For some reason lately, it seems I’ve been talking to people born in the same year that I was … 1958.
It’s just been kind of odd to have us 67 or 68 year olds chatting and sharing some common interests.
One of those people was Shelton Johnson, who just turned 68, as will I next month. The second part of the series I wrote about him appears in today’s edition.
Not long into the interview with Johnson, he began talking about his “first memory” as a human being. Like many of us, he was just five years old when it happened.
That tragic memory was of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. I distinctly remember that and it’s my first real memory, as well.
Johnson was in Germany as a military brat. I was in Indiana, attending first grade. Yes, back then, there was no kindergarten, so us young ones went into first grade and is why I graduated high school at age 17.
The memory is so vivid as I was in a classroom when the school buses pulled up early and we were all dismissed and taken home. There, the black and white television was on for days as the country — and world — mourned the death of our president.
For Johnson, he remembers it well, too, only his perspective is how the German people were saddened and shocked by what had transpired.
Oh, the 1958 crowd.
Here’s another little known fact about some of us born around that time.
We did not register for the Selective Service.
Couldn’t.
Because of the Vietnam War and its aftermath, there was a period of time when the draft was eliminated. Gone. Nobody could register.
It’s a small window and the draft was quickly reinstated, but not retroactively.
Believe it or not, some people have criticized me for not registering for the draft. Go ahead, criticize me for something I could not physically do. It has nothing to do with my respect for the military and people who serve.
In fact, just last week I was showing someone around Mariposa and we were at the courthouse where the Mariposa County Veterans Memorial is located. There is an inscription on the back honoring veterans.
Those are my words.
I’ve told a few people it’s one of the things I am most proud of when it comes to my 10 years in Mariposa County. That we, as newspaper owners, were able to work for several years on the committee to erect the memorial and that they asked me to write those words is an honor.
They will live on well past my expiration date — even though I have never had a draft card.
Some of these recent experiences have made me think a lot about the aging process, what it means and even what it doesn’t mean.
Many people ask me when I’m going to retire.
I sometimes tell them it’s likely I will be found dead with my head planted on my keyboard at the newspaper office. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go if you ask me. Doing what I love.
I don’t really have an answer to that question. First of all, when you own a small business, many times the answer is quite simple: “Never.”
I hope that’s not the case. I would like to have at least some time to do retirement things, whatever that means.
On the other hand, I really believe that what I do keeps my mind working well, keeps me in somewhat of decent shape and that I, and all of us here, continue to make a difference in the world.
That’s rewarding work and something I have cherished my entire career.
So that long-winded answer to a simple question is actually pathetic and means little. Never may be in the cards.
Along those same lines, I can attest to what people have told me over the years: Getting old sucks.
Aches last longer. Medical visits are more frequent, though I have prided myself on making sure I do see doctors and at least make some attempt to follow certain guidelines.
Getting older also means putting things into a different perspective. Unlike when you are young and fearless, as you age (and hopefully mature, though the jury remains out), the perspective you have changes.
No longer does anger boil up instantly; it’s more like a steady stewing that can reach a boiling point. More often than not, though, it just slips away and life goes on.
I learned that lesson many years ago when I quit getting angry when my car broke down. I would go into a rage. Now I just call a tow truck and let the chips fall where they may. It is a machine, you know. Machines break.
It has also been interesting lately thinking about the profession I have been in for decades. When talking recently to a young reporter candidate, I explained how even though technology has changed the way we put together the newspaper, the same process are still in place on the printing press.
The same is true in gathering news in a fair way and presenting it to the reading public. That has not changed, at least inside this building. I told her we are “old school,” which I believe is an advantage.
At a recent gathering I attended where many of those who were there work in the digital-only world, I tried to make that point. I was handed a microphone, which is always a dangerous venture, and asked to say a few words to this group of digital nerds.
I told them one of the things they were forgetting when thinking about the future of the news business was looking in the past. Why were newspapers so successful? What were they doing that you aren’t?
I firmly believe the past can teach valuable lessons for the present and future. If we forget what shaped our industry in the past, we may be overlooking a critical element in the future.
I don’t think they really took what I was saying seriously, but I do believe that, one day, they may reflect on that scenario and maybe will implement some of it to change things around.
Maybe my “wisdom” of being an old geezer can have some influence on the future.
Maybe not.
Either way, I can say I at least tried to make a difference and gave some guidance in a semi-intelligent way, I think.
Now, to find a pillow for my keyboard to make a soft landing.
Greg Little is editor of the Mariposa Gazette and can be reached at greg@mariposagazette.com
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