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FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART, THANKS
MICKEY GUISEWITE by Mickey Guisewite
The bug-eyed, frenzied stare. The frantic, compulsive finger-tapping. The squeaky, nervous voice.
"Is your mom sick or something?" my son's friend asks.
"Nah. She's just on her writing deadline," my 7-year-old son answers.
The "Writing Deadline Look." It's a look my family and friends know well. They know it almost as well as the angst-stricken "Post-Writing Deadline Look" -- Was the column I just turned in good enough? Should I have done something different? Will anyone else relate?
Then there's my "I Now Have 46 Relaxing Minutes in Which to Get a Root Canal, Pay the Overdue Bills, and Take the Kids to the Park Look" ... followed by my "I Need to Sit Down and Have a Complete Life Review Look" ... followed by my "Who Has Time for a Life Review I'm on My Writing Deadline Look."
After a great deal of soul-searching, I've decided that what my young family doesn't need right now is the many different looks, and the levels of distraction that come with them. What they need is one look: the "Mom Look."
What they need isn't a person who can't go to the grocery store without scribbling notes on the backs of gum wrappers as possible column ideas. Or who goes to family picnics with one hand on her badminton racquet and one on her laptop.
And so ... today I'm writing the one sentence I never dreamed I'd write: This will be my last column. Of course, I'm going to keep on writing. But for a while at least, I'm through with the weekly deadline grind.
I want to use my last bit of space to say thank you.
Thank you to the newspaper syndicate who believed there was a place for a column that takes on pressing, contemporary issues such as my melted food storage container lids.
Thank you to the editors who agreed.
Thank you to my mom and dad: founders, presidents and life-long members of my fan club.
Thank you to my sisters Cathy and Mary Anne, who have been my personal therapists through more than 400 deadlines.
Thank you to my husband, John, who's still speaking to me even though I broadcast his golf handicap online and in newspapers nationwide.
But mostly, thank you to the readers of this column. Over the years I've heard from a lot of you and have made some wonderful friends.
To the fellow dog-lovers, voice-mail-haters and hair-color victims, thanks. To the fellow gardening-impaired, the personal-identification-number challenged, and receipt-system-free, thanks. To those who've also gotten misty-eyed at blue jeans that zipped, wept openly at their children's artwork, and believed anything was possible when their sock drawers were organized, thanks.
From where I sit, I see that people are a lot more similar than we are different ... that from Newark, Ohio, to New Delhi, India, all anyone really wants is a happy, healthy family, nice friends, a good laugh and on some days, a mallet for the computer.
In a world that's so often defined by our differences, your letters have offered a refreshing perspective. And I'm one devoted reader who'd like to say thanks.
(Write to Mickey Guisewite in care of this newspaper, or send e-mail to mguisewite@aol.com.)
