I’m getting too old for this stuff. It’s like trying to herd cats.

“Nim, No one’s calling me back.”

“I don’t how to get started with this story.”

“Nim, I didn’t know the sound wasn’t on.”

“No, I didn’t get his last name. Do I need it?

“Nim, I think I left the tripod at Lake Harriet.”

Economists always insist on looking at the costs as well. That’s what makes us so popular at parties. And when we say costs, we mean all the costs. For our chief financial officer and Development, the nine-digit, out-of-pocket costs are the main thing, but for those of us who tie our memories to the campus, there are implicit costs as well.

After four years and 185 games, a college baseball career had come down to what might be one final at-bat for Dan Leslie – and, for that matter, for his dad, Tim.

The Tommies’ third baseman stood at the plate with one out, the score tied 2-2 and teammate Matt Olson standing on second base in the bottom of the 12th inning of the NCAA Division III championship game. Wooster All-American Mark Miller had pitched the entire game, holding Leslie hitless in five trips and inducing him to ground into double plays in the 8th and 10th.

“I went for a walk after those innings,” the elder Leslie said. “It was very frustrating.”

What I recall when I left the University of Wisconsin was that I wouldn’t have to struggle through a poem whose meaning eluded me, nor would I be expected to stick my hand in the air to answer a question about the required reading, at least not at 8:30 on a Monday morning.

Two weeks ago Wednesday, Erik Olson pitched five innings for the St. Thomas baseball team in a 5-0 win over St. Mary’s University, keeping the Tommies in first place in the Minnesota Intercollegiate Athletic Conference.

Eight days later, Olson was in United Hospitals in St. Paul, undergoing a series of tests for what were determined to be blood clots in his right index finger and his brain, and suffering a mild stroke in the process.

Thursday morning, Olson sat in the stands of a baseball field in Oshkosh, Wis., watching two teams play for the right to advance in the NCAA Division III Midwest tournament and square off against his Tommies that evening.

How does one go from being a pitcher on a nationally ranked baseball team to a stroke victim to a spectator – all in just 16 short days? It has been mystifying to Olson, who has maintained a rather calm and reflective demeanor through it all.

They argue that a newspaper distributed around campus attracts readers not likely to go to a specific website and provides a permanent record, holding student reporters accountable for the stories they write.

I am as traditional a journalist (and news consumer) as you can find. I spent 26 years chasing news stories. I can’t imagine eating breakfast without a copy of a newspaper in front of me. And I don’t want to think about taking a computer screen into the john.

But I am also a realist and, my friends, this train has left the station. The ship has sailed. Web-based journalism is here to stay and the evidence mounts daily, from Seattle to Denver to the Twin Cities.

Father Malone was right, in his own inimitable fashion. He was even more right when he added that I chose a good time to do so.

Truth be told, I couldn’t have chosen a better time.

I was delighted – but not at all surprised – that every student sat intensely and genuinely mesmerized by what our guest speakers had to offer. The students took frantic and diligent notes. They asked impassioned and critical questions. They stayed after to find out more. As they left, they could be heard chattering excitedly about what they had just learned. They told us the following week how they had eagerly told much of what our guests said to their friends and family members. My co-instructor, Dr. Mary Ann Chalkley, and I admitted doing the same. What could be so fascinating?

It was the succinct and practical wisdom about a familiar, yet oft-frightening and oh-so-often-frustrating concept: Forgiveness.

Spring also is a time when the campus becomes more alive with activity, and it marks the end of many things: classes, internships and club meetings. While many things seem to be “winding down,” this is one of the busiest times of year for student affairs professionals (second to the beginning of school). Spring holds a plethora of end-of-the-year banquets celebrating achievements, Spring Leadership Night, the spring dance and concert, the senior riverboat celebration and, of course, graduation.

One of my primary roles and responsibilities at UST is to manage the Linkages Mentor Program, a one-to-one learning-centered, peer mentoring program for first-year students of color. Over the course of the year, we hosted several workshops to increase student access to important information, resources and services while providing a meaningful experience for our students. Workshops were facilitated by UST staff and faculty, who helped students make connections across campus.

So when I stood on the patio of the O’Shaughnessy-Frey Library Center on Tuesday in the noon sun and read a poem by Mary Rose O’Reilley, I was kind of proud of myself. It was all part of Poetry on the Patio, first held at UST in 1997 as part of National Poetry Month. Eleven of us read favorite poems, from William Wordsworth to Ogden Nash.

The St. Thomas community this spring has had two public events that have been both tragic and community building – the accidental death of student Josh Gunderson and the disappearance of student Dan Zamlen. In both cases, the St. Thomas community has reached out to give support to their families and friends.

Back in the mid-1980s, I was sitting around the St. Paul Pioneer Press newsroom one evening talking baseball with veteran sportswriter Mike Augustin, and I mentioned in passing that Cretin High School had won another state high school baseball title.

“That’s because of Dennis Denning,” Augustin said. “For my money, Dennis is the best coach I’ve ever seen in any sport at any level – high school, college or professional.”

“Really,” I said. “Why is that?”

Last week, I found myself relying on the only apt metaphor – family, of course – to describe the community of folks here at St. Thomas. Why? Because of Dan.

As you know, Dan Zamlen is a freshman at St. Thomas. He is missing. We are all reeling to understand. And are in a state of painful not-knowing. And are pausing. And are praying. And people from all corners of campus – and far beyond – have put their work and lives on hold to help find him. Walking the neighborhood. Searching. Scouring the alleys. Searching some more. Pouring hearts, souls and hope into finding Dan.

The only thing scarier, we agreed, is to be a graduating college senior, with a load of debt, trying to find a job – particularly in a newsroom. That’s probably already dawned on the 1,000 St. Thomas seniors set to graduate in little more than a month.

When Lee Anderson so generously donated the money for the ramp (as well as the athletic and recreation complex and the student center to be), some curmudgeons were heard to mutter, “Why would anyone want his name on a parking ramp? It’s not a library, you know.” I’ve seen churches less attractive than that ramp. But even before I saw it, I knew why someone would want his name on a St. Thomas ramp – pure, unadulterated gratitude. Every student snagging a place just before the mid-term, every staff member running late, will be blessing Lee Anderson’s name.