When it comes right down to it, I’d have to admit that I’m a romantic. See also: those images in my head of the hard-bitten street reporter, in worn-out shoes and a rumpled trench coat, in perpetual pursuit of “The Scoop.” (Capital letters intended). Even in the many ways I’m not that guy, I’d like to be. Except the streets these days are largely digital, and no one wears fedoras with a little “press” card stuffed in the band anymore. That’s okay by me, I don’t look good in hats.
Over the last decade-and-a-half, I’ve been a correspondent in every corner of this beautiful county- from Alaska to Arkansas. I’ve covered Hurricane Katrina from the cockpit of a C-130, the Iditarod from a sub-zero sleeping bag at the side of a lonely trail in the Alaskan bush, and OJ Simpson’s arrest (the time it stuck) from the Las Vegas Hotel/Casino where the shenanigans happened.
I’ve loved every step of the way, not even really knowing what love was until my son Sam was born.
And just to show you that I’m a serious guy, the obligatory brag: Along the way I’ve racked up my share of recognition. Most recently I won the Society of Professional Journalists “Best Investigative Story” award, and I was nominated for a “Best Reporter” Emmy.
My spare time is precious and little, so I spend it wisely. I teach News Writing at Cal State Sacramento, and volunteer with the children’s charity, Sacramento Active 20-30 Club. Both experiences are a genuine thrill for me.
Now I’ve got to go. Sam is waiting for me to come home and read “Goodnight Moon” to him. And among all the things I’ve mentioned here, doing that is the biggest thrill of all.