"Exit 55" Turns 13

Fayetteville, NC (Aug 30, 2018)

It was the summer of 2006 and all the cool kids were doing it.

Friends Sean Kilkelly and Matt Hamilton were among them. So was the actor Zach Braff.

I was 37 and felt like I wanted to be a part of the fun, though trend-following has never really been my thing.

Sean was somewhere in the house that we had bought only a few months earlier. We had a pool in the backyard and a lawn that I dutifully mowed.

On TV, the Yankees were breaking ground on building the replacement for Yankee Stadium across the street.

It was time. I started writing a blog.

(I wrote the first post on Aug 16 and put it online on the 17th at 7:00 a.m. I forgot about that.)

Like basically everything I do, I didn't just jump in headfirst. I needed a name for the blog and a web address and I needed to be certain it wouldn't exist for a few months and die (and no, my podcast won't meet that fate either. There's just a different level of work to that).

I decided to use Blogger as my home and went with steelyankee as part of the address. I've used that as a faux production company name for years (and, yet, somehow it isn't SteelYankee Radio instead of Robcasting).

Next came the name. I agonized over it. How could I represent myself?

Baseball? Football? TV? Radio? Music?

Roads won out. The term "exit" hit my mind, thinking of that as a metaphor for escape. Fifty-five has long been my favorite number. Exit...55. Bingo.

I wrote about how I came up with it in the third post.

I had no illusions about what the blog would be at first. I thought it would be great if writing led to opportunities, and I think that's happened in some small ways.

It would be great if it could find an audience, and it has, again in small ways. But, as in broadcasting, I had to remind myself to do my best regardless of audience size.

I hoped it would create conversation and reasonable debate. Again, sort of.

I hoped it would strike emotions.

It's well known that, as in life, there have been ups and downs with the bloggity. I hit a high point of 464 posts in 2009 when I was willing to log on to write only a few sentences and post that.

Well, that's what Twitter is now.

So the social media aspect of it, and my very behavior has changed as the years have gone on. We have certainly ebbed and flowed.

The blog has often felt like an extension of my broadcasting, in that I find myself saying, "Wait. You read/listened?" I guess people will come (to the radio/video/blog).

But it's still shocking and a little embarrassing.

Still, there were ruts in the road. When the blog was used against me (and, trust me, it was) I wondered about shutting it down. Not because the criticism bothered me, but because...well, take my word for it. In the process, the posts became more vanilla(ish), less risky or opinionated, and most of all, less frequent.

The worst is having to explain posts or having the posts be misunderstood. It's an awful feeling to be a communicator and explain what the heck you mean so often.

That's when I'd ponder posting a "Gone Fishing" or "Sorry, We're Closed" sign.

Or I'd ponder a goodbye post.

Or I'd just stop and leave it like the end of "The Sopranos."

Maybe "Don't Stop Believing" would play on a shot of me, just sitting at the keyboard, looking perplexed.

Then, as I often do, I found a little energy at the end of last year. Normally, the turn of the calendar got me to do a few posts every year and this year was no different. Then I'd promise that I'd do one post per day.

Then I'd do nothing, often lamenting that nobody cared, even if they did.

Mick would yell at me. Susan would gently tell me she liked my writing. Others would ask why I hadn't written. This wasn't exactly Harper Lee level, mind you, but I appreciated the sentiment.

Then came John Nash and the challenge to do #Project365.

I've documented the long nights, where I'd be sitting on the side of the road to just get a post online.

I've also put a few "evergreen" posts in the drafts folder, just in case. Some will likely never see the light of day (I hope).

I've bled with you. I've been honest with you. I've gotten emotional with you, and that's probably when I know those are my better posts. If I can feel an emotional nerve -- mostly, choking up -- then I know I've got something, and have to always be prepared for the all-important clicks* to be low.

*The whole "click culture" is an insult to journalism. "Hey -- do a story on the Elvis impersonator who is a greeter down at the Walmart in Norwalk!" Yeah, great journalistic instinct there, bub.

Writing has always fascinated me, from the work of famed sportswriters such as Mike Lupica, to the great authors (Fitzgerald, Lee, Steinbeck). I can barely do any of these people justice, just as I'm likely an insult to the great journalists I know (Susan, Paul, the Game Time gang, etc). As always, I can't name everyone.

A professor I had in my first year at Westchester Community College -- and, to this day, I can not remember her name -- once stopped me in the parking lot to ask me if I was interested in tutoring a student.

On writing.

I looked at her, said I wasn't available, and let her walk away. I wondered if it was a missed opportunity. But I figured she had the wrong person. Seriously, me? A Writer? I headed towards my next class, stunned. Nah. I'm just a voice.

I'm still just a voice. But a voice who keeps trying to write and report.

Thanks for reading, all. I raise my glass to you -- especially those who who have inspired and supported me for 13 years.

I make no promises, but we're still here.