A birthday luncheon for former BND colleague was just what the doctor ordered
I don’t identify myself as an intensely social person but a get-together I attended this week made me realize how much I had missed personal interaction.
The occasion was a birthday party for a former colleague at the newspaper. It included retired people I had worked with for many years, many from the old lifestyle department, and a few who haven’t made it to retirement yet. Consequently, it was a relaxed affair with a lot of conversation, laughter and memories. I felt elated when I walked in and saw the other eight people arranged around a big table.
It was the kind of thing we took for granted before COVID-19 locked us inside away from other people.
Even though I have the companionship of a loving cat sitting on my lap as I try to write this, it doesn’t carry the same effect as human relations. No matter how hard our cats try, they can entertain but they can’t talk about oddball things at work and at home.
And there were interesting times at the newspaper. We had what we politely called interesting personalities at the newspaper. I like to think I was one of the more sane ones, but I am sure everyone else thought of themselves that way as well.
We recalled what we called the bat phones, two red telephones that were our only independent connections to the outside world. Everyone had a phone extension but they all went through the switchboard and making a long-distance call was a tortured process. A call on the bat phone usually was a news tip and often from the county jail — collect of course. Or else someone hadn’t gotten their paper.
There was the copy editor who always had reruns of Two and A Half Men on the newsroom television set after the late news. I’m pretty sure we had seen the episodes three or four times, but still we laughed.
Then there was the time the fire department came trooping through the newsroom looking for a fire. The guy next to me looked out the window and said “Could this be it?” as two electric wires whipped into each other in the wind, throwing up sparks just a few feet away.
We recalled each other’s small children who came to the newsroom and marveled at how old they are now and how many grandchildren and godchildren we have.
‘Everything is column fodder’
Before, the lunches would break up when everyone had to go back to work. Now, they break up when there are things to do or everyone just wears out from all the food and talking. After all, we were celebrating a 69th birthday and you know how we old folks are. Besides, I think the honoree needed to get out and ride a bunch of miles on his bicycle.
But some things never change. In the old days I would roam the newsroom, listening for tidbits that might spark a column. As another colleague who used to write a column said, “Everything is column fodder.” He said that again the other day.
Ain’t it the truth?