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From Randy Williams, Editor and Future Canuck:

While working as a Tripod editor for a little better than two years, I've had an amazingly wide variety of professional experiences. I began, in the spring of 1996, as editor of something called "the Work & Money section" and a regular writing contributor to something known as "the Politics & Community section." Neither of these exist any longer (Work & Money having been expanded to two content zones under new editorship — P&C having been dropped altogether), but I have gone on to edit the Entertainment, Computers & Internet, and Cars & Trucks zones. Along the way I've helped build interactive tools and games, moderated a Pod, ghost-written press releases and help sections for the Tripod site, written two chapters for the upcoming Tripod/Hyperion book — among a host of other ever-changing duties — as the site evolved from a small online magazine about post-college life into a community site that is consistently ranked among the Internet's top ten most-visited sites. The one constant in my weekly workload — and a very pleasant one at that — has been these Letters from Tripod.

Yes, for 27 months now I've been the guy who goaded the frazzled staff here at our frantically busy start-up, coercing them into writing short, personal messages to our members and readers on a weekly basis. And while most of these letters caused me no small amount of angst by appearing at the last possible minute and barely making deadline for slinging them up on the site, assigning and editing them has probably been the best and most rewarding part of my job.

You see, the idea behind these little missives was that we would add a "personal touch" to the site, sharing a few details about life in a small New England village and the hectic pace at a growing Web communications company. Rather than presenting a "product" created by a faceless corporate entity, we wanted to show that we are just regular folks who have a lot in common with the millions of people who visit our site. But a startling and delightful "side effect" has been the discovery of unknown and untapped talents among our staff members. Not only have we at Tripod learned a lot about our colleagues by reading these letters, but they have become an exceptional, unexpected boon to our site — quite often, the staff letters are the coolest non-member content Tripod publishes in a given week.

At times hilarious, intimate, deeply philosophical, or just downright weird, the Letters from Tripod — more than anything else we've ever presented to the public — go a long way toward demonstrating the breadth of skills and personalities that are required to create a cutting-edge interactive presence on the 'Net. As this forum has been home to so many wonderful surprises and revelations from my Tripod family over the past years, it seemed the perfect place to say goodbye to the co-workers who have graced this page — and to our readers and members — as I leave Western Massachusetts to join my new family in Western Canada.

Very soon, someone else will be responsible for bringing these weekly messages to you from our remarkable staff. I envy that person. The decision to leave Tripod was not an easy one, and I will miss the close professional and personal friendships I have developed with many of the people who work here. But, with no offense intended to my colleagues, I met a group of people even more remarkable — my beautiful new wife, Janice MacDonald, and her wonderful daughters, Madeleine and Jocelyn.

Surprised? Our marriage and the formation of our new family didn't make the Tripod Insider's office gossip; this is probably because I kept the wedding a secret and sneaked off to "elope" on April 23 — Shakespeare's birthday — while on vacation in Edmonton, Alberta. We wanted to keep the ceremony as private, intimate, and personally meaningful for the participants as possible. I'm happy to say that this subterfuge was entirely successful; our wedding, in which we all made vows as a family and gave the girls special silver bands to match the white gold rings worn by the newlyweds, was the highlight of my entire life thus far and the beginning of a new lifetime of devotion to one another.

Janice, Maddy, Jossie, and I have been maintaining a long-distance relationship for far too long, and it was becoming more and more difficult to say goodbye at the conclusion of one of our visits. Besides, the phone bills and air travel expenses were getting outrageous! Sure, we were also able to send each other regular e-mails (even five-year old Jossie has become quite the little e-mailer!) and to communicate daily via personal "Instant Message" software over the Internet, but there comes a time when online community doesn't cut it — and when people who love each other need to be together in more than spirit, connected by more than wires, cables, phone lines, and silicon chips. We had quite simply reached that point, and it made more sense for me to uproot and move to Edmonton than for Janice to give up her gigs as an English professor and author — and for the girls to be yanked out of their special advanced academic programs, piano lessons, sports activities, etc. etc.

I wish I could say that the story ended automatically and easily with the exchange of vows, but we have since been bogged down in a mire of bureaucracy with Immigration Canada. An ever-increasing amount of my time (and literally piles of money) have gone to jumping over hurdles and through hoops to satisfy the seemingly endless requests for documents, medical exams, and fees. Believe me, moving permanently from one country to another — even between nations as friendly as the U.S. and Canada — is not for wimps. The pencil-pushers in charge of issuing a visa so our family can be reunited very rarely get their facts straight (or even get my name right!), but if we fail to dot one I or cross one T, the result is another delay and (inevitably) another fee of some kind, another round of expensive overnight mailings. And while I have several employers interested in hiring me once I'm up in Edmonton for good, I have to get there first — and every setback leaves me worried that the brass ring will disappear before I can clear Immigration and manage to grab it. This is what's known as a "leap of faith," and like I say, it's not for the faint of heart.

As for all the red tape... well, having recently renewed my car tags and insurance here in the States, I know all too well that mindless bureaucracy is a universal concept. I suppose that all of this current nonsense should instill in me the certainty that I will feel right at home in my soon-to-be adopted country.

So, as of yet I have no idea exactly when I'm moving (the visa will be approved "sometime in the next couple of months," we're told) or what I will be doing for a living in Canada. But you know what? I'm not stressing about it too much. Everything will work out just fine. Edmonton is an amazingly cool, vibrant, booming city — and I couldn't possibly adore my family more than I do. This transition is all about a personal philosophy that places the utmost importance on listening to my heart and following my dreams. After all, that philosophy is what brought me to Tripod a few years ago — at a time when there only about a dozen Tripod employees, all crowded together in a little white house — and, hey, that worked out pretty darn well! As much as I'll miss my Tripod family, I know I'll be able to follow their exploits by reading these Letters from Tripod every week. Likewise, they can keep up with my new family and me by reading the frequent updates to my personal homepage, which is, of course, hosted by Tripod (aren't all the best homepages?). You're welcome to visit us there as well. Be sure to check out the Photo Gallery — like any proud Daddy, I love showing off pictures of my kids!

My grand adventure begins... eventually. Well, sometime soon. I think. Of course, in the time-honored "hurry up and wait" tradition, I must be ready to hop over the border immediately just as soon as my visa finally arrives, lest it expire. There may not be time to say goodbye properly when the moment arrives. So, while it may seem a tad premature, farewell gentle readers and treasured colleagues. It has been one heck of a ride!

Happy trails and best wishes,
Randy, (Outgoing) Editor (6/26/98)

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Read more "Letters from Tripod" in the archive.