Beware of anything written in red
The good thing about writing for a newspaper is that you get to hear from readers. The bad thing about writing for a newspaper is that you get to hear from readers.
In the good old days, you knew immediately if someone verged on the unstable. The letter’s envelope told you so. CRAIG WILSON,
REPORTER? it would pronounce in big bold letters.
Inside there would be a rambling letter, written in capital letters and alternating between black ink and red ink. The red ink emphasized what was most important.
Readers’ missives today, in the form of e-mails, are more subtle. It takes a bit longer now to figure out how crazy someone is. Length is often a giveaway. Five screens? Close and delete.
Another giveaway is the subject line: THIS IS THE TRUTH ABOUT YOU AND YOUR COLUMN!
But sometimes criticism is a gift that keeps on giving. Years ago, I got my favorite e-mail of all time.
Mr. Wilson: re: column. Certain people should not attempt humor, sir. I do believe you are one of those people.
That brief e-mail has given me years of enjoyment.
But I’ve discovered there’s another way to measure a person’s state of mind: luggage.
I’ve just returned from vacation in Zanzibar. Yes, it exists, although I tended to agree with my friend Erin, who confessed she always thought it was a make-believe place. And in order to get to make-believe places, you have to spend hours watching luggage circulate on airport conveyor belts. And luggage, like letters written in red, can reveal much about a person.
Over the years, I’ve seen bags, like their people, wrapped in pink boas. I’ve seen luggage that read “NOT
YOURS!” spelled out in masking tape. Red, of course.
And just the other day, in the Addis Ababa airport, I saw a man pulling a one-of-a-kind carry-on. Floral. Think cabbage rose chintz. I followed him for a while, marveling at his eccentricity and security. But then I turned back. I have learned that a man and his luggage are best left alone. Just like a man and his red-ink pen.