Dribbling Ink

Every few days I read the Paragould Daily Press , my hometown newspaper—a newspaper I worked at as a sports writer for four years—online. I’m never looking for anything in particular. It’s just part of my routine: every morning I skim national, state, and local news for a few minutes. However, when I visited the PDP today, a few things were different. First, the website had been redesigned (and not in a good way—it takes talent to clutter what little content the PDP creates). More importantly, you now have to buy a subscription to read the paper online. This isn’t about having to pay for content (I’m sure the PDP has heard plenty of negative feedback from its online readers already); I understand what the PDP is attempting to accomplish with this move. The move to paid content was inevitable (I remember sitting in a staff meeting and discussing this very matter over five years ago when I was writing for the newspaper), as it will be and has been for much larger publications. Ne

Sometimes I sit around writing my own obituary in my head. It’s not that I plan on dying, or that I’m that old, but I just wonder what my legacy would be. If my family had to sum up my life to this point, I’m afraid there wouldn’t be a lot to say. Let’s highlight my first twenty-six years. I hit a game-winning shot against Nettleton—truly the type of shot you dream about as a kid shooting hoops in the driveway—to help Paragould High School make it to the state tournament in 2004 (this is the highlight of my short and mostly uneventful athletic career); I won the Citizenship Award my senior year, which my mother says is way more important than any academic or athletic award; I wrote for the Paragould Daily Press for four years, and I still have people say they miss my column (but you guys can quit lying to me already); I married a girl who is way more intelligent and athletic than I ever dreamed of being; I graduated from college, twice; and I have an adorable puppy that takes up all