This year marks the 250th anniversary of the birth of the unfortunately named William Crotch, an English composer and organist who resided in Norwich. The locals would see him walking with his children and say, “There goes old Crotch and the Crotchets.” (Or so I imagine.)

Photo courtesy of Ylanite Koppens/Pexels

Equally importantly, Limelight celebrates 250 print editions this month. I didn’t seek out a column in the magazine. It dropped into my lap in 2008 when former Editor Katarina Kroslakova asked me if I’d like to write a snappy 750 words (now 450) each month. I thought, “I’m sure I can come up with a few thoughts,” and somehow I’m still here 17 years and around 200 Soapboxes later.

People sometimes ask me how I come up with ideas, but my problem is narrowing them down. I often have three columns bubbling up before my mid-morning coffee. It seems that the older you get, the more irritated you become by just about everything. I feel most creatively incensed when I’m out walking. To capture whatever effrontery floats into my mind, I often speak out loud into the recording app on my phone. Passers-by would see a middle-aged...