Thanks for attending NCA’s 111th Annual Convention!

A Light in the Meeting Hall: Elaine Davies

By Dr. Nina-Jo Moore
Professor Emerita of Communication
Appalachian State University

For around twenty years, every NCA Placement Center (in the olden days), Grad School Open House, and Job Fair began the same way for me—not with the bustle of graduate students, the hum of recruiters, or the nervous energy of the day—but with Elaine Davies. Our “night before” meeting for margaritas and hashing out what we were going to do for the two day event became a staple of our service to NCA.

Long before the crowds arrived, we would arrive early, opening doors, balancing a stack of sign-in sheets, or adjusting a directional sign that had somehow turned itself crooked since the night before. Elaine had a talent for knowing what needed doing before anyone asked. It seemed almost magical, though she always brushed it off with a laugh and said she simply “had a good feeling for the space.”

Working with Elaine wasn’t just efficient—it was grounding. I hand-chose Elaine as my assistant in the early days based simply on how efficient she was.  She had volunteered one year in Chicago for the Placement Center as one of the local arrangements volunteers, and I was impressed by how efficient she was. Those of you who remember the Placement Center recall how intimidating it was, but not to Elaine.

She had a way of turning chaos into choreography. When my former assistant “retired” from working with me, NCA asked who I would choose to work with me.  It was an immediate “Elaine Davies” that came out of my mouth.  When volunteers got overwhelmed, she steadied them. When a faculty member needed something last-minute, she would have a backup plan. When I started to think the day might be too much, she’d appear beside me, hand me a bottle of water, and say, “Take a breath. We’ve done this dozens of times. We’ll do it a dozen more.”

But time, in its quiet and unstoppable way, had other plans. When I got the news that Elaine had passed, it feels as if the meeting hall lights will dim a little in the future years. The familiar rhythm of our events—the pulse we had perfected together—will now feel strangely out of time. Preparations that once felt automatic are suddenly going to require more thought. Meetings will feel too quiet.

At the next Grad School Open House and Job Fair, as I walk through the venue the day before, I know I will catch myself looking at the room with the same vision that Elaine always viewed our “workspace.”  When new volunteers begin to panic about things, I know I’ll hear Elaine’s voice in my own: “Take a breath. We’ll figure it out.” And when the doors finally open and the events are underway, I am sure I will feel her presence in the hum of the crowd—an echo of all the years she helped me shape with her vigor, her humor, and her quiet strength.

That’s when I will realize something: Elaine hasn’t left us. Not really. Her care and competence had woven themselves into the traditions we keep, the routines we follow, the way we treat one another during the busy, breathless days of the Grad School Open House and the Job Fair. Her legacy will live on in the details, in the small acts of kindness, and in the calm at the center of every storm.

To lose her is heartbreaking. To have worked together for so long is a gift I will carry for the rest of my life.

And every time the Grad School Open House or the Career Fair begins—long before the crowds arrive, long before the doors swing wide—I will still look for her. I still feel her. And I think I always will.