Six weeks ago, I wrote a column about how unique and cool life is here in the Portage Lakes.
Five minutes ago, I sealed the last remnants of my Portage Lakes life into a box and handed it to the movers.

While you’re reading this issue of The Suburbanite over some Strickland’s or Arabica, my wife, Airika, and I are loading our two silly dogs into the back seat of my increasingly battered pickup and hitting the road. The greener pastures (uh…emphasis on pastures) of Red Wing, Minnesota, the destination. The ever-disappearing job market the reason.

I’ve moved quite a few times in my life. Packed the boxes, done that whole deal more times than I care to think about. But I’ve never actually relocated. My whole adult life has been spent in Akron, and my whole un-adult life was spent a mere 45 minutes northeast in the lovely little berg of Vernon, Ohio. And calling Vernon a berg may be overstating it a bit. As soon as we graduated, Airika and I (high school sweethearts, ain’t we cute?) made dust clouds and moved to the big city of Akron to Fear the Roo.

Thirteen years later, we’re on the move for real, and I won’t say it’s going to be easy. This time, we’re not just creeping to south Akron. Different city, different state, different time zone, for God’s sake. We’ll have to adjust more than our watches, because calling Red Wing rural maybe overstating it a bit.

One of the great things about the Portage Lakes is that we’re really a sleepy little town in the middle of a rather large and sprawling concrete jungle. I can sit in my backyard, surrounded by trees and critters, and you’d never know I was smack-dab in the middle of The City. Here, not only can we eat the cake, we can skip dinner to get there. All the amenities of city life, all the quiet of the backwoods. When I get to Minny, the nearest Starbucks will be 30 miles away. Now that’s life altering.

Of course, adjusting to the new life isn’t nearly as hard as leaving the old one. The people of the Portage Lakes have made my job here at The Suburbanite not only an easy one, but one I’ve looked forward to every day. The majority of my work here was associated with Coventry schools and their various sports, and I truly couldn’t have asked for a better gig. Coventry schools have seen plenty of ups and downs in my six years here, and the good people of Coventry have ridden that roller coaster with class and poise. Sam Pepper, Jon Hibian, Donnie Schenz, Jay Newcome, Rick Glass, LeeAnn Weisenmiller, Tim Bryan and all the students, faculty, staff, coaches, parents and teachers that I wish I had the space to name, my battered Tribe hat is off to you, and may you see many passed levies and winning seasons.

And while we’re acknowledging…

Glenn Adkins and the mighty New Franklin Fire Department may have tried to kill me once or twice over the years. No hard feelings, guys. Keep an eye on things.

To all my writers and photographers throughout the years, a sincere thanks. You made my job not a job at all.

Frank Weaver, Jr., and his dog, ‘Tego gave me and Tulip the Dog a great race for the title of Best Dog/Human Columnist Combo. I’d say we’re neck-and-neck and tail-and-tail at this point.
To Madelin Reinersmann, my trusty photographer and sidekick at all those late Friday nights, I couldn’t have done anything without you. You made me look better. Quite literally.

And finally and far most importantly, Tammy Proctor, our esteemed Editor –in-Chief. Brandishing  a smile as bright as the sun, she’s the center of The Suburbanite universe. This paper simply doesn’t run without her.  My career never begins without her. Six years ago, Tammy dropped an 0-10 Coventry football team in the lap of an unpaid intern and said, “Go get ‘em.” She’s the reason you were subjected to columns written by dogs, nonstop stupid pop-culture references and stories that never end.  So feel free to blame her. Thanks for ignoring the word count time and again, Boss. Keep Sandrew in line.

I’m forgetting about a million people. Just know that every time I shovel snow in sub-zero temps in the Great White Nowhere, I’ll be thinking of you and lusting after your beautiful Ohio weather.

Who’d have ever seen that coming?

Time to go now. Tulip and Tilly are outside barking, eager to get their noses into some more trouble, Minnesota-style. They’ve got a new whole state of squirrels to roust.

May the Indians win and may LeBron stay. It’s been fun, but I’m done.

Contact Jake Gibbs at
suburbanite@cantonrep.com
(we’ll make certain he gets your letters)