Another Memorial Day weekend is in the books and there have been many well-written and well-thought-through editorials about what our fallen soldiers gave to us.
There have been a slew of memes attempting to boil a very complex and emotional holiday down to its essence. Other than thinking that Memorial Day deserves all that is written about it, I don’t have anything substantive to add, other than a hearty thank you.
I threw away the original piece I wrote for today. I didn’t like it. It was technically correct, but it didn’t “get it” for me. Not because it didn’t read well; it didn’t “feel right”.
So, here’s “Take Two”.
One of the great things about writing an opinion column is that I get to pontificate on things that are important to me. I try to stay somewhat within my wheelhouse, and share subjects that you’ll find of interest, and where I have some knowledge or expertise. Some special sauce to add. I do endeavor to be authentic.
I have a tortuous history of pulling words and stories together, and not all of it is good.
I took pictures and scribbled for a small newspaper that no longer existed when I was in high school. The important parts of this description were “took pictures,” as opposed to being a photographer.
“Drowning in this literal sea of talent, I scribbled the story of a game that I didn’t see based on the statistics. I was stringing words together. Journalistic sandlot ball and the real sports journalists were pitching for (place your favorite team here).”
One is an artist and understands composition and what works graphically; the other (me) a technician. Amazingly sharp and clear images, proper exposure or flash, with composition choices that left the sports editor pulling his hair out.
“Scribbled” is a bit more complicated to explain.
Those who lived through those days with a newspaper remember being on the phone after the football games ended. Each team’s statistician would call in and we had a mimeographed form (I can still smell it) where we would collect the information. Penmanship mattered.
Based on that, we would scribble a story. Relaying the story of a game you didn’t witness from the stats is formulaic. Slightly more complicated than plugging in the numbers and the big plays. The scribblers were that era’s artificial intelligence,
There were sports reporters that would physically go to the top three games of the week. They wrote stories … beautiful prose created quickly and efficiently, and it was a pleasure to read. Those articles made the sports section – the go-to section – and even though you knew the score by the time the newspaper arrived, you poured over the paper to get the story.
The sports journalists … passionate people, and essential to the financial success of the newspaper, yet poorly compensated.
Drowning in this literal sea of talent, I scribbled the story of a game that I didn’t see based on the statistics. I was stringing words together. Journalistic sandlot ball and the real sports journalists were pitching for (place your favorite team here).
I was in awe of the journalists. In many ways, they were (and are still) “rock stars.”
I didn’t have a journalistic voice then, and for most of the ensuing 45 years, I didn’t have the opportunity to develop one.
While I wrote a lot, it was mostly facts and figures.
While in school, I was clueless about how much I would be writing for business. I probably worked 10 hours per day in sales and senior management, and at least half of them were as a scribe, communicating with my customers, employees and stakeholders via the written word. Clearly and concisely, stretching the boundaries of the truth when putting together advertising copy, but minus the hyperbole … factual stuff.
When I started there were typewriters and carbon copies that used carbon paper. There’s something I have not seen in a while. Secretaries were not yet ‘administrative assistants,” and took shorthand dictation.
My secretary, Nancy, could type faster than that first-generation word processor could print.
I learned to communicate clearly and respectfully. I also created more than one poison pen letter, and often looked forward to inserting key phrases like “I thank you in advance for not writing me again” or “confident you’ll be avoiding all known moral approaches to prosperity.”
Hey, when the bridge is burned, you may as well have some fun with it.
I was, and remain a bit of a bull in a China shop. A bull moose, if you will. I’m also fairly well adept at going right off the rails and abruptly changing subjects. The distracted version of, “OH LOOK! A SQUIRREL!”
So, I’m perfectly capable of starting a column on the Tribology of Motor Oil and ending it with a comparison of Scotch and Bourbon Whisky.
I’m working on finding my journalistic voice. I’m thankful for the opportunity to do so on these pages, and I love the positive feedback. Actually, I use the negative stuff as well. Keep those cards and letters coming!
