I was on a perfect Pacific Northwest summer evening date a few years ago and as we left a downtown Spokane establishment after sipping beverages on the patio, I threw my head back and my arms out and said, “I. love. my. city.”
He laughed, and asked, “Your city?”
Yes, I love Spokane—and the people in it—as my very own. I’ve spent 19 years in print media, writing about the value of community and our vested interest, contributions and responsibilities toward it, along with the mark we leave on one other. Writing on these subjects has naturally flowed from my heart and soul, and has been an honor and a privilege to craft. I’ve invested a good portion of the last 15 years in Bozzi Media publications, beginning as a writer, rising up as an editor of the smaller publications—creating and launching the Woman’s magazine, a highlight—and then ultimately rolling the three smaller publications into this city magazine, Spokane Coeur d’Alene Living, and coming on as editor-in-chief four and a half years ago. I have managed awards features and events—some of my favorite work—turning community and reader attention toward the very best people, places, businesses and organizations within our region has kept me hopeful and enthusiastic, in spite of some of our challenges and discord. Much has been entrusted to me in this role, and I hope I’m remembered for having given much value in return.
I’ve worked with insanely talented people who will forever be my friends and family, and I’m grateful to our publisher, Vincent Bozzi, for the opportunities he has so freely and enthusiastically extended my way. Deep in my heart of hearts—this brings tears to my eyes—I will miss being so tightly bound to my partner in it all, our creative director Kristi Soto. She is a true friend, a consummate professional, and she makes the magazine, and anything she touches, shine. She and I have sent magazines to press while the world around one of us felt like it was falling to pieces: through divorce, illness, death of a loved one, and other life events that would stop anyone else in their tracks. We have not skipped a beat throughout the pandemic, even when fear stretched its gnarly tentacles in our direction.
I could write a book about my adventures in media, how I’ve thrived, the lessons I’ve learned about myself and humanity, and the brutalities, too. I have it on my list to accomplish in the near future, so I’ll keep it tidy on this page.
I’ve carried a tattered piece of paper around for a while now. I take it out, unfold it, run my hands over it to smooth it out like it’s a precious whisper I need to gaze at in order for my soul to hear, and place it beside my computer whether I’m working at the office or working from home. The words on that loved piece of paper are a John Rohn quote that say: “Reasons come first, answers second.” I find myself full of gratitude and grace as I prepare to transition out as your editor-in-chief, and toward the next chapter of my life. I have no idea what that is at this juncture … but I have faith it will be grand and will allow me to continue expanding out into the world.
Thank you for being one of the best parts of my journey in media. I have fought for you, my readers, in so many ways over the years. From covers to content, you have always been the heart and soul of this magazine, and the fuel of my work pulling it all together. May the heartbreak I’ve endured to finally and ultimately extract myself—and my identity—away from this role in our community serve as a relic of my integrity and the respect I’ve held for you all. Thank you for reading and caring about me and my work, about our community, and about one another. It’s a blessing and an honor to have been here, alongside you, and it will continue to be a blessing and an honor as I take my next steps in this wild and beautiful life.
And so as not to leave this page without one more lesson—dancing in my mind—woven in about humanity, I would like to address the notion of “not reading the comments” sections on social media, particularly news stories.
After recently ignoring that warning and investing much time policing the comments sections on a story super close to my heart about a beloved friend unexpectedly losing her 25-year-old daughter to covid-19, my advice is: know your friends … even your Facebook friends. Every deplorable commenter and I shared mutual connections—some of those connections were with people I highly respect and admire. We can choose to turn a blind eye, or we can rise up to be the vital part of our society that corrects—or removes the attention from—one another when any of us spews despicable words toward another. I don’t know where you land on this, but I will not keep close—and provide oxygen to—people who lack basic human decency by proudly and publicly displaying disregard and disrespect toward others, particularly those in the midst of the brutality of unimaginable loss. I challenge us all to take a stand, and to withdraw the generosities of our proximity, time and attention.
One of the lessons 2020 has taught me is that dialing life back to a more deeply meaningful experience is the gift many of us didn’t know we needed. And this goes for who and how we choose our connections, too.
Thank you for a wonderful run. I won’t ever forget it. If you would like to stay connected, or to learn where my writing will land next, you can find my author page on Facebook and Instagram, or you can email me at [email protected]
To community, to new chapters, to you,
Stephanie Regalado
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