I never could have guessed that the group of 14 strangers gathering at The Hatchet’s summer retreat in Ocean City, Md., could become family. But somewhere along the road, I think we did.

Coming into this year, I had just two goals for The GW Hatchet: Of course, we were going to get the paper out, but we were also going to have fun. I figured if we had fun, everything else would fall into place. And it did.

The memories I have gained in my three years as an editor at The Hatchet will last a lifetime. A few in particular, for no particular reason at all, stand out:

I will never forget the site of Evan “Woodie” Woodward diving for a touchdown catch, unsuccessfully, to win Hatchet Bowl IX at 7 a.m. as the entire GW Navy ROTC program looked on. Woodie, The Hatchet’s very own revolutionary, claimed he was “distracted” by the ROTC contingent. But he redeemed himself by beating me long for the winning touchdown on the next drive.

The “Hatchet hard core” mullet hunt at the Slate Belt Bowling Alley at the spring retreat at my house in the Pennsylvania mountains was a classic – somehow we escaped from the clutches of a group of restless mullets. And cracking the champagne bottle over Kate’s railing at Russ’ EIC party was unforgettable.

General office antics, including ass-slapping, hours of Dr. Mario and “up high” high-fives kept things light through long, long hours.

Most importantly, I had the opportunity to work with some truly wonderful people. And I would be remiss if I didn’t thank the people who I have been fortunate to call my friends:

Russ – What an adventure we’ve had. When I first met you, I couldn’t figure you out. And I still can’t figure you out. The one thing I do know is that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to this paper. I ask two things of you as editor in chief for next year: keep the fun alive and try not to kill yourself.

Evan “Woodie” Woodward – With your patience you’ve kept me sane all year. And your hard work and dedication have been the backbone of this paper. I’ve enjoyed our conversations and I’m honored to call you a friend.

Cindy – Thanks for all the advice, sure it made me cringe from time to time, but your honesty is refreshing. You’re a great girl and you’ll be a success at whatever you do.

Kate “Lil’ Sis” – The Hatchet Bowl Murphy-to-Stepan touchdown connection was unbeatable . well almost. You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met, and I got dibs on one of your dreads.

Tim “Lil’ Bro” – You hung out around the office that we had to give you a job. I’ll miss sitting around the office talking with you for hours about mullets and the meaning of life. You’re one of the funniest guys I know. And one day you’ll be a credit to the journalism profession.

Zach – I knew all along that you’d be a great sports editor, and you proved me right. I picture you in a few years sitting alongside Andy Musser and Larry Anderson calling the Fightin’ Phils on Comcast or proclaiming “Eagles win” on sports radio.

Grant – You’re one talented guy, but you already know that. Your West Coast attitude was a godsend his year.

Jason – I’ll never forget learning about the nuances of D.C. prostitution with you on our trip to New Jersey and P. You’ve been a good sport all year.

Katie – You are smart and sweet. I am really glad I got to know you better this semester.

Drew – You’re a master of the lost art of conversation. I’m glad I wasted many hours this year shooting the proverbial breeze with you.

Mike Itti – You’re a good man, Itti, and don’t forget it.

Sean – You came of age when you uttered those two simple words, “Hey Bob.” Good luck with sports next year.

Peter and Andy – You guys have taken the arts section to the next level. I knew when the two of you came in with hickeys on your necks that you’d be a lot of fun to work with.

Nafeesa – Best darn copy editor in D.C., and I’m not afraid to shout it at the corner of Wisconsin and M.

Mosheh, Becky, Salma, Beth – Keep the pride and the fun alive.

Chanin, Marianne, Liz and Meaghen – You were a delight to work with. You’ll always be Evan’s Angels to me.

Steve Morse – I shudder to think where The Hatchet would be without you. You’re the glue that holds this paper together.

Arturo, Emily, Rebecca, Tiane, and the business crew – You guys make it possible for the editorial side to do its thing. And Arturo, have some tequila on me.

Steve “Custom Courier” – You taught me so much about life, love and Megadeth. Mmmmmmm… Just called to say I’m gonna miss you.

Dustin – Thanks for helping me get my foot in the door sophomore year and always supporting me. You are the reason I had the opportunity to be where I am now.

AmeriCorps/Neighbors Project/Shaw Junior High School crew – We made a difference and had a lot of fun doing it, too.

Joe, John and Taige – From the study lounge of Fulbright Hall to Potomac Plaza Terraces, you’ve been my boys. We’ve sat through the good times and the bad times of GW basketball and got beaten savagely after months of softball practice. Taige, you’ve been a worthy adversary on the racquetball court and I’d have to agree with Chris Lamar that you are, in fact, “tight.”

Tommy Tom, Jakey Jake – From Pocono Mountain football to our assorted colleges, we’ve stayed best friends.

Daryl Prince – You taught me a lot this year. You’re hard work and tenacity have paid off and will continue to pay off in the future. Stay focused and you’ll get that high school diploma and a trip to college.

Anthony Griffith – You’re a smart kid and if you apply yourself you will be able achieve anything.

Grandma and Grandpa Biebuyck – Your Midwest sensibilities have helped stay me centered.

Grandma Murphy – I appreciate the great deal of support and encouragement you’ve given me during some tough times.

Joe – I owe much of my education to you, from the time you said, “Listen to this,” and played Bob Dylan’s Highway 61. You expanded my horizons

Camille – You’re my best friend and favorite person in the world. You’re beautiful, smart and – most importantly – hilarious. To borrow a phrase from our father, “Richard loves you infinite.”

Mom – When I was little, you told me I could do anything. I believed you then and I still believe you now. I appreciate all the love you’ve shown me and the sacrifices you made to raise Camille and I. I know it wasn’t easy. I love you.

Dad – I inherited your love of newspapers and so much more. You are the greatest teacher I have ever known. And when I hear that little voice in the back of my head – my conscience – it is your voice I hear. I love you old man.

Well, that’s all of `em, so I figure there is only one appropriate ending to this piece.
“Hatchet pride on three . one, two, three.”