The sixth floor of the library has never felt so heavy. I’ve never really run out of things to say, but suddenly, in two weeks, I walk into The Convo in a cap and gown, and I have never had a harder time getting words onto a document about how I feel.
When I toured Ohio University for the first time, it was a hot and sticky summer. I was with my mom, a fellow Bobcat alumna, and on College Green, I was handed a copy of The Post’s Orientation Guide. At the time, I was looking into the business school, and being a Bobcat wasn’t even on my list. My mom always says she thought she “oversold it.”
When I walked back to her car after our tour, a girl in a moving car on Richland Bridge screamed, “Don’t graduate, it’s a trap!” and, clearly, I didn’t listen.
I still have that Orientation Guide, where I look now at some of the names in bylines of my lifelong friends this publication has given me. When freshman me walked into open house, I put my name under the Culture section, and couldn’t even make the weekly meetings. I thought I would abandon it immediately.
It could have been fate when the meetings got moved to Thursday nights, and I was able to attend. It could have been the kindness of my dear friend Katie Millard, who met with me one afternoon to give me the Culture rundown and welcome me with open arms. Without knowing it at the time, Thursday nights became my favorite time of the week, and I would start showing up to meetings almost 40 minutes early just because I wanted to be in the newsroom.
I’ll never forget getting the call one afternoon in my dorm room from Alyssa Cruz that I would be the next Assistant Culture Editor. Suddenly, I was in the beating heart of it all, and getting to be at the helm of the section I have so much love for was one of the best opportunities I’ve ever had. I can’t thank Cruz enough for what she saw in me and for being a great mentor.
I branched out to new things, different sections and new places in town. I learned to play beer pong in a windowless apartment next to Chipotle on Court Street; a “Love Potion” became one of my favorite drinks from The Pub; I started this column, “Blabby Abby.”
I went to New York City with The Post on spring break that year. I met my two best friends from the other end of the newsroom after they returned from Washington, D.C., and since then, they’ve been a part of everything that has made me who I am.
Being Human Interest Editor during my junior year was the greatest privilege I have ever had entrusted to me. I looked up to the ones before me, and being the one to run those meetings felt surreal. I felt like I was bringing more stories to life, helping to inspire others to be as excited to talk to sources as I am.
But I can’t leave out the C.I. Basement and thank God for Souvlaki's Mediterranean Restaurant, for Fiona Apple songs and long drives down past the Hocking River. I’m so grateful pink hair dye comes out, and for a sectional couch no longer on Mound Street. I miss driving all together to Strouds, playing hangman in the bar and my roof from an apartment on Lash Street.
I'm grateful to The Post and all of its incredibly wonderful, talented staff. I’ve made a family here, and although families are not often perfect, I have made a lifetime of memories with this one.
I have over 100 stories published over the course of my four years here, and trust me when I say I’m not done writing them just yet. Thank you for giving me the floor – I’m finally off my soapbox.
Abby Jenkins is a senior studying journalism at Ohio University. Please note the opinions expressed in this column do not represent those of The Post. Want to talk to Abby about her column? Email her at aj205621@ohio.edu.
