Confessions of a worrywort

I worry. That’s what I do. I’m a seasoned professional with 55 years of experience. Toss in a mild case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and you have a perfect cocktail for what I like to call Furrowed Brow Syndrome. I’d put it on my resume, but I worry someone would think I’m being flip.

“What are you worried about?” the late, great editor of the Post-Gazette once asked a room full of arts leaders. He thought it was rhetorical. What aren’t we worried about?

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