Dad knew Inverness before me

Sometimes, I wonder what my dad would think of this business.

I can imagine the conversation…

DAD: You’re a what?

ME: A blogger, Dad.

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DAD: What is that? Some computer thing?

ME: It’s an online column.

DAD: Why don’t you just call it that?

And on we would go another 20 minutes, me explaining to Dad how his newspaper reporter son was now writing on the internet. He wouldn’t be thrilled. Not exactly the same bragging rights.

I think about Dad nearly every day, but especially today (March 7), his birthday. He would have been 106, except that he died in June 2015 at age 97.

I’ve shared one Dad story (only read if you’re in a tear-jerker mood), and there are so many others.

First off, it was Dad who got me interested in newspapers. He read the newspaper every day. From around age 10, I started reading the newspaper every day. Dad liked to talk politics with his friends. I started reading political columns in the Detroit Free Press.

Midway through College, it became clear I had a future in newspaper work. Once I became serious about it, I found a role writing about local government for a small newspaper in northwest Michigan.

But it was the Florida job that really piqued Dad’s interest. He had a brother in Fort Lauderdale, so he’d disappear to Florida for months at a time. It was during one of those times that I had been hired, but not yet started, my job at the Chronicle.

Dad didn’t care. Driving home to Michigan, he got off the freeway in Wildwood, drove to a town he’d never heard of, and dropped in unannounced at the Chronicle’s Heights Avenue office in Inverness.

Editor Gerry Mulligan and City Editor Jim Hunter were gracious enough to give him a tour. Mind you, they had met with me for all of 45 minutes. And that was six weeks earlier. 

Dad reported back.

“It’s pretty small where you’re working,” he told me.

Dad became very comfortable with Inverness, often staying at the Crown Hotel when he visited. One day, I dropped into the laundromat on Main Street (I think it’s an auto parts store now) for change, and the clerk looked at me.

“Are you Mike Wright?’ she asked.

I gave my best humble grin. “Yes, that would be me.”

She burst into a wide smile.

“Your dad is so nice!”

I looked back. “My dad?! You know my dad?”

Turns out “Bob” would pop in during his visits.

Dad liked talking about national politics, which he knew never interested me all that much. But he was thrilled that in my line of work, I knew so many elected people by name.

It’s those talks I miss most of all. Dad was inquisitive about the newspaper business, and we chatted a lot about it. 

One thing I like about daily blogging is it keeps my mind sharp. A reader asked the other day, “Do you ever sleep?” I balance the business with downtime when I can, though it’s true I’m thinking of blog topics nearly all my waking hours.

Once again, Dad set the example. I ponder that sometimes. I’m more focused today than I was 15 years ago, and I owe a lot of that to a dad who stayed focused heading into his formative years.

So it’s March 7, and I’m thinking about my dad. I can imagine our conversation…

ME: It’s a political writer’s dream down here, Dad.

DAD: Perfect for you, Son.

Happy birthday, Dad. God bless you.

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