I’ve evaluated the situation and concluded that there’s no way to launch the world’s four jillion, five hundred bazillion, thirty-nine gazillionth blog without sounding like a self-important fool.
I would, however, for readers who don’t know my writing from Ragan publications, like to introduce myself. Just so you know who you’re dealing with here:
• I once met Studs Terkel and was upset to find myself stupefied with nervousness. I thought, If I can’t be at ease with a great humanist, who can I be comfortable with? It wasn’t until later—after I met a few other luminaries and treated them as if they were lucky to run across me—that I realized with relief that after meeting my greatest public hero, I would never be intimidated by anyone else.
• I’ve met Studs Terkel on a number of subsequent occasions and am still flummoxed in his presence.
• Shel Holtz has dubbed me “the world’s youngest curmudgeon.” Half my crustiness is a phony attempt to disguise the fact that had beautiful parents, have been lucky in love and rich in friends and have a life that I often think of as nearly perfect. I mean, who wants to read a guy like that?
(• The other half of my crustiness comes from anger at myself for being the sole source of every problem that I do have.)
[• This is the last time I will ascribe my crustiness to anything other than the rich deservedness of its targets.]
• I can sit quietly and think of Mister Rogers—and all the kids whose parents couldn’t love them sufficiently who heard the dear man on the TV tell them there’s no one in the world exactly like them—and cry.
• I have a generally stronger point of view than most people I know but a weaker point of view than any of my close friends, including Steve Crescenzo. [This is the last time I’ll admit that, too.]
• I believe there is a right and proper amount of money for every person. (I guess this amount is different for everyone, which usually keeps me from drifting into socialist rants about wealth caps.) For me, enough is: Enough to send my daughter to a decent private school, play golf on decent public courses, and own a 40-year-old truck with a sign on the door that says, “Murray’s Freelance Writing.” But not so much to be tempted to restore the truck so that the speedometer works or the passenger’s door opens.
• When strangers ask me what I do I for a living, I always try and always fail to hide my intense pride when I answer, “I’m a writer.”
• I like employee communication because I like employees and I like communication. I’m looking forward to talking with others who feel the same way.
Let’s get on with it.
Comments (11)
Woo hoo! Glad to see you diving back in, David! Looking forward to following your writings and joining in the conversation.
A funny thing happened in my office today. I asked a colleague if she'd read my recent blog post, and she said "Sorry. I've been too busy blogging to read your blog." Sometimes life sounds too much like a New Yorker cartoon.
Anyway, welcome back to this absurdly fun pastime.
Blog on, Big Murr! Blog on!
Posted by Ron Shewchuk | March 30, 2007 6:14 PM
Posted on March 30, 2007 18:14
So, David, you grew up believing that crap Mr. Rogers threw at you as a kid? I've got news for all those kids who think they're special just because Fred Rogers said so -- you're not! Mr. Rogers gave a whole generation of rugrats too much self esteem. Some of them grew up thinking they could sing, and they entered the American Idol competition because nobody in their lives had the balls to tell them they can't sing.
Will
Posted by Will Daniel | April 2, 2007 9:31 AM
Posted on April 2, 2007 09:31
Of course, the wonderful culturally rich American Idol wouldn't be possible without those bad singers. You see, good self-esteem is always to the good, even when it's not deserved.
Posted by David Murray | April 2, 2007 9:51 AM
Posted on April 2, 2007 09:51
Well apparently hell has freezed over...David's blogging again! I never thought you should have stopped in the first place so welcome back. Looking forward to the discussion.
Eileen
Posted by Eileen | April 2, 2007 11:29 AM
Posted on April 2, 2007 11:29
Why are you proud to be a writer?
Put another way, do you think some jobs -- teaching, farming, medicine -- are more inherently important than others -- assembly line piece work in a factory?
If so, where would you put writing and why?
Pat
Posted by pat williams | April 2, 2007 12:59 PM
Posted on April 2, 2007 12:59
Allow the fear and loathing in the blogosphere to begin ...
Posted by Michael Sebastian | April 2, 2007 2:09 PM
Posted on April 2, 2007 14:09
Curious, what do you consider communication? Do you have differing levels of communication? That is, which is preferred: shallow or deep communication? How easy is it to engage fellow employees/communicators in truly deep conversation? How do you make this happen? Thanks! -Cory
Posted by Cory | April 2, 2007 4:24 PM
Posted on April 2, 2007 16:24
Shew, great to hear from you here. As I told you, I quit the last blog I did partly because I felt speechwriting was a little more narrow a subject than I wanted to blog about (hard to come up with new stuff often enough). For that reason, the blog felt to me, as the Chinese expression goes, like a wet blanket on a long-suffering yak. This one, I think, will be more fun.
Corey, I'm not sure whether to take your message seriously. So I'll answer it: Shallow conversation is preferable with employees you don't like. Deep conversation is preferable with employees you do like. (Same goes with executives.)
And yes, it's easy to engage fellow employees/communicators in truly deep conversations. As long as they're all about American Idol.
Posted by David Murray | April 2, 2007 7:38 PM
Posted on April 2, 2007 19:38
Hi, David:
Good luck with your blog.
Why are you so proud to be a writer?
Or, put another way, do you think some jobs -- farmer, doctor, teacher--are more inherently valuable than others?
If so, why rank writers so high?
Pat
Posted by pat williams | April 3, 2007 8:07 AM
Posted on April 3, 2007 08:07
Damn good question, Pat. I've thought a lot about this. Why do I think it's so cool to be a writer?
I don't rank writing high on any kind of "social value" scale. All writers do in the end is make society's storytelling more efficient and (occassionally) more entertaining. If all the writers disappeared, the storytelling would go on.
But both my parents are writers. Just as the son of a fireman might, I just think writing is the greatest thing to do. It's kind of a trade, and it's been a very satisfying one to me.
I also notice that I have NO IDEA how anyone who doesn't write--who has not even the faintest hope of turning painful experience into a piece of writing--gets through grieving a loved one, or goes to the dentist for that matter.
My late mother wrote in a diary once: "Am a writer. Get to call myself that because I write."
I think she thought it was cool to be a writer too.
Posted by David Murray | April 3, 2007 8:19 AM
Posted on April 3, 2007 08:19
My girlfriend is a nurse practitioner, but she also writes. When people ask her what she does, she says "I'm a writer." I once asked her why she did that and she said people find that much more interesting and alluring than her profession.
Posted by Robert J Holland, ABC | April 6, 2007 11:07 AM
Posted on April 6, 2007 11:07