|
by Kate Bramson
Mimi Burkhardt |
From the moment I met Mimi, I felt a connection with her. She was a kindred spirit and a great friend, even though I only knew her a short time. She loved her work and cared deeply about The Providence Journal, where she was always nurturing those around her and working to make it the best newspaper possible.
But above all, I saw Mimi Burkhardt as a mother. When she filled in as my supervising editor in the winter of 2002-2003, she encouraged and supported my work on a difficult project about a teen rape. The story about a girl named Laura never would have been told had Mimi not believed in it from the very beginning. She worked harder than anyone else at the paper to help me turn the project into a reality, and she was with me every step of the way. As I reported back to Mimi about Laura’s experiences, Mimi’s heart connected with Laura as only a mother’s could. She hated hearing what Laura faced at school from people who didn’t believe her story, and she struggled to hear how Laura’s mother suffered along with her daughter. I’ll always remember Mimi’s tears when I showed her all the listings in our archives from over the years that showed Laura on the honor roll quarter after quarter. After the rape, Laura’s name never again appeared in our honor roll listings. Seeing that, Mimi put her hand to her heart and cried for Laura. Later, in the editing process, Mimi remembered that heartbreak, as well as tiny details I had told her in passing, and she knew exactly where to use those details in the story. And when I told Mimi how Laura’s mother pulled out all of her daughter’s honor roll certificates to show me and then how she pulled out all of Laura’s counseling receipts since the rape, Mimi knew the emotions that she felt upon hearing of Laura’s academic and emotional struggles belonged in the story—and they’re there, past many edits, because Mimi knew how important they were in telling the story. She knew because of her mothering instinct. Mimi wanted Laura’s story told, hoping that other mothers and daughters could perhaps be spared that kind of pain. It was her heart that made Mimi such a great editor. She had a keen sense of what kinds of stories the newspaper needed to tell.
Just as Mimi connected with sources in stories, she connected with so many of us at the paper. She talked often about interns who had come and gone, and I know she kept in touch with some who had left the paper years ago. As a mother would, she proudly talked about where those interns had gone and what they were doing recently. She loved sharing their successes. At The Journal, Mimi connected kindred spirits with each other. She knew reporters in every bureau and was quick to tell new reporters who worked in different locations which other reporters she thought they’d like as friends. And her instincts were right. Now, those of us she connected with each other are commiserating together over our loss.
About a year ago, when I called Mimi to tell her I wanted to have lunch with her and share some news, she couldn’t stop asking questions on the phone: "Are you leaving The Journal? What’s going on? You wouldn’t really go, would you?" I refused to share over the phone. A few days later, as soon as we sat down in the restaurant, Mimi pressed me to tell her my news. When I told her I was going to have a baby, she cried and smiled at the same time. And she said, "I knew it."
Because of how close I felt to Mimi, she was the first person at the paper whom I told about my pregnancy. She was so genuinely happy for me and so thrilled about the world I was about to enter. I told her I was thinking about taking six months off to stay home with the baby, and she told me that just wasn’t enough time. She encouraged me to take the full year off that The Journal allows. She told me she did that twice. That first year home with Clark, she said, was the most peaceful year of her life. Ever since, whenever we talked about my pregnancy and my plans for after the baby was born, she talked of that year in a dreamlike way. And while she said the year home with Molly was busier than the year with just one baby, it was equally as wonderful for her. "You don’t want to go back to work when the baby’s six months old,’’ Mimi said that day in the restaurant. "That’s just when babies start doing things." I changed my mind about how much time I’d take off because of her encouragement that day. My daughter, Kiley, turned six months old on December 30, the day before Mimi died. I have six more months at home with Kiley because of Mimi. And Mimi was right—Kiley’s now crawling and sitting up and smiling and laughing and interacting with us, and I would have been heartbroken to go back to work just now and leave her with someone else while she’s so young.
Early on as I got to know Mimi, I knew that being a mother had changed her. She would talk about a tragic story in the paper and say she couldn’t bring herself to read stories like that ever since she had her children. As another editor and I were swapping books one day, Mimi commented about one that she just couldn’t read since it was about a young girl’s untimely death. I can’t stop thinking that the reality we face now is one story Mimi just couldn’t bring herself to read—that of two young children whose mother dies so young and leaves them behind. It would have been the story she’d skip in the Sunday paper. I wish skipping it would make it go away.
How sad I am that I won’t be able to share more about being a mother with Mimi. I was so looking forward to advice from her over the years about how to juggle a demanding job that she loved with children who meant the world to her. And now that I’m getting to know her children, I want to ask her advice on how to raise such loving, warm, confident children.
As I’ve been up these past few nights with Kiley in the middle of the night, I’ve had the quiet of the night to think a great deal about Mimi. And I keep coming back to her children, whom I never met while Mimi was alive. I felt as though I knew them all along, though, through Mimi’s stories. She was so very proud of Clark and his outstanding ability with computers. When I told her while I was pregnant how much I hoped to have a daughter, she said to me, "I had no idea how much I wanted a daughter until I had Molly." She loved spending time with her children and often spoke of attending concerts or sporting events at their schools and sailing together on weekends. And she worked feverishly to follow events at their schools and try to ensure that their education was the best it could be. I know Mimi would have done anything she could to be here as Clark and Molly continue growing up. How proud they must be to have her as their mother.
— January 2, 2005
|
|
