As I was saying: You can make a difference; Suzanne did ...

As most of you know, we lost my beloved wife Suzanne on Jan. 7. She was killed in a car wreck.
Suzanne was a very passionate person. She loved teaching, and it showed as hundreds of former students — many of them newspaper and yearbook students — returned that love by turning out for her funeral either in person or online through the livestream and thousands of tribute posts on Facebook.
It was truly amazing. Never have I seen such an outpouring of affection for a former teacher or a regular person. But then I remembered: Suzanne was never just a regular person.
And the best part about all the posts was — as Bill Woodall proudly pointed out — each tribute was so well written thanks to her ability to teach the written word to generations.
She also loved our community, which she adopted after retiring from teaching and joining me at our humble newspaper group. And she wasn’t just a participant and reporter of what was happening – she was a crusader. She knew the power of the press; she had taught its importance for 30 years. And she was not afraid to use our ink by the barrel and paper by the ton to make things happen.
She constantly reminded every politician she encountered that our profession – the Fourth Estate – is the only protected private business in the U.S. Constitution. She liked that fact. She liked it a lot.
Most recently she took on the City of Gladewater when the town’s library was on a chopping block due to last year’s Snowmageddon. The winter storm froze water pipes, resulting in burst lines, flooding in the building and severe roof damage. The city didn’t have the extra money to make the repairs and the insurance wasn’t going to be enough to keep the library open.
When Suzanne found out about the possible closure, she took up her pen and began writing editorials and columns on why we needed the library. She spoke out at the city council and declared she would chain herself to the library doors before she would let the bulldozers take down this last free place of knowledge. She told our mayor – a dear friend – that she would use every inch of space in our paper to fight the city and keep the doors open.
Sure, Suzanne loved reading and we own the newspaper, but her passion was much deeper than that. She knew the library wasn’t just a book vault – it was a sanctuary for learning, exploring the unknown and impossible, and a safe place for all the people in our community regardless of economic status. Suzanne treated the janitor and the congressman the same – with respect as equal children of God.
As Suzanne declared to the city council: “You can spend the insurance money and pave streets, which will be full of potholes and must be patched in another five years, or you can save the library and provide knowledge to generations to come. Which is more important – asphalt or young minds and future leaders?”
She won! She made a difference. She showed that newspapers were still relevant and needed as the watchdog for democracy and freedom.
But Suzanne didn’t bask in her victory. She began looking for money, writing grant proposals and securing $80,000 in grants to offset the insurance shortfall. She walked the walk and talked the talk.
And that was just one crusade. Our town’s Manna House was broke – no food and no funding after a major donor pulled out. Suzanne grabbed up her camera, as she had her pen, and marched into battle. 
A picture of a single can of corn setting on empty shelves along with a very well-written story on the importance of the local food pantry opened the flood gates. Within weeks the shelves were full again and the bank account was flush. But she didn’t stop there. 
We continue to print regular updates on Manna House needs and photos of workers and shelves when they get low – never empty again, but low enough to require a call to arms.
Man, she loved the newspaper industry and what it can do to help others.
And she loved all of you.
If you were around Suzanne at a TPA convention you felt her passion for life and TPA, and her beautiful smile made the room and your soul brighter. Suzanne didn’t see you all as just fellow journalists, you were part of her family. When she reached out and wrapped her motherly arms around you, you were hers for life.
She was so looking forward to our March trip to Washington to lobby Congress for protective legislation for our industry. I couldn’t wait to see her in the Capitol, going from office to office preaching the word. She surely would have been a force to be reckoned with.
Forget “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,” a film she showed every student every year, along with another Jimmy Stewart classic “It’s a Wonderful Life.” It was going to be “Mrs. Bardwell Goes to Washington!”
And like Jimmy Stewart, I am confident Suzanne would have won in the end.
We buried Suzanne with her TPA cap, which she wore like a badge of honor everywhere, and her press card, which hung around her neck like a shield that complimented her powerful pen.
Suzanne believed in what we did day-in and day-out. Her passion for journalism and for newspapers was real and genuine. No fake news there.
She understood newspapers had to make money to survive, but she also believed that without good journalism and properly trained journalists there would be no newspapers to sell and no pages for ads.
I can honestly say I would not be who I am today without her – and I surely would not be TPA president— without her. 
Thank you for being a part of Suzanne’s family. She surely loved being a part of yours.
Suzie was my everything. 
Oh, by the way, she also was my proofreader. So please excuse any typos in this column – my editor has stepped away from her desk.