A REAL GOOD GUY

I always said I've been in one place too long when I start looking at the obituaries and see someone I know. It finally happened in Anderson. The man's name was Gary and he was an older gentleman who hung out at Andrew's, the bar I play trivia at on Mondays. It was weird being in there without the funny man who controlled the TV in the corner, but when I got home last night, it made me think about some things.

Sure I've done a lot of neat things in my life, especially since I've moved from home, but have I done anything that defines who I am? The answer, to steal a line from an old musical. No, but I've got a lot of living to do.

Don't get me wrong. I like working in journalism. The money sucks, but it's truly a labor of love. I sit at my desk most nights and listen to all the people around me wish they were anywhere but the office. I'm not one of those types. I want the ball in the clutch time. I think I can make the big shot. But I don't think my job should define who I am. I'm not going to ever make a million dollars, but I like what I do -- for the most part. And yes, I want to work in racing. I get such a good feeling at the race track. I work so hard, but it feels like play. I've done it off and on for the last three years. I've had the kool-aid. There's no turning back.

I hope the few people who read this every day consider me to be a good friend. I hope people I meet think of me as a solid person with some faults. But most of all I wish I had told Gary he was a good guy. I wish I told him I liked talking to him about racing and Braves baseball. I thought it was funny that he heckled me about me football picks in the paper every week.

Everyone feels something about someone. You should make an effort to tell them that while there here...

Sorry to be so morbid today, I'll try to have a better entry tomorrow