The Last Word

Well, here it is. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Wondering and worrying and weighing the options. But in the end, the best choice is this one. This is my final column.

It hurts to write those words, because, well, I love writing these words. My readers are precious to me, as are the relationships I have formed over the years with the good people that read the Blytheville Courier.

When I first started working at the Courier as a reporter, I was new to the community, new to the job, new to everything. It was an election year. Talk about trial by fire. I think I drove fellow reporter Pat Ivey crazy those first few weeks with everything I didn’t know. I probably made her job, and everyone else’s, more difficult.

But, oh, how I loved the job. The newsroom was a chaotic, crazy place. You either thrived in it, or ran screaming from the building. The family that made up the Courier staff was dysfunctional. We yelled, threw things, and occasionally stormed out of the building. We loved each other intensely.

Does it make sense? No. Did it work to put out an award winning product we were proud of day after day? Yes. Most days, I would have done my job for free, just for the joy of being able to do it. I loved it that much. Not that I wanted David knowing that. Some days, you couldn’t have given me a million dollars to stay even one more hour. Such is the joy and pain of the newsroom.

When I got sick and couldn’t work full time anymore, writing this column was a lifeline for me. I could still stay connected to the job, the people, and the community I loved, but at my own pace.

The Courier was more than understanding. If I was able to write, I could turn in a column. If I wasn’t, they would use something else that week. No pressure, no guilt. It was a perfect situation.

Then I went and messed it up. When we moved to Clay County in May, I wondered how it would affect the column. I didn’t think it would have that much of an impact on it.
My husband still works in Blytheville. My parents still pastor a church there. We still come to visit, to shop, to see friends. Even though no longer lived there, we would still have a connection.

That sounded sensible. It hasn’t worked out that way, though. I didn’t count on my feelings changing. For more than a decade, I lived and worked in Mississippi County. People freely came to me with their ideas, questions, complaints, and compliments.

When I moved, I lost that connection. When I was no longer in the stores, in the beauty shop, at the school, at church, I lost my ability to get differing opinions on issues. I no longer felt qualified to comment on the things that were going on in the community.

I have opinions, quite a few of them. But since I know longer live there, I no longer feel qualified to express them. I don’t have the filter of other people’s ideas and opinions to balance mine with.

I didn’t expect that change. I don’t think it is fair to the community to live here and write about there. I could write about my life now, but that was never the intention of the column and I don’t think that is what the majority of our readers want.

In a way, this decision breaks my heart. You have lifted me up when I was down, you have encouraged me and prayed for me and made me laugh. You have sent cards and letters and gifts. You have been a part of my life for so long, and I will miss that.

Walking into the Courier News changed my life. It allowed me to have opportunities and experiences I would not have been able to otherwise. I met singers, writers, celebrities, politicians, heroes, and ordinary people doing extraordinary things. I found a community full of people filled with grace, humor, and the capacity to give beyond measure.

You enriched my life by allowing me to tell your story to the rest of the world. It was an honor, as has been being able to write this column. I’m going to miss it, and the people it reaches.

God Bless You.