Medford/Ashland

On my 25th birthday, I celebrated with my brother, his wife Kitsie and my beloved "aunt" Adaline and her husband Kernie in Portland.
The next day, I moved to Ashland.
I had vacationed there earlier in the summer and fell in love with it.
I moved there with no job and not knowing anyone there.

After a few months, I got my first paid job in radio, KMED.
Then, after 2 years, I moved to another radio station, KBOY.
On the local TV station, a friend and my former morning DJ Jim was doing a noon show called Meridian. His co-host was Ann Curry.
One day I visited Jim at the station -- and stuck around to talk with Ann.
I think I called her later that week with some lame invite -- but she said she was busy.
The next week, Ann called me.
She was eating a carrot and said bluntly into the phone, "so what's the deal with you anyway?"
I figured the carrot eating was an effort to appear like she was still busy (eating) and barely had enough time to talk.
I could see through it -- she was curious about me.
After all, I was short, skinny, had a mustache and didn't dress very well.
So I told her I was interested in taking her out.
We went to the Applegate River.
Hung out, drank some beer.
And then I pulled out of my bag a diving mask and pair of flippers.
I put them on and went into the river.
It was cold and I didn't swim well -- so I spent less than 5 minutes there.
Much later -- Ann told me she thought I must really be into diving since I came so prepared.
But she was puzzled -- and thought I was a little odd -- when I only spent a few minutes in the water.

We became close friends. Ann was promoted to the newsroom as a reporter. I remember her first day as an anchor. It was a Saturday. Normally, the Saturday anchor had to gather all the news, film themselves and deliver the news. No one had cameramen.
I went along that first day to help and film her.
The newscast went fine.
And that was the start of an amazing career.

I remember one time Ann invited me to join her father and her father's folk dancing class in Ashland's Lithia Park. I wince at that memory. I was so shy and insecure about my ability to dance -- I pulled away when Ann's dad sought to bring me in.
That's something I've learned over the years -- how to push myself out of my comfort zone.

I recall when I got news of my father's death.
I sought out Ann. She was with our friend Mary. Mary had another friend there. I remember Ann explaining to the new person, "Greg's father just died -- but he is a strong person."

I remember where I was when JFK was shot

I was in sixth grade. We were coming down the south stairs at Everett's Washington Grade School. About three steps down the landing, Mr. Stivala, the 5th grade teacher was coming up with his class.
"The President has been shot," he said.
We returned to our room.
My teacher, Mr. Cardle, was beloved by his class for his humor. Today was the first time I saw him quiet.
We all sat quiet, not sure how to act.
Mr. Cardle took a black strip of paper and taped it to the flag. This, I was told, how you treated a flag that couldn't be lowered to half staff.
We stayed in school until the normal ending time.
I remember at recess seeing girls from the junior high school coming home early -- crying.
Was crying the more adult thing to do.
Was this worse than I knew.
How could a young man be dead?
What would happen to us.

I went home and mom asked, have you heard?
Like the entire nation, we grieved in front of the TV.
We were watching as Lyndon Johnson landed in DC.
He walked up to the microphones.
He had a huge nose and big dog-like ears.
When he spoke, he spoke with a thick southern drawl.
"Ihhhhhhh, aaaahhssk fur God's help and yurs."

My mother looked at our newly sworn in president and said aloud, "God help us."