Old Life

Not long after the election, I decided to sit down and watch All the President’s Men. I couldn’t help myself.

My journalism days are behind me now though I still have ink stains left on my hands. I still come home from night expecting a call from an editor.

A friend once told me that one day I would miss the game.

“For your wife, that day will never come,” he said.

Which is true. She was never happy about the late hours, late pay, constant pressure, missed dinners and on and on.

My life has changed quite a bit since I left news. I now have a child. I have a PR-type job. I’m on the board of a federally-funded health clinic and a volunteer for Reporters Without Borders.

I’m also a student at the college where I work, taking IT classes. At some point I think I will leave public communications entirely and I will probably be the better for it. I’ll become an old washed-up journalist who walks the Earth full of stories no one wants to lisen to.

Watching the returns on election night, which used to be one of my latest nights as a reporter, gave me the sense of nostalgia. I used to love the frenetic pace of news and deadlines. I actually enjoyed the pressure and the stress. I’ve always loved a job with some sort of intense bite.

I am not sure to the degree how much I miss or don’t miss journalism and it’s only been a year.

I do know that I am better off.

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