Farewell Opus

Well, I already posted on politics and cartoons this week ... why not one more!

In all the hubbub of the election, I forgot to say goodbye to an old friend.

His name is Opus. And he's a cartoon penguin.

Opus was one of the stars of the great "Bloom County" comic strip of the 80's. He eventually migrated to a Sunday-only strip called "Outland," retired again, and returned with more Sunday-only adventures named ... appropriately enough ... "Opus."

This may sound odd, but I'm gonna miss the guy.

You see, I first discovered "Bloom County" during my high school years. I found its left-leaning political commentary hilarious.

In fact, every afternoon (yes, the Canton Rep was an afternoon paper back then), I'd grab the paper and head right to the funnies.

While other teens were reading "The Far Side" and "Calvin & Hobbes" ... I enjoyed the political satire of Opus, the wise-beyond-their years Milo and Binkley, sleazy lawyer Steve Dallas, kid genius Oliver Wendell Holmes, meadow critters Hodgepodge and Portnoy, and of course, the once-dead Bill The Cat.

Opus' creator, Berkeley Breathed, said that he approached the comics from two angles ... part Charles Schulz and part Michael Moore.

But, Breathed ended "Opus" for the final time this past Sunday. He says the political discourse in the country is too rabid, and he fears his Moore side will overwhelm his Schulz side.

So, rather than let his prized penguin become jaded, he sent him off to nap ... within the pages of a popular children's book.

It's weird to say that seeing a cartoon come to an end makes me sad ... but it does a bit. I've enjoyed following Opus for probably more than 20 years, and will miss waking up to him on Sundays.

It's also sad to think that with the decline of newspapers, cartoons will probably die out as well.

And Opus might just be the last, great character to say goodnight.

I shouldn't write this

I shouldn't write this ... but I'm going to.

I'm going to write this because others won't ... or can't.

I'm going to write this not to point fingers, but to remember what was.

I'm going to write this not out of bitterness ... but out of friendship.

I'm going to write this because I need to ... and have to.

And, I'm going to write this ... without names ... to protect the innocent.

I got word today that my former employer, which continues to struggle in this economy, made another round of job cuts.

I was a victim of one of those some months ago ... and there have been several rounds since then.

Let me stress something again ... I'm not bitter or angry. I'm disappointed. And I'm saddened.

I'm not disappointed in the decisions that were made, because my former industry is a business just like any other, and not a charity.

I understand why the cuts were made, and why the people chosen to lose their jobs were chosen.

I'm disappointed because they were all GOOD people. Hard-working people. Folks that gave decades of sweat ... and even tears ... to the place they worked.

That included working long hours, working on days you were supposed to have off, even rushing in to replace a sick colleague at the expense of missing a college friend's wedding.

Many of these people sacrificed their personal lives to make the business a success.

And I'm most disappointed because these people were veterans. People who knew their city. Who knew their customers. Who reflected their customers' values, likes and dislikes.

Which brings me to the sadness.

I'm sad because it was a good team. A strong team.

A team that, while it had its share of stumbles, could pull together a massive project like no other.

A team you could be proud to work with ... and work for.

And I'm sad that these veterans will likely never be replaced. Nor will their knowledge. And their history.

And if they are replaced, it will be by people who aren't from the area ... weren't born here, didn't grow up here, or call this area home for an extended period of time.

People who may remember details of the OJ Simpson verdict. But, don't remember that it happened the same day as the Indians' first playoff game in almost 40 years.

That may sound like trivia. And it is. But, you never know when it might come in handy.

There's value in experience. There's value in knowledge. There's value in history. And that's walking out the door, never to be replaced.

Yes, it's a new era. The era of working harder and faster, putting in more hours and doing more jobs for less money.

And that's fine.

But, a new era shouldn't mean automatically tossing away members of the last era.

Many of them were willing to adjust, willing to adapt, and willing to tackle the new challenges head-on.

I don't envy any manager for having to make the decisions that they make.

But, while the cuts may balance the bottom line, they also might crush the heart and soul of a once-proud organization.

So, I wish the best to those who have left ... and those who remain behind ... fighting the good fight, with dwindling resources, against growing obstacles.

I will close that chapter of my life formally ... with this entry.

But I will always remember that team, and the feeling of a job well done.