My Sunday routine has certain consistent elements. I shave, brush my teeth, then work out for a bit. A shower leads to a pot of coffee, and I settle in to read the paper. A little catch-up in my office, then whatever is on the docket for the afternoon: an outing to a movie or a concert, getting together with friends, or just as likely a long walk. But regardless of how the day progresses, all roads lead back to my desk, where I peruse this weekly musing one final time before pressing the button that shoots it off to be seen by you and others. And today? Basically, no different than any of those prior efforts, with one small footnote: the words you are reading represent the 1400th time I have pressed "send."
On the weekly installment plan that I (and you) are on, the math works out to not quite 27 years. That takes us back to a start time of 1995, when a gallon of gas was $1.09, a stamp was 32 cents and the average price of a car was $15,500. Today those numbers are $3.78, 60 cents and a shade over $48,000 respectively. And the cost of this column? The same was it was when it started. By that metric alone it's a good deal.
However, for those of you who have dipped your toe in along the way, the investment hasn't been monetary but temporal. And while it may be small, the most valuable thing you have is your time, and I am taking a nibble of that very finite supply. As such, any return on investment should be held to a higher standard. Using that measure I hope you feel you have gotten at least fair market value.
What evidence is there that it has been worth those moments? Well, had you not been a reader, you might not have learned about Americans' love of hot sauce (#1367 "Some Like It Hot"). Nor that the Four Seasons restaurant in New York City hung their Picasso Curtain with a staple gun (#984 "Hanging Around"). Nor about an effort to create an Indian football league featuring the Delhi Defenders and the Goa Swarm (#840 "Bill's Excellent Adventure"). Nor about certain idiosyncrasies involving Greek yogurt, North Korea or underwear. Not at the same time, mind you, though who knows what future explorations will reveal.
As to that future, I can say that there is one. When I started this effort, I assumed that I would write a bunch of installments, a book deal would materialize, and I would punt in favor of greener pastures. Alas, it was not to be. And so I continue to add to the body of work, not because of a quest for fame and fortune (though that would be nice, too) but because enough of you encourage me on a weekly basis with kind words. While I'm not one to point fingers, if you must blame someone for this nearly three-decade march, blame them.
I guess the question is when do I know it's enough? From the supply side there seems to be never-ending grist for the mill. I see in my "to do" folder notes about fake holidays, snoring and missing vowels. And like many of my ilk, I have yet to weigh in on the lowest of low hanging fruit, that of pickleball. My apologies in advance for that one, but we still have plenty of fish to fry regardless.
The late Pulitzer Prize winning columnist Charles Krauthammer once said, "Longevity, for a columnist, is a simple proposition: Once you start, you don't stop. You do it until you die or can no longer put a sentence together." Well, I can assure you I am very much alive, and while it might not always be elegant, I am still able to construct the later. As such, I will keep fighting the good fight. I have said this before but it bears repeating: if you keep reading I will keep writing. I know, I know, in the "what's in it for me" department that's not much of a quid pro quo. But it's all I can offer. And so I will press "send" again next week, adding yet another chance to increase our joint ROI.
-END-
Marc Wollin of Bedford thanks all for spending a few moments with him regularly or otherwise. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.
No comments:
Post a Comment