I know the feeling, Terry. I know why you use the word “delusion.”

Terry Burger says today is 31 years since he became a journalist. Terry is a really great storyteller and I know that overall, he loves journalism, loves telling those stories, and has many memories of energy and time well spent. Yet here he is, wondering if it was all a 30-year delusion. And his friend, Marcus, using the word “condolences.” I understand that, too.

The truth is, we were all treated badly at the end, when the bottom line was the only thing in sight.

And so, a lot of immensely talented and good-spirited people were discarded. It happened. It goes on yet today, witness my friends in Philadelphia and Pittsburgh recently cast aside. So, yes, it’s a truth. We were treated very badly by people who should still have trouble sleeping at night.

The other great truth of all this is, we were all spoiled. We had the greatest job in the world. Working in a real newsroom, with real journalists and real expectations and a once-a-day deadline that was earnest and immediate and valuable to the community, that was a great time.

We cared. We wanted to know what was going on. We competed with the newspaper down the road. We cajoled public officials to clue us in, and wrote about the ones who were jerks. We gave our readers a pretty damned good taste of the community around them. Hanover and Adams County in the ’80s, ’90s and early 2000’s.

I’m bitter, too, Terry and Marcus. But I’m also really proud that I was part of that.

Being a woman, I believe it was just about the best time in history to be part of a real, honest-to-god newsroom, where women and men worked alongside each other, no crap about it, same expectations.

It’s no wonder so many of us feel a sad, bitter aftertaste. We still had a lot left to give. Still do.

But I can’t let that aftertaste hide the pride at the work I did, the young people I taught, the things we opened up to the community through our reporting. It was a great time to be a journalist.