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Wendy Kale’s shell was a tough one to crack.

That didn’t matter.

Working with the Colorado Daily’s late music writer for the past seven years, I formed a bond with her.

What kind of bond?

I’m not quite sure. But after Tuesday’s heartrending news, something in me went missing.

Was it the absence of expertise for my amateur music knowledge?

Was it our penchant for scandalous celebrity gossip?

Was it our shared extreme love of animals?

Was it venting about work in the back alley?

Was it being the two sole writers enduring loyalty to the Daily through various acquisitions, sales and mergers?

Or was it her candid concern for the genuine well being of those who surrounded her?

It was everything.

Perhaps she lacked the guidance akin to a therapist, but she had two ears that would listen for as long as I asked. I only trust I reciprocated.

Wendy gave small bands a permanent piece of press to adorn their lonely corkboards. She gave national bands a scolding if they were incoherent during interviews.

As her cubemate, listening to her (with hints of job envy) interview music legends solely added vibrant drama to the newsroom.

The first time I went to a show with Wendy was years ago — DeVotchKa at the Fox.

Overwhelming is an understatement.

“Christy, this is Rob Thomas from AEG.”

“Christy, this is Mel Gibson from Live Nation.”

“Christy, this is John Caprio from the Fox.”

“Christy, you remember Jeep from the Samples?”

“Christy, this is…”

I felt like a plus-one on the heels of Chuck Klosterman.

Wendy knew everybody.

Since graduating from the University of Colorado in 1979, the petite woman — of slight, yet charmed disarray — remained in her Boulder bubble until her untimely demise.

She loved this town.

My attempts to lure her out of the People’s Republic and come to a show in Denver proved unsuccessful.

“I don’t know, Christy, I think I’ll just stay in Boulder this weekend.”

I would say to her, “Wendy, you have interviewed the biggest acts in music history. You have a powerful byline. You should be writing for ‘Rolling Stone.'”

“I don’t know, Christy, I don’t want to leave Boulder.”

Well Boulder, you lucked out.

She was the smile on the Fox Theatre’s marquee. She was a splash of bright in the colorful Boulder Theater.

She was Wendy Kale. And she should still be here.

Her constant networking, researching, scooping competition, gathering music scene gossip and working near constant proved her ceaseless loyalty to her job at the Daily.

Our editor, Dave Burdick, put it best when he said she’s the worker who puts 60 hours into a 40-hour work week. And she was happy to do it.

A separation of work and personal life didn’t exist for Wendy, but she didn’t care. Her job was her life.

And I know for a fact she lived a content one.

So maybe that bond went further than I thought, which makes me miss her already.

Don’t rest in peace, Wendy. Rest in the melodies you lived for.