I am a writer.

And I have never kept a journal. 

I’ve always admired people who take a moment in the evening to recap their day, their thoughts, and their emotions. What a great gift it is for loved ones after one passes to relive the daily travails of someone they will never see again. 

My father died last year. He never kept a journal but I have a saved voicemail from him on my phone recorded the week before he died. I haven’t listened to it yet, but it comforts me knowing it is there. That I can, again, hear the voice that I loved and respected so much. 

My time has passed for a diary—too old to start now. But then I started thinking. 

We have published 42 issues of JerseyMan and PhillyMan Magazine since our inception in 2010. And in many of those columns, I have bared my soul to friends and strangers. Having the “bully pulpit” to express ideas to all that care to read them is a powerful and cathartic experience.

So in essence my columns (most are available at jerseymanmagazine.com) are my journal. And I hope when I am gone, my words are a source of care and comfort to all who took the time to care about my opinion. 

You see words, a lot like voicemails, can live forever.