Some of you acquainted with the San Francisco Chronicle might know of this
columnist. He wrote for that paper for fifty years. I just found out he just
died of lung cancer. I'm quite sad. When I lived with my Gramma Cathy,
reading Art Hoppe was a morning ritual. She'd sip a cup of coffee, let out a
few snorts and chortles, and pass the paper over to me, so I could do the
same thing. We both thought he was the best writer we ever read. In his
column, rather than stating his opinions, he described human nature.
Some of you might recall my rather weak attempts at satire, not including my
ProSolo coverage. Oh, you don't need to know that was satire, too. Well,
some other attempts were my Skates Prepared piece I sent to this list a
couple of years back, and my personal favorite, a piece that appeared in
North American Pylon about a new index which addresses the constant
fluctuating hormonal balance of women competitors: the Time Annotated Menses
Professional Autocross Index, or TAMPAX.
Several people later told me they didn't think that second one was very
funny. I had asked my Gramma Cathy to read it before it got printed, and she
said, "Honey, couldn't you at least explain that you're trying to copy Art
Hoppe so they know you're trying to be funny?"
Art Hoppe had a lot more practice and talent than I did or ever will. He
wrote about real issues, like war and politics, and could somehow make
people laugh. He was a true humanist. He also paid his dues. I write about
autocross. That's not journalism. It's procrastination.
On his 60th birthday, in 1985, he wrote, in an open letter to God: "I never
quite believed in your wrath. I see you as a kindly and benevolent host
concerned with my well-being. I like to think that your pine needles and
your storms and your malevolent microbes have been placed in my path to
remind me that it isn't all fun and games. Nor should it be. So thank you
dear God for the deserts, for Texas and for the pine beetles."
After my Gramma passed away, I moved out and never got my own subscription
to the Chronicle. It seemed like a lot of money to spend just to read Art
Hoppe, or Ann Landers. So, I lost touch, but everytime I'd chance on reading
a column of his, it was like a sudden jolt, like, "Ah. That's how you do
it." I somehow thought I'd find the time to start reading his column again,
before this.
Some of you have written to tell me that you sometimes think I'm funny. So,
on this really sad day, I'd like to thank you all. Unfortunately, the guy
I've been trying to rip-off is gone now.
Well, Kurt Vonnegut is still here. Thank God.
Katie K.
|