News

Aug 28, 2023

When life needs more sauerkraut

As contrarian as it may sound, this job of mine – editor of the local newspaper

As contrarian as it may sound, this job of mine – editor of the local newspaper and its various special sections, books and magazines – does not allow many opportunities to escape the confines of the office to see and experience much of what's going on in our little corner of the world here in drop-dead beautiful southern West Virginia. Sad to say, I often live vicariously through the stories of others.

Unless it's a weekend.

Even then, a nettlesome trail of leftover duties, of assignments started but not finished – digital and paper – is often left scattered across two different workstations and twin laptop computers, one for each desk down here at news central. It all screams for attention simultaneously in the cerebellum and prefrontal cortex, some raising their voice more loudly and annoyingly than others, but all contributing to what could become a throbbing headache – if I let it. It is a rude interruption to the rhythm of the weekend, my weekend.

And so, I just respond, get the job done, avoid the Tylenol, put it behind me and then carry on with the grilling, the walks, the reading, visiting friends, tending to the patio gardens and – on occasion – trying out a new restaurant.

Man, after all, must eat.

Last fall, our second daughter, Jordan, came to live with us awhile, attending to her job remotely as a growing number of young adults are increasingly content to do. Me? I prefer the office, face time with colleagues, a good conversation, considered opinion, story planning, a belly laugh and the smell of burned popcorn in the newsroom microwave. Occasionally, a reader stops by for a cup of coffee and to share a story from his or her side of the political fence. I like pounding out editorials and columns and reworking copy as the clock ticks inexorably to deadline just a hundred steps or so from where the presses run. I can smell the ink and the paper from where we piece together the day's report.

And, yeah, the weekend trip into the office – when necessary – isn't a terrible gig for a gym rat.

But when Jordie was hanging with us, I reverted more often into my Dad role, looking to have some engaged time with the kid. Around the house we cooked together while drinking cold beers or handcrafted margaritas, compared memories from our college days and talked often of policy initiatives the country could and should pursue to make ours a more decent and caring society.

We laughed often and solved a lot of the world's problems – if only in theory.

There was a short burst of weekend activity last fall when we jumped into an aging ragtop Mustang and felt the weave of the road on the way to one festival or another, from playing celebrity judge at Chili Night here in Beckley to driving up to Bridge Day with an end-of-day pit stop at the Freefolk Brewery. The dogs roaming the property were a nice touch. We finished it off with Railroad Days in the perfect little town of Hinton, where we heard the Parachute Brigade and bought a jar of sauerkraut at the Methodist Church stand.

As someone who just celebrated yet another birthday (lots of candles, now), I fully understand, appreciate and own the expression, "The days are long and the years are short."

Jordie is all grown and in D.C., living her best life in a different job – solving the world's problems, of course, through policy. Her older sister is a hotshot senior financial manager at Procter & Gamble and the little brother – all 6-foot-4 – is a newly minted college grad, off on his own, starting his own business.

Me? I’m planning my work week a little better so that it does not stretch into the weekend.

My weekend.

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