Atlanta. 20 years.
The few weeks leading up to my move to Atlanta were some of the coldest days I can remember in Massachusetts. There was a three week span in January of 1994 where the temperature in Boston didn’t get much above 15 degrees. I was ready to leave.
There were some odd things going on in my life before I moved to Atlanta and new, odd things waiting for me when I got here. I moved here for a woman - or at least the hopes of being with this woman. I knew within a few weeks, ok, hours, actually minutes, that it wasn’t going to work out. I was disappointed but didn’t want to run back home with my tail between my legs. I stayed and stuck it out.
I hated it somewhat at first, mainly because I was all alone in a new, big city. But I made friends and learned to like it. The Olympics were coming. Remember the countdown clock on the Spring Street bridge over 75/85? It was exciting.
In 1995, I flat-out begged for a job at a radio station and got it. I worked for that place for almost 10 years, learning as much as I could about the radio industry. I got married. I got divorced. (I’m skipping over a lot here) I got the coolest job I’ve ever had in my life working on-air at 92.9 dave fm and somehow managed to hang on to it for 6 years.
And now I’m here, excited about the things that are to come and grateful for the chances and opportunities I have each day.
There you have it. I’ve been in Atlanta twenty years. Milestone? Yeah. Worthy of a blog post? Not really, but thank you for reading this.