Well, here it is, the last column after 46 years working at The Reporter.
I’ve always known this day was coming and, amazingly, I’ve always known what I was going to say.
The absolute best thing about my job was getting to meet so many people I’d never otherwise have gotten to know—and in many cases befriend.
Ironically, as we’ve gotten more and more technologically proficient, we have, in a quite real way, become more isolated.
We choose and build our own little universes. If I don’t want you in mine, you’re not.
But when you work for a good community newspaper—and The Reporter is definitely one, more about that later—you are obligated to be in other people’s lives, and they in yours.
People in offices, people in government, people who coach sports, people who play sports, people who care for the aged, people in management, people in labor unions, people who go to church, people who minister.
People who farm and ranch, people who teach, people who run schools, people who clean schools, people who work in mines and power plants, people who cut hair, people who keep us safe, people who perspire in potrooms, people who put out fires, people from the military.
People who guide youth organizations, people who have kids in those organizations, people who like history, people who get elected to office and people who don’t, people who volunteer for tasks you could never pay them enough to do, people who like to find my mistakes and point them out to me.
I met a lot of those last ones. Almost all of you were kind and gracious. You didn’t have to be that way, and I appreciate your understanding over the past 46 years.
(I’m sure I will also hear from people whose specific vocation I didn’t mention. If I didn’t, I’m truly sorry. I was thinking about you even if the thought never reached my fingers and keyboard.)
Forty-six years. When I started work here, Richard Nixon was president, the Vietnam War was still going on and Rockdale was celebrating its Centennial. The No. 1 movie was “Blazing Saddles” and the No. 1 song was “The Way We Were.”
I didn’t know what I was doing. No clue. But I lucked out.
The Reporter was a great paper then and stayed that way, even got better. The reason it’s great is because of the Cooke family, specifically Bill Cooke.
After about 30 minutes at The Reporter, it becomes obvious this place is great because of the extremely high standards set by Bill.
He mentored me, was patient with me and, above all, was there every day “walking the walk” as an example of how good community journalism could be.
I tried to adopt his high standards. I didn’t make it but I consciously tried.
Whatever success I’ve had— which is for others to judge, not me—has been because of that effort, because of Bill.
And right now I can hear him saying “this column is too long; nobody’s going to read it; wrap it up.”
Okay.
Sometimes my wife, Sue, and I will leave Rockdale before dawn on a long trip and, in the winter, with leaves off the trees, I will see a mercury vapor light at some farm or ranch house way out in the distance.
And will think: “I may have dealt with them, and they with me. I might have taken their kids’ photo at a Little League game, or a livestock show or a science fair.”
And there are hundreds more houses out there in the dark whose residents just might know me.
All because I’ve had this wonderful job in such a wonderful place.
It felt good. It still feels good. It will always feel good.
Bye everyone. Thanks for letting me be a part of your lives. You were certainly a part of mine.
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