Under my hat: It just won’t be the same

Everyone deserves to retire at some point.

But it just won’t be the same without Kathy.

Kathy Kleinhagen Kunkel is retiring today after 32 years at the Times News Tamaqua office.

She is the last of the new kids on the block, a crew of South Warders who took over for the old team. The old team, of course, included Eleanor “Scibbie” Weaver, George Miller, Marguerite Feathers and others who transitioned from the old Tamaqua Evening Courier to what eventually became today’s Times News.

Kathy, Joe Plasko and I were proud to be the new kids holding down the fort. We were a triumvirate with a special bond.

All three of us lived in our native South Ward. All of us were graduates of Tamaqua High School and former staffers of the Blue and White school newspaper.

So, yes, we firmly believed we were familiar with our regional coverage area, perhaps better than anyone.

And the number one rule of journalism is to know your subject matter.

Keep in mind that it’s easier said than done. Subject matter varies dramatically from hour to hour. Its focus can be serious and compelling.

Let’s face it, the meat of daily news centers around the sensational and unexpected — tragic house fire, burglary, murder, bank robbery, fatal car crash and so on.

But Kathy was always prepared no matter the development, not only in news, but in bureau management and advertising, too.

Quiet, friendly and humble, she was a perfect choice to anchor the Tamaqua office. But the bonus was her news writing skill, owing to talent and some stellar qualifications.

For example, she could write about health care with authority because she once served as an EMT and rode with the local ambulance.

She could write about educational policy with ease because she once served on school board.

She could write about community development issues with keen insight because she personally managed a local neighborhood revitalization program.

She could cover arraignments and magisterial hearings with authority because she maintained close ties to state and local police. In fact, she serves on the Police Civil Service Commission.

Kathy knew her subject matter. Joe and I recognized it and always felt honored to work with her.

On some important occasions, all three of us joined together to provide full coverage of major, breaking news. In a split second, we’d figure out who among us would handle the main story, who’d tackle the sidebar, who’d gather community reaction and which of us would supply a selection of visuals.

The Tamaqua office could handle all of it with ease and file a complete package before deadline.

We got the job done. We clicked. Period.

And the challenges were real, no more so than on March 22, 2011. Kathy and I will never forget.

Through one of those unexplained mysteries of the heavens, we lost our beloved Joe. Suddenly and unexpectedly. He was only 50 when he was taken from us. He was gone, it seemed, in the blink of an eye.

Our team of three had become just two. We mourned someone we loved. At times like that, all you can do is cry.

The tragedy drew us closer.

Kathy and I pushed forward with a dagger in the heart. But I also like to believe that the quality of our work reflected an understanding of the depth of pain and the warmth of a special bond.

On a bitter cold November night in 2014, Kathy and I spent hours along Sharp Mountain covering a reported shooting of two teens by a hunter. Shocking news.

With hands frozen stiff, Kathy listened for updates on a portable scanner channel. We carried cameras, notepads and pens that wouldn’t work in the cold as we scrambled through darkness to dig out the story and grab some tough photos for morning deadline. It was the biggest story at the time.

As usual, we got the job done and our coverage package was recognized by The Associated Press.

Kathy and I continued to work together even after my retirement three years ago.

After all of these years, I honestly don’t know the best way to say goodbye to her.

But I want to wish Kathy a world of happiness. She deserves it.

And somewhere in our timeless bond, I believe Joe Plasko says the same.