She responded to my email yesterday, partly to inform me about how wrong I was when it came to the superintendent of schools retiring.
She insisted he was not leaving.
I conceded the point, telling her she would know her own beat, she responded, “I ought to.
Behind the scenes, she continued to pursue the union-sourced stories and their attack on the neighboring mayor. She went to their rally where she met with some of the leadership, then went to a controversial zoning board meeting. The commissioners were supposed to push through a project for the friend of her mayor, a campaign contributor – a mayor she likes as opposed to the neighboring mayor who she does not like. Her mayor, who has been charged with a variety of crimes, while the one she doesn’t like has not been.
Two of the opponents of her mayor called me and I emailed her to let her know – a courtesy, but also a way to cover myself if she tries to claim I’m undermining her authority in one of her towns.
The email record is hugely important even when sometimes looking back I sometimes cringe over my own stupidity – just as this journal is important, reflecting events I know I won’t remember later.
The journal allowed me to reconstruct events when I had to meet with the owners a few months ago, and several emails sent from her verified my account at several points.
But this whole thing has created bad feelings all around, especially with our former temporary boss.
I do not know if things are still strained between him and her over my antics, something I sincerely regret but can’t take back.
He talks to me these days, but never about her, except in reference to some column item that may deal with one of her towns, and he needs to fact-check.
Again, I’m puzzled as to why she remains here when she is clearly under paid and – by her account – terrified. For some reason, she needs us as a base of operations, allowing her to interact with numerous professionals perhaps with the hope of finding a jumping off point, a new stepping stone that might bring her greater success.
I keep hearing the old Monkees’ song in my head, “I’m not your stepping stone.”
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