Musings -- on the editor's mind

I have always admired people with skills and talents able to express themselves on the piano or guitar, who build furniture out of salvaged wood, who repair cars or renovate boats.

The camera or paintbrush or hammer and saw becomes an extension of themselves. Their avocation fills their time and bring them joy. Earning income is not the issue. Job work is not life’s sole purpose. Personal satisfaction is. They are at ease, have some peace.

Not me.

I have always strived to combine vocation and avocation. I never matched them for long. I never channeled skills and talents that were not job related into home projects. Damn puritan work ethic. For some people, relaxing isn’t so easy.

My friend Dick had told me for decades that I am a writer. He is right. Words flow from my brain down to my fingertips. Most of them make sense on the page. But I have not gotten personal, long time satisfaction from writing have not found the right outlet or fit.

The truth is, I have known my essential self since my early twenties: I am a social critic. I watch and analyze then am compelled to advocate.

Take love as an example. Long ago I had a girlfriend who wanted to cuddle for hours. Me, I was good for 15 minutes. I then wanted to go to the village square and get on a soapbox and proclaim the virtues of cuddling and call on others to cuddle.

Running this newspaper puts me in synch with myself, divided no longer. I work in a world of words. As editor, one role is to observe, reflect, and write my opinion. As a citizen, I strive to be responsible to the community.

My means and ends are one.

I want no more than this.