Final edition

Last night the husband and I joined a small group of writers, editors and photographers for a round of drinks at our local watering hole. After hoisting our mugs and toasting our friendship and better days ahead, we downed a bitter swig of reality.

On Dec. 1 our 106-year old enterprise will cease to exist. We couldn’t call it a death. More like pulling the plug on a ventilator. Still.

Moments earlier we had toured the shell of a once-bustling building. What was once filled with busy workers doing their part to get a paper on the street every day is now populated only with empty desks and packed boxes.

Husband and I have a lot of memories embedded in this place. It was our home away from home, our life.  It was that way for all who worked there. We were an extended family and this felt like a funeral for a dear friend.

As we  drank and ate and talked, we wondered what to do with the rest of our lives, since most present were headed for the unemployment line. We talked about how to update our analog careers to a digital world. Most of us are middle age and this is all we’ve done. Time to reinvent ourselves. We all knew it was coming, but it is quite another thing to stand at the edge of the grave as the casket is being lowered.

Anyone interested in what’s going on in the news industry can read more here: