Stories I Never Told You

This is where I came in

Sat, 05/30/2015 - 8:00am

Let’s start with the fact that today’s column (drum roll please) is number 156 in the series. Divide 156 by three and with a little luck you’ll end up at 52.

Last time I checked, there were 52 weeks in a year, which means that, as of today, I’ve been writing a weekly newspaper column for exactly three years.

The good news is that whole experience has been an unqualified success. The bad news? I’ve decided that three years is enough.

Yeah, I know. It feels kind of weird for me too. But please understand. This is hardly some impulsive, spur of the moment decision. In fact, I’ve been wrestling with the idea for several months. But, seeing the news in print, in stark black and white, whew!

Still, there’s no way to reel it in and start over again now. The die is cast. The deed is done and so, my friends, is this newspaper column.

Well, it’s not exactly “done” done (Holy anticlimax, Batman!) not this week anyway.

According to the contract I entered into freely and in good faith with my esteemed publisher, the column you are currently reading is actually the fourth from the last in the series. That means that there are three more episodes after this one before the final curtain falls.

“OK, in that case, why even bother dragging it out?” you might ask. “Why not just wait a few weeks, say ‘sayonara,’ hang up the Do Not Disturb sign, turn out the lights, lock the door and boogie on home?”

I suppose I could have taken that approach. But the idea of simply going along cranking out my last few columns as if everything was just hunky dory, and then, on the last day of publication, in my very last column, simply dropping this bombshell out of a clear blue sky, like: “Oh, by the way ... this is it. That’s all folks!” Well, it just seemed wrong!

Not to mention that it struck me as a rather cowardly way to handle my departure, like I was slinking off into some dark corner somewhere, taking the easy way out.

The truth is that over the years I’ve developed a genuine rapport with readers who drop by on a regular basis. And although my column ranges from the absurd to the arcane to the ridiculous, to the irrelevant, to the preposterous, to the inscrutable and back to absurd again, I take my relationship with those folks very seriously.

So there are three more installments still in the pipeline and I hope you like ‘em all because after that the party’s definitely over.

But come on. Was it a great party or what?

That’s how I feel about it anyway. Yeah, there was hard work too. Most of that involved the 156 weekly deadlines I managed to hit along the way. (OK, that’s not exactly digging ditches, but still.)

On the other hand I’ll gladly confess to having had whole lot of fun along the way. The fact that I’m still having fun, even as I write the last few columns was a major consideration in my decision to quit while I’m ahead.

I’m not pitching a fit over some obscure clause in my contract. I’m ridiculously healthy for an old duffer and my editor claims to be happy with my work.

I’m just ready to end my late blooming newspaper career on a “high note” before I start getting bored (or perhaps more to the point, before my readers do). I prefer to bow out gracefully, while I’m still having fun and before the stagehands start murmuring “get the hook.”

But before I leave I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m really going to miss writing this column. I’ll miss the writing and I’ll miss you reading what I’ve written. And though I swore I’d never say this, I’m pretty sure I’ll miss my weekly deadline too!

After having been virtually tethered to that @*^&%$# publishing deadline for three whole years, I’m not sure I’ll know what to do with myself.

Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll figure something out.

Meanwhile, as I work on the last few installments I’m reminded of something Marshall Dodge told me half a lifetime ago.

“Tim,” he said. “Always try to remember that the greatest stroke of marketing genius ever was the invention of those little stubby seven ounce Coca-Cola bottles.”

He went on to explain: “Each bottle contained about one ounce less Coca-Cola than you really wanted, and before you knew it, you felt like running out to buy yourself another bottle!”