Now what?
It’s been a long time. Figure I owe you an update.
Hey, there.
I’m sitting in my apartment, absolutely weary. I’ve been packing for hours and days, getting ready to move out of New York next week with my boyfriend. He and I have been together for practically all of the three years I’ve lived here. He’s the best thing that happened to me in my time here - our relationship is the thing I’m most grateful for.
Y’all. New York was hard. I am so ready to go.
It’s a terrible feeling, to be honest, preparing to leave with both relief and sorrow. New York was my “home” since February 2020, after three years in Washington. I use quotes because these cities never felt at all like home. They felt like deployments: places that kept me constantly on guard and never fully at ease. San Francisco was the last place I called home, where I was an anchor and host on KQED. I left SF in December 2016 to join WAMU in Washington and host “1A” on NPR. I have missed “home” ever since.
Network broadcasting was always a dream of mine, and I’m grateful that it came true. But I never could have foreseen how challenging these years would be. Not only did the news cycles make my life startlingly hectic, but I often found myself very alone in high-profile positions, with enormous expectations and scant support systems. It’s not what my 10-year-old self envisioned as he dreamed of being on TV. That inner self who beamed as I entered Rockefeller Center for the first time, the one who walked through NBC’s headquarters like a starry-eyed tourist…
…he’s gone now. I had to make him leave, grow up and dream new dreams. Hurt like hell, but long overdue.
My life in New York was dominated by major events, starting with COVID. I moved here expecting the 2020 presidential election to be my focus. I left Washington soon after the second of two very painful breakups. I had very little time to heal my wounds before it was time to move here. Within one month of arriving, the pandemic emptied the city. To borrow a line from Patton Oswalt, it was like “I Am Legend”, but you could get a sandwich.
You know what’s more unnerving than riding the subway with a crowd of people onboard? Riding with no one onboard. No one on the platform, at the fare gates, in any of the cars… just you, on your own private transit line.
Highly creepy. I would’ve welcomed zombies.
The quiet didn’t last long. Two months later, George Floyd was murdered, and the streets of Manhattan clogged with traffic as protesters raised their voices. It took a very long time for me to hear the sounds of the city outside my window and not assume it was another march. The palpable tension between police and the public made me extremely nervous. I dreaded the possibility of violence breaking out: not only for the sake of the people on the street, but also because my reporter’s instincts would kick in, and I know I would’ve ended up covering the melee.
NBC is an extraordinary company with wonderful, smart, cool people. Seeing my colleagues in actual danger left me feeling utterly helpless: unable to help them, unable to process my emotions (because I had a job to do), unable to look away. Indeed, responsible for looking deeply at the danger, at the chaos, and trying to make sense of it on the fly. That “front row seat to history” can feel like the first car of a roller coaster.
COVID, George Floyd, the election, the impeachment & trial (yep, there were two of them), the voter misinformation, the insurrection, the inauguration, hurricanes, the War in Ukraine and on and on and on. I wish I could say these last three years left me feeling edified, but I just felt exhausted. By the time NBC News ended my show “NOW Tonight” and ended my tour of duty, I was well past burnout. Sometimes it took everything I had to breathe and smile and roll with the punches without shedding even more tears in my office… and I shed plenty.
If I could change anything from the last three years, I would make the pandemic not happen. COVID robbed me of the chance to really dig into New York, explore the city, make friends, build a life here and really settle into being part of NBC. I was just beginning to get to know the folks here at 30 Rock, and that was taken from me. When I got here the HR folks set up a weeklong schedule of folks for me to sit down with and meet, from technical crew to executives to anchors. Often I’d ask them to tell me about the kind of people who work there. I swear, the same five-word phrase came up constantly.
“Not a lot of assholes.”
And you know what? They were right.
Someone once told me that working at CBS News was like being at Harvard (brilliant and cloistered), that ABC News was like Columbia (competitive and intense), but NBC News was like Berkeley (excellent but warm). I cannot vouch for ABC or CBS, but I taught at UC Berkeley. That was so NBC’s vibe (at least, when I was there). It feels cruel that I only got to scratch the surface of the personal bonds I might have made. Perhaps they were never meant to be, but if they weren’t then why tease me with them? Why give me a taste of what I could’ve had, then yank it away with a pandemic? I’m still figuring out how to process everything that these last three years brought my way, good and bad. And yeah, I know, “good” and “bad” are relative, but like I said. Still processing.
Despite all this, it’s a genuine thrill to see the machinery of a huge company like NBC, or a massive network like NPR, turn in support of your work. That is a rare and humbling honor. I got to do specials on LGBTQ people of color, and on the teaching of Black History, that I’m very proud of. (LeVar Burton was in my Black History special. I’m still giddy over that.) I got to help commemorate MSNBC’s 25th anniversary with an essay and on-air commentary on the network’s website. And it was a trip the first time I saw my MSNBC show in the lineup on YouTube TV: I thought I would faint!
NBC gave me a chance to bring my unique perspective and skill set to television. At the end of the day it wasn’t what they wanted long-term, but that’s a hazard of the trade. I hate losing, but I do not regret trying, and I accepted the risk from the beginning. Success is never guaranteed, but failure is assured if you stop trying. When you quit, you forfeit.
…so.
Now what?
Job 1 is finishing up with packing for our move. No work opportunities have materialized here, and the industry is in a weird place right now with lots of layoffs & restructuring. I tried pitching my new show to podcast networks, to no avail. So I’m finally going to be my own boss, after 20+ years in broadcasting. That’s what “The Night Light” is all about: it’s the distillation of all the things I either didn’t get to do in my network career, or only got to do in fits & starts.
These last six years have given me a foundation of followers and fans that I am incredibly grateful for. This country has some wonderful people in it, and I’m honored to have gotten to know thousands of you. If you consider yourself a fan, thank you. I’m honored to be working now for you and only you. And I go into this new chapter wiser, sharper and freer than I’ve ever been in my life. Part of me is still amazed that a company like NBC would pour so many resources into turning me into an even better broadcaster, and then just release me into the wild!
Maybe I belong there. One foot in the world, one foot in the wild.
As for where I’m moving? Believe it or not…
…and to answer the obvious question:
much lower cost of living (including no state income tax)
great weather
easy to incorporate a new business
proximity to California without the higher expenses
airport with flights to every American city
awesome gyms (Oh, no one told you I’m a meathead? I’m a meathead.)
better food and service than Manhattan (NYC costs are eroding restaurant quality, and it shows)
tired of living in saturated industry towns
opportunity to reinvent myself away from the spotlight
That’s why!
I’m not a big gambler, so that’s not an issue. I don’t smoke, so that is an issue (I will miss New York and Washington’s rigorously smoke-free environments). Still, Las Vegas is actually a pretty chill city. Plenty of neighborhoods are well removed from the hectic glitz of the Strip, including our new one. Just west of the city limits is Red Rock Canyon, which I plan to spend a lot of time in. I’m looking forward to seeing Lake Mead and the Hoover Dam. Road trips to Palm Springs will be frequent, probably monthly. Plus, the state is considering major tax incentives to attract film & TV production.
…and honestly, why the hell not move to Las Vegas? Live a little.
“The Night Light” will be a turning point in my life, professionally and personally. It’s the first time in my entire life I’m actually putting my joy and wellness first, above my aspirations. Or at least, that’s the plan! Broadcasting is my first passion going back to when I was (you guessed it) 10 years old, but it has consumed my life in highly problematic ways. My happiness can no longer be incidental — it has to be intentional. Yes, things feel very dark sometimes, but I still can choose to shine wherever I am. I can defy the darkness.
Hence, the name. “The Night Light”.
We all have that light, no matter who we are, where we’re from or what we believe. Everyone has the power to shine. And we need every glimmer we can get. The work of refocusing my light continues, and it’s got a ways to go. Trust me, that work will get much easier without the constant cortisol of living in the Northeast. I hope I can help ease that stress for you, a few times a week, with every episode of my new show.
I’ll keep you posted on how things are coming along. Subscription info to come: that will help build a strong financial base for the show. Until we meet again, I’ve got packing to do. So much to bring with me.
So much more to leave behind.
How NBC lost a gem like you, Joshua, will forever remain a mystery to me. But I look forward to whatever your next venture is. We need your voice and heart in this world.
I really enjoyed listening to you on NPR, and watching you on weekend evenings. I was disappointed when you left prime time, now again.
You’re a great journalist and moderator. I know you’ll be successful in your next venture.