How Did We Get Here?

“Just Lucky I Guess.” That’s the title to a song that Chicago songwriter Steve Goodman wrote. Steve Goodman was one of the many Chicago marvels Bob introduced me to. And I was hooked. 

Who knew that my move from the Advertising Department at The New Yorker, to the Production Department, and at the same time Bob’s move at RR Donnelly (Chicago printers for The New Yorker), to a department that liaised with The New Yorker’s Production Department, would prepare us for our “meet cute.”

I had worked at The New Yorker for about six years and it was always possible to change departments and grow. I loved working for the Director of International Advertising. He was one of the best boss humans I had ever encountered. He respected my knowledge and allowed me to help him. In turn, he created an environment for me where I could keep growing. (He took a true interest in people, and I’ll never forget my first work anniversary with him because he took me to Sardis for lunch, knowing I was a huge theatre junky!) So it was hard to leave his department.

So I made the choice, packed my stuff and took the leap.

But an opportunity came up in the Production Department and it was a promotion and meant being more independent which is what I had wanted. This department handled everything production which included purchasing the paper the magazine was printed on.

I didn’t know it then, but the Universe was moving me so I could meet Bob and get on with the next chapter of my life, even though I had no clue as to what that was.

My first conversation with Bob was a situation with damaged paper. Frankly, he had me at “hello.” Or rather his deep, slightly gravely, very adult voice had me at “hello.”  I’m not even sure I recalled the conversation. That voice!

The most important part of our talk was how he treated me. There was respect, and apology and how the paper situation could be remedied.

Ok – whoever this guy was, I was done for.

That’s how our relationship began. We had a one year getting to know you relationship by phone. One year later I moved to Chicago. I would probably not have left The New Yorker, but again the Universe stepped in. That was when The New Yorker had been sold and it would never be the same. Some people were let go, some left on their own. So I made the choice, packed my stuff and took the leap.

At first, believe me, as a New Yorker we are so obnoxious about New York and that nothing compares. And then… the right apartment showed up for us and the right job showed up for me at the Opera, and everything started to click into place. 

How did we get here? “Just Lucky I Guess.”