Every week is the same but different

The last time former Star Eagle Publisher Lavonne Meyer and I visited, it started when she banged on my front door, waking me up from a peaceful sleep.

 

She was mad. 

 

After I relieved myself, got dressed, and hurriedly put on shoes (without socks), I opened my front door to see which building was burning down.

 

This was the only time I was ever yelled at by Lavonne so I knew she wasn’t really mad about her subscription to the paper. 

 

After a number of seconds I stopped her from speaking by telling her I would not come to her house and speak to her this way. 

 

She calmed down right away and we went into my office to chat, rather than at my front door.

 

I asked her what was wrong.

 

She told me about her subscription bill problem. I told her I had to create a new system for billing subscriptions and some mistakes were made that could not be corrected until information never previously communicated to me, was communicated. 

 

She was understanding.

 

She then told me about another problem, a lack of a receptionist. This was shortly after Reed Waller, longtime production manager, retired. I said I would get on top of it and I did, hiring my young cousin, Payge Rosacker, a short time later. This is Payge’s first job and she’s in the middle of her second year now. 

 

Before Lavonne left I asked her what was bothering her (because it couldn’t be me who got her this worked up). She grew tearful and told me about a personal relationship that was hurting her emotionally. After hearing her out, I gave her a hug and walked her to her car. 

 

It makes me want to cry thinking back to this moment because this was the last conversation the two of us ever had. 

 

We can never know what someone else is going through or which moment together might be our final one.

 

My first memory of Lavonne, as an employee of the Star Eagle, came when I was a very green 19-year-old editor of the paper. She walked in with a big smile like the sun beaming, and told me I made it. She was proud of me. 

 

When I described the conversation to my mother, my mom’s eyes grew wide and her voice took on a tone of surprise. The reaction was so unexpected, I remember it well to this day. Mom went on to tell me the compliment was a big deal. Lavonne doesn’t just say things like that, Mom told me. 

 

I’m grateful I/we/the paper received her blessing.

 

We sat down about three years ago to write her, Lavonne’s story. I published it on the front page of the first ever edition of the Waseca County Pioneer. I waited to publish it in the Star Eagle until her death in March of this year, 2025. 

 

I wanted to honor her and her memory as best I could. 

 

What made me think about this, now? 

 

Two things.

 

I was driving to Albert Lea Sunday and saw smoke billowing out of Hartland. I almost didn’t stop to investigate but Lavonne's voice, telling me the story of her first story, taking photos of a dead body involved in a car accident, rang through my mind. 

 

Second. 

 

Last week I accidentally published a photo with an advertisement as a cutline by mistake. Payge had clipped the photo and ad together and I thought they went together. I’m very sorry for the mistake. It was my fault. I should have known better. But, the mistake got me thinking, all the way back to the reason I hired Payge. Because an upset reader banged on my door to tell me I did something wrong. 

 

Thank you Lavonne for looking out for me and the paper.

 

And to the Stennes, I’m sorry. And thank you for reading the paper. I still think about the story I wrote about Pete. It was one of my favorites. Right there with Lavonne Meyer.

 

“Our memory is a more perfect world than the universe: it gives back life to those who no longer exist.” - Guy de Maupassant

 

“Every week is the same but different.” - Lavonne Meyer