![]() ![]() I met top college administrators, state senators, assemblymen, lobbyists, and even-while working on a piece about adult movies- a porn star. I learned to think and write under pressure and to better understand all manner of people. The Rip gave me my single most valuable college experience. ![]() He joked that he “had to…” so I didn’t “end up back in high school.” The late Bob Bentley, the editor who’d turned me away the year before, finally hired me. Then in March, I got my first paying job as a writer at the Bakersfield Californian. I rose to the position of news editor at the Rip, and we took first place in general excellence that year at the state JACC competition. I received top-rate instruction in news writing, editing and photojournalism from my teachers: Bona Dillion, Jack Knight and Jonathan Mumm. I’d spend long nights at the Rip, sometimes staying until 4 am. They thought I was nuts.īut I bore down on the task of amassing a stack of stories. Most greeted this news with puckish expressions and scarcely concealed mirth. I’d grit my teeth, force a smile, and explain. I’d run into friends, and they assumed I was visiting from Berkeley. ![]() It was my one and only opportunity, so I dove into journalism with abandon at the Renegade Rip. So after bailing on Berkeley, and being blown off by my hometown broadsheet, I was back in school-at a community college. When I approached the local newspaper, they told me to come back when I had something to shown them. I’d earned a degree in communication, but I lacked basic news writing classes. Instead of living in the Bay Area-something we both had anticipated–she ended up stuck in Bakersfield, supporting me while I made a sudden career change.Īnd it wasn’t easy. She’d passed on a great job, and my walking away from law school, my internship and scholarship meant I had no job and no money. To say Karin was supportive is a massive understatement. But like the Reader’s Digest Abridged version, it leaves out a lot-such as the heroes who helped me through an awkward transition, escaping drudgery in pursuit of a dream. That’s the story I shared with the Mutual of Omaha film crew, and it’s entirely true. “It was a long night,” I agreed, “but in the end she hugged me and told me to get writing.” “Now that must have been some conversation.” “I went home and told Karin to stop packing.” And I had an epiphany, my ‘aha moment.’ I realized I was plunging, pell-mell, towards the unhappiest profession on the planet instead of doing my dream job.” ![]() “I spent days watching an unending parade of contentious clients-divorcées, warring business partners, accident victims. After a a couple of weeks as an intern, I called UC Berkeley, withdrew, and gave them back their scholarship.” My wife, Karin, was wrapping up her job so we could move.” I’d busted my chops to get in, and all my teachers, friends and family were thrilled. “I was a summer intern in a law office,” I said, “I’d just finished my BA, and had a full-ride scholarship to law school.” “So,” she began, “tell me about your ‘aha’ moment, that instant when everything changed.” I faced the camera, and the smiling woman hovering next to it cued me. And on that yes the future world depends. ![]()
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