When I announced I was retiring from The Oregonian after 43 years and six months, editorial leadership graciously offered to throw me a farewell party with cake and drinks.
I passed.
Instead, I asked for what I thought would be a more fitting farewell: to write a letter of thanks to my readers and to the people for whom I have written over my long career.
Though I never met most of my newspaper readers, we formed bonds that I will miss when my articles no longer appear in The Oregonian or OregonLive.
Over the years, I have read every letter and email you sent me. I have listened to your voicemails. I have spoken to you on the phone. And although this profession can be exhausting no matter how hard you try, I have had many enjoyable conversations that fill me with hope.
Now, a special thanks goes out to those who have given me their most precious asset: themselves.
For me, stories emerge formlessly from the mist. Something about people, situations, and moments in life – good or bad, tragic or joyous, funny or moving – fascinates me.
Over the years, I reached out to many people These were people who had never met a reporter, never been interviewed by a reporter. A phone call. A knock on the door. No one needed to talk to me. But they agreed. Over long conversations, questions and answers, and more questions and answers, their stories came alive.
In this industry, we often casually call everything a story, even when it is actually a topic, an incident, or a set of facts organized in a coherent way for readers.
I would argue that today’s readers are overwhelmed with facts.
The answer to almost any question can be found on the Internet within seconds.
We are seeking meaning and connection on a deeper, more universal level.
We are, at our core, creatures with a desire to understand and make sense of things. In the midst of ambiguity, we seek certainty.
Science provides some answers but doesn’t help resolve the biggest questions.
Who am I?
Why am I here?
What is my objective?
To get the answer, we must turn to stories.
Historian and philosopher Will Durant once wrote:
Civilization is a river with banks: the river sometimes fills with blood as people kill and steal and scream and do the things historians usually record, but on the riverbanks, unnoticed, people build homes, love each other, raise children, sing songs, write poetry, even carve statues.
The story of civilization is the story of what happened on the riverbanks.
I’ve worked in banking my whole career.
Most news “stories” are forgotten. Even award-winning news stories can seem outdated and largely irrelevant after a few years, or even months.
The stories I found on the riverbanks are timeless and universal.
These works address the complexities of life, revealing themes of honor, compassion, fear, hope, loneliness, joy, regret, dreams and nightmares that define our shared journey.
Late last year, I wrote an article outlining what I’d been trying to do throughout my career.
The story revolves around a brief encounter between a high school principal and a 16-year-old student over 60 years ago, when the principal said six words that changed the boy’s life.
Readers found no news in the article, but they received many letters and phone calls from across Oregon and the country who were touched by the story of two men who would never meet.
The following is an excerpt from one of the letters.
There are so many divisive, controversial, sad, and disheartening books out there these days. This story is what we so desperately need right now. Thank you for reminding us of human goodness and the power of seemingly small things. It made me cry, but thank you.
Now it’s time to say thank you and goodbye.
But this is not the end of our relationship.
Please contact us at thallmanjr@gmail.com.
With deep gratitude and appreciation.
-Tom Holman Jr.
Holman has been a reporter for The Oregonian since 1980 and won a Pulitzer Prize for feature writing in 2001. He is a lifelong resident of Portland.
