On The Job

We took Sophie to Mister Ed's Elephant Museum & Candy Emporium for the shop's annual pumpkin painting event, and there I came face-to-face with my past.

Sophie had picked out a pumpkin and we walked her to the folding table set up outside the shop on the Lincoln Highway.

It was about then that I spotted him.

He was young, maybe in his early to mid-20s. He was wearing a gray hoodie, had blonde hair and was generally pleasant.

In one hand was a note pad. In the other, a pen.

He spoke to Mr. Ed — shop owner Ed Gotwalt — and nodded as the bearded candy purveyor described the scene and why he hosted this get-together for the children.

I know a guy on The Job when I see one.

A few moments later, I saw him, smiling, looking at Sophie as she globbed blue paint onto her pumpkin. He and I made eye contact.

I knew that look.

It was the same look that I had given hundreds of people hundreds of times at hundreds of community gatherings.

Town fairs. Demolition derbies. Halloween parades.

All the same.

"Excuse me, folks, can I talk to you for the newspaper?" he asked.

"Which newspaper?" I asked, knowing what was coming. 

"The Public Opinion," he replied.

"Actually, no," I said. 

He looked taken aback.

"I work for The Herald-Mail," I said, motioning to the south.

"Oh," he said, then walked away. 

I couldn't help but feel bad. I've been there.

It takes more courage than you realize to walk up to complete strangers and ask them to open up to you about the family fun they were trying to have until you interrupted them.

The only thing I ever had to lean on, to keep me from cowering back into my natural, shy state, was my smiling mug on the press pass I usually had hanging from my neck.

I'm not a creeper, I would think. See my badge? I'm just a guy trying to write a story.

Regardless, I also faced rejection. The worst was in Algonac, Mich., when I approached a man to get his take on a dying shopping center in the town situated where the St. Clair River emptied into Lake St. Clair.

"BACK OFF!" he growled at me.

That scene flickered through my head as I told the Public Opinion reporter that I could not speak to him because I work for the competition.

I wanted to find him later and explain to him I knew what he was dealing with. I saw him talking with a family near the pile of pumpkins, but when I looked up again, he was gone.

He'd gotten his story and left.

I know that feeling, too.

You heard me

The other day, I needed to stop looking at the stories I was editing.

My brain was beginning to turn to mush, the kind of mush that comes from hours of reading details about local municipalities, such as the phone number, mailing address, town council members and what days trash is picked up.

So, like so many other mid-30-somethings these days, I turned to Facebook and found a friend had posted one of those click bait quizzes.

Steph posts such things from time to time, and I usually don't click. But this was "What Muppet Hides Inside You?"

You heard me.

Anyway, I needed the mental distraction. So, sipping my black coffee, I took the quiz.

The questions included things such as, "Out of the following adjectives, your friends would say you are most...?" Or, "Out of the following activities, what sounds the most appealing?" Or, "When you and your friend or lover get into an argument, you apologize by...?"

I clicked the most appropriate responses, then was told Animal hides inside me.

Animal

You heard me.

Anyway, the description that accompanied the results:

You can be quite the rager, and definitely know how to have a good time! You love music, and may or may not let it all out on the drums, (or some other instrument)... but you certainly connect with good jams, and are always up for a great concert. When it comes to other areas of your life, you are adventurous. You like to try new things, meet other wildlings, and let loose whenever possible. You know how to party, most certainly, but you also thoroughly enjoy a day in bed, or two, or even three!

It's been many moons since last I engaged in any sort of real raging. My college and post-college years could be described as a little Animal-like. I wasn't too crazy, I don't think, before I met Jen. But I had a good time.

These days, though, I'm more likely to be singing songs from "Mary Poppins" or "Cinderella" than Journey or Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.

"I do not think that's accurate," I wrote on Steph's original post.

"Maybe it was once," she replied. "Hence, it's hiding inside of you."

That made me sad.

The sadness was driven home further that Friday night.

Much like my tween and teen years, I found myself watching "Full House." Nick At Nite has become the echo of my youth the way it was the echo of my parents' when they were my age.

However, as the Tanner family navigated another trial and tribulation that was solved through family love and understanding, something occurred to me.

This time, instead of watching TGIF with my parents and younger brothers, I was accompanied by my wife and 2-year-old daughter who refused to go to sleep.

Through the television's glow, I looked at them.

There is nothing I would not do for Jen or Sophie. Or for our unborn kid, due in February.

That includes being silly so they giggle and have a good time. Or playing an eclectic mix of tunes and dancing like a maniac. Or going on adventures driving around the countryside or wandering stretches of the Appalachian Trail. Or encouraging them to try new things and lose their fears. Or encouraging them to sleep because sleep is a great thing and you should really try to sleep more often because why are you still awake?

Anyway, maybe Steph is right.

I am still Animal-like, just he's hiding inside and coming out in a different way.

You heard me.