It's been a year since my family gathered in Huron for my mom's funeral. Needless to say, it was a tough day, and it's been a tough year. Since everyone seems to think I take after mom, they would naturally feel I have taken it hardest.
Time does dull the wounds, but it never really takes them away. It's sort of a bad collection of memories to go with the good ones. In my 58 years, I have accomplished many things, but one thing I never thought I would successfully deal with would be the death of loves ones like parents, grandparents, mothers, nephews, uncles and aunts. I dwell on these things more than most, and it doesn't help that I tend to cry at a good card trick! In other words, I'm a pretty soft touch.
I think it can safely say that for the most part I drove my parents crazy. My three siblings didn't --- at least to my knowledge --- take the chances that I did, nor did they give them as many challenges. I wasn't much of a partier in high school, but my mom pretty much had these words on her lips for the past 30 years: "You made up for lost time." She may have been referring specifically to a party I threw for my baseball-playing friends in the summer of 1970, after we had graduated. One of my friends, while carrying a beer from upstairs to downstairs, tumbled down the stairs --- and didn't spill a drop of beer on my mother's new carpet. But despite the whirlwind job of cleaning the house that we did, I was busted when mom found a full beer can under the couch, of all places.
Dad's favorite quote to me seemed to be, to my memory: "What the heck were you thinking?" He would then take a deep breath and head for the garage, where he went when we wanted to be alone. (In later years, when he decided to start the barbecue grill in the basement and nearly asphixiated everyone, I got my revenge: "Dad ... what were you thinking?") I am quite sure he never said, "What were you thinking" to anyone else but me. He had been raised as a tough German and just wasn't used to running into someone as idiotic as I could be. I would sometimes remind him that at least I wore my four-buckle overshoes through high school, when my older brother refused. Largely, however, I was the one who pushed. I was the one who broke into the wine while I was in junior high and couldn't figure out why I was so sick. I bought too many clothes, joined the Columbia Record Club when I was still in junior high --- forcing him to send the records back --- and pulled for the Yankees. I listened to some really weird music to him and tucked in my sweaters. When I bought those colored bell-bottoms, he just about lost it.
Mom seemed to be nowhere to be found when dad was trying to figure me out. I do remember her walking away from me counting to 10, for some reason.
I wouldn't be surprised if my younger brother and sister didn't have to answer for me as they made their less tumultuous way through school. I can just hear their teachers, "Ah yes, I remember HIM well." Until then, our name was held in high regard in the community. Then I came along and my siblings had to restore the good name. My parents were probably sitting up at night, wondering what life was going to be like once I had left home. That finally happened in the early 1970s, when I went away to the Army. But when I was smashed up in an accident in 1974, it was my parents who pulled me through. Dad even built a special bed for me to stay on during my recuperation for a broken neck, and I think the event changed all of us. I still had a lot of growing up to do, but mom and dad showed that, despite all my issues and mistakes, they would still be there to help, and that I had a place to stay. Through the pain I suffered then and now, I believe the pain they suffered --- not knowing whether I would survive or not for several hours --- was much worse.
I miss them. Our growing up days were filled with fun (in addition to my missteps). My siblings and I still chuckle about our next-door neighbor, who was known to throw rocks at us and swear at us under his breath as he scampered from his house to his garage. A bit of a wingnut before wingnuts were invented! We took some eventful trips, and especially had great holiday get-togethers. We had fun. Mom's last few years were filled with pain and sorrow, as she battled cancer. It has been very different not having her there to call, or to talk to. But life seems to be about transitions. It has taken me a long time to figure that out.
Fodegraphing
Friday, November 5, 2010
It's a Friday mish-mash!!
It's been a few days, but they have been tumultuous ones. For one thing, the people have spoken, in the Nov. 2 election. It's refreshing to know that people can recognize when the train has left the tracks, so to speak.
Unfortunately, only a part of that is the people in office. The news media continues to be a huge head-shaker, and I can only hope that the next generation of journalism will wrestle back integrity lost by the current group of pretenders. It's not an impossibility, but it will be an uphill climb. It will take a concerted effort to remove incompetent "reporters" and others who have done seemingly irreparable damage to the Fourth Estate, and who have lost the faith of perhaps, oh, 150 million readers or so. This will probably stand as the most "shoot myself in the foot" moment in history!!
Rescuing media is not the issue. Repairing the media is the issue. My wonderful daughter Tonya, who is a student at the University of Minnesota, called a few days ago to report that her journalism courses at the "U" are wonderful. I believe her, because I carefully mentored her on what to expect. If certain "catch phrases" or other biases were found, I told her, report them to me. But she lauds her professors, saying they are professional, aware of the bias (not alleged) issues that are ruining the journalism profession. It has to be an uphill battle for professors who undertake this mission, in the face of a populous which is turning away from "mainstream" reporting of any type. I give them credit and would like to talk with them sometime. In the meantime, I am hoping my daughter and others like her can be the wonderful flowers who will save us from the wretched work a few incompetents have perpetuated.
Okay, enough about that. I could go on all day.
Once that issue is corrected, the country must go to work to correct (and protect) its election process. No more ballots found in car trunks in Minnesota. No more allegations of improprieties anywhere, whether they be in small-town America or in Las Vegas. If this country loses faith in its election process, then we're really in trouble. Specifically, Minnesota must get it together!!! Isn't that Minnesota nice?
I have enjoyed getting involved in Facebook, something 58-year-olds like me never envisioned would happen. I have reconnected with a couple friends, like Anne in the Twin Cities. At this age, especially men don't cultivate friendships like they used to. We kind of shuffle around with our wives, mumbling once in awhile (I should probably speak for myself). But talking to someone you haven't seen in 35 years is pretty special and I have appreciated visiting with Anne every now and then. We have to understand that life changes a lot in 40 years and people have new interests. I should say I have struck out on several other attempts to contact old friends from college, high school or Army, leading me to believe that the old saying, "You can't go back" is true. Can I help it if I'm a nostalgic person? I like to remember those old times, like the time my mom and dad were tenting in the back yard on a hot summer night. Who should appear in the wee hours of this night than a few of my State Highway Department co-workers, who were busy spreading mustard on my old woodie station wagon when dad burst out of the tent, yelling at them. He raced down the alley after them in his underwear as they tore off in their car.
We --- my dad as well as my co-workers --- laughed about that for years.
We had some enjoyable experiences "flipping the loop" in Huron, S.D., where we grew up. On one rainy night, my friend Mike and I had just passed Zesto when my windshield wipers stuck. He used his fist to punch the inside of the windshield, hoping to jar the wipers loose. A few hours later, I had to explain how the windshield had been shattered. Mike wasn't along when Verdayne and I did our "loop-flipping" into the early morning hours on a snowy night (imagine the gas we wasted!!??). We finally ran out of gas in his "Blue Goose" and we had to walk at least a mile in freezing temperatures and snow. We made it to my house, where we ate warm soup and tried to figure out how to get the blood back into Verdayne's nose. I won't even go into the night we tore the car door off by accidentally hooking it on a telephone pole. "Hope your dad isn't too made," we all blurted out to Verdayne as we left him to explain to his father how THAT had happened.
Life was good. It has me chuckling all over again.
Unfortunately, only a part of that is the people in office. The news media continues to be a huge head-shaker, and I can only hope that the next generation of journalism will wrestle back integrity lost by the current group of pretenders. It's not an impossibility, but it will be an uphill climb. It will take a concerted effort to remove incompetent "reporters" and others who have done seemingly irreparable damage to the Fourth Estate, and who have lost the faith of perhaps, oh, 150 million readers or so. This will probably stand as the most "shoot myself in the foot" moment in history!!
Rescuing media is not the issue. Repairing the media is the issue. My wonderful daughter Tonya, who is a student at the University of Minnesota, called a few days ago to report that her journalism courses at the "U" are wonderful. I believe her, because I carefully mentored her on what to expect. If certain "catch phrases" or other biases were found, I told her, report them to me. But she lauds her professors, saying they are professional, aware of the bias (not alleged) issues that are ruining the journalism profession. It has to be an uphill battle for professors who undertake this mission, in the face of a populous which is turning away from "mainstream" reporting of any type. I give them credit and would like to talk with them sometime. In the meantime, I am hoping my daughter and others like her can be the wonderful flowers who will save us from the wretched work a few incompetents have perpetuated.
Okay, enough about that. I could go on all day.
Once that issue is corrected, the country must go to work to correct (and protect) its election process. No more ballots found in car trunks in Minnesota. No more allegations of improprieties anywhere, whether they be in small-town America or in Las Vegas. If this country loses faith in its election process, then we're really in trouble. Specifically, Minnesota must get it together!!! Isn't that Minnesota nice?
I have enjoyed getting involved in Facebook, something 58-year-olds like me never envisioned would happen. I have reconnected with a couple friends, like Anne in the Twin Cities. At this age, especially men don't cultivate friendships like they used to. We kind of shuffle around with our wives, mumbling once in awhile (I should probably speak for myself). But talking to someone you haven't seen in 35 years is pretty special and I have appreciated visiting with Anne every now and then. We have to understand that life changes a lot in 40 years and people have new interests. I should say I have struck out on several other attempts to contact old friends from college, high school or Army, leading me to believe that the old saying, "You can't go back" is true. Can I help it if I'm a nostalgic person? I like to remember those old times, like the time my mom and dad were tenting in the back yard on a hot summer night. Who should appear in the wee hours of this night than a few of my State Highway Department co-workers, who were busy spreading mustard on my old woodie station wagon when dad burst out of the tent, yelling at them. He raced down the alley after them in his underwear as they tore off in their car.
We --- my dad as well as my co-workers --- laughed about that for years.
We had some enjoyable experiences "flipping the loop" in Huron, S.D., where we grew up. On one rainy night, my friend Mike and I had just passed Zesto when my windshield wipers stuck. He used his fist to punch the inside of the windshield, hoping to jar the wipers loose. A few hours later, I had to explain how the windshield had been shattered. Mike wasn't along when Verdayne and I did our "loop-flipping" into the early morning hours on a snowy night (imagine the gas we wasted!!??). We finally ran out of gas in his "Blue Goose" and we had to walk at least a mile in freezing temperatures and snow. We made it to my house, where we ate warm soup and tried to figure out how to get the blood back into Verdayne's nose. I won't even go into the night we tore the car door off by accidentally hooking it on a telephone pole. "Hope your dad isn't too made," we all blurted out to Verdayne as we left him to explain to his father how THAT had happened.
Life was good. It has me chuckling all over again.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
The World Series and so much more
Well, so much for Cliff Lee being invincible. As I watched in amazement, the San Francisco Giants did something no one else in history could do Wednesday night --- they defeated Lee in a game after the season ended (I hate the overused "post-season.") If one game means anything, the Giants can be expected to be pesky, especially if Freddy Sanchez continues to be Ty Cobb.
While the World Series is an overblown extravaganza, if is worth watching ... even with two non-marquee teams involved. In fact, it's kind of refreshing. Even if the Twins and Rockies aren't involved.
THERE ARE BIGGER THINGS, THOUGH
Like the mid-term elections. I did my early voting today and for the first time, used a computer to cast my ballot. The rural Minnesota precinct I used to call home used only paper ballots, and then used a machine to count the ballots. Many times, as I worked at "election headquarters" in my previous life as a news editor, there would be a monumental breakdown of the counting machine, inevitably making all of us sit in the courthouse until dawn's early light.
I was not a big fan of election night for that reason. I would get up bright and early on election day, cast my ballot, do my other work and then head for the "election headquarters" at about 9 to wait for the results to come in. If I was lucky, we had paginated most of the paper by then, leaving only a huge election article and charts and graphs to slap in the paper (with the up-to-date numbers, of course). But things never went as planned, despite the best efforts of the hard workers at the courthouse. Someone would always write in Mickey Mouse or George Jetson and, in addition, foul up their ballot by voting for two or three governor candidates to boot. That left the counting machine cranky and smoking, and the mainly-volunteers at the courthouse would go into trouble-shooting mode while I ate cookies, smoozed with other reporters or watched TV. I would phone in results as they arrived to the Associated Press, which would also get cranky when the results weren't timely. There were many elections when, after leaving my house at 6 a.m. to get to work, I didn't arrive home until 6 or 7 a.m. the next day. That's a schedule for young folks only.
I have to again heap kudos on the election crew. While people are watching television at home on election night, there is a beehive of activity with people counting votes. The number of voters must match the actual number of votes cast, hence the wrench in the works once in awhile. I was impressed with my experience here in Colorado Thursday. I went through several stations prior to processing my ballot. Many election judges were there to ensure that I had proper ID, that I had registered and that I knew how to operate the voting machine.
It was mighty nice to cast my ballot Thursday and not have to worry about dissecting the results on election night. I am mighty tired of "robocalls" from candidates, and the incessant, disgusting arguing on television. I have become good at avoiding these discussions, which for the most part, are an insult to Americans everywhere. As I've said before, when did it become so common to treat people with such disrespect? Perhaps this election will help to clear some of this muck away
While the World Series is an overblown extravaganza, if is worth watching ... even with two non-marquee teams involved. In fact, it's kind of refreshing. Even if the Twins and Rockies aren't involved.
THERE ARE BIGGER THINGS, THOUGH
Like the mid-term elections. I did my early voting today and for the first time, used a computer to cast my ballot. The rural Minnesota precinct I used to call home used only paper ballots, and then used a machine to count the ballots. Many times, as I worked at "election headquarters" in my previous life as a news editor, there would be a monumental breakdown of the counting machine, inevitably making all of us sit in the courthouse until dawn's early light.
I was not a big fan of election night for that reason. I would get up bright and early on election day, cast my ballot, do my other work and then head for the "election headquarters" at about 9 to wait for the results to come in. If I was lucky, we had paginated most of the paper by then, leaving only a huge election article and charts and graphs to slap in the paper (with the up-to-date numbers, of course). But things never went as planned, despite the best efforts of the hard workers at the courthouse. Someone would always write in Mickey Mouse or George Jetson and, in addition, foul up their ballot by voting for two or three governor candidates to boot. That left the counting machine cranky and smoking, and the mainly-volunteers at the courthouse would go into trouble-shooting mode while I ate cookies, smoozed with other reporters or watched TV. I would phone in results as they arrived to the Associated Press, which would also get cranky when the results weren't timely. There were many elections when, after leaving my house at 6 a.m. to get to work, I didn't arrive home until 6 or 7 a.m. the next day. That's a schedule for young folks only.
I have to again heap kudos on the election crew. While people are watching television at home on election night, there is a beehive of activity with people counting votes. The number of voters must match the actual number of votes cast, hence the wrench in the works once in awhile. I was impressed with my experience here in Colorado Thursday. I went through several stations prior to processing my ballot. Many election judges were there to ensure that I had proper ID, that I had registered and that I knew how to operate the voting machine.
It was mighty nice to cast my ballot Thursday and not have to worry about dissecting the results on election night. I am mighty tired of "robocalls" from candidates, and the incessant, disgusting arguing on television. I have become good at avoiding these discussions, which for the most part, are an insult to Americans everywhere. As I've said before, when did it become so common to treat people with such disrespect? Perhaps this election will help to clear some of this muck away
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
We'll see who has the last word
I love the story in the New York tabloids today about Texas pitcher Cliff Lee, or rather, about his wife, Kristen Lee. It seems New York's unruly Yankee fans were rude to Kristen when Cliff pitched against their team earlier this month, allegedly splashing her with beer and insults, among other things.
Why is this a story? Because Cliff Lee, as the best pitcher in the game right now, is in the Yankees' sights as a free agent acquisition. And with good reason. Every time Lee takes the mound against the Yankees, the "Bombers" are helpless against him. It should be noted that he's lights-out against every other team as well.
The funniest part of the story for me is that Lee's agent insists that Kristen's comments will not stand in the way of Lee possibly becoming a Yankee.
Right. I believe Cliff's wife's opinion will make a huge difference in where he plays in the future. Her opinion is certainly worth a lot more than his agent's. Money may not talk in this instance.
I also got a huge kick out of the fact that 38-year-old Todd Bouman, a Minnesota resident, was signed on by Jacksonville to play quarterback after its top two QBs were knocked out of a game, leaving the Jaguars without a veteran in this key position. Enter Bouman, who was in Pipestone, Minn., helping his brother Troy coach the Pipestone Area Arrow football team. He took what was probably a surprising phone call from his former coach Jack Del Rio, and within hours, was in Jacksonville. On Sunday, Bouman was leading the Jags to a first-half lead against Kansas City --- after not playing in an NFL game in a few years.
How many other athletes could have done the same thing? Not many. While Brett Favre has always been the darling of the media's eye, perhaps Todd Bouman should be the poster-guy for professionalism. It couldn't happen to a nicer guy from a nicer family.
Why is this a story? Because Cliff Lee, as the best pitcher in the game right now, is in the Yankees' sights as a free agent acquisition. And with good reason. Every time Lee takes the mound against the Yankees, the "Bombers" are helpless against him. It should be noted that he's lights-out against every other team as well.
The funniest part of the story for me is that Lee's agent insists that Kristen's comments will not stand in the way of Lee possibly becoming a Yankee.
Right. I believe Cliff's wife's opinion will make a huge difference in where he plays in the future. Her opinion is certainly worth a lot more than his agent's. Money may not talk in this instance.
I also got a huge kick out of the fact that 38-year-old Todd Bouman, a Minnesota resident, was signed on by Jacksonville to play quarterback after its top two QBs were knocked out of a game, leaving the Jaguars without a veteran in this key position. Enter Bouman, who was in Pipestone, Minn., helping his brother Troy coach the Pipestone Area Arrow football team. He took what was probably a surprising phone call from his former coach Jack Del Rio, and within hours, was in Jacksonville. On Sunday, Bouman was leading the Jags to a first-half lead against Kansas City --- after not playing in an NFL game in a few years.
How many other athletes could have done the same thing? Not many. While Brett Favre has always been the darling of the media's eye, perhaps Todd Bouman should be the poster-guy for professionalism. It couldn't happen to a nicer guy from a nicer family.
Monday, October 25, 2010
AWOL no more!!!!
I've been leaning on my shovel long enough. So to speak. I could claim any number of excuses: I've been busy. Not feeling so well. Writer's block.
In truth, I've been searching for a direction. After 30 years of writing, it has been a huge shock NOT to be writing anymore. Sure, I've checked the ads and have even contacted the local newspaper to see if they needed any help. Apparently, no one needs old, crusty folks like me, when there are young, vibrant types around. Or, maybe --- as I suspect --- newspapers are struggling for survival and there just aren't many openings to be had. It turns out I'm okay with that, though I have certainly struggled with forced retirement. Whenever I have one of my frequent nightmares, I roll around in bed dreading the thousands of deadlines (many against insurmountable odds) in more than 30 years of newspapering. I wake up with a start from the latest fitful attempt to sleep and heave a huge sigh of relief.
Really, deadlines have never bothered me, because of my organizational skills. Even early in my career, I was not affected by going to an evening basketball game and then heading back to the office to type up the game results by a specific time. I was only late, and that was because, while at Huron College, I made the mistake of inviting some friends along. For them, my getting back to the office was hardly important. We repaired to the local watering hole and, well, several hours later, I weaved back to Huron to face the glare of my editor. I never made the mistake again. But as I grew older, the workload, combined with the deadline, took its toll.
Anyway, all that to say I feel rejuvenated and have some blog ideas in mind, as well as some specific postings. Even if no one reads it, I'll feel better.
In closing, an idea for the pitiful political pundits out there. If people are truly sensitive toward the feelings of others --- specifically, bullied students who feel so isolated they want to commit suicide --- maybe they should consider being kinder to those they oppose. Whoops! They forgot to do that?? Name-calling is truly for bullies and other types.
In truth, I've been searching for a direction. After 30 years of writing, it has been a huge shock NOT to be writing anymore. Sure, I've checked the ads and have even contacted the local newspaper to see if they needed any help. Apparently, no one needs old, crusty folks like me, when there are young, vibrant types around. Or, maybe --- as I suspect --- newspapers are struggling for survival and there just aren't many openings to be had. It turns out I'm okay with that, though I have certainly struggled with forced retirement. Whenever I have one of my frequent nightmares, I roll around in bed dreading the thousands of deadlines (many against insurmountable odds) in more than 30 years of newspapering. I wake up with a start from the latest fitful attempt to sleep and heave a huge sigh of relief.
Really, deadlines have never bothered me, because of my organizational skills. Even early in my career, I was not affected by going to an evening basketball game and then heading back to the office to type up the game results by a specific time. I was only late, and that was because, while at Huron College, I made the mistake of inviting some friends along. For them, my getting back to the office was hardly important. We repaired to the local watering hole and, well, several hours later, I weaved back to Huron to face the glare of my editor. I never made the mistake again. But as I grew older, the workload, combined with the deadline, took its toll.
Anyway, all that to say I feel rejuvenated and have some blog ideas in mind, as well as some specific postings. Even if no one reads it, I'll feel better.
In closing, an idea for the pitiful political pundits out there. If people are truly sensitive toward the feelings of others --- specifically, bullied students who feel so isolated they want to commit suicide --- maybe they should consider being kinder to those they oppose. Whoops! They forgot to do that?? Name-calling is truly for bullies and other types.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Let the civil discourse begin
After all those years in a newsroom, I now work in a library, a beautiful, roomy building with lots and lots of books. Since I often place the books on shelves after patrons have checked them out, I find myself intrigued with some and usually end up checking out those books myself.
One of those was a 1994 "untold" story of one of my favorite singing groups, the Carpenters. I read nearly the entire book before remembering that upon Karen Carpenter's death in 1983 from anorexia, singer and "comedienne" Bette Midler used this tragedy to make jokes and fun of the group and of Karen. Midler, probably through pressure from the public and even from writers of the day, apologized and even came to regret being so classless.
I don't think such a thing would happen today. There is an incredible meanness out there --- especially among members of the print and broadcast media --- that is unprecedented in American history. Small wonder that viewership and readership is falling like a rock as Americans back away from the stench of such journalistic effort. But it's not just the paid hacks; look in your daily newspaper and the unpaid pundits are ripping away too because they get to make "comments" on stories and programs. While the partisan divide rages, the rest of America is left to watch and shake its collective head. The discourse is often uncivil, making one wonder where the real adults are.
All of this is making it a real stressful time to be a newswatcher. My mom used to be watching one of the cable news channels when I'd come to visit. I'd find her agitated and shaking her head over the arguing and shouting, the inability for anyone to listen. I finally advised her to stop watching because I could see it wasn't good for her. It's not good for anyone to watch. Or to read. Most of us are too busy living and working. Life is too short for this sort of wasted energy.
Which brings me to wonder how people could consider running for public office at the risk of having their personal space so invaded by the same sort of hackers who would steal your credit card. Even a candidate's family is not safe from misguided, advocacy-related attacks based on your being of a certain political persuasion. This would seem to be a chilling indictment against the direction we as a country are headed. But thankfully, many people have courage of their convictions. Even judges can't strike that down.
One of those was a 1994 "untold" story of one of my favorite singing groups, the Carpenters. I read nearly the entire book before remembering that upon Karen Carpenter's death in 1983 from anorexia, singer and "comedienne" Bette Midler used this tragedy to make jokes and fun of the group and of Karen. Midler, probably through pressure from the public and even from writers of the day, apologized and even came to regret being so classless.
I don't think such a thing would happen today. There is an incredible meanness out there --- especially among members of the print and broadcast media --- that is unprecedented in American history. Small wonder that viewership and readership is falling like a rock as Americans back away from the stench of such journalistic effort. But it's not just the paid hacks; look in your daily newspaper and the unpaid pundits are ripping away too because they get to make "comments" on stories and programs. While the partisan divide rages, the rest of America is left to watch and shake its collective head. The discourse is often uncivil, making one wonder where the real adults are.
All of this is making it a real stressful time to be a newswatcher. My mom used to be watching one of the cable news channels when I'd come to visit. I'd find her agitated and shaking her head over the arguing and shouting, the inability for anyone to listen. I finally advised her to stop watching because I could see it wasn't good for her. It's not good for anyone to watch. Or to read. Most of us are too busy living and working. Life is too short for this sort of wasted energy.
Which brings me to wonder how people could consider running for public office at the risk of having their personal space so invaded by the same sort of hackers who would steal your credit card. Even a candidate's family is not safe from misguided, advocacy-related attacks based on your being of a certain political persuasion. This would seem to be a chilling indictment against the direction we as a country are headed. But thankfully, many people have courage of their convictions. Even judges can't strike that down.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
First impressions!
With this effort, I humbly join the ranks of the blogging industry!! It is something I have considered doing for several years, since my retirement from the newspaper industry in 2007. It was an industry that changed immensely from my paper boy days in junior high, and even from the time I joined the staff of the Huron Daily Plainsman in Huron, S.D. as a stringer in the late 1960s.
From the time I first took in the sights and smells of the newsroom, I was hooked, if not proficient at what I was doing. I learned at the feet of Roger Kasa, the "real newspaperman" in my life and an early mentor. Roger gave me a shot, taught me right from wrong, and the rest is a career! I can recall being sports editor in 1972 at Huron when I lost both contact lenses while taking a team photo of the '72 Tigers. Believe it or not, team members were on their hands and knees looking for my lenses! I was only 20 years old at the time --- just slightly older than the players in high school --- and in the first year, helped name one of my good friends to the All-Eastern South Dakota Conference all-league team. I was easily the youngest in the fraternity of ESD sports editors, rubbing elbows with the likes of John Egan at the Argus, Ron Lentz at Watertown and Hod Nielsen of Yankton. From the start, I loved the idea of covering games and interviewing players and coaches. As the years went by at Huron, I once played in and covered a baseball game at the same time.
I displayed little aptitude for newspaper work in high school. My acquaintences at Huron High School would likely remember me as a singer (not a top-notch student!) my one claim to fame. In a class of more than 300, it was tough to stake your claim, but I remember only good things about high school. I think all of us forever will remain in memory as we appeared in high school yearbooks. But how all of us have changed! In the 40 years since high school graduation, life has occurred. We have married, had children and lived our dreams and careers. We have suffered sorrows that we never anticipated as teenagers. Most of us have lost the parents and other family who nurtured us through those years, and even lost contact with the friends we cruised Dakota Ave. with. But I believe we have held each other in high regard as we have matured, even if we have lost touch with each other along the way. It's a beautiful thing to reconnect with friends, even though you may look older and different than you did in 1968-70. (Saying that, I missed the high school class 40-year reunion Aug. 13-14.)
I don't know where this blog will go but I hope to delve into a number of subjects, to somehow make a difference. One of the tough things about retirement is that it is such a dramatic change. For more than 35 years, I worked for the public as a newspaper editor, but I have received a different sort of satisfaction from my last two jobs: working with veterans at the Sioux Falls VA Hospital, and now, working with the public at a library in Greeley, Colo. I love the idea of sorting out a problem to help someone, and when it all works, it gave me more satisfaction than cracking a big story. Now I have decided to try writing as a hobby again.
On this blog, you can expect to read my wicked humor, see my photography, learn about my family and about other subjects of the day. I also hope to dedicate some of this blog to the memories (with photos) of Huron, S.D. and Huron High School/Huron College. It may be painful ...
From the time I first took in the sights and smells of the newsroom, I was hooked, if not proficient at what I was doing. I learned at the feet of Roger Kasa, the "real newspaperman" in my life and an early mentor. Roger gave me a shot, taught me right from wrong, and the rest is a career! I can recall being sports editor in 1972 at Huron when I lost both contact lenses while taking a team photo of the '72 Tigers. Believe it or not, team members were on their hands and knees looking for my lenses! I was only 20 years old at the time --- just slightly older than the players in high school --- and in the first year, helped name one of my good friends to the All-Eastern South Dakota Conference all-league team. I was easily the youngest in the fraternity of ESD sports editors, rubbing elbows with the likes of John Egan at the Argus, Ron Lentz at Watertown and Hod Nielsen of Yankton. From the start, I loved the idea of covering games and interviewing players and coaches. As the years went by at Huron, I once played in and covered a baseball game at the same time.
I displayed little aptitude for newspaper work in high school. My acquaintences at Huron High School would likely remember me as a singer (not a top-notch student!) my one claim to fame. In a class of more than 300, it was tough to stake your claim, but I remember only good things about high school. I think all of us forever will remain in memory as we appeared in high school yearbooks. But how all of us have changed! In the 40 years since high school graduation, life has occurred. We have married, had children and lived our dreams and careers. We have suffered sorrows that we never anticipated as teenagers. Most of us have lost the parents and other family who nurtured us through those years, and even lost contact with the friends we cruised Dakota Ave. with. But I believe we have held each other in high regard as we have matured, even if we have lost touch with each other along the way. It's a beautiful thing to reconnect with friends, even though you may look older and different than you did in 1968-70. (Saying that, I missed the high school class 40-year reunion Aug. 13-14.)
I don't know where this blog will go but I hope to delve into a number of subjects, to somehow make a difference. One of the tough things about retirement is that it is such a dramatic change. For more than 35 years, I worked for the public as a newspaper editor, but I have received a different sort of satisfaction from my last two jobs: working with veterans at the Sioux Falls VA Hospital, and now, working with the public at a library in Greeley, Colo. I love the idea of sorting out a problem to help someone, and when it all works, it gave me more satisfaction than cracking a big story. Now I have decided to try writing as a hobby again.
On this blog, you can expect to read my wicked humor, see my photography, learn about my family and about other subjects of the day. I also hope to dedicate some of this blog to the memories (with photos) of Huron, S.D. and Huron High School/Huron College. It may be painful ...
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