On a clear morning 40 years ago, I wedged along with two friends into a Triumph TR7, zipped through Fort Collins to Hughes Stadium and graduated from Colorado State University. It was at once the end of one journey and the beginning of another.

Passing round number milestones tends to dredge up recollections long buried at the bottom of my brain. Perhaps it’s a welcome excuse for those of us who reach a certain age — nearly fossilized in my case — to wander down memory lane.

I believe it’s useful, nonetheless, for everyone to take stock from time to time. Circumstances are unique, of course. But generalities apply. It’s difficult to tell where you’re going without considering where you’ve been. It’s important to review what’s changed over the years, but also what’s remained the same.

The day after the 1981 commencement at CSU, I packed my belongings into my car and drove over Cameron Pass to Walden and a job as managing editor of the Jackson County Star. Along with low pay and long hours, the position came with a cramped apartment behind the newspaper office. The scenery, however, was priceless — mountains in every direction as far as the eye could see.

Weekly trips to Craig to print the paper at the Daily Press acquainted me with the staff there, one I was fortunate to join. Eventually, I became managing editor and oversaw efforts to produce what was at the time was one of the smallest circulation daily newspapers in Colorado, but one I’d contend punched well above it’s weight.

More important for me personally, I met, fell in love with and married a young woman as brilliant as she was beautiful.

I followed her to the Grand Valley when she attended what’s now Colorado Mesa University and then moved with her again to Oregon when she studied at the Willamette University College of Law. That afforded me opportunities to work for two more newspapers, covering sports for a daily and what we used to joke were cows and plows for a regional agricultural weekly.

Just months after my wife received her law degree and passed the bar exam, we were back in the Grand Valley. We had two bright young sons in tow.

Shortly afterward, I began working for the Business Times, first as a freelancer and then editor. That was nearly 23 years ago. Don’t they go by in a blink?

Like so many other industries, the newspaper business has experienced profound changes over the past 40 years. While I never wore a fedora with a press card tucked into the band, I pounded out copy on a typewriter. I assembled newspaper pages by pasting together long strips of text trimmed with X-Acto knives and waxed on the back.

Computer technology and the internet changed not only newspaper production, but also the ways in which information is gathered and disseminated. The old days spent hunched over government records and peering at microfilm to conduct research were anything but good, especially compared to the speed and ease of using Google. 

Newspapers still reach readers in print, but increasingly in digital formats through websites and smartphones. Some newspapers have transitioned entirely to digital publication.

Call me an anachronistic relic, but I still savor a printed newspaper with a cup of coffee. It’s a sensory experience I’m reluctant to give up. For that matter, I prefer printed books over their electronic counterparts. I also acknowledge that when I’m in a hurry, I turn to my computer.

The more things change, though, the more they stay the same. Even in the midst of technological revolution, core functions go on.

The core of what I do is tell stories. It’s the same as when I covered the school board in Walden and city council in Craig. It’s the same as when I wrote about high school wrestling in the Grand Valley and wine production in the Willamette Valley.

It’s the same today not only in reporting on business, but also writing mystery novels.

Wandering back down memory lane, I remember well the day I graduated from CSU — and most of the days I’ve lived since then. They’ve offered the usual mix of good, bad and occasionally downright ugly. But I’ve been blessed with mostly good.

Moreover, I remain excited about the journey and where it will lead next.

It only makes sense to seek advice from those who’ve achieved success. Rather than reinvent the wheel, why not just imitate the inventors? Or at least listen to what they’ve got to say about the subject.

I’ve been the grateful recipient of a lot of advice over the more than 40 years I’ve toiled as a newspaper journalist and, more recently, a novelist.

I once worked for a sports editor who set an indelible example for work-life balance. His advice: Come in early, bust your butt to finish the job and then get the hell out of Dodge.

I’ve been equally fortunate to receive excellent advice from some talented mystery writers, among them Kevin Wolf and Mark Stevens. I’d do well to follow their examples in telling compelling tales set in Colorado.

It’s probably true of people involved in most vocations. But writers seem an especially generous lot in sharing their time and talents, not to mention their encouragement.

A friend who pens both long novels and short stories — I’m writing about you, now, Mike Caulfield — recently shared a link to a post on the Literary Hub website. The post collected some of the best advice Ray Bradbury offered about writing.

Bradbury is perhaps best known as the author of “Fahrenheit 451,” “The Martian Chronicles” and his collection of short stories in “The Illustrated Man.” One of my favorite books, though, is “Something Wicked This Way Comes,” his haunting fantasy about what happens when a traveling carnival shows up in a Midwestern town.

I admired two related bits of Bradbury advice mentioned in the post:

“Don’t write for money. Write because you love to do something. If you write for money, you won’t write anything worth reading.”

“Writing is not a serious business. It’s a joy and a celebration. You should be having fun at it. … If it’s work, stop it and do something else.”

It might seem counterintuitive for someone who’s spent most of his life more or less writing for money to agree with his advice not to. Or, for that matter, that writing isn’t a serious business.

So let me add what I consider some important caveats to Bradbury’s advice.

Don’t write JUST for money. While I’ve been blessed to make a living writing, it’s never been about the money. It’s always been about the stories I’m privileged to tell.

While writing is indeed serious business that demands hard work, it ALSO should be fun. And it is. I can think of few things more fun than using a word that’s just right, brandishing a well-turned phrase or completing a scene I can’t wait to share with readers.

As is so often the case, good advice applies more broadly than initially intended.

The business of business, for example, is to make money. It’s an existential objective. Operating a business requires hard work and plenty of it. But it also should be a labor of love, one that’s fun.

It’s been my experience writing news stories as well as fiction that those who enjoy their work are more likely to enjoy success.

At least that’s my advice.

I’ve long wondered what makes geniuses so … ingenious. 

How could DaVinci envision his remarkable inventions? What enabled Mozart to compose such magnificent music? Where did Einstein draw his inspiration to develop his theories on relativity?

For that matter, how, oh how, did Bill Watterson cram so much creativity, humor and insight into a comic strip about a hyperactive kid and his toy tiger?

Perhaps the more important question for the rest of us poor schmoes is this: Is there anything we can learn from geniuses to apply to our lives? If we can’t be geniuses, can we at least achieve to some degree their levels of prowess? 

If nothing else, I’d like to write a well-turned phrase once in a while.

Craig Wright explores this topic in his book titled “The Hidden Habits of Genius: Beyond Talent, IQ, and Grit—Unlocking the Secrets of Greatness.” A music professor at Yale University, Wright also taught a popular course there on the nature of genius.

So what makes geniuses geniuses? As Wright repeats in his book, there is no answer.

For starters, there’s disagreement over what constitutes a genius. Talent and intelligence are involved, but there’s more to it than that. Wright quotes the German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer: “A person of talent hits a target that no one else can hit; a person of genius hits a target that no one else can see.”

Wright offers his own definition of genius as someone of extraordinary mental powers whose original works or insights significantly change society over time.

As unique as they are, geniuses share some commonalities — what Wright considers their hidden habits. Their work ethic, curiosity and passion. But also their faults as not-so-great human beings.

I was especially interested in what Wright had to write about authors — among them Mary Shelley, Toni Morrison and J.K. Rowling.

Wright cites their imagination. Think of the creature Shelley brings to life in “Frankenstein” or wizarding world Rowling builds for her Harry Potter series.

Then there’s grit. When she was a single mother raising two sons in a small rented home in Queens, Morrison got up early and stayed up late to write. 

And then there’s resolve borne of adversity. Rowling believed if she had enjoyed even a modicum of success in another endeavor, she never would have developed the determination to succeed as a writer. Her rock bottom became the solid foundation upon which she built a career as one of the best-selling authors of all time.

I’m no genius. I don’t even play one on TV. But I’d like to believe I’m smart enough to learn from the efforts of others, to take to heart the importance of imagination, grit and determination.

I’m even hopeful that some day perhaps my efforts will prove … ingenious.

’Tis the season. For, among other things, holiday newsletters. You know, those annual missives you receive, typically from distant relations.

You only met once, and that was at a family reunion 15 years ago in Iowa. But every year since, they’ve confided in intimate detail what’s occurred in their lives. And it’s always amazing. Too good to be true, in fact.

Your second cousin Fred won the Ironman World Championship. And Aunt Ethel, bless her heart, received Nobel prizes for both chemistry and physics.

Before I poke too much fun at holiday newsletters, let me confess two things. First, I enjoy newsletters. If only for the reassurance at least once a year family and friends are doing well. Incredibly well, judging by what they write. Second, I send out newsletters myself.

My bragfest this year includes announcements my oldest son, Zach, received his MBA from Dartmouth and went to work for Goldman Sachs. My youngest son Alex — the CPA — was promoted at the big accounting firm where he works. Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot. An entry based on my novel “Small Town News” won the Colorado Gold Rush Literary Award in the mystery and thriller category. 

No kidding. As humor columnist and author Dave Barry reiterates so eloquently: I’m not making this up.

Needless to say, I’ve got a lot of blessings to count. And I do. With gratitude.

Near the end of what might charitably be called an interesting year for holiday newsletters, I’m reminded of the opening line by Charles Dickens, one of the best in literature: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

For me, the best of 2020 exceeded the worst. Best of all, family and friends remain safe, even those who tested positive for COVID-19. I’m relieved. 

I’m also reminded that for many people, this isn’t the case. For some, 2020 has been one long nightmare from which they can’t seem to awake. And for those who’ve lost loved ones, the pandemic has been heart-rending.

I can only hope 2021 will be better. For everyone. And by this time next year, we’ll all have happier news to share in our holiday newsletters.

As for Cousin Fred and Aunt Ethel. Well, what can I say? You guys rock.