1937 - Born in Frankfort, Indiana.
1942 - Rode tricycle off curb. Immediate and awful swelling
in what was then called the “privates.” I have never been the same.
1943-1944 - After grandfather died, we moved to his farm. No
electricity or indoor plumbing, but we did have cows, chickens
and horses. Dad kept full-time job as salesman in town and
instructed me and older brother, Jim, on gathering eggs and
milking cows. The gathering was a breeze, the milking wasn’t.
Cow named Big Red kicked when tits were touched, providing
valuable lesson for later life. Situation complicated because
neither Jim nor I had hands strong enough to squeeze once
tit-touching accomplished. Farm boy Dad couldn’t comprehend
such incompetence. If anyone milked the horses, it wasn’t me.
1945 - Farm sold. Moved back to Frankfort. Stories about Big
Red get better as years pass.
1951 or thereabouts - Front page of Frankfort Morning Times
reports that Halloween “vandals” messed with chains holding
street lights up. A friend, Jim Painter, and I had a hell of a lot of
fun doing it and we didn’t break anything.
you consider being voted “Class Clown” an honor.
1955-1959 - Officially enrolled at Indiana University. Even
attended a class now and then. While working part-time as a disc
jockey in Bedford, Indiana, told by radio station owner: “Sarcasm
doesn’t go in a small market.” I didn't believe her.
1960 - Married the first Hungarian I ever met, a student at
Indiana University and a woman to boot. Practiced for hours
saying “stuffed cabbage” in Hungarian but in-laws always rolled
eyes and looked away when I said it. (To this day I haven’t looked
up the Hungarian word for “snickering.”)
1960-1965 - Writer-editor for UPI in Chicago. Little money but
profitable in terms of vast improvement in drinking capacity.
1965-1968 - Writer-editor at ABC Radio News in New York. Rode
Long Island Rail Road to and from work, always sitting in the
smoking car, smoking. For this alone I should go to hell.
Early 1969-1971 - Editor in English-language newsroom at Radio
Free Europe in Munich. Bought a how-to-speak German book. Went
to store and confidently announced I wanted a dozen “augen.” Didn’t
get them. Thanks to a kindly German, did leave with a dozen eggs
and not the dozen eyes that I asked for.
1971-1973 - Writer-producer at CBS News, Radio in New York.
Met Gary Swigert (not his real name), a writer who had been on
the overnight shift for so long, riding the same nearly empty
commuter train that all the conductors thought he was one of them
and never asked for a ticket. Which was good because he didn’t have
one.
1973-1980 - Back to RFE in Munich. Promoted to Senior News
Editor and later Assistant News Director. Learned enough German
to buy a beer, get a room and ask for a ski lift ticket. Never could
figure out how much money any of the Germans were asking me
to hand over because these folks say their numbers backwards.
(Note that I left the United States every time Dick Nixon was elected
President.)
1980-1998 - Informed by Irene, my wife, that we were returning to
States, contacted CBS News, Radio and was rehired, this time as an
editor. Swigert still there. Still riding without a ticket. After a year
or two moved to television news as a manager and met Bill O'Reilly.
Soon returned to radio. Named Executive Editor. Entry into radio
Management coincided with drastic decline in morale company-wide.
Not entirely my fault. Top honchos made a series of brilliant moves,
among them firing non-union personnel during writers’ strike.
1999-2006 - After loafing for a year, answered newspaper ad and
went to work at a place with many managers. Approximately 1,373
too many. This meant the focus was usually on protecting turf not
on turning out readable, coherent copy. Management's other big
concern was frequent mass e-mailings to the staff on transit conditions,
including times for ferry sailings. Swigert had retired by this time or
would have alerted him about the ferry sailings in case he wanted to try
his luck at a free ride on water.
2006 - Retired. With lots of free time learned lots of new things,
including how to send text messages. (Deleting sent messages remains
a mystery. Not too long ago oldest granddaughter, Rachel, deleted
774 of them for me.) Other things I've learned since retiring--how
enjoyable it is to eat lunch in a restaurant rather than at your desk
and how to play the publishing game. I sucked up to old friend who
knows a publisher, leading to contract with Sunstone Press to publish
"Did I Really Change My Underwear Every Day?"
