By way of an introduction, let me attempt to answer some of the more obvious concerns that may immediately come to mind.

• Where has Andy Rooney been lately? A recent Rooney "column" was a long list that outlined things he categorized as "good." Topping my list: fluffy puppies, hazelnut coffee and Rickenbacker guitars. As for Rooney’s, we didn’t feel 500 words of filler was such a good thing.

• "Who are you?" The name under my mug should field this one adequately. More specifically, I have been the night editor of this paper since February, which means I go to bed late — or early, depending on your perspective — and get up late. The coffee-caffeination for me usually begins about noon each day rather than 8 a.m. I comb through the news articles, snooping out typos and other faux pas.

When many are reaching for their PJs, I’m losing sleep over symbols on a LCD screen. In this bizarre existence, I miss most all the sitcoms, reality shows and gritty primetime dramas. But I don’t mind. I got bored with sitcoms years ago, can’t bear reality shows and have neither the time or patience to keep up with the latest storylines gripping viewers of CSI:(Insert town here).

• Why you, why here, why now? Whoa, let’s take it slow. Suffice it to say that I’m taking up the mighty pen now because, frankly, I have missed it. It’s how I made a living for three years as a reporter and news editor for a paper in Clayton, Ga. and consequently, how I remained sane for years prior to that. The writing of fellows like John Milton, Thomas Wolfe, Thomas Hardy and others in the literary catacombs informs much of what I do.

Myself and others in this profession share a common thread. We have something within us, a stirring, a force or a yearning to pick up our pens. Like others’ innate need for food or water, we have a basic need to write. We have no choice. Like music for Bach and Beethoven, writing flows in and through us. It’s like a well that must be tapped. If it’s not, something inside writhes as in a drought.

Perhaps this explains a recent conversation I had with my editor. To paraphrase, it went something like this: "You’re bored to tears aren’t you?" he asked me, referring to my typical duties of page layout and editing.

"Well, not bored to tears, but …," thinking all the while, "Dude, you’ve gotta let me write something; I’m dying here."

• Shouldn’t you be in some dank library basement with your face buried in a dusty volume? Yes, probably, but I enjoy the sunshine most of the time.

• What’s the deal with this opinion page? We at this paper strive to bring you as much original content as we can muster. We believe in the free exchange of ideas, whether they are from the left, the right, somewhere in between or from the cosmos. I will surely dabble in the latter from time to time.

• Why should I read this? You shouldn’t if you don’t want to. There will be no arm-twisting. To have people agree with me is not the goal. The goal is to challenge others and myself, to question, and yes, to entertain, and to do it as ably as I know how. Thus, I will offer my perspective on local, state and national events, politics, religion, history or whatever else might be rolling around in the belfry.

• Tell us some of your other “good” things. Sure. Funnel cakes, teddy bear hamsters, afternoon lemonade, dogwood trees in bloom, ocean mist, 2-year-old giggles, semicolons, Saturday morning cartoons and columns that eventually end.