Tim Menees was an editorial cartoonist at the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette from 1976 to 2006 (tmenees@aol.com) Click photo for larger image.

I got the news on a Wednesday night, the first day of February. Editorial Page Editor Tom Waseleski called. He had wanted to break the news in person. "I'm giving you a heads up," he said. "They're cutting your job."

What?

The Post-Gazette had to make some serious budget cuts, and I was one. My last day was Friday, Feb. 3, my son's birthday, the date Buddy Holly died. I felt as if I had crashed in a cornfield. But as I cleaned out my office over Super Bowl weekend, I decided I (a) could curl up behind the couch or (b) get on with it. If I chose (a), my wife, Kay, would chuck me out of the house. So I got on with it.

I'm not the first ever to lose a job, and I won't be the last.

I was hired by Bill Block Sr., the late publisher of the Post-Gazette. We first met in November 1974 when he flew me down to San Francisco from Seattle, where I was living, and interviewed me over lunch at a Chinese restaurant. I was itching to start drawing, but Bill said he was not going to put his cartoonist, Cy Hungerford, then in his 80s, out to pasture. "He has no outside interests," Bill said. "It would kill him." After lunch we had a drink with his wife, Maxine, and daughter Karen. We talked and laughed. It was the ultimate un-interview.

Bill mused over lunch that everyone deserves a break. He ended up giving me mine: In the spring of 1976, he called to offer me a position.

When we moved to Pittsburgh that year, Bill, Maxine and Karen were as gracious to me and my family as they were during that day in San Francisco. And it continued: The PG always treated me with respect. Bill and my editors appreciated my work and rarely fussed over a cartoon. They backed me up and gave me a precious commodity: space.

Pittsburgh gave me material. City Council personalities like Eugene "Jeep" DePasquale and Michelle Madoff. Sophie Masloff, whom I dubbed "Mayor Poppins." The profanitary and his fellow county row officers. The LCB gestapo and the state Legislature. Tom Murphy and Pete Flaherty. Potholes, PAT trolleys and PennDOT. And bridges. The first cartoon I did for the PG was about crumbling bridges. I'm glad the state has finally fixed that problem.

And Cyril Wecht, who sued me years ago, and who ironically is also out of his longtime job. But Dr. Wecht has his own problems, so I'll leave him alone.

The PG also gave me a chance to write, which meant, to the chagrin of editors, several articles on prisons, including my 24-hour stay inside Western Penitentiary (a first); a three-day ride on a towboat; and, after being assured by officials that it would be impossible, a week aboard a Great Lakes freighter.

In the Saturday Diary I recounted finally meeting my real father, who took a hike when I was a baby, and the joy (and chaos) on my daughter's wedding day. And recalling my oddball "Scorpio" column, some have asked me if I've put Max The Fax Dog down. No. Max TFD, a holdover from the 1992 newspaper strike, is taking a breather and licking himself in embarrassing spots.

PG readers, like subscribers everywhere, have a love-hate relationship with cartoonists. When I arrived, some said, "You're no Cy Hungerford!" Luckily for me, most gave me a chance. I quickly learned that Pittsburghers are not too proud to offer praise, and not too shy to give you a kick in the rear.

Do I have regrets about leaving Seattle? Not one. In July I would have been at the PG 30 years -- nearly half my life. I am proud to have been part of the PG and a member of such an enormously talented staff. I am truly grateful for their support over the past two months

We tend to reach a comfort zone in our lives; we delay exploring new territory. I am now heading off, doing some writing, some cartooning, some painting, some music. Maybe that old saw is right. When one door closed, a window soon opened for me. I am "art director" (I've never directed anything in my life) on a project scheduled to take city kids to Cambridge University, England, where they will perform Pittsburgh music, from jazz to hip-hop. You oughta hear 'em.

I am a volunteer teaching one-act play writing at, yes, a state prison. I told the men about losing my job. I also said I was on the dole and taking up a collection after class, and they could contribute in cigarettes.

I was kidding about the collection, and they knew it. Losing your job is no joke. It turns your life all cockeyed. But if you also lose your sense of humor, you're dead.

Kay and I are doing fine. To those who ask what I am doing, I simply say: "Everything."