I have been putting this off for quite some time. This “final step,” if you will, penning my last column for South Bay. 

I told myself I would take my time with this one, write it well in advance of deadline, try to encapsulate everything in one epic, closing chapter. And yet, here I sit – 11:30 p.m. on the eve of my second to last day of work, staring at a mostly blank template as countless thoughts swirl in my brain. 

gen•e•sis: the origin or mode of formation of something; evolution, inception 

It all began back in elementary school; earlier, even. The clipping in the local South Bay Newspaper heralding the entrance of the Class of 2000...into kindergarten. I was a part of that storied graduating class, and as we progressed through the next dozen or so years of schooling, the various accolades of my fellow Lindy alums would be documented within the pages of our neighborhood paper. My own graduation announcement was featured there, as I moved on from the halls of Lindy High and began my studies in journalism on the opposite shore at the C.W. Post campus of Long Island University. 

The stories that unfold in the space of a writer’s study, the objects chosen to watch over a desk, the books selected to sit on the shelves, all weave a web of echoes and reflections of meanings and affections, that lend a visitor the illusion that something of the owner of this space lives on between these walls, even if the owner is no more. {Alberto Manguel}

Birthdays are beginnings. This is a sentiment I have always held particularly close to my heart, if for no other reason than it allows for the momentary illusion of a fresh start, at least for one day. What evolves beyond that point in time is anyone’s guess of course; but the symbolic turning of the page is one that resonates quite deeply for me.