Echoes of life
Arecent column recalling my experience as an investigative reporter for the Chicago SunTimes prompted surprising responses from readers as far away as California and Cleveland.
My reference to Alan Mutter, then the paper’s city editor, as “wildeyed” and overly stressed on deadline prompted a message from the man I hadn’t heard from in 40 years.
Mutter, who eventually left newspapers for a successful career as a media adviser and consultant in California where he lives today, sent the following: “Hi and hope you and kinfolk are all well … I think the behavior you witnessed resulted from the toxic interaction of cold, bad coffee; outgassing from the Styrofoam cup, and the buildup of urine in my system because I couldn’t leave the desk until after deadline. Then,
Art [Petacque, the paper’s crusty crime reporter] often would follow me into the men’s room to complain about the play of his story. Fun times.
Wish they never ended.
Stay safe. Stay sane.”
Well, so far, Alan, I’ve managed to do at least one of those.
Another response came from Dave Royko in Cleveland. I had mentioned his Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist father Mike Royko as a man who offered few, if any, words when I greeted him in and around the newsroom.
“I enjoyed the column, particularly the dad reference. Yeah, he wasn’t the easiest to get to know,” said Dave. “But hey, at least he wasn’t in a bad mood when you introduced yourself! And I’m impressed by anyone who survives the business as a columnist. I know what it takes. And takes away.”
Dave Royko said he has written for the Huffington Post and maintains his longtime blog about dealing with his son’s severe autism. “On his wall at the office, [Dad] had framed the Samuel Johnson quote, ‘No man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money.’ Of course, I don’t make any from my blog, so count me a blockhead anyway.”
Closer to home, Jerry Bach of Hot Springs Village wrote: “Hi, Mike: You brought back many happy memories in today’s column. I was born and raised in Chicago. When I got too old to work, my wife and I retired and moved to Hot Springs Village. That was in 2000. I walked from the [Chicago] train station to Michigan Ave. every day. When the wind chill was below zero, I would cut through the Sun-Times building for a little warmth and to look at pictures on the wall.
“Of course I was a fan of Mike Royko,” he continued. “Just last week I received an email from a friend who still lives in the Chicago area and who retired as president of the Chicago Automobile Association. His responsibility, among other things, was to run the Chicago Auto Show at the McCormick Place. Keep up the good work.”
It’s reassuring to know people are reading and reacting to these opinions I share three times weekly. As I search for words week after week, I never take for granted you are out there. Comes a time
There comes a time in many of our lives when there are far fewer days ahead than behind and we naturally pause to reflect on the people we’ve become from the process of living.
With enough days, months, years and decades faded over the horizon, it seems normal (for us boomers especially) to ask ourselves questions about the paths we have chosen and the what ifs of those avoided.
For instance, I ask myself today what, if anything, over the years do I feel would have been worth dying for. My immediate answer is family, genuine friends and others closest to me, as well as a deeper principle if it is fundamental to our freedom and preservation of the nation.
I would not include politics, my ability to generate hatred and intolerance toward others, how much vitriol I could spread among fellow human beings, or a tendency to be obsessed with the need to be right rather than happy. The way I see it, all that is irrelevant nonsense and definitely counterproductive to a meaningful and fulfilling temporary stay here.
I also realize I never needed to possess great wealth or the fanciest home or vehicle to gain satisfaction from life. Fulfillment has come instead from shared experiences with loved ones and the peace that invariably arises comes from putting myself in others’ shoes.
Earlier in life I often placed myself and my ambitions at the forefront in some equally irrelevant attempts to validate my worth. That all began changing somewhere around 40 when I realized others couldn’t care less about that stuff because they were absorbed in their own worlds.
Today, I’m most content on the back deck with a soft breeze washing across my face, admiring the lime green and redbud pink of another springtime while rubbing pound rescue Benji’s cute floppy ears and listening to the random melodies from oversized wind chimes.
Interesting, isn’t it, how life and its endless choices and challenges change our priorities, perspective and appreciations with the passing years?
Now go out into the world and treat everyone you meet exactly like you want them to treat you.