Hello, I must be going ... after 31 years After having been here 31 years at the Times — more than half my life — I have to say one of the hardest words there is. Goodbye. My last day is Dec. 29. That is so tough to say. Almost 32 years ago, in March 1983, I walked into the newsroom of the Times West Virginian for the first time. Timid, meek, basically shy — and pregnant-out-to-there with Jenny — I was there to interview with John Veasey about getting on at the paper office after she was born. He wasn’t there. In tears, sure he’d forgotten about me, I remember standing in the newsroom, trying to figure out what to do next. Monica Eates, one of the reporters, told me not to worry, that he would be back soon. And he was. Later, I went out to the parking lot to see the back left tire on my little yellow Dodge Colt splitting around the hubcap. I waddled back into the office (Jenny was due in about six weeks) and someone helped me change the tire. One Thursday night that July, I got the call. I was hired as a part-time typist! I was so excited. I’d seen all those TV shows and movies about newspapers, and I couldn’t wait to meet a real-life reporter. And what a wonderful crew they were: Valerie Colander, Alexa Smith, Don Palmerine, Sue Morgan, Monica Eates, Laura Ridenour, Dave Hickman, Cliff Nichols, Tom Shumate, Pam Hennen O’Dell, Sharon Barr Desmuke, Ron Musgrave, Jim Short, and of course, John Veasey. (I hope I haven’t forgotten anybody from 31 years ago.) Now, just John and Cliff are left from the Before Time. The neat thing was, nobody treated me like I was just a typist. Sue Morgan in particular kind of took me under her wing and gave me all kinds of reporter advice, even before I wrote my first article. That would be about a woman who had won some money in the West Virginia Lottery. I don’t remember her name or her exact story, but I tell you, when I saw “By Debra Minor Wilson” in print on that front page, that was it. I was hooked. From then on, I got to cover a lot of exciting events (the troops coming back from the first Persian Gulf War, Clinton’s visit to the Benedum Airport, the foiled FBI bombing plot). I’ve never had to cover a fatality and I’m just as glad. I’ve met some famous people: I shook Elton John’s hand (!!!). I saw Ringo Starr in concert (!!!!). OK. This isn’t exactly meeting him, but I was breathing the same air as an ex-Beatle was, so it’s the same thing. I talked with ex-Raider Mark Lindsay over the phone and saw him in concert (!!!!!). I’ve interviewed Tommy Johnston of the Doobie Brothers, Sam Donaldson, Ryan White’s mother, Sandra Lee, Joe Piscopo and Bucky Covington. He is such a Southern gentleman. When I called him for the interview, he was down the hall. Someone went to get him and I could hear him yelling as he ran to his office, “Tell her I’ll be right there!” and was all out of breath and apologetic when he talked to me. What a sweetie. But most unforgettable of all have been the wonderful and awesomely inspiring people from Marion County who opened their hearts to share some amazing stories. Stories of coping with tragedy. Of recovery. Of hope. In 2000, the paper started “Faith Journeys,” the redesigned religion section that featured a local person’s story of faith I was privileged enough to write. Through Faith Journeys, I have met the most inspirational and unforgettable people imaginable over these 14 years. I have my personal favorites from the 742 features, but I am grateful for each person who said “yes” when I asked for an interview. It hurts to know there are stories I’ve been meaning to do but haven’t, and fresh stories still out there. When I was assigned to do courts and crime back in 2011, I was petrified. Me, this mildmannered, English-teacherwannabe feature writer, covering hardened criminals? Are you out of your mind? But I got into it. I saw literally the best of people in my features and the worst in my crime stories. I’ll be honest. Some of the crimes and criminals were downright funny. One crime and its two suspects in particular, though, gave me nightmares. I could have written more of the “Marion’s Most Notorious” stories. Each one made me cry for the victim and the families left behind. I will admit that one of my proudest moments was the possibility that my story about the Windmill Park murders maybe have reopened the case and resulted in the indictments of its two nightmare-causing suspects. I really felt like a reporter that day, not a feature writer or former typist. Something I had written mattered. Dang. I felt that way one other time, when a woman told me she was diagnosed with breast cancer when she saw a doctor after reading a story I did on the disease. I felt humbled and shaky. That’s when I realized there is a lot of responsibility in writing a news story. I’ve made so many friends at the paper and out in the county over these years. I love making an “NFP” (New Favorite Person). We are really like one big family here at the paper. We celebrate the good times, the weddings, the babies and grandbabies. And we’re there for each other in the bad times, when dear ones fell ill or we lost a friend, co-worker or family member. The jokes we played on each other, the time capsule board a bunch of us signed, the quote board, the newsroom birthday parties, the “use a word from this list in a story” contests ... All these day-to-day things have made some cherished memories. There truly is something special about working for a newspaper. I love the smell of newsprint. The thumping of the presses. The static-filled traffic on the scanner. The paper is the same every day yet totally different. Not many things you can say that about. One thing you can say is that every employee here is as important as the next. It takes a whole building to bring you your morning paper, a building of talented, skilled and dedicated professionals. I never thought about that before working here. The morning paper “just appeared.” Now I look around at the editorial department and wonder where it’s going to be in five years, who will be working here, what the paper will look like. I never meant to work at a paper. I wanted to be an English teacher. A correctly phrased sentence is a beautiful thing and I wanted to share that love with others. But student teaching cured me of that dream. In fact, I was the only person my advisor had ever heard of who quit student teaching in mid-semester. That was me: Debra Alanna Minor, Girl Trend-Setter. But now, I need to devote all my attention to some family plans we’re making. I knew I would be leaving the paper probably next year, year after that at the latest. Somehow the time just seemed right to do it now. I can’t wait for Dec. 30 (neither can Clemente Doggie and Trixie Kitty), but I’m dreading Dec. 29. I cry far too easily and I’m not one of those lucky people who look cute when they cry. It’s going to be tough to walk out that side door to my car in the parking lot. So I guess I’m not going to say goodbye. I think I’ll just say ... See ya. Email Debra Minor Wilson at dwilson@timeswv (offer good up to Dec. 29, 2014).
Posted on: Fri, 19 Dec 2014 14:56:20 +0000
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