Before diving into this story, I should say that I know I am breaking the rules by writing this in the first person. I apologize, Gloria. But sometimes rules are made to be broken.

It was a warm March afternoon in 2005 when I first met Gloria and Wayne Trotter, and I was certain I was making the worst first impression of my life.

For years, I had lived by the rule that if you wanted to succeed, you dressed for success. That day, however, success looked like a dirt-stained T-shirt, faded jeans, and hair hastily pulled into a ponytail. I had just left work and driven the short distance from Bethel Acres to Tecumseh. I was covered in grime, sweaty, and carrying the unmistakable scent of a long day’s labor—one that no amount of body spray could disguise.

As I walked in, all I could do was hope Gloria had meant what she said on the phone: “I don’t care what you look like.” The Trotters had received my résumé earlier that afternoon and wanted to decide before the end of the day who to hire as a new graphic artist. I was about to learn that first impressions aren’t always made by appearances and that one unexpected meeting would change the course of my career.

That afternoon, when the phone rang at the Bethel Community Center, I was cleaning the building. I had saved my least favorite part until the end. I was cleaning toilets when the phone rang. I tried to explain that she didn’t want me entering her office, but Gloria insisted I come as I was.

The interview went fine, but I was certain I wouldn’t get the job.

I was wrong. I received a call before I was back in Bethel, asking me when I could start.

On my first day of work, I walked in looking much more presentable, and noticed my new boss walking around the office barefoot. I knew I had found my sole mate. I kicked off my shoes and went to work, figuring out how to convert everything I knew about computers and software to this Mac thing on my desk.

Gloria’s office was just steps from my desk, and bless her heart, she remained patient as I learned the ins and outs of laying out the classified pages.

I had told her before being hired that my average time in a job was five years. After that, I would get bored and start looking for a new job to learn from. She told me I would never be bored in this business. She was right.

In 2009, I pitched a series of story ideas to Gloria. She liked it, but told me I had to have at least half of it finished before she would place the first one in the paper. It ended up being six parts, and another quote Gloria had told me early on – “Journalists have ink in their veins.” – took hold of my life. Before I knew it, the five years had come and gone, and I was still learning new things every day.

Gloria and Wayne were dedicated to making sure the residents of Tecumseh, Shawnee, and Pottawatomie County were well- informed and that the various sports and events were covered. They were committed to preserving the history of our communities.

While most of the time this was accomplished with words, it was also accomplished in their actions. Gloria took on the task of “Saving the Rocket” when new playground equipment and walking trails were being built at Slick Humphrey Park.

For months, stories and ads ran in the paper. Funds were collected and saved, and eventually Gloria found a company to sandblast and paint the old rocket. It was then refurbished to be made safe and returned to the park, where it still stands today. It is a reminder to all who found joy and made lasting memories by squeezing through the opening and climbing to the top for a panoramic view of the park.

Gloria was always prepared and knew that if bad weather was going to hit our area, it would most likely happen on deadline (Tuesday night). Comfy clothes, flashlights, drinks, and soup were always available. There was also a blow-up mattress, which I still keep at the office.

These things came in handy the year we were snowed/iced in for three days. Of course, it did help that the owners of the restaurant next door lived above their business and were open in case anyone ventured out. We skated over a couple of times.

When the tornado blew through Tecumseh, we were at the office as the sirens began to sound. We made a quick trip to the #1 son’s cellar to ride it out. But when it was over, we were back at the office. Gloria was on the phone gathering and verifying information, which we pushed out on our website. After I went home, Gloria and Wayne walked the streets, checking on their friends and neighbors and documenting the damage.

By the time we went to print the next morning, the paper’s layout had been completely redone.

After thieves decided to rob our local pharmacy, Gloria walked down the street, standing outside and gathering whatever information she could about the incident. She was the one reporter invited into the business to get the story. Why? Because she was known and she was trusted to provide an accurate account of what happened.

These stories are only a small glimpse into the many ways that Gloria and Wayne poured themselves into the community they called home. Yes, they were extraordinary journalists. But they were also amazing mentors and friends who will be deeply missed.

Thank you, Gloria and Wayne, for changing the direction of my life that afternoon in 2005.

And thank you for teaching me that the stories that matter most are never just about events; they are about people.

Gloria, your greatest lesson had nothing to do with writing. You showed me how to sit across from people on the hardest days of their lives, ask the difficult questions, tell the truth, and still treat them with dignity. You taught me that journalism isn’t just about covering a community, it’s about being part of it.