If We’re Door County, You’re the Pulse

Almost this entire issue is devoted to a look back at the year we’re leaving on the cusp of entering 2023 – an annual year-in-review tradition here at the Pulse.

If we believe our newspaper is a reflection of what’s happening within the community – and we do – it’s confirmed by our trek down memory lane to prepare for this issue.

There’s no way we can summarize in this space everything we’ve covered in the past 50 issues. That’s a testimony to exactly how much goes on within our individual communities that we collectively call Door County, our home. Neither have we covered it all, try as we might. Those missing pieces are the things that keep me up at night, yet they are also the things that drive us forward, always striving to reach that nailed-it goalpost.

“I read in my Pulse this week …” or “I haven’t read my Pulse yet this week” are phrases I hear often when talking with people about some issue or another that we’ve covered that week. Always it seems to be phrased like that, with that sense of ownership: my Pulse. 

That’s a compliment to us because it does belong to you, these words and images that we reflect back to our communities each week. Lean into the mirror on these pages, and see the lines that mark the journeys of our lives together on this finger of land.

If we are Door County, you are the Pulse. In the 52 issues we publish each year, we record your births and deaths, your celebrations, your victories, your tragedies and near misses. Someone from another place reading these pages would see the jobs we work, the volunteering we do, how we relax, the trails we hike, the roads we travel, the art we create, the goods we sell, the foods we eat, the music we enjoy. 

They would see the alliances we forge, the clothes we wear, the books we read, the divisions we design, what makes us angry, what brings us joy, how we settle our differences, what we protest, how we move forward together. 

They would see the water and ice that surrounds us, the forests we inhale. They would see the mistakes we make, the decisions we arrive at, our changes of course, our myriad solutions. They would see our galleries, sunrises, museums, sunsets, government meetings, plays, our evening stars. They would see snow and ice shoves, the brilliance of autumn leaves, how spring scents our world, how summer draws us to camp, to beach, to park, to water. 

They would see how we preserve the land, how we worship, how we work the earth, the struggles we have, our unmet needs, how we share, how we give, how we love, how we hurt, how we triumph, how we heal. They would see our sports teams, our pets, our friends, our loved ones. How we care for our elderly and educate our children. They would see the hope and dreams we hold in our hearts for our shared future together, for the future of our children.

It’s all here, it’s all you – and showing you this week after week is a great privilege in a great place, and one we wouldn’t trade for any other.

We still have one more issue after this before 2023 arrives. Until then, thank you for being here, for being you, and for all your support throughout the year. 

May you enjoy this trip through 2022 and have a merry Christmas. See you before the new year.