“Fame! Puts you there where things are hollow,” wrote David Bowie and John Lennon, two of the world’s most recognizable pop icons of their day, in their 1975 hit “Fame.”
These stars had gotten everything they thought they wanted but still knew what it was like to feel empty.
The locals and former locals featured in our “My 15 Minutes” cover story sure have tasted stardom, but each has used experiences on television not as an end goal but as a means to more meaningful pursuits. Each is chasing a passion rather than fame itself, and that is so admirable.
If fame is viewed as a product to consume, it’s not the fame that will be consumed—it’s you. You become the product.
Instead, fame seems only navigable in a healthy way if it is created as a byproduct, the ancillary effect of talent, hard work, perseverance and timing.
One aspect of being the editor of Baton Rouge’s premiere city magazine that I’ll never quite get over (in a good way) is being stopped randomly and thanked by readers.
Receiving these small glints of recognition never felt natural to my quiet nature, but by and large, readers are so warm and encouraging that meeting them unexpectedly is often a highlight of my day.
This, among many other aspects of 225, make it bittersweet to announce that after nearly three years as editor-in-chief, and nearly seven as an assistant editor and staff writer prior to that (for a total of 107 monthly editions), this issue marks my final one at the helm of the magazine.
While I will continue as a contributor to this publication that I love, I am transitioning to a new career focused on producing a variety of video projects.
It’s the start of a new chapter for me, but it is a chapter from the same book and by the same author.
Changes can be difficult, but as this month in Baton Rouge proves, few things are as natural, or as beautiful, as a change of the seasons.
First and foremost, I am deeply indebted to 225‘s publishers Rolfe McCollister and Julio Melara, who offered to me, at age 19, my first media internship, and then years later trusted me to steer one of their flagship publications. What a gift.
But more than that, they have set an example of stalwart servant leadership and granted me years of wise counsel, insightful mentoring and friendship that will never fade.
To all our faithful readers, your encouragement and your support has been so invigorating, and I have no doubt that it will remain so for many years to come.
This magazine isn’t mine. It’s yours.
Finally, to all of my 225 coworkers and contributors, and those I’ve worked side-by-side with at Business Report and InRegister, I offer sincere thanks. I am so grateful for your dedication, your creativity and, especially, your moments of grace and patience with me. I am proud of the work we’ve done together, and I hope you are, too.
This serial collection of stories, images and ideas has become a strong voice in our community.
It is impossible to deny 225‘s role as a vibrant and dependable influence for celebrating, discovering and challenging this city we call home.
That is a special thing, and one worth protecting.
Don’t stop.
And now I can say something I’ve never been able to: I cannot wait to find and read the next issue of 225. It will be a great one.
