Dear Ralph,

You don’t know me, but I hope that you will get some comfort and love from a stranger with these kind words. Too often we ask children to carry too much, things that they shouldn’t have to carry. Then we facetiously shove the badge of “resilient” onto their lapel. While you most definitely are resilient, you shouldn’t have to be, and your strength came from responding to a stolen innocence at a heavy cost. I see the news stating that you are a wonderful child, an exceptional musician, and a caring brother. And while these qualities are very important to who you are- they don’t speak to you as a human being that didn’t deserve this. What happened to you was wrong on every level and our community should not be making excuses but should be comforting and holding you with our love and sitting with you through your journey to healing.

My heart cries out for you and your family and I hope you understand that you are not at all responsible for any of this. I hope you continue on with your passions and goals. I hope you don’t allow the evil of others to poison your soul with jadedness. And above all else, I hope you live fearless.

With Love,

Dear Angela, Mollie, and Mary Beth:
I’m so glad that we’re all friends with each other after all these years. While our paths crossed at different times when I was at YSU, I’m glad I got to know you just the same.

Angela, you were my co-worker in the Office of Marketing and Communications. We’d talk about this and that pretty much every day. You made me realize that I wasn’t too hip for the room when I was at YSU. You are, and always will be, awesome.

Mollie, you’ve always been most cordial to me. When I found out that you were going to be part of the Youngstown Press Club, my first thought was “Let’s go! I want in!” It was the best decision I’ve ever made.

Mary Beth (MB), what can I say about you that hasn’t already been said by me and your other students? Simply put: You are the best professor any YSU alum could ever had.

Lastly, I consider all three of you as my honorary moms. I love you all very much.

Dear Erin,

I remember the beginning of freshman year of college being worried about if I would be able to make friends as good as the ones I had at home. My naturally shy self wanted a place to fit in and longed for friendships that would be lifelong. Though my floor and I bonded well, I didn’t always feel like I fit in or that my friendships were as deep as I wanted them to be. That is until I met you. We bonded well. Our friendship continued through sophomore year. At the end of my sophomore year I knew I wanted to room with someone different, but didn’t know exactly who. One of my “friends” suggested that we room together. That was probably the nicest thing he ever said and did for me. I asked you if you wanted to room with me and was delighted when you said yes. Little did I know that rooming with you would lead to a lifelong friendship, lots of laughter, and a feeling of family.

We are so different. You are outgoing and extroverted. You start up a conversation with waitresses/waiters, cashiers, and random strangers on the street. You always have the cashier ring up your groceries so you can interact with them, while I rely mostly on self-checkout. I love to joke that you are my emotional support extrovert, as I am shy and like to keep to myself. You are a night owl and I am a morning person. You are from the city and I live in the middle of nowhere. We complement each other very well. What I admire most about you is your confidence, your strength and your ability to overcome adversity. Though you’ve been put through the ringer many times with school and health issues but you always bounce back. People may misunderstand your beautiful heart but it hasn’t seemed to dim the love you have for yourself (and I mean this in the best of ways). We’ve spent many a night laughing together, crying together, had epic photo shoots together and stayed up late talking about the men we like, and the boys we can’t stand. Ours is more than a friendship. It’s a sisterhood. I know that no matter what you’ve always got my back, and I hope you know I’ve always got yours.

You have a zeal for life that is unmatched. You make even the most mundane things fun. You don’t hold back or hide. In a world where people try to be anyone but themselves, you stand out for being authentically yourself. You radiate with joy and uniqueness and it is beautiful to see. You encourage, inspire, and provide a place for me to be my authentic self and I can’t thank you enough for that. I love you girlie and I can’t wait to see what memories we create this summer.

You are one of my best friends and I have no doubt that you will one day be my bridesmaid.

With love & admiration,

In the mid-15th century, you invented the printing press, thereby beginning the spread of the written word across Europe and eventually around the world. As a person who makes his living on the written word, I along with the rest of the writers the world over, want to thank you.

In modern times, we have social networks on the Internet, enabling us to communicate with our friends and family instantly, even if they live halfway across the world.

Everything has to start somewhere. For the spread of the written word, the starting place was the printing press. Technological advancements have enabled people to read books electronically.

If you were alive today, you’d be amazed at how far the written word has come. Thanks for all you’ve done.

Dear Dad,

I can’t remember the exact day or even the precise year that this memory took place. At the time, I was working for MSG Varsity, a high school sports network in the New York metropolitan area. I was probably about two years out of college and maybe 23 or 24 years old. That job was a breakthrough. It was my first steady on-air job. Before getting an offer to work for MSG, I must have been rejected by 100 stations. I was pursuing what many thought to be an impossible career as a TV sports reporter. So many naysayers told me I was wasting my time and my education. But not you, Dad. You told me never to give up on a dream. You told me you believed in me and tried to provide any resources possible to help me succeed.

That’s why this moment, which I am about to share, meant so much to me.

See on this day, I walked into work and everybody was buzzing about Emmy nominations. I was a young reporter in the number one market in the country, so my expectations were low. Then, just as I was about to start writing a script, one of my coworkers told me to check the Emmy nominations. They said they were almost sure they saw my name listed. I don’t remember if I read a hard copy or if I looked at the nominations on my computer or someone else’s computer, but I got a hold of the list, and sure enough, my name was printed twice. In my first year as a reporter, I received two Emmy nominations in the number one market in the country. Before saying anything to anyone, I went into the stairwell and started to cry as I called you to tell you the news.

That’s the moment that is etched in my memory forever. That’s the moment I will never forget. I remember how I felt overwhelmed with emotion and how I could barely even get the words out to tell you. I remember how happy you were to hear the news and how you told me to stop crying.

It wasn’t so much the recognition from the industry or that I got to go to the ceremony and wear a pretty dress that made that moment so special. Don’t get me wrong. All that was great too. But at that moment, I felt I had proved that your unwavering support and belief in me were worthwhile. That you didn’t waste your time or money investing in my dreams.

A decade and change later, I have yet to win an Emmy, even though I was nominated five more times after that. But that moment in the stairwell means more to me than any trophy. That five-minute phone call celebrating with you and hearing the pride in your voice were and are the only prizes that ever mattered to me.

I love you, Daddy. Thank you for always believing in me.

Dear Madison,
As you know, television news is an intense business. Murders, fires, funerals, anything you can shake a stick at… and those are the first 10 minutes of the newscast most nights.

However, there’s also a lot of negativity about how the news is presented. The heavy politicization of news can take its toll on any anchor person, no matter who it is.

However, despite the negativity that journalists get on a daily basis, your talent shines through, day in, day out. Your station is lucky to have you.

Any station in the country would be lucky to have you. I’m very fortunate that you and I are in the Youngstown Press Club together. When you and I took that selfie together, I knew this was the start of a great friendship.

As someone on the autism spectrum, making new friends is oftentimes easier said than done, but you were very warm and welcoming to me when we met at the Christmas party.

Bottom line: Madison, you are so damn talented.

Not a Second Apart

Not a second apart… born 1lbs and 13oz, you were there with me from the second I was born. You were there when I was first put on oxygen — not getting to see where I lived until Three months after May 23, 1996.

You were there when I first cried through those doors, it was you who lifted my head, letting me familiarize myself with what must’ve looked like a jungle… our house; a place you saw just a week before the Jewish holidays.

You were there when I had my first seizure at 2… the same time I was diagnosed with CP, which must have been somewhat of a bitter-sweet moment…after all those doctors I went to, or should I say we went to.

You were there when I first rolled over – which must have seemed like the first night of Chanukah, not knowing how many candles (activities of daily living skills I could do or how many key milestones I could reach).

When I wanted to go to college, it was you that I confided in and we made it through, fast-forwarding to now, when I timidity crawl through the process of finding a job, it is you that always reminds me, to keep being you, no matter how awkward you walk… never stop running to your dreams and jokingly or not jokingly saying, “ if you fall, you know how to get up!”

You are me and I will always love you!

Jake

Dear Allison,

My name is Victoria and I want to first start out by appreciating your strength. I’m a 25-year-old digital creator, blogger, and mental health advocate from Texas! I never really claimed to be an “advocate” because I have no diagnosed illnesses. However, we all have mental health- and I’ve come to realize that it shouldn’t have to happen to you, to matter to you! I don’t know you personally- but I know of you through the power of you and your late husband’s platform. When I first heard about the shocking and disturbing news of Stephen “tWitch” Boss suicide- I had no words. My first thought went straight to your youngest daughter Zaia (who is beautiful by the way 😍) and I couldn’t fathom growing up without my own Dad. My Dad experienced some health issues related to his digestive system at the beginning of 2022. It affected my mental health because I realized how attached I am to my parents and thinking of my life without them makes me feel weary. While I believe it’s important for young girls to have their Dad’s around- I think it’s equally as important for little girls to have their Moms. A strong mama like you is a rare breed. I am extremely sorry for your loss- I can’t imagine your pain but I want to acknowledge your presence. Your husband impacted me in a more subliminal way. His bright smile, great style, and dope dance moves on “The Ellen Show” and on my Instagram made their way to my heart. You both moved so in sync- and I would be mesmerized. I ask God to send me a soulmate that’s as perfect for me as “tWitch” was for you. Anyways Queen, please keep your head up. I believe for a fact there are people out there who need your strength and resilience. Thank you for leading with love. Keep on moving!

With love,

Victoria

Dear Mrs. Shuster:
Even though it’s been close to 13 years since I left the halls of Lakeview High School, but you are still my favorite teacher of all-time in my academic career. When I was just eight years old, you introduced me to The Rich Center at Youngstown State.

When I was 10, I was moved to your classroom and enjoyed every minute of it. Several years later, you moved to the high school. At age 15, you had a front-row seat to my pimply adolescence and saw how advanced my sense of humor became.

Around all of the fun we had, as well as going through the trials and tribulations of surviving high school while on the autism spectrum, you and I became family.

I could just see how proud you were of me at graduation that spring day in 2010. You are the best teacher in Ohio, and I consider you my honorary mom.

You’re the best, Mrs. Shuster! I couldn’t have made it through high school without you.

Dear Mom,

Growing up, I didn’t always appreciate you as I do now. I didn’t fully understand you as a child because our dreams were so different. At ten years old, I was outspoken and already very career driven. You always liked working and wanted to do well, but you never had a burning desire for a promotion or more responsibilities. For a long time, I thought you were less ambitious than me, but as the years passed, I learned that that’s not exactly correct.

Mom, you are the backbone of our family. When a crisis hits, you are the one we all turn to for comfort, support, and wisdom. You have this incredible ability to calm us all down while providing logical advice. When I got rejected by my crush in elementary school, you were the one who sat in my bed and told me I was beautiful. When I decided to go to private school 40 minutes from our house and then play for a travel soccer team 40 minutes away in the opposite direction, you (and dad) spent hours in the car, driving me back and forth. When I was worried about getting into college, you were the one who told me you were proud of me regardless of which school accepted me. When I opened up about my assault, you were the one who told me my response was normal and OK. When my ex-boyfriend passed away, you were the one who held my hand at the funeral. And when I started my business, you spent days on end sending out emails for me.

Mom, I have come to realize that you were and are very ambitious. You wanted, more than anything, to foster a loving family and you did whatever it took to make that happen. As a family, we have endured difficult situations together, and you have handled each with strength, grace, selflessness, and love. Every day, you have made our family a priority. To this day, you help us persevere through the most challenging moments of our lives, while also supporting us as we chase our wildest dreams.

Mom, you may not have wanted to be a boss in a boardroom, but you were/are one heck of a CEO in our household.

I am proud to be your daughter, as I admire and love you more than you’ll ever know.

With love,