Deep thoughts, deep emotions

It's been more than four months since I've written here.

In large part, the second part of that has been unavoidable.

My arm was broken in a car wreck on June 10. I've been meaning to sit down here for a while, but, getting through doctor's visits, surgery to remove the pin from the outside bone, the ulna, continuing to work, including showing back up on the Monday morning after a Friday afternoon wreck — I'll talk more on that below — and other things have chewed deeply into my time.

And, that said, maybe I've been afraid to face myself here.

I've already been confronted with an aging, single secularist dependent on help from others, particularly from one coworker, the staff writer at my newspaper.

Beyond her help as a chauffeur and also an occasional emotional sounding board, I've simply ...

already been confronted with an aging, single secularist who is afraid he won't get back 100 percent of his arm and hand usage, along with ramped-up versions of old fears about being stuck in his current job and locale.

THAT's part of what I've been afraid to face.

Meanwhile, I have the job-related anxieties of a new publisher now here, having taken many weeks, and finally landing a sports writer (I think), and a bit of a small resentment over feeling underappreciated, and, beyond the local level, not enough concern expressed about how my broken arm was rehabbing and other things.

I've had some new rounds of quasi-deja vu that I'm going to get out of here. But, deja vu isn't a metaphysical fulcrum. Whether it's to consolidate memories, a brain with a mini-glitch in firing or what, it's not that. But, it is, perhaps, hope.