I had a dream that seemed to be a continuation of the big, loud holiday party we had years ago at Phil Dypsky\u2019s Turn-of-the-Century Museum Saloon (now The Worthington) on O\u2019Donnell Street in Canton: Everyone I ever knew, past and present, stepped into the place, out of the falling snow, and the boisterous reunion went on for hours.<\/p>\n
Aunts and uncles, cousins and cops, reporters and editors, photographers and firefighters, neighborhood leaders and clergy, high school teachers and in-laws, and every kook I ever met in Baltimore \u2014 starting with Phil Dypsky, in a cowboy hat atop the worst toupee in the North America \u2014 all stopped by.<\/p>\n
It was a wonderful dream, like the final scene in \u201cIt\u2019s A Wonderful Life,\u201d when all his old friends push into Jimmy Stewart\u2019s living room in Bedford Falls.<\/p>\n
I woke up from the dream feeling like the guy who\u2019d hit life\u2019s big lottery.<\/p>\n
When I moved to Maryland from Massachusetts in 1976, I had no idea that Baltimore would become my adopted hometown. But my job as a reporter, then columnist for the bygone Evening Sun \u2014 and later, the morning Sun \u2014 generated close encounters with thousands of generous, brilliant, creative, weird and eccentric people. They made me feel welcome. They taught me a lot about the city and region. I quickly started to feel at home.<\/p>\n
Baltimore has problems that have persisted through generations. I\u2019ve heard some people talk about the city with scorn, expressing frustration and a desire to leave for good.<\/p>\n
But, for me, when it came to the quirkiness and general amiability of people, I felt I could not have landed in a better place. When it came to news, there\u2019s never been a dull moment. And when I came to see Baltimore for what it was during my time here \u2014 a city in a crucible, in a long and trying period of recovery and transition \u2014 I found plenty of stories for the column.<\/p>\n
For all its shortcomings, Baltimore has an abundance of potential, and the potential lies in the hearts of thousands of people committed to solving problems and making it a better city for all.<\/p>\n
That dream about Dypsky\u2019s saloon filled me with a profound sense of gratitude for all the people who have helped me in so many different ways \u2014 with stories for the column, with opinions that helped me form mine, with big laughs and small acts of kindness, with encouragement.<\/p>\n
It was the late Phil Heisler, managing editor of the bygone Evening Sun, who gave me this column, and the first one appeared on the Metro page on Jan. 8, 1979. I was just a kid, still new to the city, and the column would have stalled if not for the older reporters (and civic-minded Baltimoreans) who pointed me to stories and ideas to keep it going. They also warned me against making the column personal \u2014 that it should be about the people of Baltimore and the surrounding counties, and not me.<\/p>\n
So even now, as I try to write this final Sun column \u2014 after more than 6,600 of them \u2014 I find it awkward to offer personal reflections.<\/p>\n
Except to say thank you to everyone.<\/p>\n
That includes a large supporting cast of reporters and editors, many of whom moved to other newspapers and other careers in the years after the unfortunate sale of the Sunpapers by the families that owned it. The age of corporate ownership and downsizing has been rough, and the biggest loss was the collective knowledge and talents of hundreds of solid journalists who produced an award-winning newspaper we were all proud of.<\/p>\n
The late Peter Kihss, a reporter for The New York Times, encouraged me to stick with the column; a columnist, he said, can carry a paper through rough times. A priest once told me he saw the column as an urban ministry. I never presumed either as my mission; I just loved the job.<\/p>\n
My sincere thanks go to the hundreds of readers who commented on the column or called to report a problem, or scolded me, or set me straight about some aspect of life here in the Greater Patapsco Drainage Basin. Three years ago, when I shared the news of the untimely death of my younger brother, Eddie, so many of you were kind and comforting. I\u2019ll never forget that.<\/p>\n
My father was an immigrant; his native language was Portuguese. There\u2019s a word in that language, saudade \u2014 pronounced \u201csow-dahd\u201d \u2014 that is supposedly characteristic of the Portuguese. It\u2019s an expression of melancholy longing for someone we once loved or something we once experienced and now miss. Saudade is always a mixed feeling, when you feel sadness and happiness at the same time. I\u2019ve seen it defined as “a pleasure you suffer, an ailment you enjoy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sun publisher: Nobody asked me, but The Sun will miss Dan Rodricks<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n