This reporter found a lot to love about Spokane

I have mixed emotions about leaving Spokane. Honestly, that’s not something I ever thought I’d live to say.

When I accepted a one-year sports reporting internship at The Spokesman-Review in December 1993 and arrived a month later, it was hard not to wonder what I was getting into.

Granted it was mid-winter, yet one of the first images I greeted was Spalding Auto Parts on I-90. Yeah, I’d seen downtown during a job interview, but there was something incredibly unsettling about those gray skies and rusted-out rigs on the freeway. Mayor Jim West’s idea to spruce up the town’s entryways isn’t a bad one; these roads are still a mess.

Like many newcomers to any place, my first year was spent trying to figure how many different ways my hometown of Denver was better than Spokane.

In Denver, I could drive faster, and clearly there were more single women. I know this about Spokane because fellow employee Ralph Walter and I did our best to try and meet all of Spokane’s finest.

One night on the town, my good friend and long-time editor Anne Windishar asked me a question. It was in reference to those sidewalks in downtown Spokane that glitter at night when the street lights hit them.

After one of my anti-Spokane rants, Anne – who’d had a few beers – glared at me, and asked: “Well, are the streets of Denver paved with gold?”

“No, they’re just paved,” I replied.

As I plotted my escape from town, however, I kept noticing things about Spokane that became harder and harder to ignore. Manito Park, Riverside State Park and, in the Valley, Ralph’s grandmother, Carmel. When Ralph’s father, Bruce, scalded my baked potato on his grill, Carmel commented: “You eat that potato, and it’ll make your hair curl.”

“Grandma,” I said, “I’ve been eating these potatoes all my life.”

Late last year, local defense attorney Dennis Dressler stopped me near the courthouse and asked: “What’s a dazzling urbanite like you doing in these here parts?!”

That’s what I’ll miss about Spokane – middle-aged guys able to quote lines out of movies like “Blazing Saddles” at the drop of a cowboy hat!

Meanwhile at the newspaper, one opportunity led to another: sports, North Side Voice, night cops, courts and eventually this column. But you can’t stay someplace that’s at times a mystery (see fear of fluoride) simply due to career opportunities. No, it’s the people. If there’s any regret that I have as a member of the media it’s that seldom do the people residing in the communities we serve get a chance to know us like we do each other.

I hear complaints about the newspaper all the time, but know this, Spokane: There’s a great group of people working at The Spokesman-Review.

The highlight of my stay in Spokane was undoubtedly my marriage to my wife, Kyndra, and the subsequent birth of Brendan, Adria and Aliyah. They are truly four of the most beautiful people this town has ever seen.

Finally, after 10 years and 3 months at a place that was going to merely be a 365-day stint, I thought it might be good to settle in for the long haul, at least until the Arizona Republic called. They eventually offered a reporting position, and I accepted the offer. Today is my last working day at The Spokesman-Review.

I don’t like to spend much time looking back, but when I do, I realize I’m glad I didn’t leave Spokane at those times when I really wanted to. Spokane has shown me that it isn’t what you drive or wear that defines you. That’s something that comes from inside.

It’s funny, but over the years, I’ve heard a lot of Spokanites – either native born or long-time residents – practically apologize for continuing to live here.

Funny, but those are the very same folks you couldn’t pay enough money to leave.