When the clock strikes midnight on October 11, and I play my negotiation cards right, or even in order, it will likely be someone other than me on Deadline Night asking the designer to make 52 more changes before sending the files to the ever-hopeful printer.
In May I announced my intention to step down as publisher in order to: spend more time ferrying my grandchildren to activities, finishing the day’s Wordle before it vanishes, looking up the significance of many of the clues in Wall Street Journal and NY Times crosswords, and helping my husband to miraculously make it through another medical mishap.
What was I thinking? Our 9-year-old grandson says he’s ready to drive; he’s grown so much that he can sit in the front seat. Luckily, my granddaughter and I are happy to dance and sing through life as we traverse Rye’s traffic-jammed roads and avoid deer. It’s a pressure-cooker finishing up all those word games and I never share my scores, so is anyone really noticing the progress I’ve made with Connections? My husband is a man of fine mettle so he probably would have made it these almost twenty years since his double-lung transplant without me.
Further, I know about four people who are not golfers that have retired successfully. The roulette tables of Vegas are not on my bucket list, and I’m too old to be thinking about a start-up. I’ve never watched a complete daytime television show and can’t crochet.
The new owners may actually want me to help around the office, clean up copy, throw easy punches at big targets.
With a nod to “Anchorman” Ron Burgundy, keep up appearances, Rye, and make the transition a breeze
