Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Following the Path in Pursuit of the Story

Pasha C. Chandra/The Hoya Nick Timiraos (COL ’06) keeps a cool head in the editor in chief’s office.

I’ve been lucky. You might know the feeling – it’s that sense that you’ve had good fortune too many times in a row and that your run could be up soon. After all, 22 years is a long time. Especially when you consider these last four.

I discovered good fortune when I ventured east to Georgetown, and again when I found this newspaper. For all the high-minded preaching about journalism, about serving students, about providing a forum for debate – none of that would have mattered if it hadn’t been for the people. They made the newspaper fun.

And so the stories pulled me in. Not the stories we wrote, but the ones we made.

Like the time I walked home in the snow. In sandals.

Living in Darnall sophomore year, I had a short walk to Leavey. It got cold in December, but I walked over in shorts and sandals one night. This office visit, like many others, lasted into the late hours of the morning.

It snowed four inches that night. I couldn’t walk far in the powdery snow with sandals, so I took them off, raced back to the dorm, and did my best to thaw my feet.

This isn’t California, but it took me a year or two to realize that.

The longer I stayed here, the further away home seemed. Friends noticed it in my appearance. Over time, Polos replaced worn-out In-n-Out T-shirts. A scarf and coat replaced the hoodie I’d brought to school. My parents, I realized, were pretty brave in letting me go this far away, knowing I might not be back right away.

Other stories made me appreciate the work we did. While most students read The Hoya as a temporary distraction from a large lecture or a mildly entertaining ruse at Leo’s, it’s easy to overlook the hours of work – and the sometimes agonizing decisions – that go into these pages.

One night during sophomore year we raced to beat an ominous deadline. With Hurricane Isabel approaching quickly, we weren’t sure how long we’d have power.

So as most of campus celebrated the fact that school had been cancelled that Thursday, editors hurriedly assembled the pages to get them to the printer.

Leavey never lost power that night. But our printer in southern aryland did, so rather than use the Internet to send in the paper, we had to courier it there ourselves.

Forecasts had the storm bearing down on the Chesapeake region close to 2 a.m., just the time we were planning to get on the road. No power. 70 mph winds.

Our best efforts had been further hampered, and rather than risk the safety of a fearless editor, the pages were delivered the following morning. It wasn’t printed until that afternoon, when power had been restored.

Most graduating seniors probably have similar stories. It’s that moment that you realize you’re a part of something and that you enjoy it. Still, you always know that the moment won’t last, which makes these stories all the more special. And that whatever group you’ve discovered is particularly special because it would continue even in your absence.

The stories go on. Trips to the Esplanade to burn things in a “cauldron of wonderment.” Your friend who ran up the down escalator at Rosslyn – the one that’s a few stories tall – and who kept running once he got tired just because everyone else going up started chanting the Rocky theme song. Swimming in the fountain. Exploring construction sites. Bouncing a bowling ball down the Leavey staircase just to see how high it could bounce. Telling stories.

Life unfolded in those stories. I met roommates. I made lifelong friends. I made mistakes. I felt liberated. I started drinking. I gave up drinking. I learned from some mistakes. I found out what I liked. I liked Washington. I liked Georgetown. I wrote. I skipped some classes. I argued. I made more mistakes. I led. I tried to excel. I loved the newspaper. I fell in love. I stayed in Washington. I traveled. I interned. I found out what I didn’t like. I wrote columns. I grew cynical. I challenged others. I studied. I prepared to graduate.

I learned, but not on things that I’d get graded on. That hard work gets you to the top. That being in the right place at the right time helps. That the people you meet can make everything worth doing.

I learned more about what I wanted to do in life, who I wanted to be, from those stories.

I realized I loved telling stories. Georgetown provided a colorful cast, plenty of laughs and a bit of drama. And though I’ll leave Georgetown soon, I hope to find the path that lets me keep finding, and telling, interesting stories.

I should be so lucky.

Nick Timiraos is a senior in the College. He is a former editor in chief, senior news editor, contributing editor, columnist and member The Hoya’s board of directors.

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