Those brain blips that occur all too regularly for some of us are often blamed on “senior moments.” However, I maintain the brain blips happen because we live in the Age of Information Overload, chronological counting notwithstanding.

This time the deadline for this piece slipped up on me and I got that friendly little e-mail reminder. I pleaded “writer’s block” and asked for a small extension, which was granted.

Most of us in this business have suffered “writer’s block” and it has little or nothing to do with brain blips, “senior moments” or the Age of Information Overload.

As a very young man, fresh out of the then private school, The University of Houston, I worked for a magazine, Texas Industry, which no longer exists. It was the official publication of the Texas Manufacturers Association. Its editor was a gifted woman named Opal Hill Munz. And, please, always use all three names when referring to that late and great editor.

Opal was a tall, stately, dignified woman who wore her hair up and who was always attired in elegant dresses and hats. She could pick up the phone, get the governor on and call him by his first name. Opal was quite comfortable doing that. She also could speak the language of sailors and was quite comfortable with that, too, thank you very much. Opal required that my 23-year-old being must wear a suit, a tie and a hat and carry an umbrella and an attache’ case.

She taught me very succinctly and graphically not to exhibit writer’s block in her presence. I had been at the magazine a mere couple of months and received an assignment to do an issue, including the cover story, on The

Golden Triangle. Dutifully I spent two weeks in Beaumont, Orange and Port Arthur and gathered material and photos for the issue AND sold advertising. Yes, it did sort of resemble working for a weekly community newspaper.

Upon my return to the magazine office in Houston, I sat down to bang out that cover story on my IBM electric typewriter (I’d used an old Royal upright manual typewriter at the two newspapers I’d worked at while going to school).

I put my fingers on the keyboard and stared at the blank piece of paper in the carriage. I shared an office with Opal and her desk was behind mine. I could feel her eyes boring very uncomfortably into my back. The writer’s block increased and it seemed I was suspended for eternity in a painful Purgatory.

Suddenly, Opal said, “!@#$%&*, Willis Webb, your mind’s constipated!”

In self-defense, my fingers began typing “Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country.” I suppose Opal thought she’d provided the appropriate laxative for my bound brain so she left the room. As the door closed I pulled the sheet of paper out, tossed it in the wastebasket, put a new sheet in and began working in earnest to create a lead worthy of Opal Hill Munz.

I spent two scary years with Opal. She had that effect on a lot of people. However, she made a better community newspaper person out of me because I learned things from her I’ve never before or since learned as well from anyone else. Opal knew how to write and edit. She not only taught me skills in those areas but in typography, layout and design. Cropping photos with her was an absolute art.

Many newspaper people think there’s some delineation between writers and ad sales people and never the twain shall meet. However, all of us in the community newspaper business know you cross back and forth over that line many times a day and it becomes natural. Perhaps it isn’t natural to me but Opal sure helped ease that ever-moving transition.

Opal Hill Munz showed me how to be a good writer and that good writers could write great sales letters AND sell advertising.

Additionally, instead of being just interested in writing, she made typography and design such an adventure that today I will tackle any challenge in those areas.

I’m always thankful for having spent two years learning from Opal Hill Munz. She continues to help me. See, my mind’s not constipated any more and I’ve finished another column.