I transferred to SUNY-B from Emerson College my sophomore fall, leaving behind a print journalism major with a focus on arts criticism. With no journalism program at Binghamton, I found my way to Pipe Dream instead. I wanted to write features, but Sergio Non ‘94 had other plans: “You should write for sports. That’s where you’ll get the best feedback and develop as a journalist.“

Little did I know that advice would also lead me to my future husband.

My first story was covering a men’s tennis match, and I wrote the cheesiest lede ever, something about how while students were home eating Rosh Hashanah dinner, the men’s tennis team was serving up a victory. Associate Sports Editor Nick Christy helped whip it into shape, and I had my first byline. And I’d made an impression on Nick.

Nancy Pace ‘95 introduced us: “Hey, you’re both Catholic!” During our first conversation, I was impressed by Nick. He had seen “Baryshnikov on Broadway” in Kafka’s “Metamorphosis!” We talked about movies and music. He went with me to see “Sleepless in Seattle” playing in the University Union and brought me a mixtape full of great ’80s music when he came to see me at a fall dance recital. It was easy to be friends with Nick.

Back then nobody had a laptop — rarely even a desktop — in their dorm room. You went to the computer lab. One perk of working at Pipe Dream was using the office computers for schoolwork between issues, and since I was saving money living at home with an old PC, those Macs looked awfully shiny. I started spending more and more time at the office.

One late November night, I was writing a paper comparing Washington, D.C. to the circles of hell in Dante’s “Inferno,” and I called Nick on his dorm room phone from the Pipe Dream landline and invited him to come chat. I accidentally locked us out of the office! We talked for hours while we waited for public safety to let us back in so I could get my car keys and head home. I was asking him for advice about a crush I had, but soon realized the guy in front of me was pretty cool. That was the start of our now 33 years together.

I didn’t return to Emerson. Nick left to study abroad in London, and I stepped into his associate sports editor seat, learning Quark and falling in love with editing and layout. The staff became my closest friends.

Nick and I took over as sports editors for the 1994-1995 school year. Normally one editor handled the Tuesday issue and the other Friday, but since we were dating, we did both together. We pulled all-nighters Mondays and Thursdays — no Thursday Night Must-See TV (“Friends,” “Seinfeld,” “ER”) for us. Copy-written and edited, photos developed, everything printed and glued to boards, ready for pickup by 7 a.m.

Countless memories, but a few highlights stand out. We stirred up trouble with our 1995 April Fools “Pipe Bomb” issue — with Lois DeFleur on the cover smoking a bong. Issues mysteriously disappeared all weekend, which happened to be new student orientation. Caricatures became a fixture of the sports section, thanks to the talents of John Ed Bon Fed ‘97. We even had a community crossover: John Ed Bon Fed, Nick Christy ‘95 and Joe Weiss ‘96 performed with me in the Ballet Arts Theatre’s “Nutcracker” at the Anderson Center. A feature on Student Association President Seth Schachter ‘94, who moonlighted as the Binghamton Rangers mascot, led to me suiting up as Rocky the Raccoon for a game. Friendships with Kierra Chase ‘96 (now Parlagreco) and Chris Schwegel ‘97 followed us to Manhattan and beyond. I caught the bouquet at ‘95 Nancy Pace’s wedding, and we supported each other as new moms.

While Binghamton didn’t have a formal journalism major, I pieced one together through literature and rhetoric classes, Pipe Dream, an internship at the local public television station and a senior year abroad through a SUNY New Paltz program at the School of Journalism and Communication in Utrecht, the Netherlands. Nick and I didn’t end up staying in the journalism field, but the skills and relationships we built at Binghamton served us well.

And now for a conclusion that our kids (Jack, 21, and Tess, 19) would call “cringe” but matches our cheesy beginning. In tennis, love means nothing. At Pipe Dream, it turned out to mean everything.