The right thing vs. the write thing

Writing has been a passion for me for decades. It also has been my release, therapy and creative outlet. I believe it has been my calling in life.

Sometimes, however, what we are driven to do can overshadow or replace other things that are important in our life.

Soon after I retired early last year, I started to write a column and share it for free through my “Retired Editor’s Notebook” site at the end of most weeks. Many of the columns are new; some of them are reruns of my favorites from 10 years as a newspaper editor.

A few people have wondered why I rerun older columns some weeks.

It’s not because I’ve run out of ideas. It’s not because I’m unmotivated or lazy.

Sometimes I need to reread some of them to remind myself of the advice I shared. By putting them out there again, maybe they can help others a second time or help someone who missed them the first time.

Many are timeless.

Some of them bring back good memories that I was happy to share.

Another reason I share them again is that sometimes I run out of time, and I don’t want to allow a perceived obligation to write to get in the way of living.

During a newspaper career that lasted more than 45 years, I sometimes – too often – was so engrossed in my work that other things were pushed aside. My job was a big responsibility. It also was an obsession at times. Being on-call 24/7 didn’t help.

I didn’t ignore those who were important to me, but they weren’t always my priority.

As I got older, I realized the error of my ways. It took awhile to transition, but I came to understand and embrace the importance of placing those I care about before things. I keep a wooden plaque on the wall to remind me and others “The best things in life are not things.”

So now there are times when more important things – people – come before writing a column for that week.

I could block off time every day or every week to write, and that may work for some types of writing or for some people. But my best columns were written when inspiration struck me.

Occasionally I may find a few minutes to write, but not enough time to finish. As a result, dozens of columns are in various stages of development. Some are a few sentences. Some include research I’ve done. Others are waiting for a rewrite.

Many of them, I hope, eventually will be shared. If not, nothing will be lost if they were ignored for someone important.

Everybody sets priorities, whether intentionally or not. We decide what is most important in life. Too often too many of us live with regrets about those decisions. Many times, we shouldn’t have to.

Jobs are important because they provide a means for us to live. So are chores, volunteering and rest, all of which improve our quality of life.

In the end, all of that won’t matter if we don’t dedicate time to share with those who are important in our life.

When I take my last breath on Earth, I want those closest to me to know how much I cared about them. I need to tell them. I need to show them. Mostly, I need to spend time with them.

If that means columns don’t get written, so be it. That will be a better legacy than any words I could have put on paper.

Try to tell me when you've heard enough

Sometimes I like to have fun with my columns. Sometimes I send a discreet message for someone in particular. Sometimes I do both. This is a column I wrote in 2014 after one of many conversations with a person who talked so much that I couldn’t get a word in. If you think you know who it was, you’re probably wrong. 

There is little that is more frustrating than someone who keeps going on and on, talking and refusing to take a break or a breath in order to listen to what others have to say to them, even though those people might have something to offer to help the person to learn something or have a better understanding of a subject, whatever it may be, but that conversation never happens because a conversation involves at least two people interacting, one talking and one listening and vice versa, rather than a lecture, which involves one speaker and one or more listeners, who may not have the opportunity to speak, which may be because the speaker believes that what he has to say is so important that no one else can add something of value or because the speaker simply isn’t interested in hearing from anyone else, and so continues to rattle on, ignoring attempted interjections, gestures or a wide variety of body language that are intended to allow the listener to become a participant and create a conversation that, even though it would be on point, is basically ignored, leaving at least one of the parties frustrated or tired from the futility of failed attempts, which may result in a wide range of reactions –from anger to lack of interest –on the part of the listener and a growing sense of self-importance on the part of the speaker, who continues to talk, believing all of his words are falling on attentive ears that are eager for his next bits of wisdom, which may improve that person’s life but certainly will impress that listener with the level of knowledge and understanding that is flowing from a person, who perhaps at some time in his life was on the other end of such an experience, which no doubt frustrated him to such a degree that he vowed to himself that he would never again be dominated in conversation and so set his mind to not only share his vast array of knowledge and experience but also to establish his dominance in any interaction with others, the result of which is a long, drawn-out monologue that so engrosses the speaker that he seems to fall into a trance that is further deepened by his own ego, which builds his belief that nothing in the world is more important than his thought process and the valuable advice that results from it, and so he continues to drone on, often repeating what he has said several times because he believes it is essential to make his point, and then, just when you sense he is about to pause and provide an opening for dialogue, he gets his second wind seemingly without even taking a breath and begins another chapter, which may enforce what he already has stated or may digress into a completely unrelated issue that for a short time he believes is equally important but which serves only to provide a break in the monotony until he realizes, possibly midsentence, that he has gone off-track and perhaps suddenly or more likely gradually works his way back to his initial point, which will result in sending the listener into a deeper coma or increase his frustration to the point that he is tempted to walk away, but doesn’t do that out of common courtesy, which is ironic given the circumstances, or because the alleged discussion may require some outcome from what has become an unbalanced interaction involving one person who has become the only person talking and listening – to himself – and another who, because he has no opportunity to do the former, ceases to do the latter, and when given the opportunity to finally respond to the speaker’s ultimate question, “Don’t you agree?” is left, after taking a long, deep breath to be sure it is finally his turn to participate, with only one logical and clear response: No.

And there you have it: the long and the short of a one-sided discussion. 

The column that got away

This may be the most difficult column I’ve ever written. It’s the one I can’t remember.

The idea came to me a few months ago during a sleepless time in the middle of a night. At the time, it seemed to be such a good idea that I assumed I’d remember it in the morning. I didn’t. When I awoke, I recalled thinking about a column idea, but the subject was missing.

I thought it might come back at some time during the next day. It didn’t. 

Now that idea seems to be lost forever.

Have you ever walked into a room and forgotten why you went there? Have you ever seen a person and can’t remember who it is or why you know the person? Then you begin an intense thought process, and no matter how hard you try to remember, the answer doesn’t come. The harder you focus, the more frustrating it becomes. Sometimes you put that frustration aside in the belief that the answer will come back to you later. It may. Or it may not.

That’s the way it is when I get an idea for a column and fail to make notes when the thoughts are fresh.

Many ideas come to me late at night, early in the morning or in the middle of the night. Ironically, those last ones – which form when my mind starts to clear as I shed all of the distractions from the day – are the most difficult ones to remember when I fail to make some notes for the morning. 

That’s the reason I’m writing this one, which still doesn’t solve my frustration of recovering the one that got away. For several days, I tried to remember the idea that seemed so good during a sleepless hour. Now, it’s gone for good

When I started to write a weekly newspaper column 10 years ago, I developed a collection of ideas. Some of those I still keep in a file on my laptop.

When those ideas would come to me at various times during the day and night, I would write it into a document on my iPhone. Later, I would transfer it to a file on my laptop. As a result, I have at least 50 columns in various states of development.

Sometimes I will scan through those documents and may spend some time working on one or two. If the inspiration is right, I may finish one. If not, I file it away for another time. At least I have the idea.

Our memories are interesting.

I used to take pride in going to the grocery store and remembering what I needed to buy. As I’ve aged, that mental list is not as reliable. Sometimes I’ll know I’ve forgotten something, but I won’t remember it until I’m home.

It’s just as frustrating when you and your partner share a memory loss, such as the name of a person you once knew. At least you have someone to share your frustration. Sometimes you’re able to talk out what you do remember and eventually find an answer.

You know the information – what you’ve learned and what you’ve experienced – is stored somewhere in your brain, but it won’t always come to the surface.

So now you can share in my frustration of that lost column. Because I can’t remember it and therefore can’t write it, you’ll never read it, and you’re stuck with reading this one.

I do believe that the one that got away would have been much more interesting and entertaining. We’ll never know for sure.