And so we have finite resources with which to put out a biweekly, multicultural newspaper that doesn’t allow us to hire people beyond the bare minimum to publish every two weeks, get it in the newsstands in a timely manner and get it posted to the website. Except for deliveries and the website, I am a staff of one. I am the publisher, editor and chief bottle washer, doing whatever needs to get done to get a quality product — I hope that is the way that people view us — that reflects positively on the Madison area’s communities of color.

I am grateful that I have friendships and relationships in Madison’s communities of color that have been developed and sustained over the past 20 years or more. We don’t just “helicopter in,” do a story and then leave only to return the next time we need a story from the community. As a community newspaper, it’s about the continuing relationships and having a positive impact on the communities beyond writing stories.

Doing all of this takes a lot of energy, a lot of conversations and a lot of paying attention to what is going on. I feel — rightly or wrongly — that I have blended with the communities and it would be near impossible to somehow extricate myself, especially at the age of 73. Our fates are bound together.

And as I enter the later stages of my life, a lot of people have asked, “When are you going to retire?” And I tell them I don’t plan to retire because I still enjoy what I do. And for the most part, I don’t have a boss who tells me to do the things I already know how to do. I only have dozens of community “editors” who tell me what to do and that is okay because that is also how I keep touch with what is going on.

But as I get older, I find that I have to be more strategic with my time because as much as I hate to admit it, I do lose a step now and then. And there is less and less margin for error.

And this brings me to this Back to School Edition. This has probably been my worse 7-10 days in my 26-year newspaper career — both at The Madison Times and The Capital City Hues.

It all started when I had to work until 4 a.m. on my birthday no less to complete a financial statement for one of my — and my son Andrew’s — non-profit clients. They needed the statement for a board meeting. Staying up working until the wee hours in the morning is not something I would recommend to someone my age.

By the morning, I caught a bad cold that has hampered me in all phases of my game. Even now, I think it is toying with me because I am fine in the morning and clogged up by the afternoon. And it makes me want to rest even though I know that has its consequences.

And by August 25^th, I knew that I would not get the newspaper printed on time and made arrangements to have it printed today. The newspaper grew by four pages to 20 pages and I was the one who would be writing the stories to fill those additional pages.

Sometimes, I am like a kid in a candy store and and I want lots of this, that and the other. And so I made appointments with and interviewed all of these awesome people. But the stories wouldn’t fit into a 16-page paper and so I expanded because I want to do what is journalistically right.

And then as I began to transcribe my interviews, I had two microcassette tapes that broke and I had to redo 3-4 interviews. And I also had to retake a photo or two. And in the meantime, some of the people can’t redo the interviews because the work of preparing for a new school year is fast upon them.

And so while feeling like a dog due to my everlasting cold, the stories were not working out as I had envisioned. I had to drop my original cover story and a source or two for another and then dig deep into the story vault for another.

And so I changed up the cover — which turned out to be just as good — and included some other stories. And all the while, I was feeling so terribly old, incompetent and unprofessional and a voice was suggesting that I just abruptly retire and move somewhere quickly before anyone knew what happened. It was, by far, the worst week in my 26 years of journalism.

And while all of this was going on mentally and physically, I kept trying and somehow got nine interviews that I could use transcribed. And got the paper laid out while taking intermittent breaks laying in bed praying that the cold would finally pass.

And somehow, someway, fighting through it all and trying to move forward, this Back to School issue is complete and is being distributed and hopefully read.

And all of this is to say, students always keep on fighting and striving for excellence in spite of all that you face. Keep striving in spite of those voices — or attitudes — that tell you that you can’t reach your goal of academic excellence.

Keep fighting and keep striving. And this semester, this academic year, this grade level, you will reach your goal of academic excellence. Don’t let anyone — including yourself — turn you around.