Monday, November 24, 2025
Time: 4:35 PM
Song: Seventeen Going Under
Artist: Sam Fender
Mode of Consumption: Listening to songs from 2021 on Spotify.
Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/5rF6YUIlgiat22OT1lWspJ?si=41227887784e461a
My Facebook memories reminded me today that my final day at the newspaper was exactly ten years ago. It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I remember.
I had stayed on to finish the high school preseason basketball tabloid, so that it wouldn’t get dumped on a department struggling to keep up a person short until they found my replacement.
That night was an early deadline because the ad gurus at the paper wanted the section printed early so that the Black Friday ads could be inserted and then delivered on time.
An early deadline in the sports world means a bad section, which I imagine was true. I can’t tell you for sure, I have no memory of the regular section, and in a rare sign of efficiency, they didn’t deliver my paper that day, the first day that I wouldn’t have received it for free.
Anyways, Facebook tells me that the festivities started at 7 PM at a local drinking hole. I remember maybe a dozen of my ink-stained wretch colleagues gathered around a table to begin the night, eating pizza and sharing laughs.
From there it devolves into a blur of drinks and faces and loudly shared memories. I think we played darts. Maybe played pool. People came, people left. Some of whom I am not sure I’ve seen since.
I crashed on one of my colleague’s couch sometime in the wee hours of the morning, waking at mid-morning and driving home hungover.
It was an appropriate end to a decade’s long run as a newspaper scribe and editor. It was also the last time that I can say that I was drunk.
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