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I Write The Songs

It’s been seven years and a few odd months that I’ve been fortunate to be able to write this column. In that time, I have received face to face remarks, written cards and letters, Facebook comments and messages, online statements, and text and email communications, all ranging from questioning my sanity and Intelligence Quotient, to suggesting things I might be able to turn into an article, to very nice compliments. I’ve run into people who have recalled memories of their own of persons, places, things, and events that may have been mentioned in one or more of the Voice from the Bullpen narratives. I’ve been able to remember traditions of my past growing up, of my family, of my education, of my experiences, of my memories of Jamestown and what it was like being a kid on the Northeast side of the city. I have enjoyed this experience as writing is something I enjoy doing very much. It’s kind of like talking with pen and paper, or computer and printer (I forget sometimes what century in which I am living), and I do enjoy talking, just ask anyone who’s been in a room when I have been handed a microphone, or invited to a podium. (My mother often told us to use the gifts God gave us, and He seemed to have blessed me with a big mouth, so I try and follow Mom’s advice and teaching, and for me writing is a form of talking, so I guess it makes sense to me.)

Many people have asked me how I recall all that I do, or where I get my ideas, and many often compliment me on some of my pieces, but unlike the lyrics and voice of Barry Manilow, who sang “I Write the Songs,” I really don’t write my articles or narratives.

Now before you think I have been plagiarizing 52 weeks per year of articles for the past seven years plus, let me explain.

I have nothing against Barry Manilow and his claim that he writes the songs, because he really does. I’m an average fan of Mr. Manilow, and there are a couple of songs I like better than some others, and some I’ve sang along with when I was alone in my car (never in the company of others though, and certainly not at a Karaoke venue), and I hope that does not offend any readers who might stand in line overnight to get tickets to a Barry Manilow concert. He does write his songs and performs them as well, and he really does have a very good voice, so I have no problem with him proclaiming that he does write the songs. It’s not the same for me though.

You see, I write about memories, about people, about experiences, about events, about friends, about good times, about special places, but I don’t feel that I created any of those things. The people I write about write their own stories. They are out there and they are the real writers. I just juggle some words around, put them together, and tell their story in written form.

Some articles have included much about where I live, and have lived my entire life, but I didn’t build this city. I didn’t create the buildings, the venues, the sights and sounds of the city. I didn’t create the events that have taken place here. I was just lucky enough to be here and watch those things, places and experiences tell their own stories to me, and I’ve just tried to relay them to readers. And again, the people I have mentioned in some pieces, have actually written their own stories, I just pass them on to those who sit down on Sunday mornings with a cup of coffee, tea, hot chocolate, or a glass of juice and peruse the pages of The Post-Journal.

The experiences I have been so fortunate to have had were created by many amazing people I have known, and with whom I’ve worked all these years, and some people I never met before the experiences became realities. They’ve created the stories, I just took some notes and passed the highlights along.

My teaching career would not have been possible without the students, my colleagues, all staff and administration I have worked with these past forty plus years. The sports experiences, too, are the result of players, other coaches and officials, people who ran Travel Tournaments, near and far, and invited us to play in them, the people who created The Cooperstown Dreams Park, the people responsible for youth baseball leagues, and Professional Baseball in Jamestown, The Cleveland Indians and The Cleveland Browns, those who helped with fundraising, the companies, the Jamestown Cycle Shop, local businesses who helped so much to make the experiences possible, which then made the words, that made the stories, that I passed along to readers.

The periodic tests of local trivia and knowledge were created by the people of this city, the builders, the business owners, the workers of the city. The entertainment quizzes were created/made by the people who actually made the movies and television programs, created the music, all of whom and which I’ve used to try and test your knowledge. Some were also created by History itself, and all of those who made the history. Those pieces were all created by them.

Experiences of my life from birth until now which I refer to from time to time are all part of the book I carry inside of me which I call, My Life, but I didn’t write that book. That book was written by my parents, my brothers and sisters, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my nieces and nephews, my in-laws, my friends, and the thousands and thousands of people I’ve been fortunate to have encountered these many years. It was written by my grandchildren, and helped even by my infant great-grandchild, and by my children, and especially by my bride, all of these people responsible for giving me so many wonderful experiences that I could tell you about on Sunday mornings.

When I write about places I have been lucky enough to have gone to and things I have been lucky enough to have seen and done in those places, I didn’t create those places. They were created, some by Mother Nature, some by innovative and creative thinkers. I was just lucky to have had the chance to see them and rather than show you an actual picture of them, I used words to hopefully create that picture in your mind.

So you see, I don’t actually write the articles you read in this column each week. I’m just someone who sits on the sidelines, not being up there with the starters (the real writers and authors), but constantly watching, listening, and making mental notes and then sharing what I see and hear by putting those sights, sounds, and experiences into words, and hopefully telling you a story each week.

When you stop and think about where baseball relievers sit until their time comes, and that an article is actually a story being told or spoken, maybe the title of this column kind of fits as being the “Voice from the Bullpen.”

Thank you, all, for welcoming me into your homes each Sunday these past seven plus years.  It has been a pleasure and an honor, one I hope continues for many years to come. Thanks for your readership, for your ideas, comments, criticisms,  compliments, and for just letting me tell you a weekly story that the persons, places, things and experiences of my life wrote and permitted me to pass on to you.

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