Somebody asked me why I became a columnist rather than, say, a poet, novelist or children’s author. The first answer that comes to mind is, “Almost by accident.” As an artist, I tried to sell some of my cartoons about small-town life to the newspaper and only partially succeeded, realizing that I would never get paid enough to be adequately compensated for the time and effort spent.

Then, I was given the opportunity to write a food column. I could do that! Writing was easy for me and I liked to cook. Most food columns at the time consisted of readers sharing recipes and required that I try out the recipes and could vouch for the results. That sounded more like running a test kitchen than writing, so I decided to write about food rather than just pass on recipes. After a few years, the column had morphed into an opinion column with a scattering of humor and odd little family stories. The simple reason for my sticking with it is that somebody was willing to pay me to do it and, while I have also struggled to write poetry, fiction and children’s stories, writing a column is the easiest – at least for me.

The most significant and, probably more accurate, answer would be that I grew up under the influence of several outstanding columnists and reading their columns on a regular basis brought the realization that it was a special sort of writing – that it offered me just the sort of forum I needed for the kinds of things I wanted to write about.

Probably the most influential columnist of my youth was Harlan Miller, the man who “mused while shaving” sometime in nearly every column he wrote. He had a few other phrases that popped up with familiar regularity in his writing and gave the reader a feeling of chumminess – of being one of the insiders – an old friend. One of those was his habit of referring to his wife as “the BW.” I don’t think he ever clarified just what BW stood for, but he liked to tease us by suggesting it might mean beauteous witch, best woman, beloved wife, or buxom wench.

Elizabeth Clarkson Zwart, who wrote for the Des Moines Register and Tribune for many years, had a great influence on me as well. She had an almost indefinable ability to be both homey and elegant in the same breath. She often inserted little cooking tips into her commentary. When I remember her, the first thing that pops into my head is her habit of telling us about “one good cook I know…” and the hint that immediately rises to the top involves tiny baby bell peppers (those sacrificed to allow the plant to produce fewer but larger specimens.)

“One good cook I know,” she wrote, “saves those baby peppers and stuffs them for the appetizer tray.” Another “good cook” filled the salt shaker while holding it over the soup kettle to eliminate both mess and waste. I always suspected that the good cook she mentioned was probably herself. Dear Abby and Ann Landers offered sympathy and common sense.

Along the Way by Herb Owens was a different sort of column. It was not so much personal musings and observations as it was reporting on interesting people, places and events – with the emphasis on the people. Herb was a sort of roving reporter, seeking those with stories to tell – some funny, some tragic, some unusual – all interesting. If they weren’t intrinsically interesting, Herb dug around until he found something to make them worth reading about. I always suspected that Herb himself had emotions that were pretty close to the surface, because he seemed to understand what was hidden beneath a brave smile or cocky bluster and could lay it bare with the delicacy of an expert surgeon. I tried interviews, but people never opened up to me as they did for Herb.

Then came along such stars as Donald Kaul, John Karras, Irma Bombeck, Heloise and Miss Manners. I enjoyed reading their columns as did most other people, but by then I’d decided I was just me and gave up trying to be like anyone else. Now when I write this, I like to imagine I’m sitting in a friend’s kitchen, drinking coffee and chatting about the things that appear here sooner or later.