Goldman is back!

NANTES, France — Well gang, for all those of you who’ve been asking
“where the heck is Goldman?” now you know. Last June, I took a leave of
absence from WND — after two years of never once missing a column.
Frankly, I was burnt. My mother had died in January, leaving me in a
near suicidal state of depression. Moreover, “Demonhunter,” the column
I had been writing on spiritual warfare for several months, had become
stagnant. Frankly, I didn’t see how I could write a column on faith when
essentially I had none.

Then oddly, God opted to show himself to me.

I had hopped a plane to France, where I went to stay with a family I
had known back in 1969 when I was a hippie hitchhiking around Europe.
Now some 30 years later, the French family whom I had stayed with —
which included six sisters — were all too happy to see me again:

Oddly the youngest of the sisters, a quiet, unassuming girl named
Laurence, was the one I’d never really taken notice of back in my
wandering years. This time, something weird happened. To put it simply,
I fell head over heels in love with her.

I don’t use that term lightly. I mean, yes, there was, no doubt, a
romantic element as to what was now taking place between us; but there
was something more. Something almost impossible to put into words.

After my mother had become ill, she had lost her ability to walk. In
1981, due to a rare spinal disease, Laurence had also lost her ability
to walk. Prior to my coming to France, she had been counseling me —
via letter and telephone — as to how to help my mother cope with this
element of her illness.

During the years since Laurence had contracted her illness (a form of
parapalegia) she had become totally independent — living alone, driving
to her job at the university library each day — essentially fending for
herself in the world. Somehow seeing her; and how she had faced up to
life gave me a new courage to carry on, even though I basically felt
like opting out of this little deal called “life.”

No friends, it was no accident that I fell in love with this
remarkable woman. It was clearly the Lord showing me the reality of his
existence:

As always, God’s timing was perfect.

And so, to make a long story short, I am now back in France,
attempting everyday to fight the good fight.

I have — during the entirety of my life — battled with manic
depression and agoraphobia. I’m not whining about it. All I’ll tell you
is that the ride has been far from “fun.” Still, I now know with
certainty that God has something for me to do while I’m here.

Therefore, I can’t opt out.

But let’s get down to brass tacks. As for this new column; it is not
going to — as

“Demonhunter” was — be about spiritual issues, per se. In fact, I think you will find it closer in tone to my original column on this site,

“Fair Game.”

A bit of an aside here. Those of you who have been reading me for any length of time are, no doubt, aware that I have the ability to reinvent myself . In fact, there was a big stink at WND when I wrote a column suggesting that I did not exist; that Stuart Goldman was, in actuality, a conglomeration of people who had gotten together to invent this character.

I want to assure all of you here and now that I do, in fact, exist — that I am a real flesh and blood person with all the weaknesses, foibles — and all the other frailties that each of you have. That is the difference between this column and the original “Fair Game.” That character was a poseur.

One last thing. I have never ever believed in that animal known as impartial journalism.

Why?

Because it doesn’t exist — that’s why.

So, will this column be different? Well, for one thing, I’m no longer living in the United States. That doesn’t mean every column will be a commentary on foreign culture, but no doubt you’re going to get a healthy dose of verbiage about how it feels to be an American living in a foreign land.

Other than that, I’m putting on gloves again. Why? Because I’m sick to death of reading namby pamby columns from jerks who wanna tell you how nice everything is.

Everything is NOT nice. The world is a screwed up place. So, if you hadn’t noticed that everything is going to hell in a handbasket, I’m gonna make sure you take another look around.

And with that little thought folks, I bid you all a hearty a bientot.

See you all next week.