To The Beachcomber: farewell for now

Published 12:30 pm Friday, October 3, 2025

Six years ago, I published my very first Beachcomber article. That was big news for 16-year-old me.

My classmate and I originally wrote the story — a feature on political expression — for the Vashon High School newspaper, the Riptide, and the Beachcomber saw enough merit in it to reprint. The article prompted a scathing letter to the editor in response, in which I was accused of being a long-winded, closeted Republican (only one of these accusations proved accurate).

A handful of years and one college degree in journalism later, I found myself back on the island, freelancing for The Beachcomber.

I picked up a story about Water District 19 last fall. In the district office lobby, I chatted with administrator Melody Snyder. Our exchange followed what has become a familiar opening for many interviews on the island: ‘Did you grow up here? What did you say was your last name, again?’

“I remember you and your brother trick-or-treating at the office on Halloween,” Melody said. “You were about this tall.”

These days I’ve traded my bag of candy for a pen and a notebook, but I likely felt similar levels of authority. In other words, growing up on Vashon and returning in the early days of adulthood lends itself to feeling like a kid again, at least at first.

Many of the stories I’ve worked on even harkened back to that childhood.

Last December I interviewed Liz Lewis at her pottery studio, where I and so many other islanders attended clay camp as children. My fine assortment of ceramic birds now perch proudly on a log in my parents’ front yard.

In the spring, I attended the Sportsmen’s Club Fishing Derby to snap photos of the young anglers, holding their trout up to the camera and beaming with pride. As a three-year-old at that same event, I snapped off the mast of some unwitting man’s remote control sailboat.

A good story captures those slices of life that might otherwise go unnoticed. One of the things I like about journalism is that you’re able to step into other people’s lives. If only for a 20 minute conversation, interviews give you a front row seat to someone else’s passions, fears, annoyances, dreams. Even the small articles make just about any topic feel a whole lot bigger.

This place is filled with so many stories, and I’m happy to have had the chance to write some from a new perspective.

From Bruce Haulman I learned about the many iconic bird species that call our forests and harbors home and the threats they face from today’s climate. From James Cottrell, I carry the analogy that a pregnant doe on pavement is like a woman on an ice rink in high heels. From the island’s countless nonprofit leaders, I learned just how federal spending trickles down to Vashon — or abruptly stops — and just what that means for local organizations.

Now, I’m moving on. I recently accepted a reporting position at the Juneau Empire, where I’ll be covering state and local politics. I’ll be moving up to Alaska, but since Juneau is waterlocked — only accessible by ferry or plane — I suspect it will feel a bit like home.

Thank you to Alex, former Beachcomber editor. Thank you for parsing out unneeded complexities in my sentences. But much more so, thank you for being a mentor. You’ve helped me in navigating the world of journalism and also the jumble that is life in one’s twenties. Your guidance has been invaluable to me, and I know I’ll carry it with me beyond Vashon.

Thank you to Liz, for your years of work at the Beachcomber. You are an institution, and I cannot imagine an issue not filled with your bylines. Your intuition and steadfast opinions are an inspiration to me, and I’ll miss hearing all about them in the newsroom.

Thank you to the many islanders who have taken my calls, answered my questions and invited me into your stories.

— Mari Kanagy is a contributing journalist to The Beachcomber