(Remarks upon receiving the 2026 L.J. Hortin Distinguished Alumna Award from Ohio University’s E.W. Scripps School of Journalism on April 21.)
Good evening!
And congratulations to all the scholarship recipients. This is your night. A celebration of everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve.
To Dr. Meyer and the faculty, thank you for this incredible honor.
I’ll be honest. My 20-year-old self could never have imagined this moment. I’m deeply touched, and if I’m being real, it still feels a bit surreal.
This award means so much to me because it comes from my alma mater, a place that changed my life.
For me, this place is home.
It’s where I grew up.
Where I chased stories and dreams.
Where professors saw something in me before I fully saw it in myself.
And where I made friends for life.
Now scattered from Manhattan to Seattle, my OU journalism friends are some of the most fascinating people I know — curious, inquisitive, compassionate, relentless in their pursuit of the truth. Like many of you in this room, they are the storytellers of their generation.
I’m especially grateful for their belief in me, particularly Anne Saker. They showered Dr. Meyer with nomination letters that made this recognition possible.
Journalism is a noble calling. We’re asked to bear witness to our times, to write history in real time. As storytellers, we’re invited into the lives of others, to tell their stories with accuracy, care — and, especially today, with courage.
Nothing prepared me more for my career as a reporter, editor, communications professional, author, storyteller and mentor than serving as managing editor of The Post.
Pilcher House wasn’t a trendy Airbnb in those days. It was ground zero for our careers. It’s where we debated stories, decided what deserved to be above the fold on the front page, and danced to Slim Whitman and Frankie Valli in those slapstick hours before dawn while putting the paper to bed.
It’s where we became journalists.
When we made it to class, we were taught by some of the best in the field — as you are today.
In my newswriting class, Don Lambert delighted in giving automatic Fs if you misspelled a name, teaching us that accuracy, above all else, matters.
Ralph Izard taught us about the First Amendment and guided so many of us to The Post and internships. For me, that meant the Journal Herald in Dayton and the Associated Press in Cincinnati.
The late great photographer Chuck Scott took a special interest in me, even though I wasn’t a photojournalism major. I’ll never forget his words: “You will make decisions about how photos are used.”
Dean John Wilhelm taught foreign correspondence and sent me and countless other Posties overseas. When he died, one eulogy captured him perfectly: “Dean Wilhelm plucked Midwestern kids from the cornfields to put them in foreign news bureaus.” I was lucky enough to land in London with McGraw-Hill World News and later worked for ABC News there as a researcher.
And what can I say about Dr. Dru Evarts — or “Conan the Grammarian,” as we called her? Every correction, every insistence on precision, taught me about discipline.
Beneath her gruff exterior was a generous heart. When she learned I was a first-generation college student working my way through school, she quietly made sure I received scholarships, including the James W. Faulkner Memorial Scholarship for journalism majors with financial need.
Thanks to Dru, I also received the Marj Heyduck Scholarship from Dayton’s chapter of Women in Communications. It came with a surprise congratulatory telegram from syndicated humor columnist Erma Bombeck.
Marj Heyduck, it turns out, was Erma’s mentor at Dayton’s morning newspaper, and Erma wanted to reach out to talk about her influence and give me a pep talk.
She wrote:
“I would love to pull you aside and sit in a corner somewhere and share with you the legend who bears the name of the scholarship you have just received… She was the first to see in me that hungry look that says ‘I want to write.’ … There is nothing that would have pleased Marj more than to know her name is perpetuating a high standard of journalists.”
But Erma always had an uncanny knack for delivering the humorous zinger as well. I still laugh at her closing words in that telegram:
“May I add my best wishes and as Marj said when I returned from the Ohio Newspaper Women’s Association competition winning only a beer cooler as a door prize, ‘Kid, you’ve got a great future.’”
At the time, I had no inkling my life’s path would intersect time and again with this famous writer.
Early in my University of Dayton career, I worked with Erma on a video for a fundraising campaign. She told the story of how her English professor told her three simple, “magical” words, “You can write!” That encouragement gave her the confidence to put words on paper that made millions of readers laugh and women feel seen.
After Erma’s death in 1996, I tapped into the creative energy of alumni and staff in UD’s public relations office, and we launched a wildly popular biennial writers’ workshop in her name that draws hundreds of writers nationally. Over the past 25 years and counting, this workshop has become one of my greatest passions.
To the scholarship recipients here tonight: find your passion.
Someone saw something in you — just as my OU professors did in me.
Stay curious. Tell stories that matter. Develop your own voice.
And one day you’ll realize that this place did more than shape your career. It became part of who you are. Just like it did for me.
Thank you, Dean Meyer and the Scripps faculty, for this honor. I will be forever grateful.