Monday, December 24, 2018

Farewell 2018

The autumn of a blog's life gives way to the depths of winter.
Deke's Note: MERRY CHRISTMAS, DEAR READERS! 

It's been a momentous year for your Deke N. Blue. Thank you to all who have purchased my book this year. Each of you has honored me by spending the hard-earned money you all toil to earn on my humble tome. It was meant to be a working-man's homage to his fellows who make the world's economy roll.

Watching the blog's readership decline has been a painful vigil, but I knew it would eventually happen. While it's hard, I realize there comes a time when one stage must make way for a new avenue. This blog has been a close friend, a steam kettle and a creative channel for the thoughts I have behind the wheel of The Beast. I've done my best to describe the life of a transit operator, but it seems to have become either a bitch-fest against management or a feeble foray into the realm of everyday bullshit we all encounter.

Some operators have told me they have no patience to re-hash what they spent a shift living to read about the same. It's understandable. After five years, I know what they mean. Newbies find this blog a mirror of what they see and it's all new to them. To me, driving a bus has become my reality, and very little about it excites or inspires me. People on my bus have melded into the same individual, save for a very few. To continue describing the same scene is redundant.

There are a few posts I need to write. First, the rift between Maintenance and Operators needs my attention. We don't understand each other, yet both are the front line of every transit operation. We usually vote differently for union leadership when we must come together to ensure our common interests are represented. I have my own ideas as to how we could bridge that gap, but there is a conversation with a Maintenance Brother I hope to have soon that could result in a greater respect for one another. That will be my next project. Neither of us can exist without the other, yet we're virtual strangers.

While I will miss the fun I've had producing From the Driver Side, it seems the magic has departed. One thing my late father taught me is that everything has a season, and the winter has arrived for this writer's muse. It's time to explore the unknown, to fling my driver's arms in a wider arc to grasp what lies ahead. To bore you with more of the same would feel like cheating. I'd rather you remember me fondly for what I tried to accomplish than be bored with more of the same.

All my life, I've tried to describe my footsteps from a keyboard. You've rewarded me with your time and support. I'm so happy to have reached nearly every corner and cranny of this small blue marble lost in the wilderness of infinity. Someday, I'll find the bravery necessary to admit who Deke truly is. Most of you who read this already know me, and I thank you for keeping my identity to yourselves. Surely, my management is aware as well, yet they allow me to continue driving while writing. It's one of their few positive marks in a sea of degradation toward those who do the real work of transit. Thank you, Bean Counters, for putting up with my harsh critiques.

For now, I wish every one of you who read this blog a wonderful Christmas, whichever holiday season you celebrate. We're tiny in the presence of all that is good on the Blue Marble in Nearby Space, yet your nod of appreciation has made me feel relevant. Now that I've realized that 14 Minutes of Flame has been nearly snuffed out, this is my tip-of-the-uniform-hat to you for staying with me so long.

Thank you Dear Readers everywhere. May peace roll with you every mile, and your paths be blessed by flowers and the green vistas of God's beauty each day you're blessed to live.


With love and appreciation, I remain your irascible
Deke N. Blue
...and we are... every day you roll our ride.

1 comment:

  1. Maybe you can "retire" like KISS, The Who, etc and come back every once in a while. Sometimes stepping back and letting things cure will give you perspective without permanently closing doors.

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