I've always said I'm the second-best writer in the family.
This proves it.
If I was honest (yes, I can hear all the critics offering a firm thumb's up at that comment), I would admit I now might come in fourth, behind my bride, as well as my son and daughter.
The one constant in these past 38 years has been my penchant for putting the Daily Times in front of everything, including my wife. No wonder she often referred to the Daily Times as my mistress.
So today, my last day at the newspaper, I feel it only right to allow her to have the last word.
Thus, this is a letter from the editor's wife:
* * *
There's a thin line between love and hate - that's what they say.
And they would be right.
At least, that's been my relationship with the Daily Times.
You see, I'm the editor's wife.
One one hand, I love it.
It's given me a comfortable home, food on the table, great educations for our daughter and son ... and a chance for my husband to be something he's always wanted to be - a journalist. No, make that a "newspaper guy."
But...here comes the hate part.
Oh, I don't hate the Daily Times, I hate what it's taken from me - time.
So many Christmases that Phil rushed out the door as soon as the kids opened their presents.
So many Thanksgiving dinners celebrated on Friday because Phil had to work on the holiday.
Then there was that New Year's Eve before the millennium that the kids and I celebrated alone because Phil just had to be in the office to make sure a dreaded Y2K catastrophe wouldn't occur. And way, way too many dinners alone to count.
I have always referred to the Daily Times as Phil's mistress.
I was powerless to stop it because he was powerless under her spell - he was smitten.
I've never seen anyone more dedicated to his craft than Phil.
He gave the Daily Times everything he had.
It was his life for nearly four decades.
He greatly respected and admired his colleagues over the years.
And he was always grateful to you, the readers.
He labored to create something special each day with each issue...and practically around the clock with the online edition.
Now, how's a girl gonna compete with that?
I really didn't mind sharing him, though.
I had gotten used to it.
But then some things happened.
We've each had our health issues and, blessedly, we became grandparents to twin boys.
Tears still come to my eyes when he gave our son, the twins' father, a piece of sound advice.
He told him to enjoy every minute of raising his children ... not to put anything ahead of that.
I think Phil took a look at his life and decided it was time to come home.
Daily Times ... you were well-loved.
And you and Phil will always have Primos (and Swarthmore).
As for me ... I'll be waiting for him when he gets home just like I have for the past 37 years.
Phil ... welcome to your new edition!
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