Time to turn out the lights

As the credits roll the sad song starts to play;                                                                    this is where the cowboy rides away.                                                                                        George Strait

Since my retirement from teaching 4 years ago, I’ve all but given up on blogging. And because I find no compelling reason to maintain this site, I will move the content offline at the end of 2022.

ToughSledding has primarily offered my take on public relations. But its secondary purpose was to provide an outlet for random observations. I don’t teach PR anymore and seldom even think about it. For my other thoughts and ramblings, there’s always Facebook. I welcome friend requests and accept most of them.

I intend to retain ownership of the ToughSledding URL, as I have a great deal invested here and, well, you just never know, do you?

I’ve copied and filed away the 477 posts and 4367 comments to preserve them for “posterity,” as it were. Maybe, like Melville, my work will take on added value once I’m under the sod. If I wrote anything you’d like to retain for your files, you may copy and paste or contact me via email or Facebook. I’ll gladly send it to you.

Copying the posts was great fun, as I did them one-by-one. I particularly enjoyed seeing the names and avatars of the hundreds of folks who contributed to the conversations here. I won’t try to thank you all individually, but I will spotlight Dino Baskovic, who first urged me to start the blog nearly 20 years ago, even after my insistence that I “had nothing to say.” Once it got rolling, ToughSledding became a compulsive habit that gave me a creative outlet while also fueling my ego. Dino passed through my undergraduate classes 25 years ago, and we’ve remained friends and correspond regularly.

I’m also grateful to Ike Pigott. In addition to hosting this blog on his server for the past decade, Ike, from the very start, has been the ultimate blogger role model — a thoughtful communicator and superb writer, but also an online friend who, through his writings, taught me about humor and civility in the online world. (Sorry, Ike, but the “humility” lessons didn’t take.)

Don’t ask me what’s next. I have no clue. The nice thing about retirement is that it requires no real “life plan.”  I’m just wingin’ it.

 

 

 

One thought on “Time to turn out the lights

  1. No one can say when a work is done except the artist. At some point you step back and either say: “there is nothing further this needs” – OR – “that’s all the time I have, so it’s done.” I will say it again, as I have so often in the past, I am very thankful to have had the benefit of your insight, experience, guidance, and mostly your humanity. When I look back, there are a handful of teachers/instructors/mentors I can say helped me change course in the very best of ways. I remember each one by name and have a clear picture. When I guide new instructors, it is their words, actions, and passion speaking through me. You, sir, are in this decidedly small, but amazing group. You pushed without pushing. You honed without cutting. You gave of yourself without inserting yourself. You even talked me off a ledge. While a sad song may be appropriate (I’m trying to figure out why pictures of the Dude keep flashing in my mind) I don’t feel sad – I feel gratitude. The days ahead are yours. You have certainly earned them! Now how about another Caucasian?

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