editor, Chuck Creacy, called me, saying they had received good comments on it and wondering if I had any more. I said, “No, but I can write you some more like it.” The article came out in June 1999; the next one in August 1999 (I think). I have not missed a month since.
I’ve been saying it was 10 years I’ve been writing the column, but it was really 12 years. This will be my 156th column. I’ve been through four or five editors. Each time a new one came, I’ve held my breath, expecting to be told they have had enough of me. That hasn’t happened and my fan mail has only increased over the years, as have the comments I receive from perfect strangers who recognize me from my picture in the Chevy Chaser.
I owe it all to the Carnegie Center. I embarked on my second career due to them. It was really my final career. Preceding have been teaching public school music, editing army regulations, bookkeeping for WLEX radio station, being my Temple’s secretary and Sunday School principal, and many years as director of the Counseling Center at UK from which I retired.
None of those occupations brought me the local recognition that writing for the Chevy Chaser has. Even my 20 years at UK as a psychologist made me known professionally, but this is my own home town. And I may be the best-known nonagenarian in my home town. Thank you, Carnegie Center. Thank you, Chevy Chaser.