As I write this, I’m basking in the cozy glow of birthday greetings from friends and family that rolled in via text, phone, social media and in person Tuesday. I’m officially seven in reverse dog years now, which I’ve decided is good way to start measuring my age.
Birthdays and anniversaries, besides giving us an opportunity to reach out to one another with words of kindness, which is always a good thing in a world filled with hatred and cruelty, provide a chance to review how we got where we are and where we want to go.
In three weeks the HT will turn 135. A few weeks later we’ll celebrate our third anniversary as owners. It’s a good time to examine where we’ve come from, and where we need to go to keep our community newspaper alive for the next generation.
What is with people who like to pester others via email but won’t talk on the phone or reveal their names and locations? I got an email this week, attached to a chain of emails between an individual whose name comes up as “Centurylink Customer” and our assistant DA. He doesn’t think the punishment doled out to the purveyor of exotic sheep hunts near Dinosaur was harsh enough.
OK. He’s entitled to his opinion, and may even have a point, but by refusing to interact with the ADA or with the newspaper openly, the sender of the emails devalues his own argument. Anyway, we can all debate from here till doomsday whether the sentence Mr. Gates received was too lenient. (See Page 5A for story.)
Our house came with a nifty security nightlight on the electric pole in the alley.
Hubby hated it. He likes to go outside and look at the stars.
I liked the light. I tend to be a fan of those emblems of civilization like security lighting and sidewalks. Last week, unbeknownst to me, hubby asked for the security light to be removed. I didn’t notice.
Until Saturday night, when I was wending my way home from next door, tripped over a tent stake hubby and the grandkids left in the walking path, and went *splat*. Glasses flew off, phone tumbled, knees and hands hit the dirt. Not injured. Just spittin’ mad.
Lesson learned? Don’t take the light in your life for granted.
By Niki Turner | firstname.lastname@example.org