Daily Newsie

I spent last night drinking wine, nibbling on cheese and fruit and just generally feeling very grown-uppish at the aforementioned open house held by two men I profiled a while ago. The Boyfriend and I poked through the house, I managed not to be scared by the gaping hole in the bathroom floor where the toilet should be and we spent a pleasant while chatting with the homeowners about their renovations.

One of the men pulled me excitedly over to a picture of former inhabitants they’d received from someone who read the article I wrote — they were asking residents to show them something, anything, about the previous century’s worth of homeowners. He gushed until my cheeks were red about how great the article was, and told me he and his partner had hidden some artifacts of their own in the house’s walls for future inhabitants to find.

What a cool idea, I thought — I like the idea of found items — and then he told me they’d placed two copies of my article in plastic mailing tubes and placed them among the nooks and crannies.

“A hundred years from now, someone may find that article and do a little research on you — find out when you worked at the newspaper and where you ended up,” he said, smiling.

I was floored. Someone considering my words good enough to be kept for future generations to find has to be one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received. I can’t stop thinking about who will find it, what they’ll think and where I’ll be — probably taking a dirt nap — when they discover the yellowing pages. It makes me feel proud and respected and useful and dizzy with happiness. I’ve only been here for two years but I’ve left an indelible mark on this town, and that feels wonderful.