Wanderings – Saying goodbye to a colleague and a friend

I never had the privilege of being taught in school by Wendy Gibb, but I had the honour of working with her for nearly 10 years.

When I restarted my original career vocation of print journalism, Wendy was the one who edited my work – and boy, did it need work. I didn’t care, and still don’t, when what I write is edited. Anything that can polish or make improvements, I am all for. Over the years, those marks became less and less frequent. Even writers like me can be taught.

Wendy always knew how to put that last bit of panache on my writing. I would draft some 500-word opinion piece, ensuring the facts were correct, and the points had merit. She would go in and change two words and make that writing zing.

I learned a lot from Wendy over our time as colleagues – she was a classy lady. As the entertainment and arts person on our staff, she covered all kinds of assignments. Whether it was a well-known musician or an unknown talent starting out, she treated all artists with the same reverence.

Wendy never forgot a birthday at work – and she was always the one who made sure there was a cake, some treats, and remembered if someone had food sensitivities. And there were cards.

Traditional newspaper newsrooms are known for being unfiltered. There are more than a few of George Carlin’s words that can’t make these ink-stained pages. Wendy fit right in by not using any of that direct language – retorting in classier language that meant the same thing – but you had to think about it to get it. She’d always say, “You will never hear me say that word.”

There were gags and jokes in the office. Her long-running battle with her family’s cat, Puddin’ found its way into her Gibberish column on many occasions, and into our office. Before a trip to Sarnia a few years ago, a puzzle book called “Sherlock Paws” greeted her at her desk. Another time, a cat placemat was found on her desk. I have no idea how those things, and many of the other cat-related jokes were accomplished – but the Photoshopped picture of Puddin’ with the Darth Vader mask is still kicking around on my computer somewhere. At all times, these were greeted with a roaring laugh, a sharp, witty retort, and maybe a few more marks on my work being edited. The other day I found this cat origami paper set online – Wendy would have laughed at that, especially if I had folded and set up all 50 of those paper cats on her desk.

Wendy was her own person, and I admire that. She loved being in the community doing things – all the things. Going to the winery for a show, writing about art, going to the playhouse, or – even though baseball was her favourite sport – going to local soccer matches. Throughout our time working together, I’d hear from people who she had taught, always positive things. She was almost always called “Miss Gibb,” rarely Wendy – that was the reverence and respect her former students had for her. A few years ago at a soccer tournament, I witnessed one of her former students deliver word-for-word a monologue he had memorized in her class over 25-years ago. The three of us were talking, then that speech just happened. She was blown away that he remembered it, he was too – I was impressed. That is the mark of a great teacher, one who made a difference, if something you learned in school years ago is still rattling around in your brain.

She was a generous person, always willing to give her time to a cause, or donate to help out. Never seeking credit, she helped many who never knew.

Wendy was a colleague, and a friend. I will miss her, as everyone who knew her will. Also, I have a theory – I think she really did like cats – even that orange menace Puddin’!

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This column was originally published in the October 15, 2025 print edition of the Morrisburg Leader.