Editor's Notes

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don't want to be a richer man
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can't trace time

Yeah, it’s a little cliché to start a column with a song lyric, but I’m a cliché kind of guy. Playing sports made me a sucker for a good cliché. This old Bowie track is pretty dead on for what’s happening with my world at the moment.

The first part of this column will be pontification. The second, explanation. The third, clarification. And finally, a declaration. Because I’m fancy and want you to have a reason to read the whole thing.

It has been drilled into my head, through compliments, that I am uniquely qualified to run this magazine. Due to my background, the life I’ve led. While this may be true, there are so many things that I cover that I have little to no experience with. I have seen my share of atrocities, but I’ve gotten through, for the most part, unscathed.

I forgot to get you all a gift last month. Can you believe that? The nerve.

I’ve got no money, so it can’t be tangible.

I know, I’ll go the deep route. I’m giving you the gift of time.

This will be the shortest Editor’s Notes in the seven years I’ve had this magazine. And maybe the shortest to read as an issue. This is my gift. A quick stay in Foster Focusville with plenty of time to plan your Valentine’s Day festivities.

This month marks two big deal days for me. Since I’m not much of a bragger, this will all be quick.

Home (when an option) is a great place to spend your Holiday season. Familiarity is a good thing when that which is familiar, is beneficial to your health and well-being. It’s the place that made you who you are.

Now, if the adverse is true, well, that’s going to be a terrible couple of weeks. Conversely, what if there’s no home to speak of?

While you wrap your gifts, I try to wrap my head around all these thoughts.

For 30 years or so, I’ve spent my Christmas break in my hometown, Mount Carmel, Pennsylvania.

My struggles continue. Not for lack of effort. If you’ve followed the magazine for any length of time you already know I work tirelessly. Stop. What a dumb word. Tirelessly. I’m exhausted as hell! How could I not be tired? Working so hard is the reason I’m tired. Dumb word. Tirelessly. Anyway.

I say “wow” more than any person on the planet. Now, there are many ways to say wow. You could say, “wow, that’s interesting”, with a sarcastic undertone, making the person you’re talking to feel less than. You can say, “wow, yeah”, in order to keep the conversation moving along. I got places to go and things to do after all. And then there’s the “WOW”. The undeniable. The “I can’t believe what my eyes are seeing”. The “Are there really things in this world as majestic as this?”. The “How did I get so lucky?”. Knock you on your ass, “wow”.

Last month’s Notes were just a mess. Awful. I didn’t have it. Not sure where it went but it clearly vacated my possession. In fact, a lot of my writing has been spotty garbage for the better part of a year. There were some good articles, I like what I did with the foster care and deportation article, but the rest has hidden whatever talent I have. It happens. Peaks and valleys. This is the life of a writer. It’s about the balance I’ve been lacking. It’s about changes of scenery. It’s about inspiration. I’ve been lacking most of these, especially the balance.

“Born to be down. I’ve learned all my lessons before now. Born to be down. I guess I’ll get used to it.”
~Local H

I write this not knowing what tomorrow holds.

I know this is true of everyone, in a sense. No one knows what tomorrow will bring, but I generally have a sense of tomorrow’s schedule. Will it be the same schedule I’ve followed for the last six years or will it be something entirely different?

I am the Owner/Editor/Creator of America’s only monthly foster care magazine. Will that be who I am tomorrow?

It’s tomorrow.

Phil Connors: It's just still once a year, isn't it?