Editor's Report

Sept. 28, 2010

Man, I hate saying goodbyes.

As you've probably figured out by now, this is the last issue of Dixie Contractor. The parent company has decided to go in other directions, and the result is that this magazine will be no more.

That hurts. I grew up with Dixie Contractor; in fact, some of my very earliest memories are of looking at the magazine. My daddy would bring it home, and as a little boy I'd look at the pictures long before I knew what the words themselves had to say.

Man, I hate saying goodbyes.

As you've probably figured out by now, this is the last issue of Dixie Contractor. The parent company has decided to go in other directions, and the result is that this magazine will be no more.

That hurts. I grew up with Dixie Contractor; in fact, some of my very earliest memories are of looking at the magazine. My daddy would bring it home, and as a little boy I'd look at the pictures long before I knew what the words themselves had to say.

Well, for the last quarter century or so — for just about half my life, so far — I've been the one who's put those words together.

I've enjoyed the journalistic part of it, of course.

But most of all I've enjoyed you guys, my buddies, my friends. It's hard to find good people, really and truly good people, and good people are what I've found everywhere I've gone as editor of Dixie Contractor.

It's been a fun ride, hasn't it? We've eaten barbecue and catfish together. We've helped raise each other's children. We've laughed together in the good times, and we've offered solace when the times tough and hard. I treasure those memories, all of them, and I always will.

Other folks I know who've had their jobs go away have been calling me telling me they're sorry, telling me they know what it's like, telling me what to expect. They say it won't really hit me for a little while and that when it does I'll be sad. They tell me I'll probably shed a tear or two.

I think it's finally hitting me as I write this now.

But then I remember that ends are really beginnings. Ends are opportunities. They are. That's what you've gotta remember.

So what becomes of Steve? It's a question I'm looking at with new eyes. In fact, I think I'll ponder it further this very afternoon up on a little creek I know, a tiny one way back in the mountains where the brook trout live. Such places are good for the soul, and the answers you find there always seem clearer than the rest.

So stay in touch now. And be good.

Steve Hudson