We’ll celebrate together, as family

It’s inevitable, I suppose, that we get a bit sentimental and reflective during the holidays.
Every celebration brings echoes of past celebrations. Every toast brings to mind those who aren’t here to raise their glasses. Every tradition reminds us of how each tradition was born.
Later this week, we’ll have the company Christmas party. It’s a little less rowdy than it used to be. There are fewer of us, for one thing, as the company has become leaner during challenging times. And many of us are older than we’d like to admit.
But it will still be a great celebration, and a part of that celebration will require remembering those who won’t be with us this year.
Two employees — Pam Brown at The News and Sun and The CR’s advertising manager Jeanne Lutz — lost their husbands this year. Business manager Julie Swoveland lost her mother.
And all of us lost Millie Cavanaugh, who was a delight as an ad salesperson during the 1970s and 1980s, and her husband Paul, who always accompanied her to the Christmas dinner even when she was well into retirement.
It’s a facile management cliché to refer to the company as family, but in our case, it’s true. Or at least I hope so.
This company started in 1946 when my parents purchased The Redkey Times-Journal from Max Coble, whose daughter Billie Huggins was a popular Redkey figure for years. When he needed an editor for the little weekly paper, my father turned to his sister Jean, who had a small child and was coming off a divorce. She would later go on to marry Jim Luginbill, whose office was across the hall from my dad’s at The Jay Garment Company. Jim would go on to be one of the best mayors in Portland’s history and a member of the board of this company.
Last week, his son Craig joined the board, rounding out the circle. Craig joined Don and Hugh Hanlin, stepsons of the late Manon Felts who served as publisher before me. My two sisters, Linda and Louise, are also on the board. So is Steve Arnold, whose father, Dick, was general manager of this company as well as my mentor, my friend and my unofficial extra uncle. Rounding out the board is Frank Snyder, publisher of The Daily Standard in Celina, Ohio. Frank and I have known each other since childhood; our fathers could best be described as cronies.
As I said, it’s a family.
And the list goes on, especially for those of us with long enough memories.
I think of the Graphic Printing Company, and I think of:
•Frank Kenyon, whose photographs defined a Jay County generation.
•Quentin Imel, the light-hearted but often-frazzled printer and antique afficianado.
•Manon Felts, whose steadfast, thoughtful leadership I will always treasure.
•Jerry Lewis, the sharp-tongued, sharp-minded ad manager who knew I had a lot to learn.
•Jon Kimmel and Rita Pettinichio, two ad sales people we lost during a particularly rough time. Rita could be a tough cookie. Jon could be a softie, especially where other veterans were concerned.
•Barb Wilkinson, who hesitated about becoming managing editor then went on to do an excellent job, surprising even herself.
•And, of course, Tom.
I hired Tom Casey as a reporter back in the late 1970s and nearly fired him six weeks later. But a little talk put him back on track and he proved to be not only an excellent reporter but one of the most entertaining columnists we’ve ever published.
Not too many years after I almost fired him, I asked Tom to become managing editor when I assumed the duties of publisher.
It was an entertaining choice.
Tom’s Irish temper and flair for the dramatic made every typo cause for desk-slamming and bursts of profanity. But I loved the guy like a brother.
We’ll remember all those folks this week at our Christmas party. We’ll tell stories about those people and more. And at the end of the evening, we’ll do something Tom suggested many years ago while he was dealing with cancer.
At the end of the party, we’ll sing “Silent Night” together. Like family.
That’s the way Tom would have wanted it. And that’s the way it ought to be.