Last autumn, I had what could politely be termed a miscommunication with the editor of the local newspaper, the result of which was that he is no longer willing to print my words, regardless of their content. It appears that, for him, the source is everything. He will not print my work again. Period.
I am not complaining.
For several months, trying to put together a weekly column had become rather too great a burden for me to bear -- I had too many irons in the fire, so to speak. Add to that, I was suffering from a severe bout of political burnout. So severe was the sickness that it bordered on loathing for all news, even personal and family sorts. I was ready to chuck the computer, dig out my paints, and go hide in a cabin in the wilderness until I met the ghost of Charlie Russell. Instead, I joined a couple more organizations, made a few more friends, and found more ways to fill my already limited time.
Add to that, I traveled a bit (at the end of September), to meet some members of my family for the first time. I don't take kindly to being wedged into an airplane seat so that my knees are returned to the state of crunch they faced a decade ago, but the visit was worth every aspirin. I am pleased to say, them's good people.
I am still busy, with a newly-loaded social calendar and all the obligations which that will entail. There is also a continued search for lawful income, which may interfere with my creativity. And I am still frustrated over the length of duration of the presidential campaign.
But I do hope I will return to writing about current events, in the near future. After all, we do live in interesting times. Curse though that may be, it does make good kindling in which to spark a good discussion.
Meanwhile, for those who have asked after my work, I offer a postcard from AD 1911:
Thank you for your concern and support.