The Times, they aren't a changin' ...

 

Thanksgiving Day this year was a quiet one for our family. Stayed home. No drama, good food and fellowship. This long holiday weekend, too, has been one to stay inside and be productive. Have been looking over old boxes, cleaning out old files. Found this piece I wrote 40 years ago. It appeared as an unsigned “Editorial Comment,” which by most traditions in the newspaper business means it was supposed to reflect the opinion of the paper, not that of an individual writer or columnist. The owners published few editorials of their own. They wanted to avoid controversy that might annoy readers and advertisers. Small town. Didn’t bother me. I didn’t like writing editorials very much because I was, and perhaps still am, too vain to write anonymous pieces, worth reading or not.

About 20 minutes before deadline, at the last minute, the owners this time decided a little word about the holiday would be a nice touch to fill a hole on the front page. The press would roll in fifteen minutes or so. “Make it short, I need it now,” Larry Smith said as he walked by my desk. Blunt. Owned the paper with this wife, Alma. Great story teller, could write like the Dickens, himself. Made good the old fashioned way by marrying the boss’s daughter.

Forty years ago. I now read this today, and it could have been written last week…