I arrived in this world, unfashionably early, at the old L. Richardson Memorial Hospital in the days when a canopy of leafy, thick-waisted trees shaded Benbow Road.
I can picture the Old Rebel and Pecos Pete introducing vintage Popeye cartoons in the afternoons. I even can remember when Country Park actually was in the country.
Which is to say, I'm getting older. But which also is to say I also love this community. I've got roots here, and they run pretty darned deep.
So I do what I can. I volunteer. I go to meetings. I try to stay involved in worthwhile causes, especially where young people are concerned.
I have mentored children through Communities in Schools. I have been a Big Brother. I have sold fried fish and sweet potato pies at Dudley High School Class of '73 fundraisers.
In fact, I'm not very different from most of my co-workers who live here and rear families here. We are not dispassionate observers. We are your neighbors.
Bearing that in mind, the News & Record recently sponsored an employee panel on community involvement as a means to be better citizens and journalists.
But it's not always easy being a part of the community we report news or write opinions about. And even the most innocent endeavors can become prickly ethical entanglements.
Take for instance, my membership in a model railroad club. Carolina Model Railroaders would seem to be about as innocent a pastime as I could possibly choose. What harm could come from my participating in a group of grown men who play with trains?
Then the city opened the new J. Douglas Galyon Depot.
The train club wanted space in the new facility, but some city officials and City Council members preferred a sexier tenant such as a restaurant because it could afford to pay higher rent.
Suddenly Carolina Model Railroaders became a Community Issue. So, whenever the topic arose in editorial board meetings, I politely excused myself. I could not suggest that we write about the subject and I could not express an opinion on it.
And if they chose to write about the topic, I'd not be a party to the editorial in any way. I would not edit it. I would not read it before publication. I would have absolutely nothing to do with it.
Journalists are expected to avoid conflicts of interest that could cloud their sense of fairness and objectivity. Relatively speaking, the Model Railroaders were an easy case. Back in my earlier days in journalism, when I was editor of an African American weekly in Winston-Salem, one of our reporters had come upon a bizarre story: A high-ranking city official had been arrested for stealing $7 and change from his secretary's purse.
He was a friend. He and I were both officers in a local Kiwanis club. He was president. I was vice president.
It gets worse. He was a former ACC football player and, ironically, a former head of security on a local private college campus. And he had asked me, as a friend, not to run the story.
I had to run it, I said, or I had no right, from that point forward, to run an unflattering story about anyone else. The arrest was a matter of public record. It also was news. As painful as this was, I told him, knowing me shouldn't earn him special favors.
The story ran. My friend resigned his job. I resigned as vice president of the Kiwanis.
For some reason, the secretary pressed charges and took the poor man to court. I'm not sure whatever became of him but I am certain I lost his friendship. Probably forever.
The old story gnaws at me from time to time, and it reminds me that community involvement is a good thing for newspaper people, but not always an easy thing.
We have to choose our affiliations very carefully, but sometimes, no matter how hard we try, even the most innocent activity can bring unexpected baggage.
That said, we should stay engaged in our communities, even though awkward situations will arise.
The best we can do when that happens is to be open, honest and fair about it.