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When you walk into the MacKenzie Art Gallery exhibition, Whispers from the Vault, you're greeted by three ceramic sculptures by Joe Fafard: a Ted Godwin bust, a Jack Sures bust, and a full-length portrait of art historian Maija Bismanis. "I call that section, 'Meet My Professors'. It sums up concisely my schooling at the University of Regina and what I received from my professors there," says Timothy Long, head curator at the MacKenzie. Whispers is the final exhibition Long curated before his retirement in fall 2024. The show, which runs until June 16, 2025, is drawn solely from the gallery's Permanent Collection, on which Long has become the definitive expert over the 35 years he's worked there. "People kept asking me if [the works in the show] are my favourite works from the vault. I said, 'No. These are my favourite stories connected to works from the vault,'" he remarks. Those three U of R professors had a profound impact on Long's extensive career as a curator, and he has stories about all of them.
In the eight years he spent doing his undergraduate studies at the University-"I went through at a leisurely pace"-Long took numerous classes in the art department. He recalls, "Ted Godwin was an imposing personality at the time. But more than making art, I think I learned from him about storytelling in relation to art." Godwin, a member of the Regina Five, would reference interactions with artists like Clement Greenberg and Barnett Newman, who led the influential Emma Lake Artists' Workshops in 1959 and 1962, respectively. "There was a pleasure in listening to the stories," Long remembers, going on to note the contrast in Godwin's personality: "If you confronted him with other things or challenged him, you could get in a good argument with him. He could be loud. But I appreciated his kind of storytelling."
Long took one class from internationally acclaimed ceramist Sures-in drawing. "I was too afraid to take ceramics from him. You had to work too hard," he laughs. When Long took a ceramics class from another professor, he got the worst mark of his academic career, which is ironic, given how well known he is for his ceramic exhibitions. "I feel like I've atoned for my sins by doing so many exhibitions about ceramics over the years," he says.
Timothy Long in repose next to a sculpture of Maija Bismanis by Joe Fafard.
His most influential professor, however, was Bismanis. In Whispers from the Vault, her portrait is installed in an unorthodox way, "which is fitting, because she was an unorthodox professor," Long explains. She provided one-on-one instruction and mentorship, always thrusting books at him on a wide range of topics, including Frankfurt School aesthetic theory. "My mind was always trying to absorb what she was teaching," he says. In the exhibition, the 50 per cent-sized sculpture of Bismanis is displayed in a crate on the ground, with a mirror hung above it at an angle, "so you can see her standing, floating in the mirror as you go into the gallery." While this approach was a practical one-the sculpture is damaged and couldn't be displayed upright-it was also metaphorical. "I always saw Maija as my Athena. Whenever Odysseus is in need of direction, Athena appears out of the mist and shows the way," he explains. After all, it was Bismanis who advised Long "in the nicest way" that he was not an artist and his abilities were more suited to art history. After earning two undergraduate degrees in visual art and a Bachelor of Arts honours in art history at the U of R, Long applied to one graduate school-Stony Brook University in New York-because that's where Bismanis told him to go. Once he acquired a master's degree in art history and criticism from there, Long returned home to another recommendation from Bismanis that would shape his entire career: to apply for a curatorial assistant opening at the MacKenzie Art Gallery. "And here I am 35 years later. Now she's saying, 'Tim it's time to retire.'"
During his time at the MacKenzie, Long's sense of who he is and where he comes from as a settler curator on Treaty Four Territory was profoundly shaped by his experience of working under Lee-Ann Martin, the first Indigenous head curator of a mainstream art gallery in Canada, and then serving as the supervisor of gallery curators Patricia Deadman, Michelle LaVallee, and Felicia Gay. "I learned from them the importance of building trust, making space for voices that haven't been heard, and working together as an act of reconciliation," Long says. "Seeing Michelle move from a junior curator at the MacKenzie to a senior position at the National Gallery of Canada has been particularly gratifying."
In fact, throughout his career, Long took the lead from his mentors and worked to inspire the next generation of curators, himself. Independent curator and researcher Julia Krueger met Long when she was doing her master's degree at Carleton University and working at the Canada Council Art Bank. Long was curating the Regina Clay: Worlds in the Making exhibition and went to the Art Bank to view some artwork. "He was open, and talked to me, this lowly student," Krueger says. She later called him up and asked to interview him for her master's thesis. Although he was incredibly busy preparing for the exhibition, "he gave me a great interview; he was generous with his time," she says. To Krueger's surprise, he then asked her to write an essay for the Regina Clay exhibition catalogue, kickstarting her own career. "There are three people in this world I consider my mentors, and Timothy's one of them. These are people in the field who were so generous with their time when I was first starting out and have taught me over the years the equivalent or more to what I learned in university. When I work with Timothy on projects like exhibitions, it's like taking a grad course," she says.
Long and Krueger have since collaborated on two major exhibitions at the MacKenzie: Victor Cicansky: The Gardener's Universe, a retrospective of more than 100 ceramic and bronze works by that artist, and Prairie Interlace: Weaving, Modernisms, and the Expanded Frame, a groundbreaking touring exhibition co-organized with Nickle Galleries in Calgary that looks back to the explosion of innovative textile-based art on the Canadian Prairies from 1960 to 2000. Long credits the latter show as one of the high points of his career. "It was like going into a country you've never visited. I'd seen weaving in the past, but I didn't realize it was so fantastic and there were so many wild and wonderful things going on here in Saskatchewan and the other Prairie provinces. It was an absolute revelation to me," he says.
Prairie Interlace, curated by Long, Krueger, and Michele Hardy, explores the interwoven histories of feminism, craft, Indigenous art, and life on the Prairies in the last half of the 20th century. At the exhibition opening in Calgary, the curators had the opportunity to meet some of the women weavers from the 1960s and '70s whose work is featured in the show. Long talked with Alberta weaver Brenda Campbell about her piece, Woodlands Undercover, an abstracted foothills landscape. He rhapsodized about how she worked with the edges to reflect the rise of the land; how the piece was like looking in a rearview mirror in the ways it plays with silhouettes and reflections; how she broke the landscape into panels, adding coils between them to represent the power of the land embodied in the weave of vegetation and the fold of the rock. "I concluded by saying this weaving makes shaped canvasses of the 1970s look awkward and inept by comparison. She was crying. Somebody was looking at her work and seeing it," Long remembers.
Many other artists and curators have appreciated the opportunity to work with Long over the years. "Timothy loves his work. From my perspective, the exhibition, Wilf Perreault: In the Alley/dans la ruelle was a labour of love by Timothy. It was a collaborative team effort, and his leadership was amazing. His attention to detail and leadership were extraordinary, from his selection of artwork being well researched, to creating the book, working with a variety of writers, and making the film," says Regina painter Wilf Perreault.
Timothy Long with artworks by ceramic artist Jeannie Mah BEd'76, BA'93.
In 2003, Long invited Regina artists to critically re-examine the city for Regina's Centenary in the exhibition, That's My Wonderful Town. Ceramic artist Jeannie Mah BEd'76, BA'93 was one of them. "I find the trust that Timothy bestows on artists to be admirable," she says. "Leading from behind, Timothy's sensitive understanding of time, place, and the artistic process developed an exhibition that spoke visually about Regina at 100 years."
Christine Sowiak of the University of Calgary is another curator mentored by Long who also collaborated with him. "He is a ferocious researcher with an encyclopedic knowledge of art history and contemporary artists, yet his work moves beyond the academic. His ability to 'read' works of art enables him to understand an artist, the ideas captured in his or her work, and what those ideas connect with in society-sharing with audiences exhibitions that connect us to the work and to this province," she says.
In an obscure essay, acclaimed author Carol Shields conjures a metaphor of the writer as a tree, their work as leaves, and the critic as "an eager young fresh-faced yard worker, intent on raking up the leaves as they fell from the tree, trying to make sense of them, hoping to arrange them in comprehensible piles."[1] Long sees the role of the curator much like that of Shields' critic/yardworker. "We're not the creators-we're not the ones breaking new ground. The artists are. I've learned profound respect for artists and the thinking they do," he says.
Long goes out of his way to connect with artists as part of his practice. "A curatorial approach that includes the artist is something Timothy has taught me," Krueger says. "Rather than, 'I'm doing a show about you', it's done together." In fact, when asked what advice he would give to up-and-coming curators, Long imparts, "listen to the artists." He also underlines the value of collaboration: "Don't be afraid to give up some control over a project if it means getting more creative input either from the artist or from your co-curators. There's a real value in an approach that doesn't put yourself at the centre, but brings in other voices and perspectives. You get the best results when you work as a team."
Timothy Long performing as part of MAGDANCE at the MacKenzie Art Gallery, 2023. Photo courtesy of New Dance Horizons.
A collaboration that Long considers a significant highlight of his career is one he and Robin Poitras, artistic director of New Dance Horizons, cultivated in 2011. MAGDANCE is a groundbreaking series of dance residencies/exhibitions that have broken barriers by bringing the black box of contemporary dance into the white cube of the art gallery. "We had a gap in the schedule, and Robin asked, 'Can I dance in the gallery in between shows?' I looked at her and said, 'Why don't we make your performances the show and bring the dance floor into the gallery?' When you make these decisions, you don't realize what the consequences are going to be. Sometimes you have to trust your gut. In this case, my intuition paid off," Long says. Collaborations between contemporary dance companies and art galleries are done in other parts of Canada, but not to the extent of MAGDANCE. "Dancers in Montréal say, 'Why can't we have that in Montréal?'" Long remarks. "How many things do Montréalers envy Regina for?"
Poitras points to the national and international impact of Long's commitment to dance. "Dance hasn't been documented in the same way as art because it's non-verbal. Timothy was really instrumental in building a following and helping to create a legacy and archive about dance in Canada," she says. "I was recently on a conference call with some people in Europe. One of them asked, 'Who is that curator at the MacKenzie Art Gallery who did all that dance work?' He's revered by many."
In retirement, what Long wants to do most is write. "It's a challenge when you're a working curator to find time for writing, because you're always consumed by the logistics of arranging an exhibition," he explains. "Writing is a thing you do on own time, on evenings or weekends. I'm looking forward to spending more concentrated time writing, reading, and pursuing ideas."
His legacy also continues, not only through the MacKenzie's rich permanent collection that he helped build and interpret, the many exhibition catalogues he has spearheaded, and MAGDANCE (including a website documenting the history of the project), but also through the work of the many curators he has mentored. Krueger says, "Timothy recently told me it's time for me to start mentoring others. I've taken that to heart. I'm trying to give support and help younger researchers and curators like he did for me and continues to do. I admire that he has this generous approach to supporting curators and researchers like myself and reminding me that it's my job to continue that approach."
At their final MAGDANCE collaboration together in 2023, Poitras asked Long if he would create and perform a dance piece. "He looked at me like I was crazy. I told him, 'I'm serious. You have such clear and insightful questions about dance.'"
Long took her up on her suggestion. "What he did blew us all away. It was a side of Timothy that people aren't familiar with, and it really speaks to his creativity, his integrity, his curiosity, and his commitment. He rehearsed diligently every night. He was so brave to take that on, and it was a really strong performance," says Poitras.
Long's dance was a simple one. He walked backwards from one side of the gallery to the other while carrying a guitar. At the end, he ran into the wall and looked at the T-bar support above him. "That 'T' became for me all the decision points in my life, where you make a choice, you commit to something and you don't know where it goes," he says. Then he walked back across the room-again backwards-swinging his guitar case like a pendulum, "like passing through life. You go forward through life, but you learn backwards. You have the experiences and you only understand them at the end, when you're looking back. That's what it meant to me. Also, carrying the guitar-you carry something with you through that journey."
[1] "Arriving Late: Starting Over" in How Stories Mean, ed. John Metcalf and J.E. Struthers (Erin, ON: Porcupine's Quill, 1993), 247.
Top: Timothy Long BFA'86, BAHons'86 at the exhibiton 'Whispers from the Vault', MacKenzie Art Gallery, September 2024.
All photography: Trevor Hopkin, U of R Photography, unless otherwise noted.
[post_title] => The Art of Storytelling, Mentorship, and Collaboration: Timothy Long BFA’86, BAHons’86
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As the University of Regina looks ahead to equipping the next generation of journalists and communicators with its new BA in Journalism, News Media and Communication, Degrees caught up with four School of Journalism alumni and where they're at in their exciting careers.
The University of Regina School of Journalism has a more than 44-year history of producing some of the country's most esteemed journalists and communications professionals. Filling newsrooms and communications teams alike since 1980, the J-school has helped facilitate countless internships with national broadcasters, and news outlets of all sizes.
Whether reporting from Washington,the Paris Games, or rewriting the narrative with Indigenous storytelling, Kerry Benjoe BA'00, MJ'20, Devin Heroux BJ'12, Kelly Malone BAJ'13, and Dani Wawryk BAJ '09 are at the top of their game in an ever-changing industry.
What do you they all have in common? Love of their jobs, a commitment to truthful storytelling, and a deep appreciation for their time at the University of Regina.
The excitement of growth and innovation
These days Dani Wawryk BAJ '09 uses her skills to showcase big stories of innovation in Saskatchewan but her foray into the art of telling stories couldn't have been more hands-on. "When I was eight, I delivered a handmade newspaper that I made called, 'Kidz' News' to 38 houses on Springstein Avenue and Litzenberger Crescent in Regina," she says. "My Dad would print it for the neighbourhood on his office printer at his autobody shop and I would fold them up like pamphlets and deliver them come snow or rain." After eight years as a journalist, the now executive director of communications and marketing for Innovation Saskatchewan says she feels like she's come full circle. "At the heart of it, I'm a science nerd," she says.
When she started at Innovation Saskatchewan in 2023, the Saskatchewan government had just amalgamated the province's two research and technology parks, located at its two universities. Wawryk helped lead the agency through a new phase of storytelling, brand-building and marketing. "I had the absolute privilege of building new strategies on the foundation of legacy," she says. Current projects that excite Wawryk include working with her team to redesign Innovation Saskatchewan's website and helping share news about U of R research projects benefitting from the agency's Innovation and Science Fund. This past summer, a total of $580,000 was awarded to three U of R research projects in nuclear energy, subatomic physics, and high-performance computing in nuclear science.
Innovation Saskatchewan also recently commissioned a report that shows the province leading tech-sector employment growth across the prairie provinces. So far, Wawryk said her role has allowed her to understand the scope of scientific excellence in the province and the minds behind it. "These people are smart, driven, and brave. Just to be close to that and share that story…it doesn't feel that far from journalism most days," she says. Wawryk's early passion for news and science coalesced in high school, when, for science fair nationals, she researched the high rate of multiple sclerosis in a Regina neighbourhood. "Here I am 17 years old on the phone with people who are telling me these incredible stories of what they've been through," she says. "Long story short, it was either science or journalism for me."
During her undergrad at the School of Journalism, Wawryk interned at the Saskatoon StarPhoenix, and was a Joan Donaldson scholar, earning a ticket to Toronto to intern at CBC News Network. The j-school, with its media ethics class, print and broadcast labs, and mentorship from industry experts, was, in her opinion, a "bootcamp for being a really good reporter." And Wawryk was a really good reporter. After a stint freelancing in Mongolia, she worked five years at CBC Saskatchewan as reporter, producer and anchor and then became director of news and public affairs for CTV News in Saskatoon in 2015, the youngest female to ever do so in Canada.
Dani Wawryk BAJ '09 at Innovation Saskatchewan
In 2018, she made the switch to communications at Vendasta, a fast-growing tech company out of Saskatoon that provides tools to companies that help small to medium businesses grow their online presence. She took pride in the way the company was helping businesses stay afloat during the pandemic with its software.
In 2022, Wawryk added a public relations certificate from Toronto Metropolitan University to her trove of education and experiences-along with the school's gold medal honour-and continues to be part of the next big thing, sharing Saskatchewan stories of innovation and the ways researchers and businesses are trying to solve the world's problems. "It's a gift and an honour to tell people's stories," she said. "If there is any place to be where you're able to transition journalistic curiosity into communications in a way where you still feel like you're part of that storytelling, I think that this is the place."
Reporting with heart
Telling compelling stories is something Devin Heroux BJ'12 has put into practice for years as a senior reporter for CBC Sports and News, most recently at the 2024 Olympic and Paralympic Games in Paris. What he recalls most about his journalism school experience at the U of R is learning how to report from a place of learning, not knowing.
"That has been the aim of everything I've done," says Heroux, who now lives in Toronto. "To explain to the audience that I'm not the expert … but in the most authentic way possible, to lean on everything I've learned and observed to try to tell the best story possible."
Heroux recalls, as a journalism student, parachuting into the small town of Mortlach, Saskatchewan to find stories that "captured the essence of the place." He discovered the remnants of a nearby ghost town that was, he says, "frozen in time," and put together a story, with the help of the locals, that painted a picture of small-town life in Saskatchewan.
"It's a piece that I was incredibly proud of," he says.
That experience and his internship at the Bangkok Post changed his perspective when it came to sports journalism. A Rider superfan who, as a teenager, worked for local sports' broadcasters in Saskatoon- interning at CBC in Saskatoon before heading to journalism school -Heroux realized that sports stories could be about heart.
Paris was Heroux's fourth consecutive Olympics as a CBC reporter, but his first as a member of CBC's Olympic broadcast team. He interviewed athletes, set scenes, and gave updates from the swimming and athletics events.
"It was the most enriching experience of my life," says Heroux. "It was magical."
A meaningful moment for Heroux was speaking with Mara and Kirby Wasserman, the parents of Jacob Wasserman, who survived the Humboldt Bronco's bus crash in 2016, and who made his Paralympic debut in Paris in para-rowing. Knowing it would be an emotional interview, Heroux was anxious when he got to Kirby, who said a few words before breaking into tears.
"What made my heart soar in that moment was that Kirby felt safe enough to cry," Heroux says.
Devin Heroux BJ'12 reporting from the Paris Olympics in summer 2024. Photo: Michel Aspirot, CBC
Heroux's ability to meet people where they are at is something he says he owes to his experience growing up as a gay kid in Saskatoon, who had to read people's energy, be a chameleon, and learn how to fit into spaces. He feels a responsibility to be "genuinely curious and caring" for those he interviews. "That is what's at stake every time I have a conversation," he says.
The collective experience of sports is a transformative thing for Heroux because of how it brings people together. "We'll never know what it's like to swim like Summer McIntosh or run like Andre De Grasse, but all of us know victory and defeat," he says. "We know loss, we know what it's like to have fears, hopes, and dreams and fall short - only to try and achieve that again in our own lives."
Heroux's empathetic approach to journalism has not gone unnoticed. On September 20 he was awarded the King's Charles III Coronation Medal in Quebéc City by the Governor General for his reporting. "I'm thrilled that the stories I share and the voices I choose to elevate are being heard," Heroux says. "I think I have the best job in the world. I am blessed everyday that the CBC gives me a platform to be able to do this."
Committed to positive Indigenous news
After a major surgery in 2018, Kerry Benjoe FNUniv'00, MJ'20 had some down time. She had lost her leg and wondered about her future as a journalist in a shifting news media landscape. As a reporter at the Regina Leader-Post for 12 years at that point, and not one to stay idle, she decided to pursue her master's in journalism at the University of Regina. "I really don't think I would have fallen back in love with journalism, had I not gone back to school," she says.
Benjoe, who is Saulteaux, Dakota, and Cree, from Muscowpetung First Nation, was the first full-time, Indigenous reporter in the Leader-Post's history when she started there in 2006. The irony of this fact hit her every time she walked past Nicholas Flood Davin's portrait on the wall of the newsroom. Davin, the paper's founder, wrote an influential report recommending the implementation of residential schools in Canada to the federal government. Benjoe was the last person in her family to attend the Indian Industrial Residential School in Lebret, which was one of the first to open and - in 1998 - was the last to close in Canada. Her parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents were also residential school survivors. "I just always kind of gave [Davin] a smile," Benjoe says. "I was taking up space and I felt empowered by that because I was in a place where I was meant to be."
Benjoe's graduate research at the U of R focussed on the last generation of residential school survivors at the Lebret school(, sharing her personal story and focussing on resiliency not just hardship.
"We're more than just our trauma,'" says Benjoe.
Kerry Benjoe FNUniv'00, MJ '20. Photo: Trevor Hopkin, U of R Photography
Benjoe is editor-in-chief of EFN Media, formerly Eagle Feather News, a digital news platform and quarterly magazine, which published its first issue this summer. Eagle Feather News, which was once the most widely distributed monthly Indigenous newspaper in Saskatchewan, folded in January due to declining ad revenue. But Benjoe didn't give up on it.
"I said, 'It's not going to die on my watch!"
A month later Benjoe began conversations with Pattison Media, and in June they announced a partnership to get EFN back online as a digital news platform.
"My whole career has been in mainstream, so coming back to community news, it was really important for me to leave the baggage of mainstream media behind and just concentrate on what Eagle Feather was good at: telling positive Indigenous stories," she says.
Key to Benjoe's vision for EFN Media is the idea of partnerships, and not just with Pattison. The magazine's first issue includes stories written by students she taught at INCA Summer Institute at First Nations University. Benjoe also created a feature called Common Threads, funded by the Multicultural Society of Saskatchewan, that highlights the traditions of other cultures,
Benjoe says she wants to be "an agent of change." While she knows well the thrill of hard-hitting news-she recalls how two of her stories at the Leader Post led to swift government action on issues of missing persons in the province, and international travel for First Nations people after 9/11-what excites her the most now is sharing her skills and wisdom as a skilled journalist and industry expert when it comes to Indigenous storytelling.
"Indigenous-led news organizations have always lived in this struggle," she says, referring to the challenging times journalism is facing. "Most Indigenous news organizations have never had a newsroom.…We always worked in our silos. Now I see mainstream news flipping into what we've always done. We're becoming experts in how to tell these stories, how to be resourceful and being able to survive."
The adventure of covering history as it happens
Kelly Malone BJ'13 can only plan her life one week at a time since she hit the ground running in June as The Canadian Press' Washington correspondent..
"It's a wild time to be writing 'the first draft of history,'" Malone says, describing her work writing for Canada's national wire service, which keeps newsrooms and media across the country up-to-date on stories of national interest. Malone spent six-and-a-half years as a CP reporter in Saskatoon and Winnipeg before moving to Washington. "I just exist in a state of exhaustion at this point," she laughs.
The past four months have been a whirlwind for Malone in her new role. In a matter of weeks, in the U.S., there was an assassination attempt on former president Donald Trump, the Republic National Convention took place in Milwaukee, President Biden gave a speech at NATO's 75th anniversary, and the Democratic party revamped their campaign to back Vice President Kamala Harris after President Biden removed his name from nomination. Malone covered all of it.
"I think it was beyond anyone's expectation," she said about Harris' rise. Older Black women at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago told her they never thought they'd see a Black woman run for president in their lifetimes. "That is something that has broken a ceiling that is palpable in the United States, and is certainly palpable in the Democratic party," saysMalone.
The significance of the moment at the DNC, when Gretchen Whitmer, the Obamas, and Hillary Clinton took to the stage to address their party faithful, was not lost on Malone. "The energy in these buildings is phenomenal," she says. "It's such an amazing thing to be in that room and experience something like that."
Before journalism school, Malone was an aspiring writer, keeping the browser tabs open on her laptop by holding it outside her apartment window to reach free Wi-fi on Saskatoon's Broadway Avenue. She worked in cafes and restaurants, travelled, tree planted and freelanced.
"I lived in a van - all those things you can only do between the ages of 18 and 22, when your back doesn't hurt," she laughs.
After four years, Malone attended the U of R school of journalism, which offered her the opportunity to develop the multiple skills she needed to thrive as a multimedia reporter. She learned she could find a story anywhere when she was given a news release in her print class about a temporarily closed intersection and assigned to write a story about it. After door knocking on businesses and calling city hall, Malone wrote a story about a problematic truck route in the city causing road damage and multiple closures for businesses.
"When I wake up in the morning and I know I need to pitch something, I always think of that-'Okay, you can find a story in anything!'" she says.
Kelly Malone BJ'13 in Washington, DC, September 2024. Photo: Kelly Malone
With newsrooms across the country struggling to stay afloat in an-ever-changing industry-Vice, Bell Media, and CBC all had major layoffs this year, Malone acknowledges the grim reality and says journalists are asked to do so much more now. "The pay is stagnating, the hours are extending … and with the lack of advertising money, you're not having someone assigned to cover city hall or education board meetings," she says. "If you don't have a reporter there, you don't know what's going on."
Still, Malone remains hopeful that journalism will adapt. "I don't think journalism is dead. People have a huge appetite [for it]," she says. "Throughout history, there have been ebbs and flows of how journalism works: when radio came out, newspapers were dead; when TV came out, radio was dead. With the internet, it's just another challenge and change."
At the time of writing, Malone had a day off before taking the train to New York to cover the United Nations General Assembly. "What other job provides you the travel, the opportunity, the connection with people?" she says. "I love it so much. When I'm 80 or 90, I'm going to look back and remember all these moments."
[post_title] => Stories of growth and heart, and writing the first draft of history
[post_excerpt] => Kerry Benjoe BA’00, MJ’20, Devin Heroux BJ’12, Kelly Malone BAJ’13, and Dani Wawryk BAJ ’09 are at the top of their game in an ever-changing industry.
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