One last time, will I stain my fingertips with the still-wet ink of a Kingsman newspaper fresh off the press in the early campus-morning with the bells ringing triumphantly in the background. Finally, I’ll take a breath of relief after the tumultuous urgency of seeking a story, snatching it out of motion and molding it into something tangible; our little-renowned but beloved by few, campus newspaper.
I have changed since arriving at Brooklyn College. With every encounter from staff to professors of all departments, from the security officers to administration, in every fleeting exchange of words or simple wave, I truly believe I have grown to be a better person for having been here.
In journalism, I have found my calling. There is something so deeply profound in the chase for news. To seek truth and truth only, to capture and craft it, and share it with the world is an act that I have almost come to feel as humanly divine. I was reminded recently of something profound. That news is not something that can be produced and there is never a finished product. It is organic and alive, ever-changing and indelibly woven into the very fabric of the life experience.
And if I can live my life toying and shaping and playing with the most adventurous, dramatic, exciting and significant moments of history, then I’m all in with no turning back. Have the devil roll out the scroll, hand me the quill pen and point where to sign.
Brooklyn College has given me the perfect experience. My professors all have been some of the most capable, experienced and genuine people that I have ever met. I am crossing the finish line not drained and tired, but eager, excited and confident that wherever I may land, I will be pretty damn alright.
You taught us that patience, compassion and humility is what will carry us. You taught us that diligence, precision and thoroughness will direct us. And you taught us that passion, justice and truth will drive us. For that, thank you.
As for the future, nothing is certain and there is no such thing as a guarantee. But I’m proud to know that I, along with many I’ve met along the way, will tie up our boots, slip on our gloves and trek into the depths of hell with the utmost veracity and fierceness to seek the truth and the story that will write the next few pages of history. Our mission will forever be from here on out: to hold those in power accountable, to seek justice in the form of an honest recognition, to serve the common man whose voice has been lost in all the noise of everyday life, to provide a platform to those forgotten, destitute and underserved; to cast light to the shadows.
In trying to think of a characteristic goodbye, I found this passage by J.D. Salinger… “When I was all set to go, when I had my bags and all, I stood for a while next to the stairs and took a last look down the goddam corridor. I was sort of crying. I don’t know why. I put my red hunting hat on, and turned the peak around to the back, the way I liked it, and then I yelled at the top of my goddam voice, “Sleep tight, ya morons!” I’ll bet I woke up every bastard on the whole floor. Then I got the hell out. Some stupid guy had thrown peanut shells all over the stairs, and I damn near broke my crazy neck.”
They say goodbye is both the emptiest and fullest of all human messages. So until we meet again, fare thee well.