Wow. Bad things DO come in threes

I went on vacation last week.

I had planned it for months.

Get some much-needed relaxation and unwind a bit, you know.

The plan was to fly to Houston and then board a cruise ship going to the Yucatan Peninsula.

I did that.

I had some fun.

But the day before I was to leave I got some bad news.

Liz Wood, the Sun’s general manager and my favorite boss ever, informed me she was leaving for greener pastures.

I knew this was going to be on my mind the whole trip.

You try to NOT think about something and see where it gets you.

Liz recommended me for the position of general manager before I left.

This both excited me and terrified me. Okay, it mostly terrified me because I know most of what she does.

Say what you want about Liz, but know that she is an extremely hard worker who does many many different jobs to get the paper out.

So I was sitting at the airport the next day waiting to board my flight south when my cell phone rang.

It was the CEO of Stevenson Newspapers calling to offer me the general manager position.

We talked for a while and I let him know both of my excitement and trepidation.

He actually seemed reassured that I was frightened by the prospect but let me know that I would have support from the main office.

Of course, I was also confident in the reporting staff we currently employ. They are good writers and diligent reporters.

I did, however, promise that when I screwed up it would, at least, be spectacular.

That actually got a laugh.

During the cruise—which I took with one of my best friends, my mom and my step-dad—I discussed my optimism and pessimism a bit.

I didn’t want to talk about it too much but, of course, I had to brag a bit that I was going to be the general manager, editor and chief bottle washer at my newspaper.

Have to brag to the family, right?

In good mom fashion, my mother let me know that if it didn’t work out there were always alternatives.

I am sure she would be happy to have me back in Houston.

There is an old saw (“saying” for you younger readers) in the newspaper business that goes “Never let your graphic artist take over your paper.”

First, the obligatory

“MUWAAA-HA-HA!”

(That’s my evil laugh in case you didn’t get it).

Secondly, I think that saying relates to graphic artists being more interested in making things look good than relating news.

I really want to continue to cover the issues in the Valley.

As an aside, in an earlier job doing book layout I edited several books (both scientific monographs and cowboy humor books). My boss at the time said she had never seen “such a wordy artist.”

So I am not willing to sacrifice the words for the beauty.

I am hopeful that there is a harmonious balance that can be achieved.

So I had as good a vacation as could be expected and I began my trip home.

When I landed in Denver I got a text from Erik Gantt, one of our reporters, that I should call him when I got a chance.

I got a sinking feeling that bad news No. 2 was about to hit.

Nor was I wrong.

When I got in touch with Erik, he informed me that he would be leaving the Saratoga Sun.

Crap.

He has other plans that work better for him and I can’t blame him either but still …

Crap.

Driving home from Laramie I was listening to the Super Bowl and trying not to think about my many new work dilemmas.

I was happy the Broncos seemed to be doing well and was within 10 miles of town when bad news No. 3 jumped in front of me.

Bad news No. 3 came in the form of a herd of deer crossing the highway.

I had been driving slow because there had been ice on the highway earlier in my trip, but that did not save me from the deer.

I swerved to avoid the lead deer, sideswiped him and then when I tried to get back on the road and straighten out began to roll.

As soon as I knew that I was rolling I threw my arms over my head as the Jeep and everything in it swirled around me.

I feel very lucky that the heavy steel brake rotors I had just replaced and had on my floorboard didn’t decide to float my way and decapitate me.

When the car came to a rest on what was left of the wheels, I got out of the car (I can’t believe the door opened) and put my emergency flashers on.

Then I surveyed the scene.

My toolbox had exploded out the back window and tools were everywhere on the highway.

About a minute later, a snowplow pulled up with his hazard lights going and stopped—which served to alert possible traffic.

A sheriff showed up on the scene and got my story and told me he found the spot where I had hit the deer.

An ambulance showed up and checked me out and cleaned the glass out of my hands.

A Saratoga tow truck showed up, loaded the sad remains of my Jeep and gave me a ride home where I took a shower and got the other pieces of glass out of my hair.

As I stand here at my desk on Monday morning with battered hands typing this, it occurs to me that I could very easily have a breakdown at this juncture … I just really don’t see the point though.

So now you know some of the story of how I came to be in charge of the Saratoga Sun.

Please give me a break for a while as I try to maintain and hopefully improve the paper.

I will appreciate it.