A career’s worth of columns and memories that mean nothing ... and everything
It’s a conversation that I’ve had a hundred times since I started writing this column 27 years ago.
Scenario: I’m introduced by a friend, to a friend, of a friend, to a friend.
“… Terry writes a column for the local newspaper,” says my friend.
“Newspaper columnist?”
Often, they look surprised. I must not look like a good speller. My natural dazed, confused looks can be deceiving.
“Freelance … for fun,” I explain.
“How many columns have you written?”
“No idea. Hundreds. One at a time. Literally.”
“What do you write about?”
That’s when the confusion begins.
“Nothing specific. Sunday morning reading. Slices of life.”
“Slices of life?”
“Pieces of my life. Thoughts. Memories. Experiences. Light on opinions. Nothing much, really.”
“You write about nothing?”
“Mostly. But everything, sometimes.”
“You write about politics, right? Plenty to write there.”
“Never. I wrote once about being elected PTO president at my kids’ grade school. That is when I learned to sit on my hands.”
“You write about headline news?”
“Never. If it didn’t happen at least 50 years ago, somewhere on a sandlot or school grounds in East St. Louis, it’s not news to me.”
“You are one of those handyman columnists. Mr. Fix-it?”
I laugh. “Hardly. I can’t fix a sandwich. Many years ago, I wrote about my late dad and I putting up a basketball pole and hoop in my driveway. We used enough concrete to build a parking garage. Great memory.”
“History. You write about special moments in time, right?”
“Sure. Lots of history. About my old grade school, St. Philip’s in East St. Louis. And growing up on Terrace Drive in East St. Louis and Loisel Hills. High School. I was lucky to grow up in the best era ever to grow up. Simpler times. We had it all — safety, security, freedom. Mississippi River Festival. Corky the Clown. Combat. Imagine — we didn’t have one password. Our parents were The Greatest Generation. We are the Luckiest Generation.”
“You write about people -- personality profiles?”
“Sure. I have written about old friends. One of my favorites was about old friend, Charlie Leonard of Belleville, after he died suddenly. I have written about my teachers and coaches. George Martz. Glenn Schott. Lou Wappel. Barney Elser. Wrote about an old work buddy, Jimmy Klein, down in Cairo, after he passed. Wrote a few times about my old friend and coach, R.J. Krause, of East St. Louis. There will never be another R.J. “
“Ever write about your family?”
“A lot. I have written about my late mom and dad a lot. More than a few Mother’s Day tributes and could write many more. I wrote about my Aunt Marie Tockstein a few years ago. She was one-of-a-kind. I have written about my two kids, now adults. They have had to put up with their old man in the newspaper. I’ve tried not to embarrass them. And my grandson has made the paper.“
“Are you a music critic?”
“I wrote once about the best theme songs of my life. I thought it was funny. Readers took it seriously. A few years ago, I wrote my own lyrics to a country song in a column. It wasn’t a hit.”
“What about movies and theater? You critique movies.”
“I wrote about how I watched ‘Hoosiers’ at least 30 times during COVID. I wrote about going to The Muny at Forest Park for the first time. It was a hot, humid July evening. I was looking around for a beer or sno-cone stand and a scoreboard to check the Cardinals score.”
“Answer man?”
“There is only one. He is retired. His name is Roger Schlueter. Best ever.”
“Sports?”
I am a sports guy at heart. I have written about sports too often. Or not enough. Depends on the reader.”
“Self-help advice?”
“I have little advice worth sharing. Pay your bills. Be kind to people. Work hard. Say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Ask for help. Mind your business.”
“So you really do write about nothing?”
“Nothing, really. But everything sometimes. A lot like today’s column. Just depends on where you are in life.”
