Life in Half Tone
My mother-in-law cleared out some drawers today and came across a couple of my old newspaper columns, which she sent home with Krissy. So I uploaded one of them so you could get a kick out of me with hair. This particular column is date June 11, 1995, so I would have been 26 in that picture. Such a clean-cut young man I was. You would hardly know that I would become the depraved monster I am today.
I did intentionally crop the column so you can’t really read it; it’s not that good. I do regret to say that while I did achieve one of my life’s goals — becoming a syndicated newspaper columnist — at the tender age of 25, at the time I was usually more clever than I was good. The “good” part would have to wait a couple more years, until I had spent a year being an editor taking apart other people’s writing to make it better, which gave me the perspective to look on my own writing and realize, yikes, not anywhere as good as I had assumed. That was an interesting ego day, I will tell you.
I do still look back on my time as a newspaper columnist with fondness, however. I have friends who are still print columnists, and I kinda envy them the gig. You can imagine yourself as part of a line that includes Molly Ivins and Mike Royko and H.L. Mencken and such. It’s not a bad club to feel a part of.