Where tooth drillin' and deer killin' go hand in hand

The final Kenosha News Sunday column: Yet another last dance

BY GARY J. KUNICH

And now it's time to bid you sweet farewell again.

We’ve been to this dance before, you and me. I’m always wistful as we make our way to the floor for the last song of the evening.

“I know it’s late … I know you’re weary … I know your plans don’t include me ...”

As a writer my whole life, I should be used to this by now.

Most of it has been a blast.

I always have and always will hate writing about someone else’s death, misfortune or serious injury. There’s nothing fun about that ever.
But the rest of the stuff?

Wow.

The spirits first moved me to write when Elvis died in 1977. I became a fan a year before when my dad drunkenly bought the “Elvis in Hollywood” double record set advertised on television. He ordered it Cash On Delivery, and didn’t remember doing it when the record arrived. The Lord moves in mysterious ways.

When news of The King’s use of prescription meds and other behaviors hit the press shortly after his death, I wrote my own tell-all book, as told by me, about Elvis. It filled 36 mini-pages, which went into great detail about Elvis obviously taking aspirin for headaches.

I was only 9 years old.

And thus began a love affair with writing.

“We’ve got tonight … Who needs tomorrow? …"

There are times I wished God blessed me with another talent — usually when it comes time to do something electrical around my house or my car breaks down, but you works with what you gots.

There are a lot of writing styles, but I fell in love with column writing. I tried to emulate my heroes — Mike Royko, Dave Barry and Lewis Grizzard. Man, I could read their stuff over and over, and often do. There are none better.

After toiling away on weekly Air Force base papers, I got a great job writing a television column called “Tube Talk” for The Stars and Stripes. I wrote a goodbye column at the end of that gig, too, but was lucky enough to bamboozle the Kenosha News into giving me the “Finding Fitness” column for about four years.

“I don’t get it,” a friend told me after reading one of the columns. “You have the word ‘Fitness’ in the title, but you only talk about fitness for one or two paragraphs, and the rest of the time it’s just you babbling.”

“What’s your point?” I replied.

Come to think of it, I’m not sure my “Tube Talk” column had a lot to do with television, either.

“Look at the stars … so far away … we’ve got tonight … who needs tomorrow?”

There are probably a lot of good reasons why writers write.

Sometimes writing can be magical. Good writers always search for that next phrase that turns an emotional word in just the right way. My favorites have always been those that make a special connection with the audience.

I still pay way too much for my oil changes, but don’t scrape my knuckles on the keyboard. Guess there is a good trade-off.

The best way to become a better writer is to read other people’s stuff, and probably one of the best columns I’ve ever read in my life was right in this space, when Basil Willis wrote last month about his struggles with cancer.

And that is why people like Basil, and people like me, and so many others do what we do. Some things need to be written down. Some things need to be said.

In the 10 months since my son’s death, I’ve done a lot of writing for a book I’m calling, “Devin’s Way,” and hope you get to read it someday. I’ve started my own blog, “Meanderings and Musings,” on Blogspot. And nothing beats Facebook for putting out useless stuff like the color of my tie or when I’m going to the gym.

My friend, Jolene — also a writer — told me, “Writers write. That’s what we do.”

So I keep on writing.

The next set of writers here will more than fill our shoes. They will be funny, they will be poignant, they will be normal. That is life. And that is what makes life so great.

And if you don’t like them, this being Wisconsin, you can always try to recall them, but you probably won’t have much luck with that.

Now this is the part I hate. The music is ending. You’ll soon slip from my embrace.

I don’t want the music to end.

“Let’s make it last … let’s find a way … turn out the light, come take my hand now … We’ve got tonight, babe … why don’t you stay?”

Thank you for the dance.