Maybe it’s the result of being fortunate enough to live a fairly lengthy life, but with that blessing comes the reality of seeing those you’ve loved, cared for and shared memories with pass from this life. However, there is joy in knowing so many of them are delighting in Heaven’s glory. In James 4:14, the Bible reminds us that “life is like a vapor that appears for a little time and vanishes.” My mom once told me she thought old age would come; she just didn’t realize it would get there that fast.
So many of these folks have lived lives of dignity and respect, quietly fulfilling commitments to family, their professions and this country. Only this week, America and its allies paused to pay tribute to the generation of men and women who saved the world from tyranny. In the face of Hitler’s bombardment of mortar and machine gun fire, these men stood firm, and more than 2,500 Americans paid the ultimate sacrifice on that first landing day. Many so young and so far from home. Courage is defined as strength in the face of pain or grief. This community has lost loved ones in every war in which Americans have stood firm against evil and adversity. No one wants to be a Gold Star family. That grief does not go away, and should never be taken for granted.
Though many friends and acquaintances haven’t faced the horrors of war, we’ve watched and prayed as they battled varies illnesses, and often lengthy suffering. Never has that kind of bravery been more on display than the last few years here at the Standard. As every family has, we’ve all lost loved ones and the Standard family had already suffered through the untimely deaths of two precious coworkers. That pain was real and stays with us. But for the last four years, we’ve seen courage in its fullest meaning on display every day. In 2020, amid the COVID epidemic, Susan Newby got the terrible diagnosis dreaded by so many people, malignancy in its severest form, stage 4 non-small cell lung cancer. It’s clear what was to come - tests, ports for chemo and loss of a glorious head of hair. As was her nature, Susan battled this disease as courageously as she did her investigative journalism in editorial for many years, and led the department as only the second female editor in Standard history.
After a brief respite from the day-to-day grind of meetings, covering wrecks and occasional crimes, she returned to the College Street confines as an integral part of the circulation department. A feminist to the core, sometimes crotchety, but with a big heart for those in need, Susan never bothered using the extension service. Why dial a 225 or so, when you can let the entire building know the police chief, mayor, your bank, etc. are on the line. She couldn’t shake her roots in journalism, and more than one editorial staffer sought her advice and thoughts on significant or sensitive stories. She never demeaned, but don’t ask if you didn’t want her opinion.
Her front office was Susan’s domain. Over the years, more than one elected official has settled into her visitor’s chair to get Susan’s thoughts on how county, city or even state and national affairs were being handled. Again, she would give an articulate and thoughtful response. Fun was in her nature; she helped me and another employee pull one of the best pranks I’ve seen at the Standard. We managed to stuffed former editor Mike Pirtle’s Volkswagen Beetle so full of newspapers, he couldn’t sit in the driver’s seat and could barely steer it to the recycling bin. He didn’t say a word but we knew retribution was coming.
Susan had a collection of classic songs and didn’t mind sharing her musical taste. Her supervisor, Dale Stubblefield, enjoyed about a month of continuous Bob Seger songs till he finally had enough. Dale has some thoughts on the bravery we saw daily - “Susan will forever be a part of our Southern Standard family. She was our circulation clerk and handled our day-to-day duties. She has always been a very dedicated and loyal employee who had ink running through her veins. She loved journalism.
“Throughout her career, she hardly ever missed a day of work. After Susan became ill, that still held true. Yes, there were many days she was too tired to come in, but she still showed up and did her job. Susan will be missed by so many, but none more than myself.” Well said Mr. Stubblefield, and this reverberates through the rest of our tenacious little crew.
Some people pass through one’s life as a fleeting vapor, and there are those whose personality, sentiments and joy and pride in those they love leave a lasting impact and bittersweet memories.
We’ll miss her humor, work ethic, determination to see things through, phone call outs, advice, journalistic mind and love of this community and her dear family. She wasn’t afraid to have the last word and as she would end a conversation, “C’est la vie.” It’s true, that’s life, but it doesn’t mean there won’t be another big hole in the Standard’s heart.
