No worries, I took no offense at your post! Your description of Tonya coincides largely with my own memory of her. Mind, my relationship to her was purely avuncular! We'd chat during and after her practices, go have breakfast together, et cetera. During 1993, she'd often stop by my place and we'd down a container of orange juice and vodka (which she'd bring). Just prior to the scandal, I'd begun audio-taped interviews with her for a proposed autobiography she wanted to produce.
During the course of our friendship, I did my darndest to advise Tonya about media-related matters â€” but her lovely husband always "knew best," apparently. She withstood all efforts aimed at helping her understood how to use the journalistic media: To her, they were always adversaries; and as yuppie-generation journalists tend to have very high opinions of themselves they are quick to punish those who don't kiss their butts.
The Oregonian in particular was very hard on Tonya, long before the scandal of 1994; and it remains her enemy to this day. As she had no corporate sponsors, deep pockets or influential friends she was a made-in-heaven punching bag for the likes of J. E. Vader, Dwight Jaynes and others at The Oregonian who delighted in beating her up in their columns. It was, I discovered later, a policy of that newspaper to discredit Tonya whenever possible. Again, this was way before the big media-circus. Many people who've not been professional journalists think "she must have done something" to incur this wrath; but what they fail to realize is that yuppie-generation journalists will gladly beat up whomever they can, which means anyone and everyone devoid of a political power-base.
When the big scandal broke, Tonya decided to write off everybody she'd known previously â€” which, of course, included me. Suddenly I was a bad guy! Her new friends, mainly gold diggers, saw a marvelous opportunity to fleece her; but to carry off such an endeavor required the elmination of any circumspect friends she might have. Thus, Tonya was informed by them that I was merely "a mentally-ill dirty old man who only wanted to [you can imagine]."
Yes, I too hope life will treat her kindly; but Tonya's penchant for craving low-life males as intimate partners mitigates against such a happy future.