Remember when newspaper columnists used to mean something? Like when they were influential voices in their communities, setting local opinion on matters large and small? Those were the halcyon days of journalism: when a George Will or a David Broder or a Mike Royko would weigh in on a subject, the community would listen. Did it used to be that way in Kansas City? No idea. We haven’t lived or lived here long enough. But we do know this: the Star’s most prominent columnist and face of the Sunday opinion page, C.W. Gusewelle, has just written a column about putting together a jigsaw puzzle — and, of course, what loosely stretched metaphors can be found within it. Now, why is it that print media is going under?
C-dub apparently has a holiday tradition, one that we can all agree is probably a bundle of fun. He and his family like to assemble jigsaw puzzles. Okay, no harm there; we like games, too. But we don’t write whole columns about it, you know?
Looking for way too much detail about a puzzle you didn’t do? You’re in luck!
It had 1,000 pieces, and when completed, according to information on the box, it would measure 24 by 30 inches. The round card table on which we worked had a diameter of 38 inches.
That sounds ample, but it is not. Because the puzzle’s assembled dimensions were meaningless. When the 1,000 pieces were laid out separately, they filled the table to its edge.
Thus a good number of them — 100 or 200, maybe more, grouped roughly by color — had to be set aside in separate containers before we could even make a start.
For guidance in the enterprise, one had the illustration on the carton in which the puzzle came. The picture we were challenged to complete was, at first look, a charming one.
Good lord. The only thing more boring than this would be hearing about someone else’s dream. Wait, exclamation point alert!
You hardly could imagine a sweeter or more engaging tableau. An artist by the name of Howard Robinson is credited with having painted it.
And I can tell you from bitter experience that Mr. Robinson is a sadistic fiend!
Saucy, C-dub! But please, we’re dying to know: how did the experience end? And what larger lessons can we draw about the spirit of the holidays and familial triumph?
If you’ve ever labored over a jigsaw puzzle you know there does come that eventual moment when, with triumph in sight, the several dozen last pieces seem almost to fly into place. It happens even with a puzzle as devious and confounding as this one that had so tormented us.
On the final night, determined to see our ordeal to its end, we worked until nearly midnight, our glad cries ringing out around a table where, before, there’d been only groans and rage.
“Groans and rage,” huh? Funny you should say that.
