News of Cissy Taylor's death came too late for last week's notebook. A few days later, we lost Doris Anderson, another Union Leader alumnus and, it happens, a buddy of Cissy.

The lives of both women intersected with many New Hampshire people, through their work at the paper and through many other interests and connections.

Cissy was our newsroom's mint julep. Born and bred in Kentucky, she threw a birthday party for herself each Derby Day, drawing in news people and many of the police and firefighters she covered and came to know.

She enjoyed people and loved to laugh, whether at herself or at the pomposity of politicians or the craziness that life throws at us.

If she happened to see you in the newsroom and you failed to stop or at least smile in her direction, she would say, “Fine. And yourself?” which was just her subtle way of reminding you of the little courtesies in life.

She was a tough, fair reporter who gained the trust and insight of those she covered. She didn't betray confidences and she didn't report details that would harm an investigation. Neither did she hold back from reporting information simply because it might make a cop look bad. All told, that is why so many of her subjects respected her.

Cissy had been treated for breast cancer and had not let it get her down. She liked to make people feel comfortable and did not dwell on her problems. She may have been bred in old Kentucky, but she was the whole loaf up here.

Doris Anderson worked here for 22 years, mostly nights, always on the newsroom switchboard. When her obit was being prepared, a family member wondered if people would know what a switchboard was.

People who knew Doris, and there are many, knew a switchboard. And the people here knew that Doris could juggle incoming calls for basketball scores and obituaries while tracking down names and numbers for reporters as the clock raced toward another deadline.

A friend wrote the other day that Doris was, “like my mother, a woman who men liked to talk to. She was sharp as a tack but made even the dumbest guy feel that he'd just said something brilliant.”

She was sharp enough to introduce me to her oldest daughter, who finally sharpened up herself and became my bride. So without Doris, there would be no rugrat, no little Missy, no Ike, Mike, and Spike.

Funny thing: Doris and Cissy came to the Union Leader in the month of April and both left this world in the same month. And I'm guessing both are now laughing and easing back with a couple of glasses as they watch the rest of us continue on, bolstered by our memories of them.

Write to Joe McQuaid at publisher@unionleader.com.