I’ll bet that most of you never met my friend Homer.
He was the publisher of the Yale News, the small newspaper where I started my journalism career — years ago.
Homer was a large man, with a huge smile, and even bigger hands. But he also was a natural teacher and perfectly willing to answer any question a 13-year-old kid would ask.
And I asked tons of ‘em.
I spent years working for Homer and, over the course of our friendship he gave me some great advice. Like my father, Homer’s views on the world helped mold my faith and my beliefs.
I should have listened to him more.
But I do remember some of his better sayings:
“Always remember, you’ll be the other guy some day.” It took me a while to figure what this meant, exactly. But once I discovered how it felt to be the other guy, I realized there were, in fact, two sides to every story. I try to keep this in mind in both my personal and my professional life.
“Take the time to watch the sunset; it’s good for you.” About 25 years after Homer told me this, I understood. Even today, I feel like I rushed through the first part of my life and I’m still trying to learn to slow down. But there are times, on the drive home or late when all the kids are asleep, I find myself standing outside looking up at the stars.
“Find out what you like to do and give it your best.” I hadn’t worked at Homer’s newspaper very long when I developed a life-long desire for a career in jounralism. Even today, I’m still thrilled to see a photograph or a story I’ve worked on appear in print. I’ve made many, many mistakes in my life, but I was smart enough to take this advice at a very early age.
“Don’t worry about your critics, because in the world of journalism, you’ll always have one.” Homer once told me that he couldn’t remember a single day when someone didn’t come in his newspaper to complain. Usually they didn’t dispute the facts of the story — but the fact that he wrote the story. Homer said you had to develop a tough, thick skin to work in this field. He was right. And in this age of instant communication, many times the complaint gets to you before the newspaper does.
Homer was my friend.
He and his wife, Beth, told me stories, taught me well, and showed me at a very early age a world that I wanted to make my own. Throughout my life I counted him among the few non-family members of my circle that I truly respected.
I miss him.
Sadly, Homer’s life came to an end nine years ago in a tragic accident — he was on his way to cover a football game. He was a decent, talented and honorable man and I wish there were more people like him.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve tried to take Homer’s wisdom to heart and I’ve tried to learn from each moment. This week, I was reminded of what I consider the best advice I received from the man — “never pay a dime for a nickel whistle.”
Honestly, I believe Homer was trying to tell me not to sell out; to make sure the deal was good or the object was worth the cost.
Wisdom that, even now, I’m still learning.
He was the publisher of the Yale News, the small newspaper where I started my journalism career — years ago.
Homer was a large man, with a huge smile, and even bigger hands. But he also was a natural teacher and perfectly willing to answer any question a 13-year-old kid would ask.
And I asked tons of ‘em.
I spent years working for Homer and, over the course of our friendship he gave me some great advice. Like my father, Homer’s views on the world helped mold my faith and my beliefs.
I should have listened to him more.
But I do remember some of his better sayings:
“Always remember, you’ll be the other guy some day.” It took me a while to figure what this meant, exactly. But once I discovered how it felt to be the other guy, I realized there were, in fact, two sides to every story. I try to keep this in mind in both my personal and my professional life.
“Take the time to watch the sunset; it’s good for you.” About 25 years after Homer told me this, I understood. Even today, I feel like I rushed through the first part of my life and I’m still trying to learn to slow down. But there are times, on the drive home or late when all the kids are asleep, I find myself standing outside looking up at the stars.
“Find out what you like to do and give it your best.” I hadn’t worked at Homer’s newspaper very long when I developed a life-long desire for a career in jounralism. Even today, I’m still thrilled to see a photograph or a story I’ve worked on appear in print. I’ve made many, many mistakes in my life, but I was smart enough to take this advice at a very early age.
“Don’t worry about your critics, because in the world of journalism, you’ll always have one.” Homer once told me that he couldn’t remember a single day when someone didn’t come in his newspaper to complain. Usually they didn’t dispute the facts of the story — but the fact that he wrote the story. Homer said you had to develop a tough, thick skin to work in this field. He was right. And in this age of instant communication, many times the complaint gets to you before the newspaper does.
Homer was my friend.
He and his wife, Beth, told me stories, taught me well, and showed me at a very early age a world that I wanted to make my own. Throughout my life I counted him among the few non-family members of my circle that I truly respected.
I miss him.
Sadly, Homer’s life came to an end nine years ago in a tragic accident — he was on his way to cover a football game. He was a decent, talented and honorable man and I wish there were more people like him.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve tried to take Homer’s wisdom to heart and I’ve tried to learn from each moment. This week, I was reminded of what I consider the best advice I received from the man — “never pay a dime for a nickel whistle.”
Honestly, I believe Homer was trying to tell me not to sell out; to make sure the deal was good or the object was worth the cost.
Wisdom that, even now, I’m still learning.
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