I have something to tell you, and it’s going to be hard. This is my final column in the Denton Record-Chronicle.
This has been my last week with the newspaper I have been a part of for more than 33 years.
There comes a moment when a person knows that it is time to end a chapter of her life. So now I am turning a page to start the next part. I don’t turn that page lightly. I do it with great trepidation. I do it with great sadness. I will miss you all so much.
But there is also excitement. I will write more books. I will have more time to travel. I plan to have such adventures!
For all these years my world has mainly been Denton, and I love this city with my heart of hearts. But the world is such a huge, wonderful place, and I want to see more of it.
I want hours on my patio with my little dog Kiefer. I want time for the cats and to tend my flowers. I want peace.
I owe you all so much! I owe my sources in law enforcement and fire departments and the courts for the countless telephone calls in the middle of the night, telling me about a fire or an accident or a homicide or a verdict that they know I’d rather cover than sleep through.
I owe them for so many off-the-record conversations that trusted me with information they knew I wouldn’t publish but that they understood I needed so I wouldn’t write it wrong. I owe them for befriending a reporter when the prevailing advice was to steer clear.
But most of all, my friends, I owe you.
You have supported me through 33 years of life. You’ve been there to help with the hard times and applaud through the good times and to laugh with me through the whole thing. You have enjoyed, or at least put up with, my sillier moments when I showed the part of me that is, as my friend John Wayne says, just half a bubble off plumb.
When my friend Sherry and I fussed, you took my side. When my son Chris wouldn’t telephone and I printed his number with a plea, you contacted him for days to admonish him to “Call your mother!”
You sympathized when my daughter got her butt stuck to the mattress on a sprung bedspring. You went along on a walking trek across a Scottish moor with my friend Cheryl and me. I knew I had to go in the castle ruins alone when they creeped Cheryl out because I understood that you would want to know what lay inside.
You were there for me when my son Ricky was killed. You were with me when my husband Richard died. And when I lost my parents, I knew I could count on you. And you came through for me.
I tried to reciprocate by brightening your Sunday morning with a good laugh over coffee. I hope I did enough.
Few can say they have so many good friends. I am indeed a lucky woman.
We don’t have to part ways. You can be my friend on Facebook. I’ll gladly accept if you reach out to me.
You’ll see me on the street and in the grocery store, and I’ll always be glad to talk.
I have a book called Too Old to Die Young: Confessions of a Baby Boomer that will be in bookstores this fall. I’m working on another book called The Seven-Year Lie about the disappearance of Kathy Stobaugh and the murder trial of her husband that will be out sometime next year.
I have a blog called “Moments of Lucidity” that you can read, and you can follow me on Twitter @DonnaKaye6. They will be sort of mini and micro-mini columns.
Please stay in touch. I am moving into the next phase of my life, but you can go, too. I love you all.