Hence, this announcement.

Next week will mark my last as the editor of The Sanford Herald. After four years and five months, I’m joining Campbell University to become its assistant director of publications.
It’s a great opportunity, and one that will allow “normal” hours … the kind Dolly Parton sings about. With young children, it’s the perfect fit for me.
But it’s bittersweet as well. I’m leaving a job I love, a paper I love and a newsroom I love. For those of you sad to see me go, be happy I’ll still be living in Sanford and will hope to contribute to The Herald down the line. For those of you happy to see me go … well, I suppose this is good news.

I’ve still got at least one column as editor remaining, and with a boy due by Wednesday (the docs have marked the date), I’ll save the final “good-bye” to then. I’d rather fill the second half of this column by thanking the amazing people I’ve worked with the past 53 months.
Thank you to my boss, Bill Horner III, for convincing me to move to North Carolina, where I’ve grown to love this state and have since planted roots with not one but two children born in the Tar Heel State. And thank you for trusting me with a paper that’s been in your family for decades … I think we did some good.

To those I once worked with — Gordon Anderson, Chelsea Kellner, Alex Podlogar, Randy Quis, Brooke Wolfe, Ryan Sarda, Ashley Garner, Caitlin Mullen, Justin Story, Jamie Stamm, Kevin Degon, Erin Zureick, Marie Webster, David Anderson, Kim Edwards, Katelyn Holshouser, Cassidy Culbertson, Faith Swymer (and of course everyone in advertising, classifieds and other departments) — thank you for your part in producing a newspaper this community should be proud of. I respect and appreciate all of you.
To those I still work with — Wesley Beeson, Alexa Milan, Judy McNeill, Billy Ball, Jennifer Gentile and (of course) R.V. Hight — the paper has enjoyed a lot of success this past year, thanks in large part to you. Our experience covering the tornado will be something I never forget.
And finally to Jonathan Owens, who along with R.V., has been here all 53 months with me. You’re a hell of a journalist and an even better friend. Thank you for everything.

Fifty-three months and approximately 1,166 newspapers (give or take 20). There’s no question I’ll always love The Sanford Herald.

Looked at my stats today, and for some reason, Bill Parcells’ Quarterback Commandments — something I posted a few years back — completely took off. My “incoming links” won’t load … so someone tell me why this “trended” so much yesterday.

UPDATE
Apparently, NBC Sports’ pro football blog linked my article. I was one of the few dudes out there who posted Parcells’ commandments after he sent Moses down with them. Thanks for the hits NBC.

It wasn’t the first time in my career I covered a president — I was in Houston in 2003 to see W. and Air Force One at Hobby Airport, and, of course, in Sanford when former President Bill Clinton made a campaign stop to stump for his Hillary (seems like forever ago, doesn’t it?).
But this was my first presidential press conference — President Obama dropped in on Durham to tout Cree, an LED light manufacturer and success story located within the confines of Research Triangle Park.
And unlike 2003 and 2008, this time I got to deal with layers and layers of checkpoints, traffic jams to make way for a motorcade, a complete patdown and weapons check and a roomful of some of the nation’s most powerful business people.
In other words, a pretty cool experience for this old East Texas farmboy*.

* — I technically did live on a farm while in high school, but I hated it.

First, I’ll answer the question of “why” The Herald covered a presidential visit 45 minutes away and out of our coverage area. My answer is “why not?”
Aside from the poor pay, long hours and daily deadlines, there are some “perks” to being a journalist — free access to sporting events or entertainment venues (and often, free food that comes with it), and sometimes, access to things to “public” doesn’t get to see. I used my sports writing credentials way back in 2001 to cover a Dallas Cowboys game, got to go in the locker room after that and stood shoulder to shoulder with Emmitt Smith during a post-game press conference. (I scored my dad a similar pass to a preseason game a few years later, and we got to see Reggie Bush, Drew Brees, Tony Romo and several others up close as well).
I actually did write about those games, so it wasn’t just a joyride, per se. It was work, if you could call it that.
So was this — The Herald’s Alexa Milan covered it for the paper (and got to see her first president up close), and I went to write about the “experience,” which involved a lot of standing around and feeling hungry*.

* — All they provided the press was room temperature water

My first observation about the whole event was it must cost a city thousands upon thousands of dollars to welcome in a president. I wonder if they’re reimbursed.
Police officers, state troopers, deputies and others shut down portions of the busy I-40 corridor to make way for Obama’s motorcade. I was stuck in traffic about 20 minutes trying to get there because of this. It took another 15 minutes to get through the backed-up traffic leading into Cree.
Once I reached the gate, I went through three or four name checkpoints (my name only actually appeared on one of them, but apparently, that was all I needed). From the first checkpoint to the actual building was about three-fourths of a mile, too, so I was sweaty, thirsty and hungry by the time I made it to the patdown and weapons check.

Once inside, there are two directions you can go — media takes a left and all others go right. By going left, we were ushered behind the photo and video camera stage and all media were kept a stone’s throw away from the stage behind barricades. The actual audience sat about 25 rows deep and horseshoed around the presidential stage and podium.
About that audience … I didn’t realize it until after I read the briefing, but the people I stood behind for the speech — the Jobs Council — was full of some of the most powerful business people in our country. Here are but a few:
• Kenneth I. Chenault, Chairman & CEO, American Express
• Jeff Immelt, Chairman & CEO, General Electric
• Gary Kelly, Chairman, President, and CEO, Southwest Airlines
• Ellen Kullman, Chair & CEO, DuPont
• Eric Lander, Director, Broad Institute of MIT and Harvard and Co-Chair, PCAST
• Paul S. Otellini, President & CEO, Intel Corporation
• Sheryl Sandberg, Chief Operating Officer, Facebook

The people I kept OFF that list were impressive, too.
I didn’t get to actually mingle among them, of course, but I was close enough to hear at least one conversation, which involved one U.S. representative’s “people” talking to another U.S. representative’s “people” … and I’ll be damned if I didn’t actually hear the phrase “We’ll have our people contact your people” … I’m not entirely sure what they were talking about, but it came off as very important.
The media were allowed in between 11:30 and 12:30 … after the traffic and checkpoints, I made it in by noon. Obama wasn’t scheduled to speak until 1:45. I had skipped lunch because I thought (hopefully) they would have some kind of food for the media on hand (which numbered about 100). No dice. So we stood around waiting for nearly two hours, my stomach growling, my feet sore from all the walking and standing. I kept myself occupied by people watching … only because the wi-fi signal was weak and so many people were trying to use it that it bumped about 90 percent of us off (therefore, I couldn’t live Tweet and couldn’t waste time playing online Bejeweled Blitz on my phone).
Making matters worse — loud, upbeat jazz muzak.
At approximately, 1:30, the speakers started appearing. Among the pre-speakers were U.S. Rep. David Price and Sen. Kay Hagan.
Then just before 2 … Obama took the stage to standing applause.
To me, it doesn’t matter whether or not I voted for the guy … seeing a president up close is a cool experience. When I saw W., the first thing I noticed was his posture (he hunched his shoulders forward when he walked). With Clinton, it was the wrinkles in his face (I was amazed how much he aged since 1994), and with Obama, it was his hands. The man has giant hands.
I also watched closely his “teleprompter” reading, since people make such a big deal of it. Yes, the teleprompters were there, but he did a good job of making eye contact with everybody, and if he did read every line off the prompter, he did a good job of making look like he didn’t.
Again, regardless of your political leaning, you can’t deny the man’s a great speaker. His jokes about his first visit to Cree (my entourage is much bigger this time, he said) and making sure to mention all local colleges or feel the wrath of ACC fans went over well.

As for his speech … well, this is where I’m not such a great journalist. I didn’t go to hear the speech. That was Alexa’s job … I went to write about everything but the speech.
Don’t get me wrong — I listened. He touted Cree, a start-up success story with a huge facility that continues to hire in this rough economy; he touted LED lighting and talked about the Jobs Council and his goals regarding the unemployment rate.
But it was one speech among many. After five minutes of the “Hey, a president is 20 feet from me” wore off, so did the experience. I looked over at the doors (locked and guarded) and kept clutching my empty belly. Still no wi-fi.
When he wrapped up, the “Hail to the Chief” music played and he stepped into the audience and shook hands with members of the Jobs Council. I watched for a moment, then decided to beat traffic and was on my way.
That’s three presidents now in eight years. Not a bad job.

Read Alexa Milan’s great report here and find more coverage from our sister paper, The Durham Herald-Sun.

I had no intention of writing this. Monday was a holiday for me as well.
But I showed up to Monday’s Memorial Day service at the VFW Stanley McLeod Post in Sanford more as “back-up” in case my reporter or my photographer were running late or weren’t able to make it. You never know with holidays.
They both arrived on time, but I decided to stay. I’m glad I did.
In addition to a moving speech by retired Lt. Gen. George Christmas, I was able to speak to a handful of veterans who were among the 100 or so in attendance Monday. During a prayer midway through, I glanced up and saw 94-year-old Julian Mansfield, head bowed in prayer, reach over slowly and grab the hand of his wife Rachel, also praying at the time.
It was a tender moment, one that touched me, a guy not so easily moved by such things. I broke from the ranks of prayer (sorry, God) and snapped a photo of the two as they stood hand in hand. I looked down at the image on my camera, and while I liked it, I didn’t feel the photo did justice for the moment. So when it was all said and done, I sought the couple out and asked them to tell me more about themselves.
I felt I just needed to know more.
Julian and Rachel Mansfield met in 1945, the year World War II came to an end and a couple of years after Julian’s tour in the South Pacific, where he fought in Operation Watchtower, better known as the Battle of Guadalcanal, the first major offensive by U.S. forces against the Japanese Empire.
I won’t go much into war history, but Guadalcanal is believed by many to have been the turning point in the Allied Forces’ effort to defeat the Japanese. Mansfield said he was there for the initial invasion and five battles after that. He didn’t talk much about his experience, but I imagine he saw more than few of us can conceive during his months in the Pacific.
While he was off fighting, Rachel Mansfield was in high school. The two met after the war and were married seven years later in 1952.
In my few minutes with them, they came off as a happy couple. Julian, somewhat frail but better off than most people in their mid-90s, wears a hearing aid and still has trouble with people who speak softly (like myself), and Rachel, 10 years younger, happily repeats things for him and even finishes his sentences.
They said they were both proud of the turnout at Monday’s event at the VFW. An even better moment for Julian recently was his participation in the Flight of Honor in Washington, D.C., this year, flights to the WWII Memorial where thousands greeted the aging vets upon arrival.
“He still talks about it today,” Rachel said, beaming as she looked his way.
“It was wonderful, that trip,” Julian added.
As for the war, Julian had little to say, other than, “I’m proud I was in it. I wouldn’t want to be in it again, but I’m proud I did it.”
My conversation with the Mansfields ended soon after it began. He talked a little more about Christmas’ speech and his friends who were there, but Julian had too many hands to shake, too many expressions of gratitude to take in from those who gathered to hang around with me much longer.
He thanked me for my time and headed toward the VFW, his wife holding his hand as they walked away.