Lynda Beal never wanted to own a newspaper. Nine years after her husband's death, she's still putting out the Weimar Mercury every week.
Lynda Beal once went to a garden club event to take a photograph for the newspaper. One of the men looked at her and asked, "Brother Beal couldn't come so they had to send you?"
She turned around and walked out without taking the picture.
Today, at 86, she's still taking the pictures. She's also running the paper.
The Newspaper Was Never the Plan
"I had no desire to own a newspaper," Lynda says.
The paper was her husband Bruce's passion. He worked at the San Antonio Light, and she worked for its union. When the Light shut down, the couple bought the Weimar Mercury, the weekly paper in Weimar, a small town between Houston and San Antonio.
Lynda had her own work. She taught English and art at the local school and directed its One Act Play, taking students to regionals many times. She loved photography. Running a newspaper wasn't on her list.
Then, in 2017, Bruce died, and the paper was hers.
She never considered selling. Their son, Doug, wouldn't have wanted that. So she kept going. Nine years later, she's still the one making sure the paper comes out every week.
More Than "Bruce's Wife"
The garden club wasn't the only time. When Lynda first moved to Weimar, she offered to coach a school basketball team that had no one else. The answer: the players wouldn't play for a woman. "I was so mad," she says.
For years, she says, it felt like she didn't have her own identity. She was just "Bruce's wife." Now the woman people once saw only as someone's wife is the one keeping the paper alive.
Everything Comes Down to Tuesday
"Everything has to be done by Tuesday to be printed on Wednesday," she says. Stories, photographs, ads and final proofs all have to land on time.
Her favorite part of the job is photography. The part she'd happily give away is selling ads.
Why the Paper Still Matters
Lynda is proud the Mercury is still publishing while so many small papers have folded.
"The paper started in the 1800s and is still going on, even with Facebook and all the other papers going out of business," she says. "It's the only way people know about local government and events, especially the older community. They still want to physically hold the paper."
The business itself has changed completely. "Computers have changed a lot!" What has stayed the same? "Nothing stays the same!"
Big Stories in a Small Town
Some of her best memories come from the sidelines. In 1996, she and Doug covered Weimar's first state baseball championship at Disch-Falk Field in Austin. "There is a feeling of awe when you walk through that tunnel," she says.
Other stories were harder to tell. When a serial killer struck Weimar in 1999, calls poured in from Houston, New York, even London. For a small-town weekly, the whole world suddenly showed up.
Still Working at 86
Does she think about retiring? "No. It doesn't mean anything. What would I do?" Do people ask when she'll quit? "No. They know I'm not going anywhere."
"People don't pay as much attention to age anymore if you're competent," she says. People still call on her, too. This summer, the school asked her to come back and help with the One Act Play.
Asked what has surprised her most about this stage of life, she doesn't hesitate: "Nothing!" What still excites her? "The same thing that has always made me excited. The sports games I've seen, the places I've gone." She's more of a homebody now, but she has plenty to look forward to, including watching her grandson, Sean's son, graduate from nursing school in October.
What Gets You Through
Lynda has buried two husbands and her son Jamie, who died in 2014. Asked what carried her through, she doesn't offer a polished answer. "I honestly don't know - resilience."
Maybe that's the point. Resilience isn't always dramatic. Sometimes it's getting up the next morning. Sometimes it's finishing the paper, taking the photograph, directing the play or showing up for the next game.
Sometimes it's simply refusing to be done.
The WNDY Q
What does being "not done yet" mean to you?
"Well, as long as I'm alive, I don't want to be bored to death."
She's not done yet.