How lucky can one guy be?
Change is good. I know, because authors and talk show hosts make a great deal of money saying change is good.
Yet a person doesn't truly realize change until after they've changed. Usually I take two-week vacations, so I predict I won't feel the full impact of change until Nov. 18, when Monday arrives and I stay at home.
Am I complaining or feeling sorry for myself? Hardly. As I told Kathy Hageman, she was only the second-happiest person to hear she had the job. I was the happiest. Since July 31, my Bride-To-Be has been there, and I have been here, and it has grown tougher with each day.
It's an unusual feeling. I don't want people to think I am blithely skipping away from a job I held for almost 15 years (among those with "reporter" on their business card, I think this puts me second to the OE at this paper). Yet the joy I feel at joining my soulmate overwhelms any sadness. I feel no hesitation or regrets — only peace.
But I fully realize that the good Lord has blessed me far more than this sinner deserves.
Through the years, I've seen a lot of interns write farewell columns. Most of them come away amazed at how Marion has impacted them. They tell us we're lucky to live here.
I'm amazed at how Marion has impacted me. You are lucky to live here.
There are lots of little communities in Kansas with pretty parks, good schools, and interesting buildings. People leaving those communities after 15 years may feel the same.
But I've been in some of those communities, lived in one or two others, and I remain convinced that Marion is different.
I suggest that young people should leave Marion. The world is a better place, I think, when Marionites take their views to the world. But never say "I'll never come back."
This place is special.
Our farewell interns usually write about problems they identify in Marion, too. This is mine: Some of us have an almost pathological need to explain away illegal behavior, be it by adults or youths. We would be better served to enforce the laws and rules we have, let the consequences occur, then go on with life.
Of course, that's a problem with a small community, too. Children get branded as trouble because their parents were. A brush with the law as a teen-ager is brought up when the person is a responsible adult.
Some people can brush those statements off, but some live down to others' expectations.
By the way, if someone tells you about illegal activity, report that fact to law officers. People who know of illegal activity and don't tell authorities are part of the problem.
At worst, people will know not to gossip around you. You only have to do this once or twice, believe me.
Nonetheless, this place is special, not because it has problems, but because it has the ability to overcome them.
Let's see. The farewell columns usually talk about other employees, often sharing private jokes. I will only say that we are a family. A dysfunctional family, sometimes, but a family nonetheless.
There are interesting facts I could share about each one, but since they could share interesting facts about me, I'll keep my mouth shut.
OK, one fact about each of the five with whom I worked my whole time:
Donna was the first person I met at the Marion County Record. I came for my interview, and she came to the front counter. When I said I was here about the job, she rolled her eyes. She says she didn't do it, but it was a much more memorable moment for me, so who are you gonna believe?
She has earned her management role in Hoch Publications. It has been a pleasure being her colleague. It would have been a pleasure to be her employee.
Jean is the newspaper's greatest asset. She has a cheerful voice and a positive attitude. She and I mail the Marion County Record each week, and I glean tons of advice from her on life, and marriage, and family.
The greatest compliment I can bestow: A couple of times, I called her "Mom."
Melvin and I used to work late Tuesday nights, putting out the paper. Then we would go to Kingfisher's Inn and have dinner. Sometimes we would hardly talk at all. But then we started finishing the paper earlier, and his nieces were involved in volleyball, and Kingfisher's closed on Tuesdays.
Those dinners were among the most pleasant I had in Marion. I have few regrets in life, but I wish Melvin and I had kept up that habit.
Melvin told me Joan's bark was worse than her bite. She taught me a great deal about relationships and dedication. Few people can work with their spouse in a high-pressure job for decades on end. I plan to support my spouse as much as Joan supports hers. I plan to be as dedicated to my marriage as she is to hers.
One fact about the OE. When my mother was dying, he let me have all the time off I needed, with pay, to be with her. I would work part of the week, then go to Oklahoma City.
He has a lot of awards for being a great journalist. No one has given him an award for compassion.
Except, maybe, this column.
Godspeed, my friends.
I love you.
— MATT NEWHOUSE
