I’ve stuck my toe into the organizational nightmare of cleaning my basement garage. No one but myself and my husband goes into this space. We try to avoid it at all costs. However, it is a true embarrassment. I don’t want to die and people find this mess.
To try to come up with a plan of attack, I have started just opening boxes and surveying the nonsense I have literally hauled all over the world for three decades. It’s a lot to take in and I haven’t thrown away the first item yet.
One of the first boxes I opened held a true delight which I was looking forward to finding. I knew they were down there somewhere. A huge stack of Trail Blazers—the official campus newspaper of Morehead State University. I spent three of my four years in college as part of the newspaper staff. They were some of the best days of my life.
I started as a writer on the humor staff. Once a smart ass, always a smart ass. I worked my way up the ranks to entertainment editor and then managing editor—an actual paid position! I spent way more time in the Trail Blazer offices than I did in my dorm room. When I was not in class, I was there working on the paper, or just hanging out with my fellow journalists. A shit-ton of pizza and caffeinated beverages were consumed within those walls.
The only thing greater than the volume of pizza eaten was the laughter—and maybe the profanity. There was lots of cussing at 1 a.m. Wednesday morning as we tried to put the paper to bed for the week.
We were an odd and eclectic group of individuals at the paper, but we fit together perfectly. Every time I walked into those offices; I was home. There was no place else I wanted to be.
One of my besties was dubbed Schelaylee in that newsroom. It is a nickname that has held up for 30 years. In case you are wondering how that came about, her last name is Schelle (pronounced Shuh-lee). One of the staff writers pronounced it a different way every time he said it. One very late night, he called her Schelaylee. There was an understanding in that newsroom, henceforth she would only be known as Schelaylee. When I refer to her in conversation, those who don’t know her always say, “Like the Irish walking stick?” Yep. Exactly.
The stack of papers I unearthed was mostly from 1992. I have poured over them all week. They have made me laugh and cry. They have also impressed the hell out of me. These papers were put together by students, in the days before desktop publishing and are pretty fucking amazing. They look professional and the writing is damn good!
Another bestie of mine wrote a piece proclaiming Grease a musical gift for the ages that would stand the test of time. She was and still is, a visionary. My favorite line from her article was when she described Olivia Newton John as, “the down under delight.”
I wrote a scathing article about the uptick in public intoxication arrests on campus. My stance in 1992 remains the same today: Just let people walk home drunk. If they are not causing a fuss, what does it matter? We don’t want people driving drunk, so for fuck’s sake, let them walk drunk without harassing them and making them pay $81. Apparently, that was the cost of a PI ticket in the 90s. I also had a decent humor piece about the male comb-over hairstyle and a glowing review of U2’s “Achtung Baby.” I still love that album.
Of all the things I was impressed by in my old newspapers, the editorial cartoons done by my dear friend, Brad, were total gold. Not only is Brad one of the most talented artists I have ever met, but his social commentary was also spot on. His work in college was as good as any editorial cartoonist at any major newspaper in the country. I remember one time Brad did not win a Kentucky Intercollegiate Press Association Award (KIPA) because the judges felt no college student was capable of his level of work. Brad was and should have won the damn award.
Nearly 30 years have passed since I wrote my last Trail Blazer article. I hope I stumble on some more old issues in my cleaning. They are items I will never part with as long as I live. I’m still in touch with many of the Trail Blazer staffers. They are some of the best people I have ever met. I will always cherish those late nights at the PMT machine, nursing hot wax burns, trying to find an extra line for a story and doing our best to keep the students of MSU informed with some first-class journalism.