This weekend (well it's actually more this week, but for the context of this column I am sticking with ''this weekend'') I will be marking two anniversaries in my life.
First, I will be hitting my fourth year as an employee of the Tribune Chronicle. This is significant since I truly don't feel as though it's been that long.
I started off as an editorial assistant, and for those of you who don't know what that is, it's basically the person who is asked to do any variety of things that the reporters would rather not do.
I began this journey writing obituaries and happy feature stories that were aimed at making the readers feel good.
One of my first assignments is still one of my favorites because I got to interview the owner of a little cafe in Austintown / Youngstown that made around three dozen types of pierogies.
As a lover of pierogies, I could think of nothing better than getting to sit in a cafe, eating the delicious variety of this versatile and wonderful food and write a story about it.
Sadly, that cafe is closed, but I will always remember that as one of the first chances I got to go out into the world and write a story (and of course feed my fat face).
But the second anniversary that I'm coming up on is, sorry Tribune, so much more important to me. This week I will be celebrating my third year of marriage.
As I look at how quick these four years at the Tribune have gone, I am blown away by these past three being a married man.
I suppose the two events are pretty intertwined since I spent a good portion of my first year working here, planning and getting prepared for my wedding, and since I got married, I've been working here.
I was scared to get married as those final days of bachelorhood ticked away. The unknown of being united with this one person for the rest of my life and taking a huge step toward growing up.
It's said that the first year of marriage is the hardest and that if you can get through it, you can get through them all. I am, of course, paraphrasing, but that statement makes me laugh.
If the first year was the hardest, well then, this is going to be a breeze.
I am lucky to have found and married the best friend, wife and person I could ever dream of. She gets that I'm a little weird ... OK, a lot weird, and she appreciates my quirks.
She knows all the good of me and more importantly, she knows the bad parts of me and loves me in spite of those things.
Throughout these three years we've experienced a lot together and have shared in the wonder of raising our son and anticipating our second.
It seems like it was not that long ago that we were in a class at Kent State together. I sat near the window in that class and often noticed her looking my way. I, in my male mind, thought that she was staring at me because I was such a good-looking guy.
Turns out she was looking out the window, but it gave me the confidence to steal her e-mail address from the class roster and ask her out after the class had ended for the semester.
It was a total wimp move, but it worked.
I was looking for a date with the pretty girl in my class, the one I was too afraid to actually talk to. Now, eight years later and three of them married, I can't think of a more important e-mail I have ever sent.
It's been a great four years here and a great three years of married life, and I look very forward to more of both in the future.