My journalism journey, part 2

Continuing on my journalism journey: Part 2, on to Montana.
After five years in Carpentersville, it was time to move on. Actually, it was time to move on after four years, but I had problems finding another job. I had my resume out all over the country, had several interviews but didn't have a lot of takers. And it was getting depressing. We had a new editor *****ally gave the female writers a lot of problems. He didn't like me at all, calling me at one time a "fat, lazy broad." After getting passed over for a promotion at one point for a guy I hired, I looked into a discrimination suit. But I found out it might lead to being blackballed in the business. So I kept my mouth shut, cried a lot, ate too much and waited for a break.
About eating too much: I was always an overweight person. Food was my comfort, my crutch. Like an alcoholic used booze, I used food. I would diet at times, lose 50 pound**** a plateau, get discouraged and something bad would happen in my life, and I'd turn back to overeating.
At this point in my life, I had lost the 50 pounds and now wa****ting this bad stretch. I really needed a boost. And finally I got one.
I sent out a resume to a newspaper in Montana, a small town called Anaconda. At first when I sent it out, I thought I was sending it to somewhere in Missouri (thinking the abbreviation was MI ... it was MT, so I was wrong because Missouri, of course, is MO). But after typing out the letter, I thought, why not? So I sent out the letter, thinking I'd never hear from them because of how far I was. I mean, they wouldn't move me out there and I couldn't afford to move on my own.
Surprisingly, one day I got a call from a Wally Mundstock, the editor of the newspaper. It was a small twice-weekly in western Montana. I had to pull out the atlas to see where it was. And remember, this was before the Internet. The only way to find out about the place was to go to the library. Wally wanted to hire me sight unseen. I was skeptical about that. I mean, what if he didn't like me; what if I didn't like the place or didn't like him?
I talked it over with my friend Roxane, who was always my sounding board for these things. She suggested I ask for a visit to the place so I could decide if I liked it. And also ask for moving expenses. I called back and asked for that, and not long after, I was on a plane to Missoula, Mont., for a visit to Anaconda.
Dean Neitz, the publisher, flew me into Missoula for a reason: coming in from the west was much nicer than from the east. I learned that later. The majestic mountains of the Pintlar range drew me in. I was hooked right there.
I stayed with the Mundstock family: Wally and Margie and their daughters, Lori Jo and JoNae. JoNae walked around town the next day with me looking at apartments. I think she must have been about 10 then. By the time the weekend was done, I decided to take the job at the small paper and go west.
But getting back home was another matter. I had to take one plane from Butte to Billings, then another to Denver. The Billings flight left late because of weather, and so when I got into Denver, I had missed my flight. Weather also had postponed any flight out that day, so I was stuck in Denver overnight. I was supposed to work that night, so I had to call in and tell my editor I couldn't be there and why. It was nice to give my two-weeks notice that night over the phone from Denver.
I had not told my mother about my interview and possible job in Montana, knowing she would be upset about me moving so far. I had told my dad, who was on dialysis and had kidney disease. He told me I had to follow my dream, wherever it took me.
So I was going west, just like Horace Greeley said many years ago.