August 23, 2026

By Arthur H. Gunther III

thecolumnrule.com

In the great quiet where, by your wish, there is little sound and no shuffling of humanity, a room exists for each of us, created in our imagination.

Sanctuary is necessary, whether that’s in a comfortable chair with standard lamp, on a journey via an author’s words. The “room” is made by you, shutting out all else, all others for a time.

Or you may head to the backyard shed, so rustic, so primitive that you may well think you are a pioneer in the woods of Maine. But it’s your place, tools there, maybe working on a project. Your room.

Or you are driving off in the country night with few others on the road, music setting not only mood but memory. Who were you with when that song played long ago? Did you turn the volume down to talk in a common language not used since?

Or you are in what was long the family home, where so many beginnings turned into milestones. Now everyone has moved on to their own places and families, but the dining table still echoes with their words, the special times too. You reflect in the quiet, quite happy for family that has advanced and happy too that you can remember.

Whatever place or moment that beckons may be your “room.”

The writer is a retired newspaperman.

-30-