I wrote my first newspaper column in late summer of 1981, pecking away at the keyboard of an IBM Selectric on the coffee table in my Isla Vista apartment. I submitted that piece, unsolicited, to UC Santa Barbara's campus newspaper, for which I'd been working as a stringer that summer, and the editorial page editor agreed to publish it.

As I recall, it was a purportedly humorous collection of observations about the transformation wrought upon the town — a square mile of anarchy dominated by 20-something college kids — as the sleepy quiet of summer succumbed to an onrushing tide of students returning for the fall quarter.

I still do not know what prompted me to write it. A compulsion, I suppose, to make sense of my world by struggling to capture its sights, sounds and sensations in words. But that first stab at public essay writing set in motion something I did not anticipate at the time.

Today, after about a thousand more published essays — plus an uncountable number of features, news stories, movie reviews, editorials and other verbiage — I write my final newspaper column. This is, in fact, my last piece of writing of any kind as a member of this publication's editorial staff, which I joined in 1983. I likely will contribute to its pages in the future, but it will not be as a journalist. As you read this, I have already cleaned out my desk, said goodbye to my colleagues and surrendered my key.

Beginning Feb. 1, I will start a new job as chief executive officer of the Farm Bureau of Ventura County, trying hard to fill the formidable shoes of longtime CEO Rex Laird. Fortunately for me, Rex won't actually be retiring until May 30, so the two of us will have four months to work together to assure a smooth transition.

Rex has been the heart and soul of that organization for nearly 30 years, and anyone who knows anything about this county's agricultural industry knows how important his steady and thoughtful leadership has been to its success during challenging times. I have a great deal to learn from him before June.

The end of my career at this newspaper brings a bittersweet parting. I am excited about this new chapter in my life, and looking forward a great deal to the challenges and opportunities it will bring. I grew up on a farm, I've been writing about farmers and farming for many years, and I relish the chance to play even a small role in making sure agriculture remains a vibrant part of Ventura County's culture, economy and landscape.

But I have been a journalist nearly all my adult life. I've worked with some fine people over the years, editors, reporters and photographers who took their craft seriously, plied it with skill and dogged dedication, and managed to have fun while doing so. And during my time at The Star, I was fortunate to have been allowed to chase interesting stories just about any place they led. It isn't easy to bring down the curtain on a show that has provided me so much enjoyment and so many rewarding adventures.

I took you along on those adventures. Together, we've traveled back and forth across the West, retracing the footsteps of Lewis and Clark. We've traveled the length of the Colorado River, from its first stirrings high in the northern Rockies to its enervated debouchment in the salty waters of the Sea of Cortez. Together, we've ridden on or in canoes, rafts, kayaks, horses, helicopters, float planes, pickup trucks, a Navy fighter jet. We've bounced around in the gas fields of Wyoming, the pineapple plantations of Maui, the cotton fields of Texas, the rice paddies of the Sacramento Valley, and the orchards and fields of Ventura County.

The news business, however, is not what it was when I joined it a quarter-century ago. Few things are. I am not going to bemoan or belabor the changes that have been wrought upon this industry in recent years by the explosion of online entertainment and information sources. There's plenty of that cranky commentary out there already, and I have nothing useful to add to it.

I will say only that the continuing erosion of circulation and advertising revenue means you are unlikely to see much of my favorite kind of work — comprehensive, richly detailed stories about complex subjects, which take weeks or months to report and significant space to tell — in this or any other midsize paper in the foreseeable future. I may be leaving the business, but in a way, it has already left me.

Still, it's hard to say goodbye to all of you, our readers. It's been an honor to be welcomed into your homes all these years. I hope I have repaid you with moments of enjoyment, inspiration, insight, outrage and laughter. No writer could ask for more.

— John Krist is a former editor, reporter and columnist for The Star. Visit his Web site at www.johnkrist.com.