True It is, Without Falsehood, Certain and Most True

For a journalist at a weekly paper, especially one asto Wickenden's Career Promotion Center. There I filled
small as the Carrier, The Day the Paper Comes Out isout questionnaire after questionnaire, and I talked to
a day of rest. I usually strolled into the office aroundchipper recent grads with sweater sets and pearl
eleven, caught up on correspondence, read all of thenecklaces, loafers and the beginnings of beer guts. I
magazine articles I hadn't been able to read during thelooked through job ads that made no sense. My
week, made some long-distance personal calls,favorites were from the consulting firms: "You will learn
pretended to start thinking about next week's pieces,to implement strategic management protocol
and left at five sharp. If I was feeling virtuous, I'd filedecisions," et cetera. I worried that I would turn into
some of my week's notes and clear a landing strip onsome sort of cyborg after three weeks at one of
my desk, but usually I saved that for when I was onthese places; I would return home for my first
deadline and needed mindless industry to clear myThanksgiving and communicate via streams of ticker
head. Not that a deadline really mattered all that much:tape issuing from my mouth.After a couple of hours of
Lincoln, Connecticut, like many small towns, specializedCareer Promoting, I felt certain that I would live a long,
in news with a long shelf life. Anyway, nobody waslonely, useless life and die alone and unmissed (did I
going to lose a job if an article detailing the controversymention that I never bothered filling out any grad-school
over the high school's mascot -- the Fighting Sioux:applications?). It's self-indulgent, I know, but this is what
culturally insensitive, respectfully traditional, orhappens to the overachieving but essentially useless
traditionally respectful? -- didn't make it. First of all, thechildren of parents who raised their children to do well
debate would recur next year, probably in the fall, righton tests but failed to equip them with the poison-tipped
about the time ambitious seniors wanted to polish theirspurs of true ambition.Art Rolen called Career
agit-cred for college. Second, we had an endlessPromotion as I was getting ready to trudge home and
supply of ads, announcements, notices, and just plainmaintain a full schedule of feeling sorry for myself. I
filler we could recycle or resize if the cub reporterremember watching the face of my Career Finder
couldn't quite ride without training wheels.And the timesbecome radiant, just beatific, as she nodded with
when I couldn't were getting more and more infrequent.increasing excitement and finally said into the phone,
I had been working at the Lincoln Carrier for almost a"Sir, I think I have someone for you sitting right across
year and a half, ever since graduating fromfrom me. He's not from the college paper, but his
Wickenden University. I had friends who had slidGibson-Montaneau scores indicate that he might be a
seemingly without thought from college to med schoolrilly, rilly good fit for you."She winked twitchily at me and
or law school, or to fancy consulting jobs or some sorthanded me the phone with one hand while making a
of literary underling work in New York, as though those1983-vintage thumbs-up sign with the other. I said hello,
things were just what you did. I had no such prospects,and this drawly growl in the earpiece said, "Well, I hear
nor did I much want to go back to New York, where Ithose Gibbon- Martindale numbers of yours are really
grew up. Actually, I had a vague plan to attendadding up. But here's what I want to know: What do
graduate school and eventually settle down to live thethey mean? And can you write?"I tucked the phone
cloistered, quiet life of a history professor in someinto my chest and turned away from my Career
picturesque little college town (steeple, main streetFinder's blinding enthusiasm. "Well, I don't really know
called Main Street, movie theater with a marquee),what they mean, to tell you the truth. They seem to
someplace where I could get all of my aging out of theput some stock in them here, I guess. And technically
way in my early thirties and live without crises orI'm not from the college paper: I wrote for them every
surprises, changing only incrementally for the rest ofso often. I guess I can write well enough. Where is it
my allotted threescore and ten.I hadn't really thought ofyou're calling from?""Lincoln, Connecticut. About two
becoming a journalist, mostly because I didn't reallyhours west of Wickenden. I run a small weekly paper
understand how one did it. I had turned out a fewhere, about sixteen pages. What I need is another
music and book reviews for my college paper, mainlyfulltime, little-bit-of-everything kind of person. Right now
for the free books and CDs; I would read or listen toit's just me and a columnist, and we got an ad lady.
something, write a couple hundred words about it, andThe other full-timer we had just left, got a job in Storrs.
a week later I'd see my name above some prose thatGreener pastures, I guess. Anyway, you'd do a little
bore a passing resemblance to what I had written. Areporting, little writing, little editing, little paper shuffling,
racket, not a career.After graduation I had just stayedsome office work." I heard the muffled hoosh of a
on in the same apartment I lived in during the year: Icigarette being smoked. "Some phone answering, but
had no reason to be anywhere else. A month into thatno more than anyone else. Nothing fancy. No
stagnant summer, I declined my father's offer/mandateWoodstein stuff. Maybe a way to see if you want to
to work as a paralegal at his friend's law firm indo something like this or not."I shrugged, then
Indianapolis, where my father had moved after myremembered that shrugs don't translate over the
parents finally split. He made me feel so guilty aboutphone. "Sounds interesting. Sure.
not having a job that I went, for the first and only time,