The Chronicle: A love story

I first met The Chronicle through a mutual friend, Chelsea Pieroni, my fashionable Italian dorm mate who I thought was too cool for me (and still do). We were hanging out in the Pegram common room when she mentioned that she was heading over to a photo meeting later that evening. I was a cliche lanyard-wearing, wide-eyed freshman still trying to find my niche at Duke. So, of course, I asked if I could tag along. Soon enough, I found myself sinking into one of the many plush, suede couches in 301 Flowers.

Like any new relationship, things were awkward at first. I arrived to the office early and sat by myself silently for fifteen minutes eyeing the collection of Chronicle party photos pasted on every inch of the walls, waiting for staff members to come in. When they finally arrived, I listened intently as they pitched stories for the week and shyly grabbed some sour gummy worms out of a bag of bin candy that they were passing around. They seemed so comfortable with one another and had a slew of inside jokes I didn’t understand. Looking back, I probably tried to make myself sound cool by interjecting a lame pun that fell flat (actually, I still do this in photo meetings. Oh well. Some things never change.) Still, despite the initial awkwardness, The Chronicle gave me a chance and I soon had my first assignment.

Things evolved slowly between The Chronicle and me. By no means was I a perfect photographer. Although I had grown up always interested in photography, I had no idea what ISO, shutter speed or aperture really were. My first couple shoots I found myself googling camera settings and playing with the dials until the images looked kinda-sorta-okay in the finder. However, The Chronicle was patient and focused on helping me learn.

There was an energy and history to The Chronicle that felt important. Walking around the office, I discovered yellowing hand-written notes from past editors and photos of staff from back in the ’70s. A collection of old, craft beer bottles line the shelves of the sports hallway and hilarious “how the hell did we run that?” stories are pasted on the news hall’s wall. Satirical and biting letters between the editor of the Daily Tarheel and the editor of The Chronicle from Duke-UNC games are pinned to the bulletin board outside of the editor’s office.

I could even bring The Chronicle home to the family. When I called my mom, a Duke alumna herself, explaining that I was taking photos for The Chronicle, she told me amusing stories from when she herself had been a writer for the paper. She also mentioned that when she had been doing research in Perkins for a project, she had stumbled across a Chronicle article about my grandfather when he had won his class presidency here at Duke in the ’40s. The Chronicle has a legacy that matters.

That said, as I became more comfortable in the office, I began to realize that The Chronicle was really just a total goober. I went to more social events and saw how ridiculous staff could get: late night pong tournaments, messy incidents involving Pad Thai at semi-formals, LDOC meetups, and the epic photo-sports social alliance. Of course, there were also the endless late nights I spent in in the office laughing with fellow editors about absolutely nothing, eating Paula Deen-level servings of Enzo’s and not getting any homework done.

The Chronicle was patient when I needed to “take a break.” Not only did I go abroad to London my junior year, but second semester of sophomore year I fell off the planet for a little bit. School, friends and extracurricular stress were taking an extreme toll on my mental and physical health. I didn’t apply for an assistant editor position and began to show up to the office less frequently. I only shot one assignment. However, when I did show back up, or, more accurately, crashed Chron parties, Chronicle staffers were happy to welcome me back with open arms. I was still a part of the family.

Although things remain “open” between The Chronicle and me (I’m still involved with a lot of things on campus), I am now fully committed to this relationship. Recognizing how formative of an experience The Chronicle had been for me, I applied to be a photo editor this year and now train aspiring photographers myself. Maybe new freshmen consider me to be one of those intimidating older photographers cracking inside jokes at photo meetings now? (Doubtful.)

The Chronicle has been the ultimate rock for me, something I can always return to, no matter what. It has also managed to make me feel connected to every aspect of campus life. Thanks to The Chronicle, I have photographed famous artists in concerts and chatted with their road crews backstage. I have sat on the floor at Cameron Indoor Stadium and ate cookies in the locker room with ESPN and Getty photographers. I have gone to speeches given by Nobel Laureates and shot beautiful student dance performances. I have gotten more involved with the artistic scene in greater Durham and receive emails about breaking news on campus. I feel inextricably connected to the University as a result of The Chronicle.

Now, The Chronicle and I are officially calling it quits. It’s bittersweet but we’re growing apart. Of course, there will be alumni events, but we both know that it just won’t be quite the same.

The lesson I’ve learned in all of this is the importance of finding people and communities who are supportive of you. I kept coming back to The Chronicle because of its authenticity, flexibility and understanding. I see how important it is to find people who understand when you need time to figure yourself out and give you space, who give you opportunities to explore new things and meet new people, who appreciate you for who you are, and support you in becoming who you want to be. Thank you for a great four years, Duke Chronicle. It’s been real.