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Leaving a Legacy --DeWese

September 2005
Did Ya ever have a conversation, leave it and then wish like hell you'd said one more thing?

That thing, that remark, was probably the best or funniest or the most important point. One more brilliant, scintillating point—and you forgot to say it! You slap your forehead and say, "Whoa doggies. Where was that comment when I needed it?"

Or when she said, "You're the first, the last, my everything." All you could muster was, "Well, darlin', I love you more than my Harley!" You shoulda said you love her more than your '86 Ford F150, you big dummy. Or, if you really, really love her, you say, "Baby, I love you more'n my huntin' dog, Ol' Blue!"

Or, how about a really important sales call where you left the buyer's office, you're sitting in the parking lot in your KIA, crankin' it and you say, "Whoa boy! Slap me upside the head with a two-by-four. I forgot to tell the buyer about our great people, the new six-color press and I forgot to ask for the order."

It happens every time I make a speech. I leave all the good stuff shredded in little piles behind the podium. I pound my ample gut and wail, "I flat forgot that genius point about the mystery micro-economics of the printing industry and how my theory guarantees that printers can triple their profits."

Hindsight Is 20/20

I write these columns and always wonder why I failed to make several more brilliant points when I read the published article two months later!

The points were manifestly obvious, but now it's too late. It seems like old weasily Attila the Editor Sr. or his pathetic sidekick Attila the Editor Jr. would cover for me, stick my oversights in the column and try to make me look good. I can't be expected to know everything.

I have written 230 columns for this magazine and some of 'em were actually hard to write. I left some good stuff out of most of them. If I had remembered to add the good stuff, I might have won one of those Pullit Surprises by now.

I wrote a 45,000 word, unpublished novel (so far, for my own entertainment). I'm afraid to send it to a publisher for fear I left something out—like a plot. The novel has been a work-in-progress since October of 1987 and it's hard writing. I want it to be Hemingway perfect.

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