Thanks and I’ll see you in February
Thank you. It has been my privilege to have enjoyed a threetimes-a-week, 30-year conversation with many of you. Thirty years sounds like a lot but it reminds me of what a friend’s mother said shortly before she died at 98: “I can’t believe how fast it went.”
I’m giving up my job as a full-time columnist. This will be my last column as an employee of The Bakersfield Californian, so included in my round of “thanks” is one for the people with whom I have worked for more than 35 years.
They deserve thanks given I’ve been somewhat of a challenge. My bosses have tolerated this long, winding and sometimes confounding road. However, as my son Sam said at his good friend’s funeral, “I hope I have represented you well.”
Now seems like a good time to switch gears, but I’d rather not walk away from this relationship cold turkey because we’ve had some fun, maybe shared a few laughs and shed some tears, too. I know I have.
So, starting in February, I plan to write a weekly column that will appear on Sundays. There are no guarantees it will be any good because writing is a no-guarantee kind of business. Writing columns is like running a restaurant. It doesn’t matter how good your clam linguine is today, it better be hot and tasty tomorrow.
I’ve written close to 5,000 columns, and in doing so I’ve learned not to wait for inspiration. Better to write and hope the inspiration finds you about six paragraphs down.
If not “six paragraphs down,” inspiration comes from our readers. Their stories, their lives, their essential decency. It’s always been about the readers for me. The people who like me as well as the people who don’t. I’ve wanted to be good enough in every column for those who do and better the next time for those who may not.
Writing works when it serves the reader and when it informs, touches or entertains. Words count, maybe not a lot, but they count some and writing has been my way of going to church.
I’ve been Lou Gehrig lucky, though without his talent, speed, power and national audience. I’ve been able to write about so many interesting characters and what you find is the greatest people may not be the richest people or the most famous people. There may be no tastier soup for a newspaper than Bakersfield and the people who live in this crazy, whacked-out, diverse place.
Why am I doing this? Giving up a platform, giving up the best job I’ve ever had?
Like most people past about age 60, I’ve been doing the math and, although it can be invigorating to know you may have a certain number of years left in your life and perhaps even fewer good years, a man can get covetous of the time remaining. I’d like to do a few things, maybe creative things, but those are easy to talk about but harder to do.
As Jon Bon Jovi said, “I want to live while I’m alive,” and that’s where I’ve been lucky, too. Writing about my life, the lives of people in the community, my children, their friends, my grandkids, has been a wonderful way of living while I’m alive. I hope in the two minutes or less it takes to read these columns, we’ve been alive together.
If not, take a brisk morning walk or jump in a cold pool. That will do the trick, too.
With or without me, keep reading the paper. The Californian has always been faithful in reporting and writing as accurately about the community as possible, and much of the history of Bakersfield has been told through its pages, and so will its future. We’ve had and have some great reporters, photographers, editors, layout people and everybody else who’s pulled an oar.
More thank-yous. Sue, for being a good sport and my first line of editing defense, our kids and our four grandchildren who have become my muses. Thanks to many of the wonderful people with whom I worked at the paper: Pete, for encouraging me to start a 401(k); Chuck Roames and Bob Bentley for giving me a chance; and Mimi, Joan, Jennifer, Lois, Alex, Logan and Stef for the editing — that couldn’t have been fun.
This is a great life and 30, 60, 90 years pass in an instant, which is the reason to treasure every moment you can. Drink ice-cold champagne, drag yourself out of bed for a sunrise or two, pour heavy cream in your coffee and then heap in the sugar. Maximize the joy, pleasure and fun. Especially the fun part. People like you make that quest easier. Thank you. Much love, Herb