When I came to Traverse City from Chicago in 1970, I didn’t plan to stay. I was young and
single and couldn’t imagine living in such a small town where everybody knew everybody. I
liked being anonymous in a big city, the sense of freedom and possibility.
I was planning to move to San Francisco with a friend—but then she got engaged and I needed
another plan.
Meanwhile, I needed a job so I answered an ad for a “Girl Friday” at the Traverse
City Record-Eagle. The newspaper was still owned by the Batdorffs in those days and Bob Batdorff said to me, “This will sound corny but it’s like a family here.”
It did sound corny but he was right. And it wasn’t long before I was walking around downtown saying hello to people I knew. I wasn’t anonymous and I liked it. Liked it so much I never left.
That was many years ago and Traverse City has changed a lot. I appreciate the great restaurants
and brew pubs and coffee shops. But it seems strange sometimes to walk around downtown and
not know anyone. I am anonymous again.
Then someone calls me by name and I’m here where I belong.