Well, events are happening thick and fast these days, the most important, naturally, being the arrival of our first grandsom in the world. (See here for details.) This is really interesting. I mean, really.

Unlike many people, becoming a grandparent doesn't suddenly make me feel old. (I already felt that way.) If anything, it makes me feel young. "Look at me, only 56 and a grandfather! Ain't that cool? All the potential years (Lord willing) to get to know this new little 'human bean,' watch him grow, and pray for him."

One thing's certain: this boy's going to be a "loved" boy...

And in other news, tonight's the night I go back to school (again). There's little doubt that I'll be the oldest in the room (well, they could have some old dude up front teaching) as I take my place in the Writing for the Print Media class at Ryerson University this evening.

This really will take me back. Way back in 1973 I was fumbling about, trying to get my life back on track after spending a couple years sick with mononucleosis (or a close psychosomatic version thereof). We were living in Bowmanville, Ontario, at the time, and Charity was tearing out her hair teaching in a Christian high school with tough Dutch farm kids.

Anyhow, one day a light bulb came on and I checked out Durham College in Oshawa, and signed up to take a class titled Print Media. It was a a momentous decision. The teacher was someone I liked a lot, a former community newspaper editor named Bill Morrow (I think). I remember that he was a jogger, he smoked a pipe, and that he really knew his stuff.

It was the perfect class. Prior to that I'd only guessed at how you were supposed to write for newspapers. I knew I liked to write in general, but I couldn't "get" how you were supposed to craft sentences and paragraphs for news, features, and so on.

So Bill showed us the ropes. Beautifully. I also learned from him how to lay out a page, write a headline, and write a cutline (that's the wording under a photo). Bill encouraged me to take my stuff to the Oshawa Times and I soon was earning the whopping sum of $10 an article for freelance features. The result was a book of clippings that I could take around and show to potential employers.

Bill also told me how to go about getting a job. Just start visiting editors of weekly papers, he said. Show up in town, ask to see the editor, tell him you want a job, and show him your stuff.

It worked. I visited like 15 papers, then one day walked out with a job at the Stouffville Tribune. It was one of the most deliriously happy days of my life.

As for this class I'm now taking, at my advanced age, do I think it might likewise bear fruit in full-time employment in journalism again?

Who knows? Possibly. I hope so.

If nothing else, it should be a blast.