There are a lot of people who will tell you I’ve been a pain in the butt as long as they’ve known me. They could be on to something.
Take my headshot, for example. It’s cropped from a shot taken at a KOA convention several years ago, not long before we quit the KOA franchise system and a few years before we sold the campground itself. Since then I’ve been pretty critical of KOA in particular and the campground industry overall, but I like the picture because it makes me look all cheery instead of the grumpy old sourpuss I’ve become.
In truth, however, I’ve come by my jaundice honestly, after nearly 30 years in the newspaper industry and another 10 in organized labor–two fields of human endeavor, you may have noticed, that are on the edge of extinction. Some of the newspapers for which I reported don’t exist any more, and two (The Wall Street Journal and Barron’s) are owned by Rupert Murdoch, which almost qualifies as a living death. As for organized labor? Ironically, the most successful unions today are those that look out for people already making a lot of money, like baseball players. And film stars. Newspaper reporters just got it all wrong.
Still, the temptation to poke at vested interests with a verbal harpoon is not easily vanquished. Nor is the urge to natter on about the few things I actually know something about, which is how I came to write about campground ownership in my first book, "Renting Dirt." I also post regularly to a blog on the subject (www.renting-dirt.com) and, more recently, published a step-by-step guide, "Turning Dirt," for anyone who thinks buying a campground is a first step toward a healthy life choice despite all evidence to the contrary (viz. "Renting Dirt").
Meanwhile, my wife, Carin, and I live in Staunton, Virginia, a few miles from the campground we once owned and within spitting distance of our two grandsons, Anthony and Matthew. Thus far, no spitting has been involved. I also volunteer with the Red Cross, which can always use more help if you have the time and inclination.