I have to say goodbye to a friend today. I’ll miss him. Saying goodbye is tough. No one does it correctly.
There are often awkward pauses. Fidgeting. People resort to swapping old stories. Living in the moment is too uncomfortable; it’s easier to live in the past. People want to reminisce. Talk about the good ol’ times.
But the sentences fade always into the wind as people look around, afraid to make eye contact. Anecdotes, with no real endings, are shared. Handshakes are long and relaxed.
And today, I’m losing a good friend. But I don’t want to say goodbye. I feel like we were just getting to know each other.
We were introduced last August by Zack Palmer. I didn’t think we would get along at first. I felt nervous around him. We didn’t seem to have much in common. He looked like a square. I liked college sports, he was made for preps. I was wordier than a 13-year old girl. He was succinct, to the point. I enjoyed to elaborate while using assonance. He refused embellishment and playful alliteration.
Turns out, we got along like neighbors in the 1950s. I learned to enjoy his structure and he loosened up – a bit. We were like Wally Beaver and Eddie Haskell. It was swell. To be honest, he kept me sane at times. He allowed me to unwind.
My friend introduced me to a lot of great people. In the first few weeks I knew wonderful folks like Tim Hamlet, Ben Buchanon, Sue Fleskas, Maddy Anderson and Michael McCabe. I was soon acquainted with Ross Bartlett, Lono Waiwaiole and the entire Forest Grove girls soccer team. Without him I wouldn’t know Marcos Zamora from Marcus Camby or the Criswell brothers from the Orville brothers.
We’ve shared some good memories, my friend and I. He walked me through my first high school football game as a professional. We discussed overworked student athletes and “misbehaving” fans. He helped me succeed. We even won an award together. I’m going to miss him.
But I can’t feel too bad. I’m doing it to myself, you see, I’m leaving him. I keep telling myself I’m leaving for bigger and better things. I’m not sleeping well, though.
I wish I could stay and make more memories. I’d like to see Jim Criswell catch a punt at his own 25-yard line, start left, break a tackle, cut back right and scamper up the sidelines for a touchdown. I’d like to watch Dusty Brown leap through a crowd, grab a rebound and throw an arcing pass to David Carr – hitting him right in stride – only a few steps from the opposite hoop. I want to be standing near Fleskas holding a clipboard cheering her runners to more PRs. You should see the way the kids look up to her.
Without him, it doesn’t feel right to participate in these moments. He was my gateway to the community. He was larger than life, at times, but in reality he wasn’t even 35 inches tall. I think he is done growing, too. He always performs the same duty. He is as predictable as tomorrow. And while he often carries some sort of photo identification, his official title changes every week.
You would recognize him if I introduced you. Everybody knows him but he doesn’t have too many friends anymore. In fact, people rarely want him on their doorstep.
He won’t be left to fend for himself, though. For once, I introduced him to someone – a fantastic young woman named Amanda Miles. She’s an old colleague of mine. So far, they have gotten along quite well. She will easily fill the void I leave. So well, I predict, that he will forget me completely. Almost as if I never existed.
I keep hoping he asks me to stay. He seems indifferent. Emote is just a word to him. He’s as apathetic as the page he lives on.
You see, my friend is the page. I’m leaving the News-Times.
I’m going back to school – graduate school. I’ll be studying broadcast journalism. And while the medium is going to change, the fundamentals are the same: Find the stories and report the news. It wasn’t an easy decision. But when Syracuse calls, you pick up the phone. And grab a pen.
And your checkbook.
I’ll never forget my time in Forest Grove, though. It truly was special. And a heartfelt thank you goes to everyone who made it possible and prosperous.
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