From the editor: Who calls the shots as life winds down?

DO NOT RENEW MY SUBSCRIPTION.

Ever notice that when people type in all caps it reads like they’re screaming?

I get these e-mails on occasion, and they usually include reasons people don’t want the paper any longer. They range from “I’m moving” to “You’re moving — left of center.” (Or right, depending on your politics — I hear plenty of both).

But this one, received just a few days ago, was curious because that’s about all it said. So I called up the soon-to-be-ex-subscriber and said, “So, is there a problem?”

Her answer surprised me: “There’s no problem.” She went on to say she’s turning 81 in a few weeks and between filling prescriptions and going to doctors, she just doesn’t have time to read the paper anymore.

I’ve heard from this reader before and she prides herself on keeping up with what’s happening, so for her to want to disconnect was odd.

Then she grew quiet before saying, “Life is winding down... I’m slowly going away.”

Life does surprise us, doesn’t it. Sometimes, we find that our minds are humming along at 75 mph while our bodies are coming to a screeching halt. Sometimes it’s the other way around. Youth is wasted on the young, as they say.

Fred Tahse (see Page A1) was in somewhat of the same situation. He had quadruple bypass surgery in 1999, and knew he didn’t want to go through that again, his wife, Carol, told me.

When they took a trip in June to northern Arizona, the canyons weren’t nearly as easy to navigate. Fred knew his time was coming, that he, too, was winding down. Years of heart problems sent the message over and over, and he didn’t ignore it.

But neither did he let it dictate his final days.

I first heard his name on July 1, the day we published a column on Rosemont Copper mine. I told people they needed to go see it for themselves to better understand the issue. That same day I heard from Dr. Tom Purdon.

He told me the mine would destroy the Santa Ritas and that he had called a man named Fred Tahse. “We’re going to take you on a jeep tour of the area and show you what we mean. Fred’s a geologist. He knows what he’s talking about.”

Fred Tahse died the next day, and I’m sorry we never got to take that tour. I think I would have learned plenty. Not just about his beloved Santa Ritas, but about running just as hard at the end of life as you do at the beginning. It’s an important lesson to hear, and even more important to grab hold of. And from what people tell me about Fred Tahse, he did just that.

— Dan Shearer