Time to say thanks and bon appetit

I'm sitting in Big Spring International Park watching children toss bread to the fish and ducks. To my left is a black man playing guitar; to my right is a white woman making sketches. This is Monday morning; no special occasion.

I love this place. My job has brought me here many times over the last 32 years. I've reviewed concerts, covered news conferences and tasted food here.

Next week, my name will be gone from this column. The time has come to try something new. So, I have come to a special place to write and express my thanks for those of you who have followed my journey for three decades.

My best friend, the late Bill Easterling, used to say he couldn't believe they paid him to do this job. Neither can I. Your comments and concern would have been reward enough.

I grabbed a gem in 1978, when I took over the weekly column about nightlife. I began reviewing restaurants four years later, when I became the watchdog of this weekly feature in The Times. I assigned other writers to do many reviews, often kept the best for myself and did those no one else wanted. That lasted 14 years - 700-plus reviews.

In 1996, I became the sole restaurant critic, and I've reviewed nearly 700 more since then. Later that year, The Times began inviting readers on our weekly forays, and 3,000 or so of you have joined me. You've been with me through marriage, divorce and marriage again; the deaths of my parents; the births of my daughters. It has been a pleasure.

Everyone always wants to know my favorite eating places, and now that I've had some time to think, I will do a bit of reminiscing. I've never been much of a socialite, and that may temper my objectivity. Most people would have called me a barfly....