Help The DI

The Daily Illini could stop publishing. And that's terrible.

The DI is where I met my best friend Julie, my best friend Cindy, MDS who performed our wedding, everyone I've ever shared an apartment with, dozens of amazing friends who continue to do amazing things, and where I met my husband, B (he's pretty awesome too).

The DI gave me the best summers of my life. The DI gave me the courage to call people out of the blue and ask for their opinion, for information about their friends, to let me come to their homes, to tell me about their lives, to let me drive around campus in a garbage truck, whatever. The DI taught me how to teach. The DI taught me how to listen. The DI taught me how to do a beer bong, how to plan a bar crawl and how to make hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps.

When I worked at the DI it was at 57 E. Green St., an address I couldn't forget if I tried. I started as a reporter during the first week of my freshman year. The best move a freshman could make. My dad was excited because he loved the DI as a student at the University of Illinois and now I was writing for it.

I learned to write. I learned to ask questions. I worked hard. I won the Raymond Clamage Award, which is for a non-senior staff member who contributes to the newsroom twice. (Roger Ebert only won it once, but that's cool.)

I was promoted to development editor and trained new reporters. It took me a little while, but that experience showed me how much I love teaching and helping people. Then I became managing editor, which was one of the best jobs I'll ever have. Ever.

At the DI, I met Gov. George Ryan, author Dave Eggers who stole my "tear the book in half" compromise idea for his book You Shall Know Our Velocity, almost every shady guy who owns a bar in Champaign, quite a few University of Illinois administrators, several political candidates and the terrific people who turned the power back on after an outage at the University power plant.

Now I'm in nursing school. Working on career No. 3 of my 31 years. But I still carry the DI with me. I'm still fearless about talking to people -- doctors, patients, professors, whoever. I'm still a good listener. I can still detect press-release-bullshit from a fair distance. I still love to write.

I still love to help people, even if just a little bit, but hearing their stories and doing what I can -- whether that's telling their story, teaching them something or helping them to heal.

I doubt anyone who worked at the DI could find words to describe what the DI did for them. But I can find some money to help them out. The idea that some freshman will find the DI booth next year on Quad Day and start an adventure like mine is too precious to lose.

Thanks, DI. Xoxo.

A totally dull image, right? Well, it's a DI logo. I wanted to find a good photo of me and DI friends, but then I realized nearly all of my photos are of DI friends and me. And I guess that's what the DI means to me.