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This piece
marks the 100th “Brent Morrison” newspaper column to see print. I
have repeated a few, and on the occasion of Mother Teresa’s death ran a
commentary I authored previously on having met and volunteered with her in
Calcutta. But this is my 100th original effort since the first ran
on July 23, 1997.
It is not in the same class as my 25th wedding anniversary, also
celebrated this summer, nor with writers who have done this for much longer – I
believe Herb Caen set the record at over 18,000. But as it is something of a
milestone for me, please forgive a few personal reflections.
I
am occasionally asked about my credentials for this. My standard response is
that I’m basically just a goofball with a typewriter, which isn’t entirely so; I
switched to a word processor years ago. Still, it is true that I don’t exactly
have a classic writer’s background.
I
started writing for a company newsletter that was published six times annually.
My column ran in every other issue, for a grand total of three a year. It was a
small but prized part of the job.
About three years ago my wife spotted an ad placed by another newspaper seeking
a weekly columnist. After much foot-dragging on my part and persistent
encouragement on hers, I bundled up a few pieces and mailed them in. As I
predicted, the answer was a polite no.
By the time this paper had an opening some months later, the battle on the home
front had already been fought and lost. I packed up a few favorites with hardly
a whimper, sent them off, and waited for the rejection. A few more experiences
like this, I figured, and my wife would go back to urging me to cull the stack
of junk mail in my name that begins on our kitchen counter and ends just this
side of the ionosphere.
But a funny thing happened: the newspaper called. Lifestyle editor Laurie
Clifton liked what she saw, but oddly enough hadn’t signed many certified public
accountants whose previous experience consisted of writing three columns a
year. As she wondered in a reference letter I used in a premature attempt at
syndication, “Could a numbers guy put together whole sentences on a weekly
basis?”
I’ll leave you to decide that, but for good or ill I wouldn’t be here to be
judged without the support of my wife and a tremendous leap of faith on the part
of Laurie. An observation of this moment without an expression of gratitude to
them would be hopelessly incomplete.
That’s how it started; why it continues is another matter. This is more of a
hobby for me than anything, though pretty cheap as pastimes go. I don’t hunt,
own a boat, restore vintage cars, or engage in any of a thousand other pursuits
that drain the wallet as they satisfy. Essentially, I sit in a spare room of my
home, think, and type.
There is something about putting your thoughts in print that forces you to work
them through. I take no offense at disagreement with my interpretations of
things, but do my best to at least get the underlying facts straight.
Accordingly, I have had more than one column end up someplace other than where I
was headed when it began.
So, 90s as it sounds, there is the matter of personal growth. But I also enjoy
the comments and correspondence from readers. Not all of this is flattering,
but precious little has been insulting or rude. Even the anonymous critics have
generally been reasonably civil.
I
don’t know that there will be another 100, or that there won’t. Life gets
awfully busy, and it can seem a little self-indulgent to take scarce time from
my family to pursue what is, as I said, essentially a hobby. I should also note
that our junk mail pile remains one of the few manmade objects visible from
space, kind of like the Great Wall of China.
Either way it’s been a lot of fun thanks to my wife, my editor, and the
readers. My deep gratitude to you all.
© 1997 – 2002 Brent Morrison
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