Someone recently asked me what I would miss most once the business closed down, and I couldn’t answer.

There are several things, things I’m sure I won’t even know about for months to come.

I started working at the Star as an ad rep in 1989.

My roles evolved over the years, from ad rep to advertising manager in 2000 and gradually taking on more responsibilities.

Over time, I became the go-to troubleshooter, putting out the fires and keeping the peace (or trying to) so operations could run smoothly — or at least with fewer hiccups.

It will be overcoming those unexpected obstacles that make you think outside the box that will be missed.

I’ll miss the feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day when everything that could go wrong definitely did go wrong, but somehow everything and everyone came together and all I can hear is the rhythm of the press running beneath my feet.

We did it, we made deadline, and the paper is out. I’ll miss helping people.

Whether that meant helping a regular client with their weekly advertising, or helping someone place an obituary.

Seeing someone’s demeanour change when they realize that we actually want to do a good job for them is very fulfilling.

I’ve met hundreds of people over the years and built trust and rapport that has turned business relationships into lasting friendships.

One of my most cherished memories and biggest accomplishments was being a part of a very dedicated team publishing the 100th Anniversary Special Editions in the summer and all of 2000. There were three issues (July, August and October) totalling 352 pages of Yukon history.

I feel quite fortunate to have been able to work closely alongside my mom, Jackie Pierce, during this time.

Everyone was in on it, above and beyond putting out a daily paper, somehow we managed this behemoth of a job that came with long hours, a bit of delirium, and great stories to tell.

It was about 2:00 one morning when production manager Dianne Villesèche and I were working late on proofing and design when we heard an awful racket outside.

We had a front-row seat watching a group of young men stagger down the middle of Second Avenue singing at the top of their lungs, then deciding what a great idea it would be to climb up onto the battling moose (atop what is now Woodcutter’s Blanket) for a photo.

They were pretty proud of themselves, no one got hurt, nothing was damaged, just good clean fun and some welcomed entertainment for us.

More than half of my life has been spent at the Whitehorse Star; it’s been a second home to me, and after 35 years I now think about sitting at a different desk.

I haven’t a clue where that will be, but I’m sure something meaningful will find me.

Over the past several months, I think every emotion has been rollercoastering through me but I know we will all be fine, eventually.

In the meantime, I will try to remember: don’t sweat the small stuff, take the high road, and of course: don’t let the bastards grind you down – illegitimus non carborundum.

By MICHELE PIERCE
Star co-owner