The little book that was published in 1985 — “New View – A Collection of Columns” — contained some of my weekly columns written in 1973-84. No big deal.

It sold for $4.95. I have less than a half dozen of the books now. Since this out-of-print endeavor of mine is now well over three decades old, what might a copy “go for” today in a collectors market?

It might — just might, mind you — sell for a dollar. More likely 50 cents, should anyone even care to own a copy. Which is doubtful.

“New View” was my weekly scribbling endeavor for fifteen or so years, during which at one time or another a dozen or so papers carried it.

Then for over twenty years my pen was laid aside. It was in December 2010, that “Write Again” first appeared; a new name, and a much older author. Much.

All this preamble, which probably wasn’t needed, leads to today’s column. It was written in September of 1978, and was included in the book.

So why print this particular column again? I guess because it meant something a little special to me then … and still does.

Here it is.

Sometimes it’s rather frustrating to attempt to articulate certain feelings, or emotions, in the knowledge that about all you’re really doing is botching things up.

Well, through the years I’ve come to feel that one of man’s most difficult tasks — one that is so often done so poorly; not by intent, but because of some inexplicable something — is, simply, saying goodbye.

Goodbye can be bitter or sweet, lingering or brief, but rarely easy. And seldom done well. More often than not, goodbye is painful.

Watch the goodbyes in an airport. (In another age it would have been the train station.) As a silent observer I have sometimes felt almost caught in the crunch of others’ goodbyes. My heart goes out. I’ve been there, too. Haven’t we all?

The young, oh, so young boys in uniforms seem so forlorn. Watching mom or dad, or sweetheart, say goodbye to a kid in khaki is a poignant portrait in pathos.

There are, I suppose, two main “kinds” of goodbye. Painful though it surely must seem, saying goodbye for a while isn’t fatal. Saying goodbye, for good — forever — is emotion-rending.

I recall the utter awkwardness of trying to say goodbye to service buddies, when we all knew we’d never see one another again. Ever. There aren’t words suited to the occasion. Rather, the words just won’t come, and often there is mist in the eyes and a catch in the throat, making it so difficult.

How searing it is to say goodbye to a friend, to a loved one, to a lover. To a beloved pet. Soul searing. Whatever the case, whatever the circumstances, whatever the resolve to be in control of one’s feelings … the goodbye comes so hard. So terribly hard.

Goodbye, a soul-and-heart wrenching word, never comes easily for people whose feelings run deep. Sensitive people hurt more. They gain more, too.

Goodbye can be necessary. It can even be a blessing, though often times well disguised.

Goodbye can be for a day. It can be forever.

It can rarely be easy.

APROPOS — “To leave is to die a little/It is to die to what one loves/One leaves behind a little of oneself/At any hour, any place.”

— Edmund Haracourt