The cat came back. And yes, it was a fast eight months. Considering my home away from home for those months was Langara College in Vancouver, it's hardly surprising the most frequent question I hear these days is, "What did you learn?"
As most people would expect from a journalism program, I did learn a thing or two about writing. Nuggets of information such as if I live to be 100, I'll always have trouble figuring out when to use "whom." Such a pretentious-sounding little word - who knew it would cause such turmoil?
But as has been the case for most of my life, most of what I learned during the past few months was not from a book.
For instance, I learned just how bum-numbing a five-hour Vancouver city council meeting can be. And while observing politicians stabbing each other in the back can be entertaining, eventually even the most seasoned journalistic hack gets hungry. The ultimate punishment in hell is probably a non-stop debate on the merits of car alarms. Especially when each speaker is really only tooting his own horn.
I learned that the more important people think they are, the longer they will keep you waiting for an interview. You don't have to be rude when deigning to be interviewed by a lowly journalism student, but it seems to help. On the other hand, the truly busy people with real lives to live seem to always find a moment to speak to anyone, regardless of the questioner's level of expertise. And the latter are infinitely more popular than the former with struggling students.
I learned people who grow handlebar moustaches (almost always men) are generally very pompous. Just why is a question no one could ever answer to my satisfaction. If you have one and you're not insufferable, please accept my congratulations. I also learned that no matter how many questions one asks, there is always one missing - generally discovered five minutes after deadline.
Another lesson learned - plagiarism is not a good idea. One would think that would be self-evident, but apparently there are still some well-published columnists and reporters who missed Ethics 101. Just ask the editors of Vancouver Sun and New York Times. Oh, how the mighty can fall.
On a personal note, I learned that no matter how old you are when the last of your parents leaves this world, you feel like an orphan. My mom's death on Feb. 17 left an enormous hole in my heart. I'll miss her forever.
On another note, I learned there is no joy like holding your month-old grandson in your arms for the first time. Little Logan Allain's arrival on March 29 gave a sad family cause for celebration. And while gas and oil exploration may draw the powers-that-be to Fort Nelson, for me, a little blue-eyed boy is the magnet.
So here I am, an old dog with one or two new tricks, ready and raring to go. Drop around and say hi. Phone in your business and other story ideas. Because what I learned, more than anything else, is there's no place like home.
