The stories that unfold in the space of a writer’s study, the objects chosen to watch over a desk, the books selected to sit on the shelves, all weave a web of echoes and reflections of meanings and affections, that lend a visitor the illusion that something of the owner of this space lives on between these walls, even if the owner is no more. {Alberto Manguel}
From the day I began working at South Bay’s Neighbor Newspapers some 13-plus years ago, my desk and the meticulousness with which I chose to decorate, maintain and arrange it has been a topic of some fascination among my co-workers, the joke being that if someone dared to move a pencil or paper clip even a fraction of an inch, I would notice immediately. While this may be a bit extreme, the characterization is pretty darn close.
I have always subscribed to the mantra of “a place for everything, and everything in its place,” mostly because I felt the sense of organization allowed me to better focus on the {many} tasks at hand in the fast-paced, deadline-driven environment of a weekly publication. Folders and filing systems aside, though, the true character is represented by the many knick-knacks and personal touches which accent my area.
Only now, as I prepare to pack up my belongings at the close of the month {a task I intend to put off until the very last moment, as we can’t have things looking “empty” for even a day}, have I really taken the time to appreciate all the memories associated with these special tokens accumulated through the years.
There is the mug given to me by my mentor and very special friend Peter, who saw fit to take me under his wing from day one and gently nudge me into the spotlight with what would become the makings of this very column. There is the silk floral arrangement from my Mom, with the hand-written note, “A little touch of springtime for your desk, along with wishes for many happy days at your new job,” a fixture from the very beginning. There is the photo of my friend Rose on our very first trip to Adventureland, her face a mixture of exhilaration and horror, as we careened down the famous log flume, holding on for dear life.
And of course, there is the framed plate of my 500th column, published on March 11th, 2015, a testament to the longevity I never imagined I - or the column - would achieve when I set foot in our old office on May 2nd, 2005. One move and another small renovation later, the layout of my desk and office space may have changed, but the memories have traveled with me, giving rise to many new ones made along the way.
In just a few short weeks, the desk will be empty, the personal touches gone for good, relegated to a storage box in the back seat of my car for a time - until a better, more permanent home can be found. Things, as we know, are replaceable. It is the stories behind them which live on forever.
Published: August 22, 2018