I did a lousy job of predicting the future. When I was little, I had the usual little boy dreams of becoming a fireman, police officer, doctor or professional athlete.

My mother wouldn’t allow guns in the house so that stopped the police officer bit. I didn’t slide down poles very well so the fireman bit was out. An up close and personal experience with Baltimore Colt defensive end Gino Marchetti let me know I was way too small and slow to be a professional football player. Shoulder and knee injuries in high school proved I was too fragile. Basketball was out because I couldn’t jump, and the first curve ball I swung at and missed ruled out baseball. Blood made me squeamish so doctor went bye-bye.

Never once did I think I would leave my beloved Baltimore and end up owning a community newspaper in a small county in Tennessee. The only thing I knew about Tennessee was that Davy Crockett was born on a mountaintop there.

What I could do well was remember things and repeat them back almost word for word. And I was always telling stories. If you missed an Oriole’s game, I could tell you what happened inning by inning.

A couple of great teachers inspired me to become a teacher despite everyone in my family telling me I would never make any money at it. That was at least something I could predict for the future and accomplish.

Two things happened while I was in teacher’s college. First, I was smitten by a girl from Washington, DC. Second, I began writing sports stories for the college newspaper. My future was sealed, although I didn’t know it at the time.

In eight years of teaching, my highest salary was $12,000. Ingrid was at home with two small babies, so a summer job for me was a necessity. An advertisement for a part-time summer replacement as a reporter caught my attention. I got the job at a tiny newspaper in Leonardtown, MD. Three weeks later, the general manager suggested I go full time. I did.

I gradually worked my way up the corporate letter all the way to a general managership. That was not fun. What was fun was writing stories about the folks and sports in town.

One evening, Ingrid and I got to talking about what we really wanted to do when we grew up. We found it in Polk County, Tennessee 25 years ago.

For 25 years we have tried to be good stewards of your community newspaper. For 25 years we have had the chance to do what I do best—tell you what happened in your neighborhood last week.

We have not gotten wealthy by any stretch of the imagination but for 25 years we have been blessed with riches. Natural beauty, friendships, a healthy atmosphere to raise our children, peace and quiet and a sense of fulfillment have been given to us many times over.

If someone had told me this would happen back in 1950 I would have said no way. But at least I finally know what I want to be when I grow up.