Although I won't say a final farewell to the University at Buffalo until the fall of this year, with this semester's end will come the end of my time with The Spectrum. I was tempted to avoid the usual farewell column that I'm sure only six readers in a Knox lecture hall will blink through sleepily - not that many more people read my usual columns - but a few summative words about my time with The Spectrum and UB could not be avoided.
Besides my first few opinion pieces, the topics of which I had burning in my mind and couldn't wait to set to paper, most of my column topics over the years have come to me through a lot of soul and news headline searching. A great deal of these columns went unnoticed by the general student population, but every once in a while an impassioned piece would strike a nerve with readers and my e-mail inbox would be filled with responses - some complimenting my insight, others telling me that I'm an idiot, reverse racist or even a proponent of baby killing.
I loved every response that made my heart race and my hands tremble in anger after a particularly touchy piece. I loved the emotions my columns stirred up in readers and myself. I loved the effort that went into my pieces. I loved every frown the editor in chief or managing editors threw in my direction when I let my deadline slip past as I spent many precious minutes searching for that perfect source of information, description or word.
My pieces didn't always come out perfectly, but most of them received a valiant effort.
Although my fortnightly opinion pieces were only a small fraction of what my duties at The Spectrum entailed, they were the most public and palpable representation of what I consider the most valuable things I've learned during my time at this university.
The topics on which I chose to opine were most often about the kinds of social and global issues that would have otherwise gotten buried under the monotony of a self-serving life. But my columns -along with the fear of sounding incompetent to the six people who read what I have to say-forced me to think deeply about things that would have otherwise gotten a half second of thought. The research conducted for these pieces put me on the path to a life of genuine consideration about issues that affect others as well as myself.
Over the years, I found myself doling out my time-time that probably should have been spent getting better grades and more sleep-thinking about the issues affecting people living millions of miles away, suffering in remote villages as well as to those living around me in this "privileged" country.
My column "Everybody's a Little Bit Racist?" printed in October 2003, was one of those memorable pieces that had me up at 3 a.m. searching myself for an honest description of the not-so-pure thoughts that creep into my own mind when it comes to race relations. It was always something to which I'd given a few moments of thought, but never something I'd truly examined until that column. My efforts at giving voice to the undefined divide that often falls between blacks and whites in the United States garnered quite a response from people trying to do that same thing-as well as from those who thought I was just a babbling fool.
Despite the people who hated it, and even before the responses from those who liked it, I loved that column. I loved it because it was the result of a couple of co-workers and my amusement at the similarly titled puppet musical; instead of leaving the thought in that moment, I examined it in all seriousness and invited others to join me, and I believe I was made the better for it.
News headlines and the startling results of subsequent research prompted my column "A Showy, Selfish Nation" in January 2005. After reading about how little the United States does toward what should be a universal goal of eradicating world poverty, and noticing how little Americans cared, I was shamed and angered. A little less visceral than my usual pieces and packed with figures and informational references, this column was meant to be a mirror with which young Americans could view our actions on the world stage.
People stopped me in the hallways to talk about that column, and my inbox was void of the usual "you're an idiot" e-mails.
My days of column writing for The Spectrum are officially over, but the drive to learn about, opine upon, and become thoroughly involved in the world I live in will never fade. And I have The Spectrum and my six readers to thank for this.
