Been a year, now, since I started this whole business of scribbling down things every week for The Herald. In fact, this here is official-scribble number 52. And you know what that means? It means Dougie owes me a dozen. He bet I’d never keep it up for the whole year – I win.
I gotta say, I’ve had a bit of fun doing it too – writing stuff down, I mean. Been a good thing for me to simply sit for an hour every seven days and just jot away on a piece of paper. Kinda like therapy. Calm and soothing – and somewhat educational. And now that I’ve only started to get the hang of it, I’ve decided to pack it all in – at least for a while, right? “Why?” you ask. “Why not?” I counter. Verily – let me count the way…
Truth is, I seem to have quickly run out of stuff to wax-on about. And I’ve been stretching it at times too, let me tell you. I’ve written about the weather, the seasons, my family, growing up, adventures with Dougie, pets, travel, sports… you name it. You can cover quite a bit in 12 months.
And trust me, dear reader (and they tell me there ARE readers out there), I can’t thank you enough for tolerating my drivel all this time, I really can’t. There have been weeks, truth be told, I could barely pretend to be interested, myself, in what I was getting on with. So – seriously – much appreciated. Your patience and stamina are impressive. Can’t say the same, perhaps, for your taste.
So this is it, really. A 365-day experiment come to a close. And I have not only enjoyed it, but learned a thing or two along the way. Mostly, I have come to understand how capable I am at putting things off, and yet how productive I can be up against a long-missed deadline.
I’ve also come to marvel at the endless tolerance of the crowd at The Herald. They are among the most accommodating bunch of people on the planet, to be sure. That Pam Pardy-Ghent, Shannon Cleary, and Dillon Collins – saints, all of them. I’m thinking they are secretly delighted this train-wreck of a ride has finally left the rails, but all are just too darn nice and professional to say so. Well done, folks.
To the Stirlings, and all at the shop who gave me the ink and paper to abuse – you’re wicked. You even put me on the cover – proof that sales aren’t everything, right? I’m still shocked and giddy that you ever gave me a shot at it.
it was tough
What else has this rare experience given me? Well, some confirmation, I guess, that I talk better than I can write. It’s actually really tricky to say exactly what you mean on paper, at times, and feel like you’ll be understood by most readers. Had no clue it could be so tough. I’ve had to explain myself more than once, let’s just say.
Finally, I also got to find out how I feel about a few things. That’s what writing stuff makes you do – ponder and sort out your own thoughts and opinions. It’s work, really, and a kind that gives back too. I remember a teacher I had back in junior high who was forever saying stuff like “Know thyself.” We ignored him, mostly, like we did the rest of the “Sirs.” Know this, lah.
But, as I put together these ‘columns,’ that motto kept coming back to me, “Know thyself.” Because there were times I learned things I never knew about me, and it’s handy to know yourself half-decently, right? To know how you’re knit, from what kind of wool. Even if you’re not always tickled about certain parts of who you are.
So for even those little “aha” moments about myself, I am truly grateful. I leave you a better man, a wiser man, and certainly a man without much left to say. Thanks for hanging in – see you around. Later. And, of course, right on.