Thinkcorps

I’ve been meaning to post here for several weeks now, but haven’t had the time or energy. That’s what happens, I suppose, when life kicks into a different gear. Plus, I tend toward runs of blog-writing separated by long silences, anyway.

First off, I’m now gainfully employed. That’s right, I’m back in the game. I’m now the Online General Manager for Portland Monthly, Inc. and responsible for the online presences of its magazines Portland Monthly, Seattle Metropolitan, and Portland Bride & Groom, as well as any other publications it decides to launch. It’s a solid position at a young, successful company that gets the Web. Plus, I’m building everything from scratch. That means no legacy code, no outdated business models. Just the opportunity to build something fresh based on all the knowledge we’ve accumulated to this point in the Net’s evolution.

As a side note, I recently attended Webvisions06 in Portland, and let’s just say I’m excited to explore some of the ideas I heard there.

On a sobering note, just last Sunday, my friend Bill Goggins died near the end of the SF marathon. I got the chance to work with Bill at Wired. He started less than a year after me. I think he was editing copy about the time I transitioned out of copy edit to an editor position. Regardless, we did hunker down over copy on many occasions. Bill was an amazing guy. He was a challenging editor, very knowledgeable, thoughtful and kind—even while he was subtling bending me to his will. :) I was younger and more naive then; oftentimes overconfident (nay cocky?)—I think they nicknamed me “old man,” for my grumpiness. Bill took me in stride. He was pretty much unflappable. Despite our different styles, the guy was definitely growing on me.

My opinion of Bill radically changed after a night spent bar-hopping around SF with some co-workers. I think it’s true that you only see a certain side of people at work—generally, it’s the side best suited to the job. At work, Bill was thoughtful, precise and tough. He tempered this style (really necessary for a copy editor) with humor. The combination could get grating at times, since you knew 99 times out of a 100 you were going to lose to a guy whose smile never left his face. I don’t think Bill brought much to my attention that he hadn’t thoroughly worked over in his head. He was always prepared, that’s for sure.

Anyway, I have a terrible memory, so a night out drinking is already a total haze for me, and it’s amazing I can remember anything about it at all. But Bill’s sense of humor really shone outside of the confines of his job. Once you get to know Bill, the whole Bill, you start to wonder how the guy could jam such a sprawling, ebullient personality into such a tight job description as “copy editor.”

He was nicer, funnier, more geniune and honest than I’d thought a person possible. He sprung up into 3 dimensions for me that night. And I’m happy to hold onto whatever slippery shadows remain of that night in my head, for as long as I can.

It’s a wonder to me that Bill was able to maintain that personality through the years. Beyond whatever tough times he might have had, the ticking of the years wears all of us down, and I often wondered about how Bill would weather time. Beneath that shield of intellect, he seemed so delicate, with a personality like a bright-eyed child or flower. He was someone you wanted to protect, if only so you had an example of someone to look up to. I don’t think anyone will ever understand why Bill fell that day. Maybe his flame did burn twice as bright, maybe a flower’s bloom is only meant to last through Spring.

But I got a chance, albeit brief, to know him, and I’m so much the better for it. Thanks Bill.