Good to see you. Here's what I've figured out.
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| This Jan. 9, 1961 story about me in the Milwaukee Sentinel, was written and photographed by my aunt, Olive Glasgow. Olive was a prominent wildlife photographer and writer for much of her life, based in Crandon. |
But I was a reader before that, when I was 2 years old.
This was a long time ago, before mobile devices and color TV. And before color pictures on the pages of almost any newspaper.
It was before banana seats and butterfly handlebars on my bicycle. And before my bicycle.
TV Guide was my first go-to publication. A couple stories in the front, a longer story in the back, and the week's program listings in the middle.
But there were only three major networks, and most local stations signed off at midnight.
So, this material wasn't that much of a reading challenge, even when I was 3.
My sister Marilyn brought books from the Mole Lake Elementary School home for me to read. Some were textbooks, most were kids' books from the school's meager collection.
And some were encyclopedia volumes.
She read a lot of them with me. Marilyn, four years older, was my first regular reading partner and my first best friend.
She died on April 24, and her passing has prompted me — a guy who was already thinking about the past too much — to think even more about my beginnings, and how I got to be me.
Here's what I've discerned: The power of story-telling has always been with me. But I didn't fully understood that until a few months ago.
And that's after a lifetime of telling stories as a professional journalist. In those days, I was always reading stories, writing stories, developing stories or editing stories.
They were as mundane as a high school basketball game or two-paragraph brief, and as important as a Packers game, an election or an investigation.
They were on the front page, they were nestled as filler on a classifieds page, and they were everywhere between.
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| Grandson Matthew made this "front-page" for me shortly before I left journalism in 2014. It turns out that the headline is correct. Telling stories is a good way to earn a living. |
Day after day, week after week, decade after decade. I was devoted to telling stories, I was pretty good at it, and I loved it.
But it wasn't until well after I left journalism that I actually noticed the profound difference story-telling has on all of us.
Everything we do, every decision we make, every opinion we shape, every goal we set ... it's shaped by a story we've heard.
It's not always from a legitimate news outlet. Sometimes it's from spouses, friends, family members, anonymous voices in grocery checkout lines, and pseudonymous people in the almost hidden corners of the internet.
We're always listening to — and responding to — stories. Always.
Fairly honorable way to spend one's life, it turns out.
So, a quick study as a young reader, sure. But not so great at deciphering the value and purpose of my life, apparently.
I've been out of journalism since July 3, 2014. Most parts of the business are not missed, but two are: The friends I made. And writing columns.
That's why I've started this adventure. No idea how long it'll last, or what shape it will take.
You might find some old columns here eventually, but they might be new to you.
My hope is to do new writing about whatever seems appropriate.
No, not every column will be about me. Please.
Writing has always been a therapy for me, and now that I'm in the final year of my sixth decade, I need to write while I can.
I know only that I've missed it, and I hope there's an audience.
Thanks. Welcome.