It’s bragging time again.
I can’t believe it, but it will take an extra five fingers and an extra five toes of a friendly friend to count the yearly span.
But the fact is the column you are now reading culminates the completion of 30 years of freelance writing for The Wellington Advertiser.
Do the math folks, that’s 52 x 30 deadlines that were met, without fail, each and every week. That’s 30 birthdays followed by 30 Christmases, all of which have shadowed the facts covering greater than a third of my life.
Yet, though stressful on occasion, it’s been a relatively fun trip for me during the up and down moods of the seasons of each passing year.
During all of these years I owe the deepest of gratitude to My Little Lady, Eunice Jean Hopkins, my wife, the love of my life, who strongly believed that the Ten Commandments were not multiple choice. Though having passed on to the paradise she strongly believed in, I still feel her presence, standing, as in the past, not behind me, not ahead of me, but firmly by my side.
And to William H. Adsett, founder and publisher of The Wellington Advertiser since March, 1968, who, in August of 1984 said to me, in a tone that lacked enchantment, “Go see Alice.”
And too, to multi-talented, over-worked Alice, who accepted the first handful of sample articles, all with pit-run English, phonetic spelling and complete punctuation dysfunction. This was well prior to the magic of computers, spell check and email.
And to all of you readers who spurred me on with letters, phone calls and emails, all in greater numbers as time flew by, encouraging me to keep on writing, writing and writing. Although most of you I would not recognize if you popped up in my cereal bowl, I appreciate your comments. It is your feedback that gives me direction as to what to write about.
You may not know it, but this is the first column that I have ever written on a laptop computer, which I can carry with me anywhere and everywhere I happen to want to wander.
As well, today I received my Ontario photo card in the mail. It is now apparently necessary if you want to get a cell phone, which I am definitely going to do.
This will allow me to tuck the computer under my arm, the phone in my pocket, and with a lunch brown-bagged in my hand, I’ll be able to head back over the hill to our pond area.
There I’ll be able to type my column while listening to the birds sing, the frogs croak, the bees buzz, and the crickets and grasshoppers humming their tunes.
And when the cicada sings its screeching tune, I’ll know that it is definitely warm enough to join the bull frogs and go for a skinny dip to cool off.
Take care, ‘cause we care.