This Is Not An Obituary

In a weird way, this feels like the kind of piece you write when you’re dying, but the thing is… we feel like we’re just getting started.

In the history of us, we have only had three sites. This will be our fourth.

And every time we launch a new site it feels like a diary… it’s personal. We look at the work and we remember everything it took to make it. The good, the bad, the classic over-thinking that is the hallmark of us. But most of all when we look at it, we think of the people who made it. Those here now and those who have come before us. We just wanted to take a minute to salute them. If the following doesn’t make sense to you, it’s okay, it does to somebody. So raise a proverbial glass to the following:

Here’s to the ones still here, God only knows why, the believers, the untouchables, Cloud City (footnote Shep/Star Wars). The people who would have to commit a crime to get fired. Mr. Walls, we call him mister because he deserves your respect, so do his 12 toes. John and Corey, A.K.A. Rainbows & Dreidels. Steve, The Wheelbarrow, you can throw anything in there. Bren, quiet but never to be underestimated. McCall and the mic. Hendog 420, all grown up. Brown, loved by all, sometimes literally. Angry Uncle Brian who defies job description. Leanna, onto the swamp. Tom and his wonderful hair. Sprads, who will wince at the fact we called her Sprads. Blazer from the bank. Tammo who went West. Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in… Ash, Sonya, Giroux, and Blain. Liebold and his Doritos. Pop-Pop Sig. And Mag and her resting face.

And then there are those who have come before. You went through here and made the place better. You made the work better. You cared. And we know this is not possible without you. Martin for the original logo, and getting this thing off the ground. Shep and his nutty professor brilliance, you were never just a colleague. David, the best devil’s advocate. Flanagan, we only wish you didn’t realize you are as good as you are. Giacomo, we’re still glad you have your kidneys. Mr. Garcia, we are simply humbled. Bedarnik, koniciwa. Hubacek both times. Dorsey and her epic odyssey of search 1, 2, 3, and 4. Burton and Nude Tayne. Tebow Slice. T O’D, the designer’s CD. Oh Elliot. Tequila Sunrise. Prescott and the Cornel. Piesetzkie for never giving up. Brad and his laugh. LaFontaine for actually graduating. Bobby for All For Sunday, Blackman for getting Zwacked, and Mike Smith for some tough love. Jim for planting a flag with a star in it. Gice, Tereze and those fancy dresses. Scatman and his antler heads. Ro, CVA, Jillian, Beck and the fire alarm.

And finally, raise a glass to the clients. The legendary ones. The ones who gave us a shot. The ones who believed even when there wasn’t much proof. So here’s to Sister Carol Jean Vale, bravest woman we ever met. Mr. Sundar, Porkchop and Dr. Curran; who always ask the big questions. Chad, thanks for the big break, it’s guys like you that make Nike great. Francesco and Alvise, grazie. Anne, Ari, Brian and Don for letting us do something so personal, Fly Eagles Fly. Lenny (yes Nails), thanks for the wire transfer. Rhea and Carol for being the ultimate optimists. Smitty and Errin, the dreamer and the realist, the perfect balance. Martel for pushing us and having our back. And Jack, well… you are like family.

To all those unnamed you know who you are, we didn’t forget you but this thing is already too long. We screwed the word count, typical. Who cares, we will just make the type smaller.

And last but not least, to our families. You let us do this for a living and, we thank you.

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