It's a learning experience

The editor and publisher of the paper I was working for asked me why my title was assistant editor.

"I'm the editor," he said. "You aren't my assistant."

I was dumbstruck. I was working for him after all. If he didn't want my title to be assistant editor, shouldn't -- couldn't -- he change it?

I quit referring to myself as assistant editor after that, regardless of what my business card said. I functioned more like a city editor, so I started calling myself a city editor.

I was reminded of that today by seeing a posting for a job at the paper I worked for back then -- a posting for an assistant editor.

It surprised me for many reasons. One, is that a news posting for any news job in Oregon seems pretty amazing these days. But I was mostly surprised to see that the title was still the same, even all these years after I left. It was 15 years ago this month that I left that job on the Southern Oregon coast.

I was there a little more than two years. At the time, it felt like a lifetime. I made some good friends there though. Some of the people who were important back then in my personal and work life are still among my friend and several are among my Facebook contacts.

It was, as many people told me during my early career about work situations that were painful or difficult, a great learning experience. I hated the stress. I hated the rain. Perhaps that's why the bonds with the people were so long lasting. Enduring adversity together makes for strong bonds.

The news business has changed significantly since then. That paper, The World, in Coos Bay, has changed a lot too, including it's ownership, which has changed at least twice since my posting in the early-to-mid 1990s. According to the job listing, The World has gotten smaller too. It has lost about a third of the circulation it had back then.

The posting got me thinking about those days and those times. I'm glad I was there. It led me on to bigger and better things professionally. But I wouldn't want to go back. It's a smaller world after all.

If you can't go home, sometimes home can come to you

Tom Wolfe wrote the book "You Can't go Home Again." I used to think Wolfe's title was right. I left the small town where I grew up 24 years ago for college and have been gone pretty much ever since, except for a couple of years in my mid 2os. The reason I used to think Wolfe was right about not being able to go home is that the home we return to isn't how, or what, we remember. The place changes. We change. Life goes on. But the truth is, there's really no need to try to go back to something that never leaves you. You take home with you wherever you go.

Friday night, home came to visit me.

Actually, we met up in McMinnville, where my alma mater was playing in a state football playoff game. The Echo Cougars vs. the Perrydale Pirates. To give you an idea of how small my town and school was, and still is, they compete in a league that plays 8-man football and many -- most -- of the players play virtually every play, on offense and defense. There was no cheerleading squad, just students and parents, cheering and changing in the stands.

Unfortunately, my old school, the Cougs, didn't win, but I feel like I did. I got to see some old friends, who now have children or nephews playing on the team and get caught up on some of the quarter century of life that's passed since we spent time together. Back then, I couldn't wait to get out of town. I felt trapped. Suffocated. People knew way too much about me and my business. But Friday night if felt good to be feel so at home, if only for a little while.

Reliving the gory, glory days

This upcoming weekend, the Fourth of July weekend, is one I've been looking forward to for a long time. Now, for some unexplained reason, I find myself having mixed emotions about it.

I've been looking forward to it for months now because there is a reunion in my old hometown and I'm hoping to see a lot of old friends from school, many of whom I probably haven't seen in 20 years or more.

Our school was quite small, so we can't really have traditional high school reunions, where a particular class gathers at those various milestone years -- 5, 10, 20, 25 years, etc. If we did that for my class, there would only be 17 of us there, and spouses perhaps, and that's if everyone showed up, and if I'm rightly remembering the number of people in my class. Obviously, everyone would not show up. So, every so often a school/community reunion is scheduled where everyone from any year, or who has ever just lived in the community can show up. So, that might improve the odds that more than 17 people will be there, but it also means that people far younger, or older, than I and whom I don't even know will be there. It's not just classmates, or even immediate year schoolmates.

I already know at least one of my classmates, and the guy who was my best friend from second grade through college, won't be there. He has a family event to attend for the holiday weekend.

Maybe part of the reason I'm having mixed feelings is because I'm skipping out on a family event myself to attend this school/community reunion. But this is only the second school reunion like this I've heard about since I graduated. The only other one I knew about occurred when I was living in California and the time off just wasn't in the cards, or something. I don't really remember when it was or why I didn't go, but I didn't.

I am excited to see at least one person who I know is expected to attend. One of my old running buddies who now lives in Germany is bringing his wife and kids home to visit his family and they scheduled their visit to coincide with the reunion.

The friend in question was a few years ahead of me in school, and had a bit of a wild boy reputation. Why he ever let me hang out with him, I'll never know. But we had a good time pursuing, if never quite capturing the elusive females of the species on warm summer days and nights in a beat up Chevy Vega, or whatever vehicle I could manage to borrow from my folks.

In fact I even served as best man at his first wedding, a casual backyard affair. I had no clue what a best man was supposed to do, and in hindsight I was a lousy one, but I stood up with my friend and witnesses the momentous occasion, all the while fawning over his then-new bride's younger sister.

My ol' buddy and I got reacquainted not so long ago over the Internet. In fact he was the one who told me about the reunion. Obviously he's got better connections around the old homestead than I do. Given the time difference, we often catch up with each other just as he is starting his work day and I'm thinking I should head off to bed.

Getting a chance to get caught up should be worth the trip. And who knows, maybe there will be some still single, or single again, women there too. And I can get absolutely nowhere again with the girls-turned-women of my old hometown.

Sometimes I get quite nostalgic for home, that home of my youth, and the people I spent it with. But I don't miss the boy I was, perpetually shy and terrified of members of the opposite sex. The boy who was unsure of himself and his place in the world. That boy is, for the most part, gone. But his ghosts haunts the present day from time to time, like when I'm confronted with a new situation, or meeting new people in a purely social context. It's those times I wish I had my old running buddy or my old best friend to lead the way with their outgoing, seemingly unflappable natures. Their confidence, bordering on arrogance, was something I've never perfected, except sometimes in the working world. Sometimes, when I know I need to take a leap, not like the one at the swimming hole along the Umatilla River of my teens, I need someone to leap first to show me the water is deep enough. And sometimes I need someone to give me a little nudge to leave the relative security of solid ground to step out into thin air and feel the rush.

An enjoyable journey down October Road

This season's TV viewing has been pretty much a bust. The writer's strike left a lot of long winter nights without some familiar faces and video friends to keep us company.

I'm currently watching the season finale of October Road. I find it ironic that the second season is ending after showing about one season's worth of shows since it's debut.

In this strike-shortened year, it is an odd irony that one of the bright spots of the last few weeks has been a show that is very well written. I hope that's not a kiss of death for the show as the last well-written show I became a fan of was the Aaron Sorkin drama, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. That show died an all-too-quick death.

But October Road is different, because it's a show about normal people and the normal dramas of life. It's not another cop show, or a hospital show or a show about a show. It's a show a bout a small town guy and his mixed feelings about returning home. Trying to get a life back he left behind and reconnect with the people he loves who he once walked away from in pursuit of a dream.

I can related to that. And it features great music.

I like October Road. I hope it has a long and winding journey.

Making a splash in the Oregon desert

Is this a sign of another Eastern Oregon Internet celebrity?

Hey, towns like Hermiston, Ore., don't warrant much of a mention from the likes of the Oregonian, unless it relates to the chemical weapons being incinerated near there. But who cares about the Oregonian, this puppy's (or Bulldog) has apparently been feature on ESPN baby! Come to think of it, Dick Vitale would fit right in in Hermiston.

I actually learned about the video from watching KATU Channel 2, which had an angle on the basketball video that differs from the YouTube video that's garnered tens of thousands of views. I'm not sure where that video came from, but the one on YouTube is the "original" one getting popular via the Web.

How come my Hermiston-related video hasn't gone viral yet? I guess I shouldn't have edited out the slam dunk of a watermelon.

Voters strip mayor of gavel for posing in panties

The mayor of the tiny town of Arlington, Ore., got dooced this week by her constituents. See the full story from the East Oregonian.

Some people just have no sense of humor. Come on, just how many mayors would anyone want to see in their underwear on a fire truck?

There are mayors embroiled in even bigger scandals than this one. Like the mayor of Detroit, Mich. And remember Marion Barry?

Well, I guess there are two lessons to learn from now-ousted Mayor Carmen Kontur-Gronquist's scandal.

One lesson related to the Detroit mayoral scandal too and that is that political (sexual or skin) scandal has now ventured into cyberspace and the wireless world.

The other thing of note in this age of voter apathy is that sometimes your vote really does count, as Kontur-Gronquist was recalled by the slimmest of margins, 142-139. And she got her constituents involved, as nearly every single registered voter in the town cast a ballot. How many mayors can boast that sort of turnout or interest?

Arlington mayor's 15 minutes of national fame

The scandal involving the Arlingon, Ore., mayor's myspace photo controversy will spill over onto national TV today. An interview with the mayor, Carmen Kontur-Gronquist, is scheduled to air tonight (Friday, Jan. 18) an ABC's 20/20.

The mayor has refused calls for her resignation. I'm not sure what folks are so upset about. The mayor has put that tiny burg (population 524 in the 2000 Census), on the map. Her predicament has been a hot topic on blogs, like this post on a blog called "A Slip of a Girl," listed as a lingerie blog, or this one on Blogger News Network, or this one on Death by 1000 Papercuts.

A Google blog search for the term "Arlington mayor photos" brings back 1,411 results. That's nearly three times as many posts about the Arlington mayor than live in Arlington.

Arlington shouldn't be trying to recall their mayor. They should be turning her photos into a calendar (with her consent and permission of course) and turning this into an economic development/revenue generating opportunity. If they city doesn't, someone else will find a way to make money off the deal.

Can Playboy's Girls of City Hall edition be far behind? Maybe they are already trying to capitalize on the sex and politics theme, as one of the items the men's magazine is teasing on its Web site right now proclaims: "Sex in America. Our survey shows that politics doesn't matter between the sheets."

Fire erupts over small town mayor's sizzlin' MySpace photos

"Every last one, route one, rural heart's got a story to tell
Every grandma, in-law, ex-girlfriend
Maybe knows you just a little too well;
Whether you're late for church or you're stuck in jail
Hey words gonna get around;
Everybody dies famous in a small town"
-- "Famous in a Small Town" by Miranda Lambert

One of my favorite sayings since returning to my home state a couple of years ago is that Oregon is a small town. Sometimes it seems everyone knows everyone's business here. Of course it's not quite a intense as living in one of the numerous small towns around the state where the population is measured in the hundreds.
Obviously, in a small town, the mayor is about as public of a public figure as you can get, outside of the high school quarterback and the starting point guard on the basketball team (who are quite likely the same person).

Arlington, Ore., is one of those towns, in as small valley along the Columbia River, between The Dalles and Pendleton. It is perhaps best known, in recent years, as the gateway to Waste Management's Columbia Ridge Landfill.
It's biggest celebrity claim to fame was as the birthplace of "Doc" Severinsen, the former band leader for the NBC Orchestra on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. But judging by the current media coverage in the state today, Arlington's newest celebrity is in fact the mayor, Carmen Kontur-Gronquist, who is achieving her fame in a very 21st century manner -- on the Internet as part of a scandal.
The mayor is the focus of some criticism for some partially-clad photos of her (in bra and panties) on a fire truck that she had posted on her MySpace page, which unfortunately she has now set to private, so you can't see her photos. I think I'm beginning to understand what women find so hot about fire engines.
As near as I can tell, the scandal broke in a story in the East Oregonian, which then got picked up on the Associated Press wire, and by the Portland and wider Northwest and Internet media.
I get the EO's daily newsletter of stories, but frankly I did not pick up on the story because of its dull headline, "Residents question mayor's actions." Yawn.
I don't know how all this will turn out for Mayor Carmen or the city of Arlington, but if all there is to the scandal is an attractive woman and part-time podunk-town politician struts her stuff on a fire engine in attire that covers more than what you see along the Columbia River on a summer day, then I would hate to see her lose her job. I generally like the whole social networking phenomenon. But many people find out that personal material you post (or others post about you) online can come back to haunt you. Maybe she will take the picture down, which she apparently hasn't yet, even though she blocked access to all but her MySpace friends.
I grew up in a town very much like Arlington. The town of Echo, Ore., where high school sporting events, like the eight-man football game, is the social highlight of the week for miles around. In fact Arlington was one of the schools in our league for sports.
Oh, the things that could have been posted online about those bus trips to places like Arlington, Cascade Locks, Fossil, Condon.... It's probably a good thing digital cameras and websites weren't around back then. I didn't care too much for living under the microscope as a resident of a small town. It always felt like everyone knew more about my business than I did.
John Mellencamp paints a romantic notion of life in small communities in his song "Small Town." Kenny Chesney's performance of "In A Small Town," by songwriters Harold Cory Mayo and Jon Lyle Mcelroy concedes some of the bad, along with praising the good of tiny town life:

Sometimes it was heaven, sometimes hell
Kinda like church, kinda like jail
There's a water tower says 'Welcome to nowhere'
As soon as I could I was long gone
My jeans were torn and my hair was long
Now I can't believe
I wanna go back there
To a small town, to a small town

But as Miranda Lambert sings in her song, "Everyone dies famous in a small town," she gets to the heart of the sometimes unwanted notoriety even small-town notables find in places where everyone knows everyone else and spends far too much time talking about who, and what, they know. (Click here for the video)
Sometimes, people in towns large and small town go on to Internet notoriety, because the world wide web has turned the whole wired world into one massive small town. Good luck Mayor. And if you find you need someone with press experience to handle the media onslaught, look me up on MySpace. Maybe we can trade services. I can be media consultant and you look like you could certainly be my personal trainer.
Ouch! Did you see those abs? Is it just me, or is there something even hotter about a woman in a position of authority who could also kick your ass if you aren't careful!
Of course, none of the things I say here apply in any way, shape or form to my daughter and her MySpace page! Should I be concerned that she never accepted my friend request?