By Phil Goldstein | NorthFortyNews.com
It’s November, hence my annual Thanksgiving message. First and foremost, thanks to North Forty News Publisher Blaine Howerton for providing me the opportunity to finally use my West Virginia University journalism degree. What began 85 columns and 6-plus years ago as merely news and information about our then-little town eventually morphed into my therapy of sorts, a satirical soapbox for addressing life’s frustrations and frustraters. Please support independent journalism in Northern Colorado by reading and donating to NFN.
I’m certainly thankful for my wife Amy. She thinks I’m too controlling, but I’ve told her she isn’t allowed to have that opinion. She’s also the in-house editor who reads my stuff and says, “You can’t say that!”
I’m grateful for lessons my parents taught me: Never go along to get along; just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should; confidence is quiet, insecurity is loud; and, don’t keep up with the Joneses, BE the Joneses. They also insisted that they knew which company made the best cars, which is why I had to drive a rusting 1960 Studebaker Lark station wagon throughout high school.
I’m thankful that I finally understand that I shouldn’t expect a single reply when inviting members of a group of friends to do something until they’ve each had a chance to check with the others to see if they’re going.
Regarding credibility in discourse, I’m glad I learned that anybody who says, “I know for a fact,” doesn’t, and that it’s useless to debate anyone over the age of 21 still living at home… and maybe their parents.
I’m thankful that I learned, when negotiating anything, that there’s always one more question I should have asked.
I’m glad I learned that, when meeting new people, the likelihood that they’ll at least pretend to be as interested in me as I pretend to be in them is inversely proportional to the size of their houses and boats.
I’m thankful that I finally learned to better prioritize my hobbies. In particular, I decided I’d rather be a good drummer—I play in a rock, blues and country band—than a better pickleball player. Four pickleball-related surgeries in three years helped me shift my focus.
I’m glad that college athletics, my former 30-year career, has gone incomprehensively out of control with its illogical salaries, name, image and likeness payments, and transfer portal leniency. I finally have a good reason to stop watching.
Finally, I’m thankful for the many NFN readers who consistently tell me they appreciate my work, especially the satire that helps me sleep at night. Knowing that there are plenty of people who relate to my farcical musings is certainly worth celebrating on the fourth Thursday in November.
Phil Goldstein is in his sixth year writing Tales from Timnath for North Forty News. Phil is a 16-year Timnath resident who is finally using his West Virginia University journalism degree after getting sidetracked 53 years ago. The views expressed herein are Phil’s only. Contact him with comments on the column at [email protected].