Jan 14, 2017 5 min read

I hope I quote this line correctly for I must admit to being wrong once or twice in my life.

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” the saying goes.

As we become more entrenched in habits, this becomes more true. One of my favorite things is to begin the day with coffee and the Observer-Reporter.

Like most intelligent readers, there are columns I read. Some I scan briefly and some I totally ignore.

This morning, I couldn’t help but note the subject of the ever-popular Mary Joe Podgurski’s column and must comment. I don’t normally read her bits of wisdom and I would doubt if she places much credence in mine.

But this particular morning I noticed the subject of her prose.

As usual, she was discussing the self-esteem of teenagers. I have been writing this column for the Observer-Reporter for quite some time and it has entered my mind to expand my horizons and move over to baseball or advice on teenage sexual matters.

At my advanced age, I probably would do better with baseball, so I think I will leave the advice on love matters to Mary Jo. She gets no competition from this corner, though I think I could give some advice.

After all, I was a teenager back when you could still see Model A’s on the road. But to be honest, she would be stiff competition and I don’t do well under pressure.

More to the point, I, like Mary Jo, have been doing this column for a long time – much longer than I thought I would last.

I write mostly from memory, so excuse me if I am off on a bit. But I believe I began this column in March or May of 1986. That amounts to a lot of words, although a few friends would use another word for it other than words.

All writers have large egos. You have to or it’s tough to put an opinion out in public. In a conversation, opinions and words can be denied later, but putting your feelings and opinions in print can come back to haunt the writer.

I certainly have a few of those ogres in my closet, but like any normal human being I don’t like to discuss them in print.

Like Mary Jo, I remember how this piece got started. I had been doing quite a bit of writing for the Pennsylvania Game News and doing it with some form of success when I got a call from the late Bill Reese.

It seems the paper was starting a Sunday edition and needed an outdoor writer to supplement the section. He was offering me the job. To be honest I wasn’t sure I could do it. Such a job required 52 articles a year, while the magazine I was writing for required at most five or six articles a year.

That makes for a lot of ideas when doing the Sunday newspaper.

After a bit of arm twisting by Bill, I accepted, thinking when I ran out of ideas l could always quit. Here I am 30 years later still sitting here stealing Mary Jo’s idea.

There is one thing I have adhered to and that is honesty. I make mistakes probably more than I should but I say in print what I believe to be true. Perhaps that is why I have lasted so long. Have I made mistakes and wrote columns that I regret? Naturally.

There was one I wrote about the county sports hall of fame. I made some errors in that one and it is the one I regret the most. Probably the thing that causes me the most woe is the misspelling of names. It doesn’t matter if it is my fault or someone editing my work, the buck stops here, as old Harry Truman once said.

I am proud of the fact my ethics do not allow me to rubber stamp the action of any business or agency when I think they are wrong.

There are articles I have written that aren’t that good and I would agree. Try to write when down with the flu or after a funeral. It’s not easy.

I have written some, but the one I consider my personal best was the one I wrote while Eileen was on her death bed. That was written without thought.

I must close this article by stating that it is not the final one. Don’t get the idea that this is my swan song. You will have put up with me for a few more years – or at least I hope so.

Just think, Mary Jo, you might catch up with me if you behave, and if you resign I might end up giving out advice to teens. Can you imagine? Remember I was one at one time.

George H. Block writes a Sunday Outdoors column for the Observer-Reporter.