People always ask me why I decided to start a magazine. There are many answers, all of which are layered by aspects of my personal psychology, the serendipitous nature of my educational and career paths and the magical blend of remarkable people who always seem to be there when I need them.
The simple answer is the most selfish: I started a magazine because it was a logical way to pull together the various pieces of my life and make sense of them.
As a child in a family that moved frequently, I have a deep-seated need for community. When I was growing up, I never lived anywhere long enough to enjoy the roots, connections and sense of personal history my own two sons, who were born and raised here in the Valley, will enjoy for the rest of their lives. This month, as we launch our 20th year of Raising Arizona Kids, I realize that the magazine has provided that foundation — a community of people who care about me, know my history and forgive my lapses in judgment or leadership.
I was the child of a working mom, someone for whom economic necessity conjured resilience, efficiency, frugality and acceptance. I never questioned the fact that children of working moms could be raised to have manners, self-sufficiency, respect for others and clear boundaries for personal behavior. I learned teamwork from her quiet insistence that my two brothers and I participate in the cleaning, cooking, shopping and errands necessary to the running of a smooth household.
My maternal grandfather showed me that hard work and a “customer first” mentality is critical to running a successful business. During the Great Depression, he walked door to door to solicit customers for the tiny dry cleaning shop he ran in the stand-alone garage beside his house. By the time I came along, he was chronically exhausted. Gruff and somewhat pious in his self-sacrifice, he never hesitated to bark his disapproval. Memories of his rebukes still give me shivers and yet he taught me three important things. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing the best you can. Seek solace in art (he was a photographer), nature (his vacations were spent touring the country on a motorcycle and, later, pulling an Airstream trailer) and communication (he wrote volumes of letters detailing his travels). And, if your tongue isn’t hanging out, you’re not dying of thirst: “Stop your whining and keep walking!”
I’ve always loved to read and write. From the time I could “see Jane run” I craved expression through the written word. I remember lovingly printing and illustrating a book created as a gift for Mrs. Quesenberry, my second-grade teacher. It was about a clown who’d lost his smile. (Always the optimist, I made sure he found it.)
My education path meandered through elementary schools in Florida and Colorado, high school in Indiana, colleges in Indiana, Arizona and Guam. Vicki Louk Balint picks up the story from there, in this month’s “A Conversation with…” — an interview she and the rest of my editorial staff spent many weeks convincing me I should do for this anniversary issue.
Eventually, I found myself a stay-at-home mom in Phoenix, with a husband newly admitted to the bar and completely consumed by his first year as an attorney, and a sweet, easy baby whose every glance my direction made my heart soar. It should have been enough, but it wasn’t.
I was lonely. I was bored. I was sitting on a newly minted MBA and I missed the adrenaline rush of journalism. But I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving my precious son to go to work each day. So I stewed. And I stressed. And I took it out on my husband, Dan, who wisely said to me one night, “If you want to stay home with Andrew, stay home. If you want to work, work. I support you either way — but make a decision!”
So if there was a moment of clarity, that was it. I started casting about for part-time work. I applied for a few jobs. I did some freelance writing. And then I discovered the North Central Parenting Group.
This organization of about 100 moms got together twice a week in the Church of the Beatitudes at Glendale and Seventh Avenue in Phoenix. It hired babysitters for the kids and early childhood education experts to lead moms in classes and group discussion appropriate to the ages and developmental stages of their children.
This group of women — and the information I gained in classes — filled a void. As someone who valued education, I appreciated the thoughtful, research-based approach to parenting and the message that anyone can learn to do it well, regardless of the circumstances of their own upbringing. As someone who craved activity and purpose, I immediately joined the board of directors and took on the role of newsletter editor.
That’s when I met Teresa Immerman, who was part of the original trio of moms who started Raising Arizona Kids.
And the rest of the story? We’ve devoted several pages of this month’s issue to telling it. In “20 Years of Raising Arizona Kids,” many of the people who were critical to the launch and early success of this magazine share some of the moments they remember. It has been a joy to read their stories and weave them together into a shared history that celebrates the power of a dream.
