Memories put time in perspective (08/29/07)

Another engine show, another anniversary.

Last week was the 42nd edition of the Tri-State Gas Engine and Tractor Show. It was the 41st at the Jay County Fairgrounds. Most folks forget that the first one was held at Fort Recovery's Ambassador Park.

And Sunday was the 33rd anniversary of my return to Jay County to work as a reporter for The Commercial Review.

The engine show was smaller in those days, and so was I.

But I'd like to think we've aged pretty well together.

On that first Monday, I was given a photo page to lay out for the daily, then was sent out to track down Woody Turner, the show's founder and master mind, to learn how things had gone. My first byline was, I believe, that engine show roundup.

Apparently, I haven't made much progress in the past 33 years.

On Monday morning, I headed out to the fairgrounds to track down Richland Township's Al Confer, president of the Tri-State group, to conduct essentially the same sort of interview and then returned to the office to write a similar story.

It's hard not to reflect on the differences that 33 years bring.

Woody's gone now, of course. And my hair, while significantly shorter, is also significantly grayer.

Photographs that day in 1974 were shot on film in black and white; today they're digital images in color. That first article was hammered out on a manual typewriter; this week's was written on, I think, the fifth different computer I've used at the newspaper.

But it's also hard not to reflect on what hasn't changed.

The engine show is still a great gathering of quirky, friendly, colorful folks from all over the country who enjoy one another's company enormously.

Community journalism, the place where I began to stake out my career 33 years ago, still matters to the lives of readers. It still helps define who we actually are as a community, why we hang together, what we value in common, where we want to be going, and how we hope our children's dreams will take shape.

When I was asked to come back to Jay County in 1974, I honestly didn't expect to stay long. A year or two. Maybe a couple more.

But something happened.

Somewhere along the line, someone read something I wrote and let me know they read it and told me that it had mattered to them.

And if you're in the business of cranking out words, sometimes that's all it takes.

Looking back, it's as if time contracts itself the same way a good telephoto lens foreshortens distance in a camera.

Take a picture with, say, a 300 millimeter lens, and you'll find that trees 60 feet apart seem side by side.

Take a look back over 33 years and events that happened in 1974 or 1981 or 1989 or 1997 or 2002 or just last week seem as if they all happened yesterday or last week or an hour ago.

That's okay, as long as you remember that those trees in the telephoto shot aren't side by side, as long as you remember that those moments weren't spread over an afternoon but over three decades.

Time matters.

Perspective matters.

And anniversaries matter.[[In-content Ad]]