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Opinion

  • Hannah Hayes

  • I was a teenage dinosaur.

    Actually, I was in my early 20s when an old-school managing editor by the name of Gale Baldwin told me I’d just become the editor of a weekly section that would target readers in the 6-to-11 age bracket.

  • “When I find a well-drawn character in fiction or biography, I generally take a warm personal interest in him, for the reason that I have known him before — met him on the river.”

    — Mark Twain, in “Life on the Mississippi”

    Brad Bradberry never met a person he didn’t know, or with whom he couldn’t navigate a long, meandering conversation. While some people collect objects, Brad collected people: childhood friends, rivals, Rotarians, fellow publishers, bosses, employees, customers.

  • From the time I was diagnosed with cancer about 14 months ago, I wondered what the subject of my final column would be and when I would write it. Well, I’m no closer to a subject and have been wondering how much longer I could hold out, but now the time has come.

    Like everything else during my life, I have put it off until the last minute.

  • It was Sunday a couple weeks ago and, as always, I found myself at 8 a.m. in front of the TV watching one of those weekly news shows. The discussion, as always, involved the presidential race, and as I took a swallow of coffee, it occurred to me that I was completely wasting my time given that I will not be around to vote next November.

  • When I first came down with cancer and began the chemo routine, I never thought twice about the color pink. Now I notice every woman who comes into the chemo lab decked out in a pink hat with matching pink scarf.

    I understand that the color pink has come to designate those with breast cancer, which leaves out men for the most part. But today I wonder whether pink is confined to breast cancer. Do some of those women running around with pink hats have colon cancer? Or lung cancer?

  • There are days, and then there are days. I had a day last Saturday.

    It all started with my grandson’s 6th birthday party. My wife, who takes such things very seriously, spent at least two days running around finding party favors, candy, decorations and other assorted junk. By Saturday morning, you would swear we were in the home party business.

  • It’s getting tougher and tougher to write this column. Not because I have cancer, but because I simply don’t get around much anymore. I seldom stop by the newspaper, so I have little idea of what’s going on ee you know, the background stuff. Oh, I still read the paper, but nothing beats hanging around the newsroom, or talking with friends. That’s where the really good ideas come from.

  • It’s getting tougher and tougher to write this column. Not because I have cancer, but because I simply don’t get around much anymore. I seldom stop by the newspaper, so I have little idea of what’s going on ee you know, the background stuff. Oh, I still read the paper, but nothing beats hanging around the newsroom, or talking with friends. That’s where the really good ideas come from.

  • Seldom is the force of government more concentrated than at the moment a district attorney decides whether to pursue a case against a defendant. We hope our prosecutors are men and women of sound judgment and unimpeachable integrity, and for the most part they are. But every so often a case exposes how vulnerable our system can be to an unprincipled individual.

  • When the thermometer indicates it’s 80 degrees on the Front Range in October, the chance of snow within 24 hours approaches 50 percent. Odds reach 100 percent if the Broncos are playing at Invesco Field on national TV. It’s a given. You know it. I know it.