Two years ago, I was sitting with a few of my coworkers in Ron Barnes’ living room for the first time. He wanted to talk through an idea he had for his farewell column in the Daily Courier about the hospice services he was receiving and what the care meant to him. After some discussion, I volunteered to put some ideas down for inspiration and email them to him, then we could meet again and talk more. What I didn’t know that day was the person being inspired was actually me.
When I showed up for the next meeting, he had a glass of water set out in front of my seat on the couch, a printout of my email in his hands, and a serious look on his face. “Where did you learn to write like this?” he asked. I was a little flustered and not quite sure what to say. Ron said he’d like to put in a good word for me at the newspaper, and while he couldn’t guarantee it, he thought they might be open to a new writer taking his place since this was going to be his last column. Would I be willing to commit to writing a column every other week if they said yes?
Sometimes an opportunity comes along that you never even imagined. When it shows up, it’s much easier to say no and keep doing what you’ve always done. My life was already busy, so the thought of adding one more obligation made me think twice. Dozens of excuses filled my head as he asked me to email the editor a couple of sample columns to send along with his recommendation. Could I really write a column? What if I ran out of story ideas? What if no one read it? What if I ended up in the “Rant” section? What if I wasn’t really a writer after all?
That last question was the biggest one for me. Sure, I had written lots of papers in college, joined a couple of local creative writing groups, and started a few (now abandoned) blogs, but writing seemed like a hobby to do later when I was retired and had more time. Plus, my procrastination gene is strong and a column assignment has specific deadlines and requirements. But it’s hard to say no to Ron Barnes when he believes you could do something, so I said yes.
It’s scary to try something new, especially when you know you’ll be stepping into the shoes of a well-loved and respected columnist and community member. There are weeks when 650 words feel like an impossible mountain to climb. I fidget at my desk, get up for multiple snack breaks and play with the dogs. Sometimes Mike pokes his head into my office and tells me he’s going to bed, and I look at the clock and scold myself for not working on the column earlier, instead of taking it down to the wire. I imagine Daily Courier reporters cranking out multiple stories on deadline, day after day. I type and erase sentences, but keep going: type, snacks, dogs, repeat.
Finally, it’s finished. I spellcheck and replace all the double spaces at the end of my sentences, an ingrained habit from tenth-grade typing class. I hit send and am relieved to be done for another two weeks. But I am also incredibly grateful. Grateful that Ron saw something in me that I didn’t recognize in myself. Grateful for the kind words I’ve received from folks in this community who take the time to read my column and tell me they enjoyed what I wrote or share ideas for a future column. Grateful for the chance to stretch my brain and get out of my comfort zone for a few hours every other week.
Ron is still here and sends emails once in a while, to let me know he enjoyed a column. He called last week and I managed to pick up before it rolled to voicemail. We talked a bit and I was glad to hear he was doing okay, getting out with friends on car rides to enjoy the fall weather and keeping up with the news around this town he’s been a part of for so long. I joked about giving him his column back. He laughed and said no. And I hope 30 years from now, I might be sitting across from someone in my living room, holding a piece of their writing in my hand, encouraging them to try something they couldn’t imagine they would ever do.