Life lessons - Shawn's Sense with Shawn Loughlin

Upon hearing the news of the passing of Keith Roulston on Nov. 1, when last week’s issue of The Citizen arrived, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of you turned to this page to read what I had to say, knowing how close I had been with him for years.
I had already written a column for the week and, frankly, I needed some time to think. I wrote Keith’s obituary with the help of his family and an editorial praising his voice last week, but took a beat for a personal reflection.

 

Since Keith passed, a number of you have reached out with texts and e-mails and many have talked to me on the street about him. We worked so closely for so many years and he handed over his beloved Citizen to me. When Deb Sholdice took over his spot as publisher, he told her that, in so many words, with Denny and myself at The Citizen and Lisa Pot at The Rural Voice, the publications, journalistically, were in good hands. I remember being quite proud of that vote of confidence from him.

 

Just over 20 years ago, Keith took a chance on an unproven person from a different world entirely. I’m glad I reflected on my path here in my October columns - so much history with Keith and myself was covered there.

 

The relationship that we had, as an editor and a publisher, is one that few people could understand. It was one of a mentor and a mentee, but also as one of common ground. I learned from him - that goes without saying - but we worked hand-in-hand together. Not only did I learn so much from him about being a journalist, but I learned a lot about life. Life as a father and community member, as well as a thinking man in the world. A good journalist is always curious, always asking the next question. That need to learn, which is one of the things I felt he taught me, can make you such a better member of society; a leader. But not a leader in the dictatorial sense, a leader who listens, considers and is open to fault.

 

One of the best journalistic lessons he ever gave me was that, when faced with criticism or an accusation of error to assume you’re wrong. Approach the situation with humility, proving yourself right, if that’s the case, rather than storming in, defiant. That’s a life lesson, too.

 

Over the years, there were so many. As  a rage-filled youth who couldn’t control his temper, from him I learned patience, calm and magnanimity, all of which made me a better journalist, but, more importantly, a better man.

 

He would be the first person to admit that he wasn’t perfect and that he had so much to learn - again, something we could all use a bit more of in our lives in a time of blustery, know-it-all leaders who shout each other down until the loudest, most stubborn of all is left standing.

 

Above all, he was caring. No matter the standing of someone in the community, he believed they had the right to a voice. This is rendered beautifully in Powers and Gloria, his 20-year-old play that was remounted at the Blyth Festival last season. While much of his journalism was community-based, rather than the hard-hitting, life-ruining journalism from those investigative hounds out there - as much as we need them, now more than ever - he adhered to that age-old principle of journalism to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. Again, this is a tremendous life lesson and one that leads you to that most basic of truths: that we all have a place in the world and that, in the end, there is more that we have in common than sets us apart.

 

You never outgrow the need for a Keith in your life - you only just learn to live without him once you lose him. Our community will miss him more than it knows.