In the story of my life, the Herald chapter comes to an end

I’m going to tell you something I told college admissions officials almost 10 years ago: “I’ve always had this fascination for stories.” That’s a direct quote from my college admissions essay, which is aptly titled, “I Knew I Wanted To Be A Writer When . . .” And if you’ve been following my work for the past three and a half years you know I love a good ellipsis.

I hope this fascination has been evident to you, dear reader, as I’ve done my best to bring your attention to all the necessary neighborhood news you expect from the Herald. (I’m sure you’re not surprised that I employed alliteration, either.) 

And in doing my best, I achieved more than I ever imagined. I met sources whose stories and lives left an irrevocable impression on mine. I was promoted three times in less than three years. I was recognized by the New York State Press Association in its Better Newspaper Contest, thrice. I grew exponentially as a writer, as well as a person.

I’m here to tell you that while my story is far from over, it is entering a new chapter. On March 15, I will join Hearst Connecticut Media Group as the editor of one of their weekly newspapers, The Ridgefield Press, a community-based broadsheet not unlike the Herald. Though I did not come to this decision lightly, I know it’s for the best. But I can’t leave without giving a grand exit speech — it’s the Gemini in me.

Five years ago, I stood at a precipice. It was the summer before my senior year of college and I was eager to throw responsibility to the wind, carry on with a part-time job that had nothing to do with journalism to fend off the obligations of adulthood just a little while longer. Boy, what a mistake that would’ve been.

Five years ago, Karen Bloom, the Herald’s special sections editor, convinced me to take a chance on myself and come aboard as her intern. I accredit the internship, and Karen’s endless encouragement, as the main reasons for my subsequent hiring more than a year later, just four months after I graduated college.

It’s funny now to think of one of the first meetings I ever covered. In 2017, North Shore residents met with the co-directors of Long Island Clean Air Water and Soil to forge a united front against New York American Water. I begrudgingly attended, preoccupied with leaving for a trip the next day, and thought, “All this hubbub? Over water?”

At that point, ratepayers were calling for a public takeover of the private utility. Today, the state is investigating the feasibility of municipalization. I would often joke that I could write the book on American Water because that’s how extensive my coverage was.

After reporting on the North Shore for a year and a half I was called back home to cover Bellmore-Merrick, but I was extremely hesitant to become the editor of my hometown papers. I developed a deep affinity for Sea Cliff/Glen Head and was comfortable where I was, plus my boss previously covered Bellmore-Merrick for almost as long as I’d been alive.

But viewing the community through this lens was the biggest blessing in disguise. I saw residents for who they really were rather than the stereotypes I had learned. As I heard of a source’s pride for their school, civic association or family-run business, my own appreciation swelled, as well. Most importantly, I was able to grow outside of my comfort zone.

If this pandemic has taught me anything it’s that humans are capable of enduring the unimaginable. In the span of a year, I lost some of my drive, most of my sanity and the only grandfather I’ve ever known, but I did not lose myself. And while waves of doubt crashed over me as I considered jumping ship, I knew I was ready to seize a new horizon — I don’t think I could’ve said that a year ago.

I vehemently thank the sources for trusting me to do my job, the readers for their compliments and criticisms, and my colleagues at Richner Communications for making the office such a welcoming place to work.

Finally, I want to thank the Herald’s editorial department — the best in the biz, in my very unbiased opinion. I walked into that newsroom armed with apprehension, unsure of what the future would bring, but from each person I learned things not even a journalism degree can afford — and those are expensive.

To me, this job was so much more than just a job. I wrote stories that mattered and changed people’s lives in some small ways. I made unforgettable memories and lifelong friends. Each and every stumble was followed by an even greater success, and it’s crazy to think that I’m still in the budding stages of my career.

Soon I’ll relocate to Stamford, Conn., to start writing the next chapter of my story. And if the end is any indication of the beginning, it’s going to be a wild ride.