Sharing with you things that are on my mind...Maybe yours too. Come back to Wrights Lane for a visit anytime! And, by all means, let's hear from you by leaving a comment at the end of any post. THE MOTIVATION: I firmly believe that if I have felt, experienced or questioned something in life, then surely others must have too. That's what this blog is all about -- hopefully relating in some meaningful way -- sharing, if you will, on subjects of an inspirational and human interest nature. Nostalgia will frequently find its way into some of the items...And lots of food for thought. A work in progress, to be sure.

28 April, 2017

THE DAYS WHEN MEN WERE MEN, WOMEN WERE WOMEN...AND NEWSPAPERS WERE, WELL -- NEWSPAPERS


This happy group photo taken 53 years ago was sent to me by an old newspaper chum, John Hus of Sarnia.  I really have no reason to post it other than the fact that I have a soft spot for old photos and old friends.  Pictured here are St. Thomas Times-Journal newspaper employees and their families at a company picnic in Pinafore Park in the early fall of 1964.  I have gone over the photo with a magnifying glass countless times, fondly remembering the faces and recalling mutual relationships. Sadly, a good 60 percent of the adults in the photo have passed away.  I am the young fellow with dark hair on the extreme left of the photo and my late wife Anne can be seen approx. five bodies away. Daughter Debbie is the little one front and centre in the photo, sitting between the legs of an older girl who happened to be the granddaughter of owner/publisher George Dingman Sr.  Newspaper publishing was at its peak in the 1950s and '60s and it took a staff of 68 people to turn out the T-J's six times weekly daily editions. Community dailies of similar size still in business today, produce a newspaper with a staff of no more than two dozen employees.  I can honestly say that if I could turn back the clock, I would return to this time in my life when I was fueled by passion and energy and the world had potential to become my oyster.

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