Mike made me laugh. On myself.
I was busy writing my column so we talked only on the phone.
Then my friend said, “Okay, I will let you come back so that you can pick up some cat.” I laughed
“Pick up some cat!” I repeated, thought but smiling. I told him that I will write below for future columns. And so it starts … picking me up some cat.
Or not. Because I do not lift much cat in the spread of this small brain, because I take out every week. I wonder if you like something. After all, I am seen in a newspaper.
It took me some time to grow in this voice. It is often personal, just talking to me that the campfire, pet, memories of the smell and small things like you can travel or see differently as if you can grow up.
This column is an individual magazine compared to a vivid sword hacking a path through the forest of injustice and evil in the world. This anchored me in journalism. That fight for truth, justice and American ways.
I wanted to use words to create a difference and my sacred grave was “truth”. And this is a sacred grave … as is a mythical, mythological treasure that we all have great power but fail to make sense somehow.
I bend in a keyboard every week with (literally) ideas about my desk and think of the burning world. There is always a crisis with suffering people and many dying people. Sometimes hope looks so delicate.
Yes, I could write about chaos every week. But so many others already do. Partition in our country and our own communities is clear. I come to accept it as a given as a given.
Still … a part of mine wants to join and join the fist and tells everyone how I feel about day issues … Even though I am not always sure. But I don’t know. I have very little benefit in increasing that cat. What could I say that not already said many times?
So I am here. To dissect my purpose. I have no command on “truth”. I do not expect everything I write will change the world. But should I try? Was it part of the pledge I had made with the mission of journalism? no not really. At least not for me.
If I talk about the truth, then they are only observations that I find true. Only me.
I hope my words kept a stagnation in the “rat race” and a halt in the hot debate – an invitation for you to get away from the day’s demands and clammers. Take some time to think about your small world.
I rarely know what I will write about. I surprise myself. This happens when you start reshuffling and dealing with thoughts and feelings.
I want you to feel that surprise too. To have a moment in your day when you stop and listen to yourself – not me – but yourself.
Now … I want to raise such a cat … on fire in this world.
, Loni CanThe retired managing editor of the Times in Ottawa was also a reporter for Herald-News in Jolyet in the 1970s. Their paperwork is email [email protected]Or Mail the Times, 110 W Jefferson St., Ottawa, IL 61350.