Let’s enjoy life’s ups and downs together
It’s a new year. Sunday would be my father’s 77th birthday. And it’s the second new year without my mother. And December was far too warm, and far too snow-deprived for this winter baby. And I have too many “friends” who I’ve never met, so I’m doing some major weeding on my social network. And my black Labrador has eaten my blanket, my rabbit ear muffs, and the crucifix I had blessed by the pope.
All of these things matter to me, and since I have the luxury of a very loud bully pulpit (thanks, Phil) I am telling you about it. If you don’t care, you can turn the page because I’m sure there is some good Samaritan doing something wonderful in Delaware County and you should focus on that and not my whining.
But I have a sense that you like my whining, judging from the emails that I get. Some of you just like it because it gives you ammunition to attack me as a (take your pick) misanthrope, bigot, sexist, homophobe, conservative (which for you is a tidy way of saying all of the previous in one fell swoop) or clueless rhymes with witch. Others agree with me, and find solace in my rants because it proves to you that you are not alone in your wilderness of annoyance.
And so, my friends and foes, including the people I intermittently annoy because you intermittently agree with me, to your horror, I will continue to write about the things that bother me personally in this wonderful new year, which stretches ahead like a fresh blank page filled with possible fresh new hells (appreciative nod to Dorothy Parker.)
To those of you who think my gaze stops at my navel far too often, and who wonder who gave me the right to pontificate about the world, I promise that I’ll make a sincere effort to look outside of myself and talk about things that matter to you, like whether El Nino really has caused the unusual warm spell we’re experiencing (and whether he illegally entered the country) or whether Chip Kelly deserved to get kicked to the curb (he did) or whether Bill Cosby should be convicted of rape (um, nope) or whether Monsignor William Lynn should be released from prison (um, yes) or whether Bill Clinton should be allowed back in the White House (um, not with Hillary.) And I promise that my columns will not be limited to men named Bill.
I will try to branch out and speak to those of you who read my column and ask you for suggestions on what you would personally like to hear about, because I’m often accused of not focusing on the “community,” whatever that is. I must say that when I focus on the “community,” I’m a bit confused about its parameters and the zip code I’m supposed to be concentrating on, whether it be geographic, political or philosophical. I am interested in what goes on in the county, but I spend most of my days in the city of Philadelphia beyond its reach, and I spend the greatest portion of the out-of-county day with people who are from “out of country,” including all of the immigrants who sit in my front office and tell me more about our dysfunctional government than any poll or any talking head on TV. So those of you who think I should be worried more about the proposed Wawa at the corner than the proposed wall at the border will probably not find much of interest in this column.
On the other hand, if you have an interesting life story, I want to hear it. My own life story includes doozy episodes, like the time I saw a man dressed up as Santa Claus fall into the fireplace and was told “no, Santa isn’t dead, he just tripped.” Years later, I found out that Santa had had a little too much holiday cheer before making it to my house. Then there was the story about the baby sitter who almost burned down our house and served mashed potatoes with a few acrylic nails in it (you can’t get a good manicure in Delco, apparently.) These are my tales, and I will weave them for you, but I’m always open to channeling your own as well.
But this year, especially, I want to focus on the greater world, particularly with an election on the horizon that will change the course of our nation for years to come. I want to talk about Trump, and Hill, and Teddy, and Marco, and Ben, and Carly, and whoever else makes it to the finish line. I will be thrilled to have the enemy in our midst this summer, when the Democrats come to town, and I cannot wait to see what good things happen when Gov. Tom Wolf finally signs that budget in December of 2016.
This real estate is valuable to me, and I am cognizant of the fact that I am privileged to have it. I am far from the best writer at this paper, and I clearly hold views that don’t jive with a lot of the people who read me (or edit me …) That’s why I am humble enough to realize that this will not last forever.
But it will last for this year. With that in mind, I wish you a wonderful start to an exciting new adventure in living, and I hope that we will enjoy the ups, downs, bends, curves and detours together.
Happy New Year, touch.
keep
in