The miracle of all of this

by David Boyle
News Director
When I came back to work at the San Juan Record, I planned to never write an opinion piece. But when you oversee the end of a product that’s served people for 111 years, it causes some introspection. 
The San Juan Record has been in the background of most county residents’ lives, but for me, the paper has shaped my life.
My earliest memories of the San Juan Record were Wednesday mornings. Every week the staff prepares the newspaper for delivery.
This includes labeling the top-right corner with addresses for postal workers, putting tied up bundles of newspapers in the correct bags headed to Blanding or Dove Creek or Provo, and hand inserting fliers into the crease in the middle of the newspaper.
When I was about five years old, I got my first job at the San Juan Record putting those inserts into the paper.
During that time we’d lay an old door across two tables to create extra spaces for the four or five inserts that needed to be placed inside the papers.
The handle was missing from the door, leaving a small hole that I could poke my fist through and cause my Grandma Dawn to try and grab my fingers, which would result in a lot of giggling. We’d laugh and tell jokes and eat donuts that my uncle Scott would bring in the summertime. 
I’m sure my dad likely had to re-do some of the inserts that I put in crooked to the point of risking paper cuts to the rest of the staff.
After some exposure, for a few years in fifth grade I thought it a good idea to make my own newsletter and deliver it to my friends.
Despite the potential of creating a competitor, my dad mentored me on writing news articles for my 10-year-old readers, possibly knowing in his head that it’d last about three weeks before I moved on to something else. 
I learned a lot of things by doing the newsletter. For example, I learned this sentence is incorrect: “The Monticello 5th grade football team won the Moab team in football.”
My dad explained that the Buckaroos did not get to keep the Red Devils as a result of the contest. But I could say that they “beat” the other team or “won the game.” 
Some basic rules of communication were shared, as well as principles of journalism.
I asked my dad why he was a newspaper man rather than a lawyer or something else I thought important or impressive at the time.
I remember him explaining to me his job isn’t to try and pursue the agenda of a client, but rather to share the truth. 
That stuck with me, and I’ve realized since how difficult that is to fully do and recognize I haven’t been as exact to that standard as I’d like to be.
However, that pursuit helped me as I started covering news stories for the paper shortly after high school graduation.
After leaving town and serving a mission, I was sure I wouldn’t come back to live in San Juan County, but most summers I came home and would write about what was going on at city council for a few months.
I learned a lot over those summers, including how to lay out a newspaper from Andrea Montgomery, how to update a subscription from Jill Pearson, and how to balance work with watching viral videos from both.
I also learned how to structure a news story from my dad. I saw how seriously he has taken his role in the community, and how much he loves San Juan. In my mind he’s always been George Bailey, working away to make life better for Bedford Falls, and for that and other reasons, he’s been my hero.
Unsurprisingly while at school I didn’t know what to do, so I ended up in a news media major and found myself in radio. After spending a few years at a station in Park City, my dad told me he’d been approached to buy 92.7 FM. With my limited experience it seemed like we’d been guided back home, despite not actively seeking it.
Although I didn’t plan to come back to Monticello, I’ve loved trying to deliver fair, balanced reporting on events in the county, and even more so I’ve enjoyed writing about all-out triumphs of local residents. 
When I came back, we knew printed words days were numbered. That has been sobering.
Over the past six years since I’ve been home, we’ve worked to expand and change in a way that better meets the needs of San Juan County residents.
Moving to an online-first method of delivery should mean the news will arrive faster for readers, with more room for content and photos. A renewed emphasis on the radio station should also mean more immediate news, with a reach beyond the county line as well.
While we’re excited for a new challenge, there is a lot unknown and a lot I will miss about the printed newspaper.
This past summer, my six-year-old son George spent Wednesday mornings with cousins slowly inserting advertisements into the center of the pages of the San Juan Record, in between bites of glazed twisted donuts from Blue Mountain Foods.
Through all these planned changes, I hadn’t choked up or cried until this past week when I told George he wouldn’t be able to insert ads into the paper next summer. 
His disappointment reminded me of my own disappointment of not being able to insert papers, or the relief of learning the newsfiles had successfully arrived at the printer in Santa Fe, or kicking myself for a misspelled name that was too late to change.
One thing I’ll miss a lot about Wednesdays is labeling the newspapers in the top right corner and seeing the names of all the people I know who have supported us for years as subscribers.
Thank you for your years of support of our mission to inform and connect the community.
I love this community. 
The rural Western United States can be pretty homogeneous, but I love the diversity of San Juan County. 
Residents of this place are made up of different religions, ethnicities, and political ideologies. When running errands in town, you won’t go more than 10 minutes before you run into someone who has at least one of those differences. But they will still ask you how your family is doing. 
Covering stories, I’ve been able to talk with and come to understand people with views different from my own and understand how people come to what they believe.
Being here covering the news has made me feel very blessed.
Recently I’ve been listening to some music from a Nephi, UT kid—Brandon Flowers of The Killers. I love this song of his “Does It Ever Cross your Mind.” I feel like it’s been written for my people in San Juan County:
“Of all the corners of the universe
We wound up
hand in hand
Picking up the slack
in each other’s lives
Right here
where we stand
Some may call it
a coincidence
But I prefer design
I guess what I’ve been wondering is
Does it ever
cross your mind?
The miracle
of all of this
Does it ever
cross your mind?”