When you ask journalists why they got into the profession, most will offer a number of lofty responses. But beneath it all, you'll hear about the love of constant change and the allure of the unknown.

Professionally, we like coming to work not knowing what the day will bring. News is bound to happen. What will take place – and to whom – we're not certain. But we're ready to cover it and to respond accordingly.

This is where you should insert that cautionary adage: Be careful what you wish for.

Today's column was originally planned to be a "Part II" of my discussion with you, our core readers, about changes we are making to the newspaper to better secure our future.

That was the outline last Sunday, when the first part was published. Then, on Monday, we learned that this newspaper is being put up for sale. Some readers later sent me e-mail asking about that column, assuming that I must have known beforehand about the decision to sell.

I did not. I and the other department heads learned that news at 10 a.m. Monday during a special meeting with owner Frank Blethen and publisher Chuck Cochrane. As the day unfolded, in various meetings, Blethen and Cochrane told all our employees about the difficult conclusion that had been reached.

What did I take from last week's announcement?

Two things: The decision to sell this newspaper broke the hearts of Blethen and Cochrane. Their morning meeting with us was painful. Cochrane looked ashen-faced and stricken. Frank Blethen cried.

As Cochrane and Blethen spoke inside that sixth-floor conference room, a numbing stillness took hold. I found it hard to breathe, hard to look up. Here were two men I greatly respect and admire. Here were people who had fought to preserve independent family ownership of daily newspapers. Here they were, passionate and honest to the end, struggling mightily not to look defeated.

In my personal life, I have rarely seen a grown man cry. My father, a military veteran, cried once as he was telling me about friends lost in Vietnam. I cannot forget one detail of that conversation, try as I might. Though it occurred when I was 18, it is engraved in my memory as though it happened one hour ago.

I will remember Monday's meeting in the same way. I will remember how Frank Blethen apologized to us through tears. How he said he was sorry for what had happened, how he felt anguished that things had not turned out as he had hoped.

I will remember Chuck Cochrane saying: "Frank, you don't have to apologize to any of us for anything." And he was right. This was no one's fault. It could not be laid at the feet of a single person or a single organization. We had all fought the good fight; we had all valiantly gone into battle to keep one of the few remaining family-owned newspaper enterprises thriving against all odds.

I will remember how we spontaneously gave Blethen a standing ovation as he left the room. We knew what he had accomplished. We knew the positive impact he had had on this newspaper and this community. We knew he deserved only our praise.

In the end, the economic odds had proved too great, the transformational forces too overwhelming. And our community newspaper is not alone in the financial storm surging across the landscape, upending companies, jobs and dreams. Cochrane likes to quote an editor who wrote that it's easy to think it's raining just on us. But in reality, it's just raining – on everyone.

And so it is.

The second thing I take from the announcement: We've been here before. Our newspaper was put up for sale in March 1998 by the Gannett family, and this newspaper staff pulled together during that very difficult time. Despite the unknowns, we kept our focus on producing the best paper possible for our readers.

Our goal in 1998: That you, our readers, would not notice any decline in the high quality of our newspaper. That no matter what...