I'm a southern boy born and raised in Clarksville, Tenn. (Now hiring!) When I was 9 my folks and I moved to the 'burbs -- Bucolic Sango where no mailbox is safe from marauding teens and tobacky barns outnumber blacks 500 to 0. My parents raised me to be a real good writer. And they also had two other guys, who I'm proud to call my brothers. Sadly, Jonathan and Luke didn't come along until I was 10 and 13, respectively. A lonely child, I grew up with pretend friends, Tooteo and Tatteo. They were nice, but never returned calls.
I'm two months from turning 30. I'm a proud alum of my beloved University of Tennessee. I attended that grand facility from 1996-2000, during which time I did significant damage to my internal organs attending Volunteer football games. I consider myself incredibly blessed to have been enrolled there when Super Bowl MVP Peyton Manning was a classmate and when the Vols became the very first National Champion under the current, if flawed, BCS system.
We went 13-0 in 1998 and celebrated that January with a glorious party experience when we floated as many kegs in two nights as we had victories in four months. Along the way I helped storm the field when we beat the villainous Florida Gators [Suck it, Spurrier.].
I was a journalism major who somehow found work in my field after college. In one of the more questionable moves of my life, I relocated from Knoxville back home to the Queen (Latefah?) City. I was hired by the Fort Campbell Courier, a small weekly publication that allowed me to pretty much write whatever I wanted, within reason. There I met some good friends and good writers most of whom would eventually serve in Iraq.
After two and a half years I needed a change. The drunken, humdrum nightlife wasn't quite filling the void. And the dreary winters had taken their toll. I sent my unspectacular resume across the Sunshine State in search of greener pastures.
And boy, did I find them.
In Oct. 2003, I received a call from what would become the best boss I ever had, Kim Folstad who was editor of the Marco Island Eagle. After my first conversation with her, I knew I was coming to Florida. I just knew it. I interviewed in November, and was taken out to lunch with a wonderful trio of future co-workers, one of whom would become the love of my life, Tiffany. More on her later.
By the first week of December, my father and I had driven all my things down to Naples, Fla., and I was working as a general assignment reporter at The Eagle. My first New Year's was spent on Miami Beach with a friend. It was sunny and a perfect 73 degrees on Jan. 1, 2004. I knew then that I'd made the right decision.
Tiffany and I flirted around a bit in the early summer of that year and by July 4 we were creating fireworks of our own on the coast of Marco Island. We've been going strong ever since. (Tee is a gorgeous Louisiana girl and LSU grad who takes delight anytime her Tigers beat the Vols thanks to ill-timed interceptions thrown by Eric Ainge.)
After a couple years' resume building, we incredibly both got jobs at the Bradenton Herald. Tiffany became one of Bradentucky's premiere features writers. I was a GA, once again, but made may way up through the ranks to become the primary pain in the ass of Manatee County government. Yes, the meetings are long and boring, but it's fulfilling work since much of the community's biggest news stories come from the county seat.
We live happily with our two cats, Rube and Tiny whose name has become an ironic misnomer. Our cozy condo is seven minutes from the beach, 15 minutes from Sarasota, 25 minutes from St. Pete and about seven hours from our home towns.
I'm going to wrap up this chapter of the blog and start on another now. If you've read this far, thanks for tuning in. I look forward to posting plenty of stuff on this handy new blog, including opinions, thoughts and lists of my favorite things. I'll try to keep it fun and light-hearted as possible. Your feedback is welcome, but negative comments will be cut into little pieces.
