When I announced I was retiring from The Oregonian after 43 years and 6 months, the newsroom’s leaders graciously offered to give me a sendoff with a cake and drinks. I passed. I asked instead for what I thought would be a more appropriate sendoff: to write a letter of thanks to the readers and to the people I’ve written about during my long career.
While I’ve never met most of the newspaper’s readers, we created a bond, one that I will miss when my stories no longer appear in The Oregonian and on OregonLive. Over the years I’ve read all the letters and emails you’ve sent my way. I’ve listened to your voice mails.
I’ve talked with you on the phone, good conversations that often filled me with hope, even though this is a profession that can make the best of us jaded. Now, a special thanks to the people who gave me their most precious asset – themselves. A story, for me, emerges out of the fog, unformed.
Something about a person, situation or moment in life – good and bad, tragic and full of joy, funny and poignant – intrigues me. Over the years I reached out to many people who had never met a reporter, let alone been interviewed by one. A voice on the phone.
A knock on the door. No one had to talk with me. But they agreed to talk.
During long conversations, questions and answers, and more questions and answers, their story came alive. In this business, we casually refer to everything as a story, even when it’s often more a topic or an incident, a series.