I went to a movie the other night with a group of friends. It’s a new release, “Jarhead.” A good ol’ war movie. A few good explosions. Some nudity. All in all a decent flick.
In a scene where soldiers are in the midst of burning oil wells, one asks who else in the world gets to experience what they’re experiencing right then.
It was an obvious attempt to highlight the weight of such a once-in-a rare-lifetime moment, but I had an answer to that seemingly rhetorical question.
Journalists.
Journalists are the only people, other than soldiers, who get to experience situations like a desert full of fires. Because we are charged with reporting on the world, we are charged with experiencing the world.
Sounds good to me.
This is the column where I’m supposed to tell you, the reader, that I’m off to that world. No more college for me. I’m finished. I’ve earned my credits. My work here is complete. I’m off to intern at The Spokesman-Review, first in Spokane for general assignments then in Boise for the Idaho Legislature.
I’ve been trying to think of something incredibly profound to say, but all I can think about is how I wouldn’t even have a chance to say goodbye if it weren’t for the Emerald. The Emerald was by far the best thing that happened to me in college. Fifteen months after working here, I know this university inside and out. (I still haven’t decided whether that’s a good thing.) I have favorite people, and now seems like an appropriate time to mention them.
Mike Eyster and Dan Williams are the only administrators worth mentioning. The best people I know at the University are, of course, my co-workers. Spending 12 to 16 hours a day with people will definitely help forge long-lasting friendships, but I think the fact that they’re the best and most fun journalists I’ve worked with makes our friendships all the more solid.
Though I’ll miss reporting on the actions of the administration, I’ll miss working late into the night in the newsroom with my best friend and fellow news editor Jared Paben more. He’s the one who got me in at the Emerald, and he’s the one I turn to the most for advice. Not to mention the fact that he loves deluxe nachos from Chapala’s Mexican restaurant just as much as I do.
I often wonder how the stories I write impact the community. Much of the time it’s difficult to say, but every once in awhile something happens that serves as a reminder that our work does matter – people do pay attention. I received such a reminder the other day in the form of a three-page typed letter that detailed one Eugene woman’s reasons for opposing the University administration’s push to sell Westmoreland Apartments.
Much of what she cited came from the articles I’ve written concerning University Housing and the financial policies that some past and present housing officials say have hindered the department and prevented needed renovation and additions. Those stories were a highlight of my Emerald career, not because they were the best but because they involved an extensive amount of work and made me realize how much I love being a reporter.
I still have the big stack of documents – ranging from minutes from the state board of higher education meetings to memos between administrators – that I used to write the stories. Looking through it makes me happy.
Though thinking about how difficult obtaining documents from the University is makes me quite angry, no matter how frustrated I get with the administration, I’m always thankful for Johnson Hall and the adjacent parking lot. Parking on this campus is such a mess, and that lot has provided me with a parking spot every day this term.
So I guess I can’t really say the administrations never did anything for me. I’ve gotten free parking all term, and I got to watch the first quarter of the Civil War game in the president’s skybox. But now that I think about it, the Emerald’s more responsible for those experiences than the administration. If I didn’t work at the Emerald I wouldn’t even know the parking lot existed, and I certainly wouldn’t have had the opportunity to write a story that brought me to the skybox.
So thanks, Emerald. I’ll certainly never forget our good times.

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