Goodbye old friend

Well, it's over. After seven years, my first true love and I must take different paths. I'm proud to say we never gave up on each other. We refused to quit. I couldn't move on and she wouldn't give in. She stuck with me through the years. She met tons of my friends from cross country runners to State Newsers at Michigan State. We traveled together all over the country. We lived in different cities. We survived in rain, snow and terrible conditions. No matter what was going on in my life, she was always there. She was the rock in my world. She seemed to calm me as she belted Bob Seger hits when I felt lonely and she would jam to the hardest rock tunes during my "rebellious years." I'm sorry about that one time I hit her in anger after I found out I needed surgery on my knee. I thought it might have ended years ago. She had bumps and bruises and some scratches along the way. There were tear-filled conversations and injuries maybe too expensive to pay. But we stuck it out, for that I'm proud. Now we're faced with saying goodbye. My first love, a 1991 red Ford Probe two-door, hatchback car. While driving home during a Slurpee run, an old man pulled in front of me. I had no time to react. I slammed on the brakes and served to the right, but I couldn't save her. She of course saved me. I hit the other car straight on, she absorbed the impact. Besides soreness, I'm okay. But she's not. She still drives, but her hood, front end and lights are beyond repair. And with tears, I must say goodbye to the one object that has lasted with me through the years. Regrets? I should have cleaned her more, given her more oil and waxed her body with more pride. I wish I had the money to rebuild you. It was only fitting that my Slurpee flew out of it's cup and onto her floor. I must have drank thousands of them while in her. And so on mile 114,076 I say goodbye. So long my old friend. Now we have to give up. We must find new paths. I'm sorry.

Turning on the charm

Great news for me this week.

Bob Seger's new cd "Face the Promise" is expected to be released Nov. 8. It's his first studio album since 1995. I can't wait.

The Sopranos added a "7th season" or as they say eight bonus episodes. That means 20 more episodes! The 6th season starts in March and the extra eight will start to air in Jan. 2007.

The shore at Blue Lake Resort

It's easy growing up. It just happens. It's full of moments you miss and people that are just blurry images lost somewhere in your memory. If I told you that I grew up one week a year on a little lake where cell phone waves didn't quite travel, you'd think I was crazy. But it happened. In a small, brick laden cottage surrounded by sandy terrain and cool summer days, I aged seven days each August. Sure it was only one week a year, and most of my living was spent elsewhere. But the people that moved overloaded vans and trucks into these makeshift homes know my story. Each year, I get to sum up my stories, in a couple sentences. If I have nothing to tell....it wasn't a good year. For 15 years, my family has enjoyed this vacation. This year when I returned for the first time in two years, I realized how many different shoeprints I left in the sand and I forgot how crisp the stars when they reflect off the blue water. And this time, I spent most of the week stunned at how old everyone is getting. The kids that I used to chase after in the dark hoping to flash my flashlight at them, are getting married and having kids. And the kids that were once just being pushed around in strollers are shining the flashlights and finding puppy love. The trees are taller and the cabins older, reflecting experiences only I can remember. And now that the long car ride home is over, I must tuck my memories there back inside my head... and collect new things to share next year.

My summer internship is coming to an end. One week to go. This picture was from the intern party. Joey and Henry both are on the business desk with me.

Eric and Amy get married! The wedding was held last week and now the Moraths are in Hawaii.

On our nation's birthday, what else does an American guy like me do? Get up early and run a five mile race. With flags along the race route, sprinkers cooling runners off and popcicles for finishers, how more American can I get. After failing to find a ticket for the afternoon Indians game, we spent the afternoon at the Body Works exhibit examining dead bodies that have been perserved by plastic. And then we made it to the night Indians/Tigers game followed by fireworks. Let's all sing it: America the beautiful with Ray Charles....

Nature's little secrets

This 400 million year old 60-foot waterfall was found on one run. My summer sightseeing takes me deep into the wooded trails of Ohio. Most would be surprised that this industrial town has such a backbone of beauty. I ran 37 miles in the past four days on the narrow paths of Cleveland's parks. On today's run, I spent at least 10 minutes sneaking up on a small fawn. As it nibbled on grass, I watched and found myself somewhat lost in the moment. That run down the Towpath trail included the echoing croak of frogs in the mucky swamps, the crooning of birds flying from tree to tree and the scary rattling of the crusty leaves as squirrels scatter away.

Andy came into town this weekend. So I showed him Cleveland, the best way I knew how. I took him with me to the back trails. He was surprised by the root covered trails that seem to be nonstop up and down hills. At night we joined the other interns at the bars. We even stopped by the Midnight Martini show where Sinatra impersonators croon and joke and drink into the night. Classic.

Here the trail crosses under a bridge where the regular people live and drive. Other cool things I did this week: Grand Prix of Cleveland! Indians baseball game where they hit five home runs. Coco Crisp! Went to the farmers' market where I bought tons of fresh fruit. Hung out with Morath when he visited. Watched a few Pistons game. And ate ice cream with my editor at lunch...

My adventure in the Emerald Necklace finally left the Rocky River Reservation (13.6 miles long). The park was loaded with people fishing, golf courses, bridges, horse crap and everything else nature offers. Now I've entered Mill Creek Stream, which is 10 miles. There are a lot more runners and bikers along this path. I've already gotten into a few foot races, came face to face with a deer and its fawn. There was also a cool beach I nearly jumped into today.

My summer adventure has started. The Cleveland Metroparks has a trail that spands all its parks. It's called the "Emerald Necklace" and the 200 mile path winds through the reservations of Northeast Ohio. So far I've covered the first eight miles of the Rocky River Reservation. Because I only have one car, I can only cover 4-6 miles a day, since I have to run back too. But the adventure has started.

Police Week, Pistons and metro fun

Visiting friends now-a-days isn't easy. I have to travel to Oklahoma or Oregon or Florida. Last weekend I decided Washington D.C. was the place to see two old lads from my glory years at TSN. That's right, Don and Ed are taking D.C. by storm. But they can't possibly be that homesick, because everywhere we went we ran into MSU alums. At one Irish bar, there were what seemed like 100 police officers from across the country celebrating National Police Week and their fallen coworkers at the capital. Detroit police were everywhere, San Francisco was also representing. We spent most of the nights in the bars cheering on the Pistons. We partied with Stabenow faithfuls at Amy (Eric's fiancée). We cruised through the Capitol in 10 minutes. I slept on their couch in Silver Spring, Maryland for three nights. We shopped for art at an art fair, trying to pull off rich college grads. Ha. Ed tried to run with me. I found a sweet national park to run in. I went to the zoo and saw pandas, baby cheetahs and tigers. More later.

Visting Bethany is a lot easier now that she's in the United States. Although she does live in Civil War laden Virginia

Wilber and Orville decided to hang out with us

Yeah, important stuff happens in there.

Goodbyes aren't forever...

Arft finally gets his complex

Arft honored
That's coach Arft, my high school coach, who changed my life in high school showing me the world of running.

Here's an excert of the speech I wrote for him: When I was part of the team that won 49 straight dual meets, racked up
tons of champions and produced some of the best runners in the state,
we used to joke that they should build a statue of Arft outside the
building.

After all, the trophy cases inside the school are overcrowded with
awards earned by his teams, he's produced hundreds of great people out
into the world and he's been here since its doors opened in 1975.

Today's honor is only a small way of giving back and it's no statue,
but it's well deserved and satisfying to know his name will echo
throughout the stadium not just in the memories of his former
athletes, but by any jogger curious enough to read his sign and wonder
about his legacy.

Moving out

I moved the rest of my stuff out of Apt. 430. Pretty sad to say goodbye after two years. I kept finding more and more stuff. A painting of Frank Sinatra, my Akron marathon hat and my retainer among them.

Teary goodbye

My favorite clerk at 7-Eleven was working tonight when I went in to say goodbye. After two years of stopping in everyday, I got my last Slurpee from the place. When I told her it was my last day, she became quite sad and gave me the Slurpee for free. Wow! They've given me Slurpees on credit before, but never for free!

Waiting in line

Dawn graduates? Yeah, it's true.

How much of our life do we spend waiting in line? Or waiting...period. Tonight I visited the Lugnuts came and ran into friend after friend, a sign that my four years in East Lansing were spent collecting many great friends. But so many are leaving. So many will walk across the stage Saturday and enter the cold, nasty real world. And while we grew up together, I have to find my own way next year.

Life decision one: I think I'm living in a co-op next year. I checked it out today and there are openings. Check out the reasons why it's better than DTN: free (ample) parking, free laundry, free Internet and most importantly there will be a community. Apartments in Cedar Village are great, but they have no community. We don't even know the people across the hall.

Back to Sterling Heights tomorrow.

A legend

There are always certain people in our lives that teach us about life. Role models that preview the world in small doses and teach us how to handle the world. Coach Harold Arft taught me through his coaching in high school. As my track and cross country coach, we spent most of the year training. I met during the glory years. It was a time when Sterling Heights High School won six straight dual meet titles and held an undefeated streak that lasted my whole career. Now, he's getting the respect he deserves. Sterling Heights HS is naming its track after him. The ceremony is 12:30 p.m. on Saturday at the track. Be There. This is a picture of me and Arft, in my hayday.

Remembering fall semester

The Sands Hotel is proud to present, Emily and BC!

The night started slow

Goodbye. Thanks for being my friends

As part of tradition at SN, we publish a goodbye e-mail. This is an abbreviated copy of that final send off.

My worst day in college came on Sept. 11, 2001. As I woke from my Brody dorm room, as a freshman ready to attend the second week of classes, I turned on my radio only to hear screaming. My roommate’s instincts jetted him toward the TV to find out what was going on. Sadly, we stood there, with our backpacks strapped over our shoulders, as a second plane crashed into the World Trade Center. There was lots of screaming and it was hard to contemplate that people were really dying. I didn’t know how to react. Do I run and tell people? Can I help them from hundreds of miles away? I’ve never felt that helpless in my entire life. On that day as I sat in front of the TV, I decided that I could never feel this way again. I knew I must find a way to be part of the community, to experience life and to make a difference.

It wasn’t long before I found myself opening the heavy wooden door of room 343. I remember walking through the front room and the heavy stares that came my way casting me as an outsider. I remember some book that had all the answers (AP Stylebook). I clearly remember the attractive ladies. But most of all, I noticed the passion that loomed under those swirling dusty fans. This is where I belonged. I guess those memories are even more special to me now that The State News is moving.

It’s only fitting that my first front page story was when Lansing built a monument downtown that featured a huge piece of melted and mangled steel from the World Trade Center. I was in the newsroom early and ENC Jeremy W. Steele tossed me his keys. I drove to the site just in time to see the steel lifted to its permanent home.

Since that day I’ve told so many stories from behind the windows of the Student Services Building. Two riots, one war, three elections and two Final Four appearances later, I might be close to a real journalist.

I started out like so many others. No experience. No idea how to write a story, how to ask questions or take notes. I didn’t know how government worked or how what a council member did. But I learned day by day. I spent most of my time trying not to get in over my head. But that's not the way The State News teaches. I found myself in Monroe listening to President Bush speak. I yelled out questions along with other reporters in Detroit to presidential hopefuls Howard Dean, John Kerry, Al Sharpton and Dennis Kuncinich. I got to spend Tuesdays sitting in on Gov. Jennifer Granholm's press meetings. And then later, Mondays with Tom Izzo as he rambled on about his latest feelings on life. But I also got to meet college tennis players, regular students and college deans. Those were just as important to me.

I learned from my piers. I listened into other’s phone interviews. I let editors rewrite my stories to see the differences. I stole management styles from other editors. I discovered how to have to fun. I learned how to take criticism. I learned how to take myself less seriously. I became part of a community. I was a small part of something great. I got see dreams come true.

And then, I was suddenly in charge. I tried to give back when I was ME. I tried to teach. I tried to inspire. I tried to keep a fun mood in the newsroom. I got to sing to break the mood and act goofy without caring. I don’t know if I did any good, but I gave it my best shot.

But I messed up too. I learned how to manage people. I threw my notebook down the stairs in anger. I called my mom in tears when I couldn’t go to the Sweet 16. I did crappy in accounting and economics

Ahh the sights and sounds. The thump of a stack of papers hitting the ground outside the newsroom, a sign that it’s 7 a.m. and the night is almost over. The smell of cookie day. I’ll never forget sitting at my desk at 4 a.m. on Election Night recounting the moments of an emotional and stressful night. Trying to close four pages in 30 minutes was near impossible, especially with few results. But I will always save that issue and remember each detail of the night.

My hope is that one day, one of the journalists from our time at The State News will make it big and write a book. In the section where that person describes their roots and talks about The State News, readers that know the journalism industry will stop reading and shake their heads when reading the names, wondering how so many talented people came from the same room during the same era. We are the future that will make our way through every newsroom in the country reshaping the industry we grew up admiring.

But as I leave, I get to keep the memories. I get to stay in touch with lifelong friends for I know my legacy at The State News will last only as long as people remember my name. It’s a short shelf live indeed.

And so I hear the music starting to play in the background. The lights are fading and the future is calling my name. A new generation of young State Newers are set to write the next chapter of the paper’s history. And a new building is on the way. There will always be a big part of my heart dedicated to the paper.

So now it’s time to say goodbye. I wish you luck. And I set out to find a place as magical as here.

A box full of letters

Well, day one of post State News life was spent mostly recovering from State News life. Last night's bar crawl was pretty crazy. Pure carnage. There was lots of kissing and some swimming in the fountain behind Student Services. Not bad. Anyway, this is for friends to stay in touch during the summer and through live. Although, I do have a short attention span.

It's all over

Pondering the last day