Evers: Excited for something new
Since my Tuesday morning arrival in Dickinson, which immediately followed a Boston to North Dakota road trip that encompassed some 1,900 miles, I have been asked the same question more than a few times.
"Why did you come all this way from home?"
Admittedly, I didn't come for the town. I had never heard of Dickinson until I applied for the job. I didn't come for the oil, either. Apparently I missed the boom? And I didn't come from a desire to live a portion of my life in North Dakota (although the nice people, the wonderful scenery and the roaming buffalo have helped the transition).
I came because I wanted to move on from my old job, and because a couple of nice gentlemen here were offering me a full-time job.
I came for the newspaper, which has been a part of your life, and of Dickinson, for, I bet, as long as you can remember.
There is something very romantic about the relationship between a small town and it's daily newspaper. There is something to be said for a publication which has printed the same stories serving the same families since the 1800s. Those same stories — whose generally formats have been written a thousand times over — which matter as much to locals today as they did many decades ago.
The idea of a paper like The Dickinson Press is one I have long adored.
At my previous job with the Boston Globe — a great newspaper with one of the best sports sections in the country — I had a wonderful time learning from some of the best. But my role in the big picture there was somewhat miniscule. I was a little fish in a big pond.
So, in May, when I hit my one-year anniversary at the Globe (I graduated from Emerson College in the spring of 2015), I thought it a good time to leave. I sent out applications rapidfire to places all over the country. A few other papers got back to me, but almost all of them had at least one glaring reason not to go (a kid can't live on $15,000 a year).
The most intriguing was The Press, which offered a storied history, a livable wage, and a good sports beat. So after a few days of flipping back and forth (I changed my mind more times than I would like to admit), I decided I'd accept the offer.
Now I find myself in this little town, thousands of miles from Boston, ready to work for The Press and cover the Dickinson State Blue Hawks.
I don't know how long I'll be here. A journalist's life is anything but predictable. But since the initial culture shock has died down, I can say this with confidence:
I'm more than excited to be here, and I'm ready to serve this community to the best of my ability.