It seems everyone I meet wants to know why I moved all the way from NYC, skyscraper capital of the world, to Ashland, Oregon...aka Tree City USA (seriously). While it's true that I felt like I needed a change and maybe even needed a break from Manhattan altogether, and that the job at Musician's Friend seemed like a good next career move for me (and hey, if I hated it, I could always get another job, right?), a large part of the reason I finally decided to leave New York was because one of my long-time friends, Donna Krampf, fell into a coma this time last year. She died right after I returned from my in-person interview with Musician's Friend in Oregon and her funeral was on my birthday, December 23, the same day I was offered the job.
Donna hired me at A&E in 1998 and was a real mentor to me. She was a brilliant direct marketer, a wonderful person, and had a great sense of humor about herself. One of the funniest times we ever had was when we were getting into a cab to go to a meeting downtown. She kicked her leg up a little too high and her pants split up the back. We were already running late and she went through the entire meeting with her leather coat tied around her waist, the two of us on the verge of convulsing in laughter for two hours straight. She would always send me little notes of encouragement and her last one to me before she left to be GM of Delias.com said that I was a star. I still have the email.
Over the years, we always stayed in touch. We'd meet for drinks or dinner or go to the movies from time to time and although we never felt like we saw each other often enough, we always knew we could when we needed to. The last time I saw Donna was in early December 2005 at Campbell Apartment, a swanky bar in Manhattan's Grand Central Terminal. I had just had my first phone interview with Musician's Friend and was looking at other opportunities in NYC, and we talked about that and our lives and where we thought we were headed. She was tired of consulting and was thinking of getting a full-time job again--maybe even moving out West. I said I'd connect her with a recruiter friend of mine who might be able to help her out. She never got the chance to call him. About a week and a half later, she was in a coma. Less than two weeks after that, she was gone.
Looking back on a year ago, I remember how strongly I felt like it was all a sign--a giant arrow in the sky pointing West so I could close one chapter of my life and start fresh, even if I wasn't sure if I wanted to do it. A new start was offering itself up to me, and I would be an idiot not to take it. I'm many things, but an idiot, I'm not. So a couple months later, I bought a Jeep, put my boyfriend and two cats in it, and headed out for parts heretofore unknown (at least to me).
Those of you literate types already know that the famous quote, "Go West, young man," (made not by Horace Greeley, but John B. L. Soule) was actually "Go West, young man, and grow up with the country." It's been over 150 years since that quote was written and while the West had a bit of a head start on me, I think I've done a lot of growing up since I arrived in the middle of these mountains. What a difference a year makes.