An Open Letter to Departing Editor Trevor Meek

“And they gave unto him gold, frankincense, and mortgage-backed securities”

Dear Trevor,

You’ve announced your impending departure, ending your brilliant stint as editor of the Ipswich Local News, and you must know your leave-taking is horrible for me, not to mention the rest of the paper’s contributors. And the paper’s entire print-edition readership here in on the North Shore. And the online edition’s worldwide following, which has to be tens and possibly even twenties of people.

You’ll be terribly busy, I’m sure, as you prepare yourself and your family for your new adventures in a far-off locale, so let me save you some time and trouble regarding a few of the decamping details.

On the subject of those gifts I gave you when you first took the job: Please don’t spend any time agonizing over the question of whether you have to give them back. The answer is no.

I realize it might be awkward, keeping them — it’s sort of like the question of what to do with the engagement gifts if you break up before the wedding. And yes, I did give you those gifts out of affection and respect, with high hopes for your tenure as our editorial and emotional leader.

But no, I don’t want the gifts back. Nothing has really changed between us since that day you became our editor. I have the same affection for you. The same respect for you. Just not the same need for you.

Certainly I was sucking up, by giving you those gifts; no point in pretending otherwise. I was hoping to score points with you, to help me gain an unfair advantage over other Local News columnists whenever you ran short of space and needed to bump somebody’s piece. Of course you won’t be able to give me any such leg-up after you’ve left your current lofty position, which makes my spending on those gifts sort of unfortunate, doesn’t it? But never mind; that’s all manganese-tainted water under the Choate Bridge.

No, I don’t want the gifts back. You deserved them. Heading a local independent non-profit newspaper is not an easy job. And what a legacy you leave behind. You can be proud. You’ve served faithfully for quite a number of weeks.

And besides, honestly, what use do I have for gold, frankincense, and myrrh?

They were the perfect gifts for you, I must say. You probably recognized immediately the literary-biblical symbolism. Even the most craven heathen knows the story of the baby Jesus receiving gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh from the “wise men.” And when you came to us, you too were, like Him, the Anointed One. At least the board of directors thought so. And who was I to question our Ipswich version of the Sanhedrin?

On the other hand, I do understand if you feel uncomfortable taking these riches with you. Maybe you have a little guilt about leaving us in a lurch as you are. Or maybe you feel no guilt at all, but there’s only so much room in your U-Haul.

In which case, to spare you hours of research, I’ve done the hard work of exploring proper disposal procedures for gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

Not much to it, really. Here ya go:

• The gold is only worth about $60,000 per pound on today’s market, so the gold I gave you would probably only fetch you about $15,000. Assuming it has no sentimental value for you, you could legally sell it, as long as you obey the IRS rules about money-laundering. Also there’s that nasty little matter of reporting capital gains on your tax returns. I suggest whatever you do with the gold, keep receipts.

Or, to avoid all the hassle of a transaction, just bury it in the backyard. This is totally legal, and there’s no reporting required. However, on the chance you’ll need to remember its whereabouts later, draw a simple map and indicate the burial spot with a large X. This treasure map can be folded up and slipped into the glove box of the U-Haul. Maybe scan it first and email me a copy for safekeeping.

•  To dispose of the frankincense may be more complicated. Frankincense comes from endangered Boswellia trees in the Horn of Africa — no, I’m not kidding — and you do not want to incur the wrath of an environmentally conscious Ethiopian. So I recommend you not try to sell your stash outside the USA. Yes, I risked my life for the frankincense I gave you, but don’t let that keep you from letting it go. These days it’s barely worth $23 per pound — frankincense, I mean; not my life.

I gave you a small enough portion, you can probably compost it; frankincense is biodegradable. Don’t burn it unless you’ve got great ventilation — otherwise it will be like the entire hippie culture of the ’60s quarantined in a single room.

• As for the myrrh: that stuff is crap. Just my opinion. To get myrrh, you have to slash a Commiphora tree, which is cruel. Then the myrrh oozes from the gashed bark, which is gross. Then the precious golden myrrh resin is arduously harvested by hand, by laborers working long hours for low pay. You should be disgusted you even own any.

Plus, it’s worth less than $12 a pound on some wholesale markets, so the myrrh I gave you can hardly even justify a trip to the transfer station.

Whatever you do with the gifts I gave you, Trevor, I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re abandoning me. I realize now, this is just what happens when you give gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the Anointed One. It guarantees absolutely nothing, except perhaps overwhelming disappointment.

I mean, look: The baby Jesus was born in Bethlehem, but after He scored His gold, frankincense, and myrrh, He vamoosed to Egypt. Likewise, you got the goods, you got the glory; now you’re vamoosing to your own personal Egypt. Also, I note that baby Jesus was hunted by King Herod’s murderous minions. Similarly, spurning Massachusetts for New York is punishable by death if any serious sports fans get hold of you.

So go. Go, already. Don’t give me a second thought. Really. I’ll miss you, but don’t let this tragic fact burden your heart in any way.

You can exit with the full assurance that I’ll brown-nose the next editor just as shamelessly as I did you.

Gold? Frankincense? Myrrh? There’s more where that came from.

Or maybe next time, municipal bonds?