Goodbye OPB

 

I'm not sure there was ever a time when OPB wasn't in my life.  I remember watching the first episode of Sesame Street with my mom when I was four, back when watching TV was a really big deal in our house. After that, OPB was never far away. The Electric Company taught me to love words.  Arthur Fiedler taught me to love music. Mr. Rogers tried to teach me to be calm.  And I've since discovered so many amazing and magical things, all because of OPB.

Seventeen years ago on a snowy February day when I first walked in the door, I would never have predicted how completely this place would steal my heart. The friendships and partnerships I've gained are truly irreplaceable. And the surprising lure of on-air fundraising captured me so completely - from the suspense of being on the edge of the goal, to the thrill of making it, to the wild twists and turns that happen in between, and even the occasional misery of failure.

I love that I know where all the light switches are in the dark at 5am, and where the balloons, streamers and prize wheels are hidden away, and that when you put together costumed characters and unruly hosts and fabulously creative people, wild things happen. I love that my kids slept on my desk as tiny babies because I simply couldn't stay away, and that my kitchen counter has been an assembly line for pom poms, signs and other fabulous sparkle for parades, membership drives and events.

Mostly, I feel incredibly fortunate to have been a part of something genuinely remarkable and beloved. It's been an exceptional gift to have the opportunity to be completely connected, to work hard, laugh often, and have a ton of unbelievable fun. Sometimes it demanded everything, but that was worth it, because that's when the magic happens.

It's difficult to believe this is the end of what has been.  Maybe that's the best time to go - when you're still a little bit in love with a place. It's the hardest thing to do. But you get to keep the friendship and the magic, and that's what really matters.