The Last Oprah

Like just about everyone on Earth, I’ve been watching Oprah for as long as I can remember. While I enjoyed my post-elementary school bowl of cereal, I’d watch Oprah. When I was in middle school, I did my own talk show for a school project, wearing one of my mom’s business suits and walking into my “studio” (the living room) to Oprah’s theme song. That I taped on my pink boom box, old school cassette-style. I remember watching Oprah with my dad while he made the family dinner and it sparking surprisingly deep conversations. In high school, while listening to punk music and sporting hot pink hair, I still watched Oprah. Just two short years ago, I regularly came home from work and happily nursed my little squirmy baby while watching a DVR’d episode of the day’s Oprah.

When it comes to Oprah, I’m a lifer. And I know everyone feels this way, but I feel like she’s inspired my career path and the attitude I try to put forth.

She was raised in Milwaukee, like me. She’s a journalist, like me. Sometimes, when people piss me off, I think WWOD. Really, what would Oprah do? She would probably not flip over this table or kick that person in the crotch, even if they deserve it.

While I may have started watching Oprah when I was just a kid, I stopped watching Oprah as an adult. Hardcore. I had to wait to watch the final episode until I put Riley to sleep. So while I watched the last episode, I stuffed my son’s cloth diapers while he yammered away in his crib.

Like everyone else, I feel grateful towards Oprah for all the aha moments and lessons learned. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started a sentence, “Like Oprah says…”  while everyone around me rolls their eyes.

So thank you Oprah for being awesome. But now back to me, what am I going to watch at 4:00 every day?


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