Bonne chance, Isolde

If you don't know your French -- and I certainly don't -- it means, "Good luck, Isolde."

I had breakfast one day last week with Isolde Raftery, a bright and oh-so-friendly, award-winning reporter with The Columbian in Vancouver, Wash. I should say soon-to-be former reporter.

Isolde, like so many ambitious, adventurous young people in their 20s, will be leaving the newspaper this week to pursue a graduate degree in literary nonfiction at the University of Oregon's School of Journalism and Communication.

I say ambitious because from what I've seen of her work (example: a three-part series on teenage prostitution in Portland and Vancouver) and what I know about the kind of constructive editing she craves, she's got high standards.

I say adventurous because she's giving up a full-time job with benefits for the uncertainty of what awaits her in Eugene. Not just in terms of the curriculum and the associated workload but, more importantly, what kinds of opportunities will present themselves at the end of the two-year program.

Coincidentally, the UO's journalism school dean, Tim Gleason, wrote a piece, "Journalism isn't dead, it's reborn," that we ran on The Oregonian's Opinion blog. which lays out the now-familiar narrative of how we've gotten to this point, where the newspaper industry is struggling at the same time that new journalism grads are finding new media jobs on the strength of their multimedia skills, layered on top of a foundation of traditional reporting and writing skills.

I've known Isolde for only about a year, but in that time we've met for coffee a half dozen times, sharing great conversations about journalism, about mutual friends and family, about life in Portland, the Northwest and beyond. (She attended Garfield High School in Seattle, similar to Portland's Grant High School.) It's funny how many coincidences pop up in a city of 500,000 but here goes:

-- I happened to read an innocuous article one day about a fundraiser for Bitch magazine, a a quarterly publication that bills itself as the feminist response to pop culture, that began this way: "The booths of college gal pals, lesbian couples and Alberta Street neighbors huddling over bingo cards at Vita Cafe last Thursday night seem remarkably timid for players in the city's first Bitch Pub Quiz." In the piece, noticed a reference to "Isolde Raftery, a feisty 26-year-old graduate of the all-women's Barnard College."

-- I mentioned the Barnard reference to Lillian Mongeau, who's written for us many times as a Generation Y guest columnist, knowing she also attended Barnard. Turns out Lilly knew Isolde and was good friends with her out there in New York. Lilly mentioned that Isolde had applied to The Oregonian at one point, which made me remember, "Ah...that's why her name is so familiar."

-- And within minutes of meeting for coffee, we realized we had several other mutual acquaintances, mostly other journalists who, like her, have worked at the Skagit Valley Herald in Mount Vernon, Wash., a sleepy, farming community about an hour north of Seattle. Turns out we pass through Mount Vernon every time we drive from Portland to Anacortes, en route to the Orcas Island ferry.

Isolde (participating under the alias Ishmelda) and her boyfriend, Levi, wound up joining George's Pin Pals, the bowling team I formed to help raise money for Big Brothers Big Sisters Columbia Northwest, and helped make it a fun event. That's where the photo above was taken, by the way. Below: Isolde, Levi, Colleen, George and Kyndall.



Buena suerte, Isolde.