How the county fair solved all my problems

The week was not even halfway over, and it had already been a particularly busy one for me -- one that stood out among a crowd of busy weeks.

Even when I'm not at work, I have a tendency to think about work.

When I actually am at work, it sometimes seems that just when I think we are doing well, someone has to call, write or e-mail a complaint. Usually these are legitimate, and we do our best to apologize and correct the error or ommission.

Other times it seems like some folks -- God love 'em -- have nothing better to do than to claim a conspiracy hides behind our every human error.

As most people learn in grade school, an unjust accusation can sting. As I said last week, I care what people think, I just try not to care too much. But sometimes that's a fine line to follow.

City Editor John Carney made a facetious comment Tuesday that really struck a chord with me: "Never let a good deed go unpunished."

Whoever coined that witticism has probably spent time working as a newspaper editor. Or a politician. Or a little league coach. Or a teacher. Or a bank teller .…

The thing that makes it possible for me to bear so much criticism is the realization that we community journalists get taken to task so regularly because every good American citizen claims personal ownership in their hometown paper. I see it as a good thing, so long as the criticism is justified. We want to get it right.

Our readers rightly expect us to be correct, fair, informative and entertaining. But most of all, they want us to write nice things about their family, friends, neighbors and organizations.

We do our best, and in any case, trying to keep up with everything happening within the county can be stressful, especially when we pour our hearts into it yet still collide with human or logistical limitations.

So in the middle of a particularly stressful week, I invited some of my co-workers to meet me at the fair.

After strolling along and passing some time, we decided to go for the big thrill: The Zipper.

As I said, it had been years since I had been to a fair or amusement park, and I have to admit I climbed onto the dervish with a little trepidation.

That kernel of fear sprouted into a cornstalk as T-G general manager William Mitchell began rocking our shared steel basket to and fro.

I asked him, "This thing won't turn upside down, will it?"

He answered, "I certainly hope so!"

As things turned out, he got lucky. The ride cranked up and soon threw us topsy-turvy, and I managed to keep my lunch.

The first time our basket plunged end-over-end, my stomach got left behind for a moment before flipping along behind me like a bass on a boat deck.

William and I burst into laughter, and I felt my fear glide away.

We belly laughed through the tumbling flight, and when it was over, the stress had spun from my body in those few twirling moments.

Suddenly, it felt great to be alive, and it was OK to have fun again. I realized I had been taking myself too seriously.

Sometimes, when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Other times, we take a load off.

After my trip to the Midway, the stones I'd been shouldering seemed somehow less weighty.

In an instant, I remembered that as long as I do my best, I've done all that I can. The rest is not left up to me.

When I woke up Thursday, I weighed myself at 234 pounds. I had lost five pounds since last week, for a total of ten pounds since I began writing Gut Check a month ago.

I'm sure those last five pounds were just water weight. Or were they …?

-- John Philleo is editor of the Times-Gazette. He can be reached at (931) 684-1200, ext. 218, or by e-mail at editor@t-g.com. This column is scheduled to print every Friday.