This makes me so sad

Former Greene County Sheriff Willie Morris died yesterday, apparently a suicide. Willie is a figure that looms large in my life - he was the sheriff when I started my newspaper career and the first lawman I really got to know. There are a lot of people in the world described as Larger Than Life, but Willie really deserved the title.

He was a champion weight lifter - and as a result a huge man physically - with no real law enforcement experience when he ran for office in 1983. He had been a professional painter and a bar bouncer. He said he just got fed up with the crime and disorder under the old sheriff and figured he needed to do something to make the county a better place.

And he did. He clamped down hard on the gunplay that made little rural Greene County a hotspot of homicides - there were no killings between the time he took office and late 1993. He delighted in drug raids - Greene County is ideal marijuana territory and Willie loved bounding out across dirt roads to pounce on some hidden pot field. And he became famous for running speed traps and drunken driving checkpoints. Drinking and driving had once been a weekend pass time in Greene, but it turned into a very bad idea in his county.

Willie was far from perfect as sheriff, of course. Because he had no professional law enforcement background, he managed more by enthusiasm than by proper methods. He didn't seem to pay much attention to legal niceties and he had no time at all for the sheriffs in nearby counties, many of whom were former State Troopers. He thought they were stuffy and they thought he was a dangerous loose cannon. And he did have a bad, bad temper. He legendarily beat up his brother Clyde, who was just as strong and big-hearted as Willie but had a little trouble with the bottle and spent a fair bit of time on the wrong side of the Law (and as a result, on the wrong side of Willie).

There were a lot of people in Greene who thought Willie was corrupt or incompetent. I doubt that though - I certainly never saw any evidence to back up the corruption rumors and the crime stats certainly speak for themselves in terms of Willie's effectiveness, however unconventional (and perhaps even occasionally unconstitutional) his methods.

The guy I knew had a heart as big as his muscles. He was more than kind and understanding with me, a young, out of place, inexperienced reporter. He expected a lot from his men, but he was always willing to give them a second chance, sometimes too much of a second chance.

And he was brave and dedicated to Greene County. He took a shotgun blast to the face one day in 1991 while helping a woman leave her abusive husband. The doctors down at UVA hospital told me that the main reason he even survived was the thick ropes of muscle under his skin - that blast would have killed me, or most other humans. The doctors never were able to remove all the pellets - they were lodged too close to his spine to safely remove. I know Willie suffered horrible pain the rest of his life from that. I don't know if that had anything to do with his sad end, but it wouldn't surprise me.

Of all the things I'll remember about him, though, it is his hands. He had huge, gnarled, strong hands. When you shook hands with Willie, you knew it. He loved to look good in a crisp brown uniform, with his black belt polished to a fine shine. He'd stand there proudly with those big hands planted firmly on his holster and radio. That picture is as clear in my mind as the day I was there.

Like this:



This is a photo I took of Willie, probably on some drug raid, some time in mid-1990. He was absolutely in his prime, months before the shooting. It's a shock to realize he's about the same age here that I am now. And this is how he will always be fixed in my mind.

Here's a profile of him I wrote in 1990 as part of a big series trying to explain to everyone what their five main elected officials, known as Constitutional Officers, actually did for a living.

Those years I spent in Greene loom large in my life and my memory. And Willie was a big part of it. He's a big figure in some of my favorite journalism stories. That story about the day he was shot was technically complicated, for example, by the fact that all three main characters - the sheriff, the woman, and her husband the shooter - were named Morris. And to complicate matters, Willie was related to Mrs. Morris but not Mr. Morris. Try sorting that one out in print sometime.

Willie also uttered my favorite line about law enforcement. One day we were talking about some crime story I was writing and I asked him about something stupid the criminals had done that had given them away. He leaned across the desk and looked me closely in the eye and said, "When smart people begin committing crimes you and I are in big trouble."

I haven't seen or talked to Willie in maybe 15 years, but I think of him often. And now I'm going to miss him.

Haiti, brought home

I enjoy reading The New Yorker - its a great magazine, well written, stupendously edited, often informative and thought provoking (though I do wish they'd get rid of Malcolm Gladwell and Anthony Lane, but that's just me).

But never, in all my decades of reading the magazine, has New Yorker brought me to tears. This is the single best piece I have ever read in the magazine:

Haiti, the Earthquake, and my family

Life in a cube farm

It's been many years since I actually worked in an office, but I was reminded this morning that there are certain patterns and habits that are common to all, particularly the strange rituals and obsessions that develop around the group lunch.

On a local discussion group, we were talking about the fate of the space formerly occupied by Susanna Foo, an excellent high-end Chinese restaurant that used to be an institution in Philadelphia. But Susanna Foo herself got tired of running the place and closed it down last year. Now the Mexican food chain Chipolte is eying the location, adding yet another semi-fast food Mexican lunch place to the already crowded niche in Center City Philly.

One poster observed that there must be a demand for such a place since there are so many of them already in the area and all seem crowded. "It's a pretty popular businessperson's lunch-hour," he said.

Another poster, known only as The Count, then responded with a story that simply crystallizes everything about life in a downtown office:

In my office, that would be an understatement.

There is a group of women in my office (20's, 30's) who declare a Qdoba Day about once a month or so.

It's insane.

The declaration usually begins with an email blast with "Qdoba!!!!!!Today!!!!!!" in the subject line.

Followed by, "We'll meet in the lobby at 12:15!!!! Don't be late!!!!!!" (Usually done in 64 font and multiple colors).

For the remainder of the morning the women will walk in and out of each other's offices and discuss what they are going to order, how much they love Qdoba, and whether they would rather have a Qdoba Burrito or 7 new pairs of Uggs.

No work gets done on Qdoba Day.

Around 11:45 begins the parade to the bathroom as the women go as a group to freshen up and re-apply make-up for Qdoba.

They will return from Qdoba around 2:00 and spend the rest of the day talking about how if Qdoba was a man they'd marry it.

It's amazing. No other lunch place anywhere in the city gets this type of reaction. Not Marathon, not Pietro's, not Oyster House, not Happy Rooster, not Shiroi Hana, not Good Dog.

In fact, if I offered them a choice between a free lunch at Parc and lunch at Qdoba I think they would take Qdoba.

I haven't enjoyed a life-in-the-office story so much in years.

A sense of adventure

My youngest son is a bit of a handful. He dashes at the world at top speed with his head down, ready to bust through whatever is in his way.

He's in First Grade this year and just beginning to have serious tests and homework. Earlier this week he said he had a spelling test.

"Oh, don't worry," he explained. "I don't study. I want the test to be harder."

It isn't Yoo-Hoo

My father is quite fond of Jean Shepherd. We used to listen to him on the radio and later watch his show, Jean Shepherd's America. To this day, his voice is as familiar to me as any member of my family's. And one Shepherd bit has stuck with me for years - his ode to beer. It's funny because my father dislikes beer and so at the time I saw this, I would have disapproved of beer - it wasn't until many years later that I grew into my current obsession. But still, hearing Shepherd's voice over pictures of vats of frothy beer worked a hypnotic magic on me.

This is a great old clip - Shepherd really gets cranking in his patented style around 4 minutes in, when he hoists a glass himself and recalls his father's love of beer.

"This isn't just a drink," he said. "It isn't Yoo-Hoo. This is beer."



"When you look at that glass of beer," shepherd concludes, "you're looking at life itself. The mother of us all: Beer."

There but for the grace of God...

Regret the Error is out with its annual Corrections of the Year list, which is always hilarious, though I have to post my usual disclaimer: I only laugh up to a point, 'cause God knows I have published my share of howlers. Epicaricacy is not an emotion journalists should indulge in too gleefully.

The corrections list isn't quite as funny this year, I find - in fact, some of them are just pathetic (like the endless series of corrections the New York Times had to run on the now-infamous Walter Cronkite tribute article).

But there are a few I enjoyed a lot and my favorites are both geographic:

Best Geographical Error

The Justice (New York University):

The original article provided the incorrect location of New York University’s new institution. It is in Abu Dhabi, not Abu Ghraib.

Runner Up

Canadian Press:

The Canadian Press moved a story April 3 that erroneously reported The Wilkins Ice Shelf was originally part of Jamaica. In fact the Ice Shelf, located on the western side of the Antarctic was originally the size of Jamaica.

I am knocking on wood.

Do bears really do that in the woods?

A hilarious send up of the pompous old Coors commercial that ran until a few years ago. This version is by Breckenridge Brewing. I am not wildly fond of Breckenridge, but they get points for a fabulous commercial:

Breckenridge Brewery - Lucky U IPA



Oh, and it is a lovely visual of where I'll be moving if I can sell this house of mine in Philly.

Perfect

Washington Post TV Columnist Lisa de Moraes has a wonderful column this morning about the now infamous White House Party Crashers and their inane statements and TV appearances so far (Jezebel has a really good rundown on this for those who haven't had enough). Lisa managed to pull off one of my favorite all time bits of attribution for a quote, in discussing how Michaele Salahi keeps saying the publicity has ruined her life:

"It's been really unbearable to go through," she wailed from the Four Seasons hotel in Georgetown, where she had arrived nearly two hours earlier so people could put on her perfect makeup and dress her spectacular hair.

"Our lives have been destroyed," she added blondly.

This reminds of one of my favorite bits of fiction writing, by New Yorker writer Ring Lardner, who wrote of a young man with his father, who obviously didn't know where he was going:

Are you lost daddy, I asked ten-
derly.

Shut up, he explained.

This space available

I got a number of positive responses from my post of yesterday, disclosing that I have never been compensated by anyone for any product plugs (Kraft Olde English Cheese is delicious, by the way). Several people offered to buy me a beer (Bear Republic products can't be beat). Even my old friend Charlie Puritano took time out from his busy schedule as a film-maker and part time Ninja to weigh in (PMG - look into it).

But sadly, I have yet to hear from my most lucrative potential client, Chrysler (buy a Jeep or I'll kick your ass. Seriously). You'd think they'd have a little gratitude since I have purchased not just one, but two Jeeps just this year.

Some day, I guess, I will learn how to monetize this Internet thing. Provided it isn't just a fad.

Full disclosure

The new Federal Trade Commission rules on blogger disclosure have finally put me in a very uncomfortable position. So today, the day the regulations become effective, I must finally come clean about my association with the many products and services that I have mentioned in my blog over the years.

I am not proud to admit this, but federal law and decency compels me.

The sad truth is that I got paid squat. Nothing. Not even a free paperclip. I have done all my fine work, written all my intricate and well-reasoned prose, for nothing. Nobody paid me a dime. Not that I wouldn't have been happy to accept a wee token. Free Beer? Yep. Money? Damned right. Even a little pat on the back and a few kind words from some ruthless running dog of capitalism would have been nice.

But nothing.

Thanks, FTC, for making me admit publicly that my work is worthless.

From the mouths of babes

My six-year-old son Colin has this friend who, for reasons that will become obvious, I will call Jack.

See, "Friend" would be an overstatement. Jack has a massive man-crush on Colin, hugs him, follows him around, hangs on his every word, generally moons over him. This has been going on since Pre-K and they are now in First Grade. Colin was at first puzzled, then annoyed by this attention. I keep trying to point out that Jack is a nice kid and Colin should put up with him since we all need all the friends we can get in life.

So at lunch today, Colin comes out with this:

"Jack is an idiot."

No, Colin, I say, Jack is a nice little boy.

"Jack is an idiot," Colin insists. "Jack is the king of idiots. If there was one idiot in the world, it would be Jack."

By which point, of course, I am struggling to keep a straight face.

Be nice, I say.

"When I tell Jack he's not my friend, he laughs - like this," says Colin, making donkey sounds.

I am laughing too hard to respond, causing people in the restaurant to turn and look at me.

"I learned in French that they have a special fancy word for idiot," Colin says. "It's Jack."

By which point I was forced to clear the tears from my eye.

Everyone's a critic

I once heard some old editor - maybe it was Ben Bradlee, but maybe it was some other crusty old cuss - say that, based on the letters he received over his career, he had concluded that there were three things that every man believes he is able to do better than every other man: Build a fire, make love to woman, and edit a newspaper.

And in this spirit, I must say this guy really got under my skin:

The News Behind the Story Between the Lines of the Meta-Narrative Surrounding the Nonevent


In fact, if this idiot thinks he can run my blog better than me, I say give it a try, Buddy. I quit. You run the place for a while.

Jerk.

Meta-narratives

I got a number of interesting responses to my post of yesterday about meta-narratives.

The most interesting comes from Geode, AKA Joe, who brilliantly raised the argument to the next logical level:

It seems, though, that the media itself is caught in its own meta-narrative, which you rightfully capitalize: the narrative of Left Wing Bias. The most insidious thing about a meta-narrative is that once it gets rolling, any shred or tidbit that seems to support the 'story' is picked up and carried around, but anything that would tend to undercut it is 'not particularly newsworthy.' Ignoring the fact that the supporting snippets, taken on their own, aren't particularly newsworthy! They only get picked up for how they tie into the existing, ongoing serial."

And of course, he is correct, both about the mechanics of the phenomenon and the particulars about the "mainstream media." The entire argument that there is a Left Wing Bias in the media is a meta-narrative in itself, and not one confined entirely to conservatives. Every blip, every inconsistency, and every human failing on the part of journalists is now examined at length and held up as proof that there is in fact such a bias, despite the fact that decisions in journalism rarely get made is such an organized fashion.

This points to an interesting aspect of the phenomenon, which is that meta-narratives, at least the ones that last, are not based on nothing, which is to say that they are not entirely fantasy. In every case I cited yesterday, there is at least a kernel of truth, or something that the victim of the meta-narrative did to provoke the story. Al Gore really did have a bad habit of making statements that sounded self-absorbed and boastful; George W. Bush really is incurious and sometimes says or things that make him appear shallow or ignorant; Sarah Palin really has made some statements that are jaw-droppingly vapid; Bill Clinton and Ted Kennedy really did have unhealthy tastes for skirt-chasing, and in Teddy's case at least, alcohol.

And of course, the media really does have an occasional leftward bias for a lot of complicated reasons.

But in every case, the kernel of truth gets inflated and exaggerated to the point where it clings to reality by only the most tenuous thread. Unrelated stories about the person become colored inappropriately by that one aspect of his or her personality or past.

Why is this? In part, I think, it is a form of group-think. If someone is saying something that seems to run counter to the collective wisdom, it is usually easier to conclude that the one is wrong while the majority is right rather than the other way around. It is not an unreasonable presumption, but is also not always right - and it is sometimes dangerously wrong.

Another part, which is probably easy for outsiders to miss, is a technical aspect of journalism, and that is the need to frame a story, to add context and perspective. A story that only says who, what, when, and where is dull. The clincher to the story is usually "why." And, unfortunately, it is sometimes easier to fall back on an easy shorthand - Gore exaggerates, Clinton is a cad, Palin is a lightweight, Kennedy is a drunk - than dig deeper and look for the actual why. Sometimes the actual why is simply less interesting than the stereotype.

So what do we do about it? I am afraid that much of it is embedded in human nature, so it would be difficult to stamp out, particularly in highly competitive stories where lots of news organizations are focusing on a single person or issue. A few pitifully news organizations, particularly McClatchy, have a good record of resisting the herd's take on a big story (McClatchy's coverage in the run up to the Iraq war was superb). Underdog papers in the shadow of bigger competitors, like The Washington Times (where I worked for five years), do it sometimes since they are trying to define themselves in opposition to a larger paper that may be following the current meta-narrative, but that can be hit-or-miss. And certain individual reporters, such as Peter Baker of the New York Times and, formerly, the Washington Post and the Washington Times, seem to have a good instinct for spying the real story behind the clutter. Unfortunately, however, I am not sure how to institutionalize it across the media.

But as readers, there is always something we can do about it, and the answer is not revolutionary: question the common wisdom and, dare I say it, don't believe everything you read.

Media bias

My old schoolmate Michael had an interesting observation on my "Letting the Story Obscure the Facts" post when it showed up over on Facebook.

Michael writes:

I have to disagree with your argument in the second to last paragraph. A McCain staffer sent a memo saying that McCain and a female lobbyist were spending a lot of one-on-one time together and it could be portrayed as him having an affair. Basically a "Heads-up" memo. The NY Times used that memo to run front-page stories for at least a week trying to imply McCain had had an affair. When John Edwards HAD A BABY with Ms Hunter (the story was broken by the National Enquirer?!) the NYTimes and most other mainstream media outlets ignored it for WEEKS until they just couldn't ignore it anymore, then they ran low-key puff-piece stories and buried it. They WILL bury a good story to advance a liberal agenda. http://www.mrc.org/BozellColumns/newscolumn/2008/col20080812.asp

It is worth addressing because it is an argument I encounter often on this topic and it contains some elements of truth, or at least that could reasonably be construed to support the Left Wing Bias theory (which is not untrue precisely, just wildly exaggerated).

First, it is important to understand that the McCain story in the Times was a lousy bit of work, but I don't think it was a partisan question - it was just a garden variety stretch for a lead that failed miserably. As a journalist, I read that and understood what the authors were aiming for, but I also saw immediately that that they had completely blown any chance of making their point - which was that McCain was excessively cozy with a lobbyist despite the fact that he had spent years decrying the corrupting influenced of lobbyists - by allowing themselves to be seduced into playing up the unsubstantiated romantic angle. Obviously we can't tell what was in the minds of the authors and editors, but almost certainly it was an ill-advised structural decision rather than a partisan one.

But more importantly, the McCain-Edwards comparison falls apart because of the relative importance of the two characters - McCain was a serving senator, a presidential nominee, and the effective head of one of the two major political parties. And he has made a major issue of attacking the corrupting influence of money and lobbyists in Washington, so any entanglement with a lobbyist, whether romantic or not, is a matter of legitimate analysis (and that was actually the thrust of the Times piece, though they totally obscured the point with their stupid insistence of hinting at a romantic liaison). Edwards, by contrast, was a two-time failed political candidate who was out of public office for the foreseeable future. He was still a figure of interest to the public, of course, but his importance was far less, not even remotely comparable to McCain's. Couple that with the mistaken, but understandable, reluctance of major media to follow the National Enquirer and the picture becomes much more clear. Had Edwards been the nominee, or were he headed in that direction, when the story broke, I guarantee that the media play would have been entirely different (and this is why Democrats were so hurt and angry, probably, since Edwards' recklessness could have ruined the party had he been the nominee).

Unfortunately, the notion that the media has a sharp and deliberate leftward tilt is now so entrenched than a human failings and poor decisions, such as the one that afflicted the Times on their terrible McCain story, or the one that left mainstream news organizations trailing a supermarket tabloid, do begin to look like evidence of some dark conspiracy.

But that is reading far to much into the way the media works. The real answer is much more mundane, and that is that Edwards just wasn't as interesting a story, politically speaking, even if the tale had a bit of sex and hypocrisy in it. In 20 years in newsrooms of both a leftward and rightward orientation, I have never seen a decision made in the manner conservatives suggest. It just doesn't work that way, fortunately.

Letting the story obscure the facts

One of the several discussion groups I prowl has a lively debate over the intensive fact checking by the Associated Press on Sarah Palin's new book. Many of the more conservative posters seem to see this as yet another example of the media's clear Left Wing Bias.

It seems to me that there IS a clear bias in the media, but it is not particularly partisan. Instead, it is content related - the media is always biased toward a good story. And there is a little-understood dynamic in the press, particularly the national press corps, known as the "Meta-narrative." That is when a person or issue gets caught in some larger story, wherein every incremental development or any individual news piece becomes emblematic of some larger truth (whether that truth is strictly speaking true or not). For example, the notion that George H.W. Bush was out so out of touch that he didn't know what a grocery scanner was. Not true at all - it was a distortion of a rather geeky "Gee Whiz" comment he made once when trying to make small talk with a store clerk on a mishandled press event - but it became a dominant theme of the 1992 election.

Or that Al Gore exaggerated so much that he even claimed to have invented the Internet or have discovered Love Canal. Again, not true - an exaggeration of some ill-advised (but not entirely untrue) boasts he made at various events. But that becomes the overriding theme of the 2000 campaign. And George W. was struggling against his own meta-narrative that he was a dim bulb. Not true, of course, and based on the fact that he tends to mangle his words, particularly when he is fatigued (on the campaign trail he got worse as the day wore on to the point where his evening events were nearly unintelligible in parts).

Palin stumbled into the "serial liar" and "shallow" bits through the horrendous Katie Couric interviews and now she is stuck in her own awful meta-narrative. Every tiny blip becomes emblematic of the larger story that she is a clueless hick, a deer caught in the headlights. The closest analogy I can think of is the Gore campaign - by the end, reporters were fact-checking virtually every word he breathed, so we got idiotic story cycles about things like how much his mother REALLY spent on prescriptions for her dog. Had he published a book during the 2000 campaign, I have little doubt that it would have received a similarly thorough scrubbing as Palin's book, and every little irregularity would have been more fodder for the Serial Exaggerator label.

It is very difficult to break that kind of meta-narrative, as George W. can testify. Or Bill Clinton, who still gets smirking coverage from some publications any time he is within sneezing distance of a pretty woman. Or Ted Kennedy, who was portrayed as a womanizing drunk almost to the end of his days, although he had changed his ways years before. Gore is an interesting case, however. He managed to seize control of the story by dropping out of sight for a couple of years, changing his appearance (remember the beard? I doubt that was an accident, and if it was, it was a fortuitous one), and then reinventing himself as an environmental crusader. Whatever the weaknesses of his books and movies, he has created his own meta-narrative as a visionary environmentalist. It is one of the cleverest bits of media reinvention I have ever seen. There is a book in there somewhere for some enterprising media critic.

So I think criticisms of the media based purely on partisan politics largely miss the point of what's actually going on. It's indisputable that media organizations tend to skew left of center, but not even remotely as far as some conservatives would suggest. And reporters and editors will merrily abandon any shred of partisan bias for a crack at a good story, as the Gore campaign in 2000 shows. If partisanship were the dominant factor in the mainstream media, then Gore should have been the critical darling of the media in 2000, as he is today. But he wasn't at the time - the coverage he received was punishing and largely hostile.

Whether Palin can break her own meta-narrative - or whether she even wants to - will be an interesting thing to watch.

For gamer geeks of a certain age

You know who you are...

Music to buy food by

To the extent I ever thought about it, I always supposed that music in stores was intended to emphasize the mood to shop, to make you more willing to part with your cash.

But now I am forced to reevaluate this notion.

I was in my friendly neighborhood Superfresh the other day ("Your Supermarket of Choice!" Whatever the Hell that means) when I began tuning into to the music droning on over my head. Some inoffensive Billy Joel - "Captain Jack" specifically. Oh, sure, the content is a little heavy (an anti-heroin song, or whatever), but it is perfect, hypnotically bland music by which to buy groceries.

But then something weird happened. The next song featured a familiar buzz-saw guitar intro and the unmistakable mad howling laugh of the singer. I listened more closely.

Yes. "Crazy Train" by Ozzy Osbourne.

I wonder what retail consultant looked at the playlist and said "Yes, Sir,Ozzy Osbourne. THAT will make people in South Philly buy more bread and milk."



Hungry yet?

Isn't there an easier way

I read this with considerable curiority this morning:

Scientists create sexual tsunami

Even leaving aside the weird metaphor the headline writer chose, this is an odd article. To summarize, scientists bred a fruit fly that lacked the gene to produce a characteristic pheromone, and to their surprise found that it actually made the flies sexually irresistible to other fruit flies, including ones of the same gender. Even flies of other species were interested.

"Lacking these chemical signals eliminated barriers to mating," Prof Levine said.

This seems like a lot of trouble to get fruit flies all worked up. In the human world, we just get a couple of kegs of beer.

The Empire is Spells Back

Apparently even Imperial Stormtroopers have spelling homework.

On Philadelphia

I think it is fair to say that I have a complicated relationship with Philadelphia. I came here five years ago, sort of by accident, intending to stay only about a year. Ever since, the whole family has been on near continuous alert that we might be leaving.

Fair to say that this makes it a bit difficult to settle in.

Well, now we have our actual ticket to ride - the high Rockies of Colorado. Clean air, space, mountains (snow). We love that part of the world, and have family out there, so we're excited. My wife is set to move out there in November; the boys and I will join her in a few months.

But I think I had expected to be more joyful on leaving. Certainly a couple of years ago I would have been celebrating wildly. Now, I am more equivocal. We've met a lot of good people here in Philadelphia. In fact, I would say everyone we have met has been friendly. God knows Philadelphians can be gruff (and incredibly rude behind the wheel), but by and large, this city turns out to consist of genuine, friendly people who are honestly delighted that you want to live here with them. That's refreshing, and not something I have ever experienced before in all the places I have lived.

And its a city that knows how to relax in a way I like - a hearty meal and a really good beer. This is, arguably, the best beer drinking city in the country. Even cities that might have an equal claim to the beer crown concede that Philly is one of the best. Sure, all the good times add an inch or two to the collective waistline (I cop to this myself), but I think it's good for the city's soul. I am going to miss being able to walk to a bar or restaurant and be reasonably sure of having a really nice experience.

Strangest of all, I have become a Phillies fan. I grew up in Washington, so Redskins run in my veins, but the Washington Senators left town when I was just five. I never had the chance to develop an emotional attachment to them, or any major league team (and don't give me the Orioles - they belong to Baltimore, not Washington. Asking a DC fan to embrace them is like watching a bunch of Phillies fans suddenly have to worship the Yankees. Not gonna happen). Because of my 'Skins background, I will probably never be able to fully embrace the Eagles (though I am more sympathetic now than I used to be), but it's been a really rewarding experience to come to know the Phillies and watch them. I feel like I am moving away from a new friend. It makes me sad.

There is a lot I won't miss - the crime, the corruption and incompetence, the taxes, the driving, the trash on the sidewalk, all those things Philadelphians learn to live with. But I am going to look back on my five years here with some affection.

Thanks Philly. Come see me in the mountains sometime.