Tim Belknap

As of Monday, July 21, 2008, the all-powerful Tim Belknap (“Bell-NAP”) of the mighty Mezz is retired like me.

Following is an exchange of e-mails related to this:
-Me: “So now I suppose you’re a lazy, no-good, no-account reprehensible slacker like me.
Soon you’ll be freeloadin’ on Social Security.
I imagine there was retirement party of some sort, but I didn’t hear about it.”
-Belknap: “Yep, retired. No party as such, but a nice cake and lunch out by the lake with two former and one present reporter. Social Security won’t be for three more years and I won’t be freeloading, since I’ve been paying in since age 16.
For that matter, I’m not fully retired, since I have a woodpile to work on and the desire to convert my headline writing skills to songwriting skills. Plus, I wanna perform, so thus need to practice on my harmonica and dulcimer, which is fun.
When are you coming out to check out my license plate collection and collection of old train post cards — both evidence that you don’t need big collections to have world-class collections. Any day is probably good for me except Thursdays and Saturdays (ministry) and Sunday mornings.
If you come down Gulick from the north, gravel isn’t bad, but be real careful if you come up from Naples. We’ve had nothing but rain and driveways are washing down. All the drunken Harley boys are taking County Road 33. I got your ‘Arriverderci Mario’ sticker waiting for you. Give a call first: 374-8945. I only read e-mails every so often.”
-Me: “I suppose Gulick Road is now a mess — but maybe not. All I know is there was a wash across the road to Boughton Park, and that road ain’t Gulick. We got large hail the other night.
I suppose my motorbike days are winding down, but I still feel I can do it — if the roads ain’t too bad. Gulick would be okay, but your driveway rather intimidating. I can’t afford mistakes; like dropping it.
374-8945 is now in my cellphone. (My landline phone probably has a memory book, but I’ve lost track of the manual. Cellphone is a slam-dunk. —I hardly use the landline anyway. We tried to dump it, but Linda’s mother had a fit: ‘I ain’t callin’ no cellphone!’)”

“All-powerful” because once my all-knowing, blowhard brother-in-Boston, the macho ad-hominem king, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, loudly declared Belknap was the sole and onliest reason the Messenger was so reprehensible.
As if Belknap was the only editor, which he wasn’t.
He was one of about six, and toward the bottom of the pecking-order.
Belknap was “City Editor,” essentially responsible for local reporting — Queenie was another.
He would assign stories to reporters, edit them, and occasionally write stuff.
The newspaper also reflected his tastes; more a car-rag, since like me Belknap was a car-guy.
Of particular interest to me is his statement that future collection of Social Security ain’t a handout like my brother noisily claims.
Like me, Belknap’s paid into Social Security since he was a teenager.
My first payments to Social Security were from Sandy Hill, which I first worked at in 1959. I was 15.
So my collecting Social Security is hardly a handout. I’ve paid into it all my life. Leave it to some bloated Git-R-Dun NASCAR-dad to steal my pay-ins, and thereby line his pockets.
What a shame the younger pups still working are paying into Social Security, so I, and Belknap (and Elz), can collect.
It ain’t fair to a bloated fat-cat, who feels entitled to stop the payouts to retirees, and thereby steal them.
But then, of course, when their time comes (as it will), they’ll want payback.
—Yet still complain about me, and Belknap (us older guys), collecting Social Security like them.
Social Security is an “entitlement;” much like thinking you’re entitled to Cheetos because you’re superior.
But in the case of Social Security the entitlement is payout, not posturing.

The “mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired over two years ago. Best job I ever had.

“Arriverderci Mario” is a racing sticker celebrating the retirement of Mario Andretti, who I humblee submit was the greatest racecar driver of all time. He had undeniable talent; and I saw it myself.

RE: “Ministry.......” —Belknap is a Jehovah’s Witness, and knocks on doors.

“Boughton (‘BOW-tin’) Park” is where I run and we walk our dog. It’s near our house.

“Linda” is my wife of 40+ years.

“Gulick Road” (“GOO-lick”), the road Belknap lives on, is way out in the Bristol Hills. No cable; Belknap has Dish Internet. Gulick has driveway washouts, with gravel across the road.

“Queenie” was the nickname I had for Lenore Friend, the “queen of the newsroom” at the Messenger. She was excellent.

“Sandy Hill” is the religious boys camp in northeastern Maryland I worked at 1959-‘61.

“Some bloated Git-R-Dun NASCAR-dad” is my brother-in-Boston.

“Elz” is my sister Betty (Elizabeth). She’s second after me, 62 (I’m the oldest at 64). She lives in Fort Lauderdale, Fla. She recently started collecting Social Security.

My brother-in-Boston is a Cheeto-junkie, and feels I should be likewise. He purchased a bag of Cheetos during a visit a while ago, offered me some, and I ate nothing. Glommed the whole bag himself.