My good friend Joey over at Joeyfully Stated dropped one on us the other day that’s one of the best thinkers I’ve seen around these parts in a bit.
She titled her essay On Purpose, and she says she wrote it because Edwina’s Episodes had tackled something similar and had, in fact, passed the chore along to her.
Yeah, another challenge.
These things are springing up like the weeds of the season it is up here in the Northern Hemisphere.
But I digress.
Joey, you see, wrote a heartfelt story about who she is and what she hopes to accomplish in her time spent here that made me sit up straight in my recliner and clap my hands. It’s genuine and true and sweet and eloquent and folksy. And while it fits in with the everyday tone that makes her a regular read in my BloggyVille rotation, it also has a special touch that elevates it to art in my eyes. I hope the Mister and your kids read this one, Joey. So nicely written.
It made me reflect on my life here in the Little Bitty in the Syracuse city neighborhood of Eastwood, shared lovingly with my dear wife Karen and Ellie B aka Dogamous Pyle.
And that’s a worthy purpose, most certainly, making sure my wife is cared for by my actions and loved well from my heart, words and deeds daily. Throw in my constant concern and hopes for my 25-year-old daughter Elisabeth and Karen’s adult son Daryl, and that’s plenty to live for and of which to be proud.
There was a time when my career goals would have … well, if they weren’t the lead of my life story, to use a journalism term I’m pretty sure everybody can understand, they sure as hell probably would have earned a compound sentence.
So I spent a noisy, busy 34 years in newsrooms after graduating with that journalism degree in 1979, devoted to educating and informing the readers, with a modicum of entertainment thrown in to make it interesting.
Frankly, I was obsessed with the story, finding the best one in the community, getting it before the competition, telling it the best way possible in words and display, living it in my brain until the deadline was past and the press was rolling or later, the publish button was pushed.
Spreading the news was a big part of who I was. My first wife used to call me Joe Post-Standard. The nickname was affectionate only most of the time.
But the layoff at the big daily, one link in the chain owned by the longtime presiding family and microcosm of what was and still is happening in the news media business, left me out of that job and put me into this blogging thing in February 2013.
I’m still looking for a full-time job to more robustly replace that paycheck, and besides what you read here on markbialczak.com, I write a bunch of other things in the freelance world online and in print.
Yeah, the drop in pay has changed me, I have no doubt. Dreams for retirement years have been altered. Worries about getting to the ages for a dedicated pension that remains and social security, and exact figures to come vs. what will be needed have increased.
Surprisingly, though, my dear wife Karen thinks that if she had to compare, the After Mark is a happier and more satisfied version than the Before Mark. The bitter, angry and confused mostly checked out of the psyche some time ago.
Calling my recliner my office chair has its advantages as I write on the blue tooth keyboard attached to my iPad Air and get up every now and again to let Ellie B in and out from the back porch and backyard.
I live my life with MDW Karen and Dogamous Pyle and take my photos on my iPhone 6 and I write about it here. I tell stories and share pictures in such a way that I hope people — you — can relate to your life, no matter what part of our world you call home, and smile or chuckle or frown or maybe even learn a little something.
My what-for these days is to live my life in a manner that keeps my loved ones at home happy and well, and to be smart and eloquent enough to translate that life into stories that can somehow give you a few minutes of happy and well, too.
I’m not nominating anybody. Please write about your purpose in life if you’re so moved. I’d love to read about it.