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.

Love always sees the beauty that is in you

I wrote this piece almost two years ago as encouragement for someone close to me. After hearing the related song played at an Alabama concert and overhearing someone quote the lyrics prior to a meeting the following week, I decided to share it in the Reading Eagle as a column for others who may need to know they are special to someone in the world. I’m sharing it again in honor of a special birthday.

You are so beautiful.

Not a day goes by that it’s not true. 

In my mind. 

And in the minds of others who know you. 

But especially to me. 

Joe Cocker sang the best-known version of the song written by Billy Preston and Bruce Fisher: 

“You’re everything I hope for.

“You’re everything I need.

“You are so beautiful to me.” 

I see it in real life whenever I look at you. 

Or whenever I think about you.

I see your beauty early in morning and late at night. 

I see it in the brightest sunshine or through the pouring rain. 

When the world around you is quiet, or when you’re in the midst of a crowd. 

When it’s cold, your smile warms me more than your touch. 

In the darkness, your face radiates light that helps me to see and understand what I could not have imagined. 

Your eyes sparkle in the precious times when you pause long enough to allow love to catch up to you. 

When you are stressed or cranky, I still see beauty. 

When you are angry, I still can find it in you. 

When you are sad or hurt, your beauty still shines through. 

To me. 

You look at your reflection and see what you believe are flaws. 

I don’t see them.

I can’t find them.

I see only beauty.

Why do you judge yourself so harshly?

So unfairly? 

You are a reflection of someone so much greater than any one of us. 

Someone who blessed you with that special beauty. 

You believe you are nothing special. 

You are.

Because you are you.

You’re not like everyone else.

That makes you special. 

You are so beautiful, but I would see beauty in you even if that weren’t true.

I see beauty in the gifts you share.

In the sacrifices you make.

I see beauty in the kindness that you show to so many others.

The joy you provide far outweighs the pain you sometimes believe you cause.

I feel sadness for the pain you accept to save others from suffering. 

I am captivated by your beauty during your many fast-paced hours. 

I watch you and see the beauty in your moments of intensity. 

Then, in the quiet of the evening, when you finally slow your frantic pace, I see beauty in your calmness. 

Many people understand words such as these that describe someone special in their life. 

They know that love takes root and thrives in happy times. 

They believe that real love doesn’t fade when things are difficult. 

Those are the times when love grows stronger. 

And so does your beauty. 

I am amazed by the beauty I see in you. 

I wish you could see it.

I wish you could believe it.

Someday I will convince you that it’s true.

I make that promise.

To you. 

Because...


“You are so beautiful. 

“To me.” 

A love story that began 70 years ago

I wrote this column two years ago and shared it with readers of the Reading Eagle newspaper. Originally headlined “A love story that began 68 years ago,” all of it remains true today. We are blessed to celebrate my parents’ 70^thwedding anniversary on this day.

It’s impossible to fully understand what makes two people fall in love. It may begin with a physical attraction. It may be as simple as a kind word or a silent locking of eyes. Some might point to destiny or divine intervention. 

It happens all the time, and I’m glad it does. Especially for one love story that officially began 68 years ago today. 

That was a time before cellphones, color television sets in every home and the realistic thought of landing a man on the moon. The relationship has survived and flourished through all of those milestones and many others. 

The reasons are simple: devotion, commitment and love that grows every day. 

Soon after she graduated from high school, they were married in the Sunday school chapel of their church because the sanctuary was being renovated. They went on a brief honeymoon in a car they borrowed from her father. In the beginning, they struggled, but they had each other. 

She was a dark-haired beauty. He was tall and thin with a pompadour.

He had dropped out of school to join the service at the end of World War II, then returned home to finish high school. It was during that time in the Army that he learned a photography skill that would be with him for the rest of his life.

After they married, he began a career as a newspaper photographer and reporter, and she became a full- time homemaker. They bought their first house in the mid-1950s. A decade later, they built their dream house, a brick rancher where they still live.

He turned 89 recently; she is 86. They remain independent and in their own home, mostly because they are too stubborn to move. 

Through those years they welcomed three children, 10 grandchildren and 17 great-grandchildren. 

There were many rough times, many obstacles, but they worked together. The love that would bind them together grew stronger with each challenge. 

“We had a lot of hard times, but we weathered it,” he says. 

“It wasn’t so bad,” she adds.

During those hard times they learned to appreciate what they had because they had worked so hard for it. There was little waste and limited extravagance, but they have shared a good life and have lots of memories.

In their retirement years – semi-retirement for him – they did some traveling together and grew even closer, including sharing the housework that for many years had fallen on her. Even now he seldom is seen without a camera, keeping busy with freelance work for several newspapers. Until recently, she always was sewing or knitting. 

Their calendar remains full, but many of their activities are doctor appointments. 

For all of their life together, they’ve been active in their church. It’s a shared faith that has given them direction and helped them to keep things in their lives in perspective. 

To reach 68 years of marriage, you must marry early in life and have good genes that lead to a long life. Her mother lived to 92, his to 102. 

They have grown old together, sharing the physical and memory challenges that come with aging. When they can’t remember a name or forget a word, they turn to each other for help. Sometimes the void frustrates both of them until much later when one of them blurts out the thought that had escaped them earlier. 

One of the difficulties of growing old is outliving most of your friends. At least they still have each other. They remain best friends. 

They’re not perfect, except perhaps in each other’s eyes. Isn’t that what’s important? 

When they celebrated their 50th anniversary, it was for a weekend with all of their children and grandchildren at cabins in a state park. For their 60th, they traveled to a bed- and-breakfast in Cape May with their children and their spouses. 

Today they likely will go to church, then lunch at a restaurant. Then perhaps the best part – a long afternoon nap. They have two years to rest before it’s time to celebrate their 70th. 

This special love story all began on June 25, 1949, and 32 ½ months later, I was born. 

Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad. 

My collection of fatherly advice

During the past 10 years, I’ve written several columns offering advice based on my experience in life. So in recognition of Father’s Day and as encouragement for recent graduates, here’s a compilation from those columns.

As a father, it’s been my responsibility to impart some wisdom to my children, even if they don’t always see it that way.

One of my favorite quotes was attributed to Mark Twain in a 1937 Reader’s Digest: “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.” 

I framed the quote and used to have it on the wall in my study. 

Even though it’s not always sought, I have shared some advice that I’ve experienced or learned from others over the years. Such as:

■ Don’t go into debt for anything other than a house or a car, and don’t charge anything on a credit card you can’t pay off when the bill arrives.

■ Create an emergency fund and put it somewhere that’s not easy to access.

■ Find a job that provides good health care coverage – and keep it.

My children haven’t always listened to me, but they know the importance of those things.

Here are a few others that I’ve shared and strongly believe:

■ Don’t lie. Not only because it’s wrong, but because you almost always get caught. Even if you don’t, you live with the stress of worrying about getting caught.

■ Value and protect your reputation. It takes a long time to build it up and a moment to destroy it.

■ Do the right thing. It may not always be what you want or the most fun, but it will be the most satisfying.

■ Even if you do the right thing, people may lie about you or attack your reputation, but it’s still better than being lied about or attacked for doing the wrong thing. And your conscience will be a lot clearer.

■ Volunteer. The only way to make things better is to get involved.

■ Do things without looking for recognition or credit. Some of the people I admire most never get the recognition they deserve, which makes them even more deserving. Their motivation is genuine.

■ Help those less fortunate than yourself. That applies to all but one person at any one time on Earth.

■ When you are feeling well or when you are happy, stop for a minute and recognize it. We spend a lot of time dwelling on the times we are sick or unhappy. How often do we stop to bask in the happy or healthy moments?

■ Spend time with positive people. Their approach to life can be contagious.

■ Realize that your attitude and frame of mind make a difference in how you view the world and how the world views you.

■ Climb a mountain and enjoy the view. It’s only when you put the work into the trip that you will fully appreciate what you see.

■ Learn to be patient. Sometimes you need to invest a lot of time and effort in what you want, but you’ll appreciate it more than things that come quickly and easily.

■ Be realistic. It’s good to set lofty goals, but not to the point that you spend too much time fretting about your failure to reach them. Don’t get too carried away by your successes or too discouraged by your disappointments. Things can, and usually will, change tomorrow.

■ You are not the center of the universe. You are a part of it, but everything is not about you. So quit thinking about just yourself and what you want. Instead, focus on what others need and how you can help them. That will have a lasting impact on others. It also will have a big impact on you. 

■ Be on time. You are not so important that others should have to wait for you to start events or meetings. Reread the previous paragraph. 

■ Stop making excuses for what doesn’t go your way. If you want things to improve, take positive steps and work harder. 

■ Accept responsibility for your actions. People respect accountability far more than blame. 

■ Don’t consider every obstacle or setback a problem. Instead consider them opportunities to learn and grow.

■ Stop talking so much and start listening more. That will say a lot about how smart you really are. 

■ Bite your tongue. What you intend to say in anger won’t have a positive impact on the object of your frustration and likely will have a negative impact on you, as well. 

■ Be nice. Every day, say something nice to someone. Every week, do something nice for someone without wanting and expecting recognition or acknowledgement. 

■ People will judge you on how you act. They’ll remember you for how you treated others. Here’s a good exercise: Write your own epitaph. It might help you to determine how to live your life. 

■ Listen to those with experience. Chances are they already made the mistakes you’re about to make. But don’t be afraid to take chances. You probably will learn a more lasting lesson if you experience those same mistakes on your own. 

■ Find a good partner in life, then every day treat that person with respect and make that person your priority. 

■ Treat children as if they really matter, because they really do. 

■ Don’t lose patience with those who are very young or very old. Remember where you were. Consider where you’re heading.


■ Don’t wish your life away. Those things you couldn’t wait to get you’ll someday trade in a heartbeat for another … heartbeat.

■ If you really believe in something, live that way. 

■ If you see something that is clearly wrong, don’t create another wrong by ignoring it. 

■ When you’re excited or passionate about something, let it show. But it seldom works when you fake it or put on an act. People see right through false enthusiasm. 

■ Surround yourself with people who don’t always agree with you, then don’t rebuke them when they do what they’re expected to do. 

■ Friends are very important, but when you really need help there is nothing that matters more than family.

■ Forgive those who have hurt you. It will help you even more than them because it will lift the burden of anger that you carry.

■ Don’t take sports too seriously. For most, it’s only a game and should be fun.

■ Read. There’s not much better than a good book.

■ At least once, read the entire Bible. There’s no book better than the Good Book.

■ Pray. You won’t know how important it is until you’ve experienced it.

■ Listen to your mother. What more do I need to say?

Documenting the anatomy of a sleepless night

During the past 10 years, I’ve written hundreds of columns under the “Editor’s Notebook” and “Retired Editor’s Notebook” tags. Most of them were written during the evenings, early mornings or weekends while sitting at home. Although I never was asked or instructed by the Reading Eagle to write a column, writing became therapy for me during some difficult years. I made the columns available each week for about nine years to the newspaper, which ran them on the top of Page A2 on Sundays. I never knew when inspiration would strike me, but when it did, I found I needed to start writing immediately, or at least make some notes to come back to later. The following column from 2011 is a perfect example, which I wrote on my cellphone during a couple of sleepless hours in the middle of the night.

It’s 2:03 in the morning and my mind is racing. At a time when I should be refreshing, resting and replenishing, I can’t let go of the problems and concerns of yesterday and the anticipated issues and worries of tomorrow.

They consume me. They steal my energy. Daylight will come too soon, and I won’t be ready for it. The issues that keep my awake still will not be resolved, and I will face a day without my full strength and attention. Knowing that doesn’t help.

Have you been there? Can you relate?

Restless nights. The harder you try to sleep, the more impossible it becomes. You toss and turn, but the real problem is in your mind, which you can’t clear.

There are lots of aids and words of advice to help us through those difficult nighttime hours, everything from sleeping pills to prayer. I avoid the former. I often use the latter.

Yet, tonight, here I am.

It’s 2:11 now. The midnight monsters still haunt me.

I’ve read that getting up for an hour or so can help. I’ve also read that turning on lights or the television is the worst thing and that lying here and just resting is almost as good as sleep itself.

I used to keep a notepad and pen by the bed so I could write down thoughts and ideas instead of obsessing about whether or not I’d remember them in the morning.

Now there are times such as this when I will pick up my smartphone and clear my overnight emails, start to read the news online or even write a column. It’s a diversion and sometimes it helps. At least for the past 14 minutes it has occupied my thoughts.

Some might say my writing could be enough to put me back to sleep. I’m awake enough for a touch of humor.

I know I’m not alone. There have been numerous times when I’ve sent out emails to co-workers in the middle of the night so I wouldn’t forget something I need to share. There have been times when they’ve answered me within minutes. We commiserate the next day and sometimes laugh about it. I’m not sure why, because it’s really not amusing. Especially now.

Three more minutes have passed. It’s now 2:20.

2:21.

Finally I’m running out of things to write. Perhaps it’s time to file this away and see if sleep will claim me for a couple of hours.

2:23. Writing on an iPhone is slow and tedious. I’m pausing again. 2:24. I feel like I’m counting minutes instead of sheep. Maybe there’s something to that. Maybe it really does work. 

It’s very quiet now. Too quiet. No traffic. No snoring at the moment. Strange. For the past 24 minutes I’ve forgotten about all the things that were racing through my mind and blocking sleep. Maybe this is really therapeutic. Maybe I’m onto something I can package and sell. Fortunately I’ve taken the time to write all of this down. Otherwise I likely would never remember. 

2:30. I wonder if all my problems are solved or just have disappeared temporarily. Will they come back to me in the next half-hour? 

I’m pausing again. The clock just turned to 2:32. I’m putting this away for now.

Good night. I hope ... . 

3:35 is the last time I remember. Now it’s 5:45 and the alarm is ringing. Just 15 more minutes.

Why is it so hard to wake up?