I was living the California dream, employed at a newspaper in a storybook setting by the shoreline. Tanned beauties and blond surfers would stroll past our office, a mere four blocks from the ocean. So many times I would approach my home a short distance away after work, view the beachcombers and sunworshippers heading toward another brilliant sunset — and I would join them, caught up in the magnificence of it all.

It was a world of grunion runs and yacht club openings, bicycle parades and pub crawls, Thunderboat races and bikini contests. We covered Super Bowl preparations, America's Cup races, the X-Games, the Republican National Convention and MTV's Spring Break.

They say fact is stranger than fiction, and it's true. The news beat in San Diego over the years was unbelievable. There were hundreds of unusual stories — cars driven into swimming pools, shark attacks and a stolen army tank. One guy was even shot through the middle of his head with a crossbow — and survived.

My staff and I experienced helicopter rides, flew in open cockpit biplanes, rode in race cars, drove go-carts and went up in balloons and blimps.

The people of San Diego, many of whom I consider larger than life legends, were incredible. I met honest-to-God heroes: lifeguards, firemen, police, adventurers, brave war veterans and courageous leaders.

Celebrities we wrote about, such as Raquel Welch and Jewel, had roots in San Diego. But the lesser known neighborhood celebrities were the best; people like the Ocean Beach Spaceman, the Llama Man, Popeye and The Flash. I also enjoyed the local organizations which were brimming with colorful characters, organizations like the Hash House Harriers, known as drinkers with a running problem; the Old Mission Beach Athletic Club, sponsors of the annual Over-the-Line Tournament; and the Ocean Beach Geriatric Surf Club and Gidget Patrol, in which all members served as president.

As is often the case, however, the scene on the surface of life does not always reflect some of the darker realities. We uncovered our share of blundering politicians trying to sneak their schemes past their naive constituents. The business community also had its share of backroom deals and seedy tradeoffs. Indeed, an abundance of eager stingrays, zealous barracudas, floundering flounders, scrounging bottom feeders and hungry sharks dwelled within.

Sometimes the real animals stole the show. Besides being home to the San Diego Zoo, the San Diego Wild Animal Park and Sea World, the place had surfing dogs, a wayward eagle, a lost tortoise, J.J. the killer whale and "Air Bud," the basketball-shooting golden retriever.

But my favorite animals were my colleagues with whom I shared the daily struggles and triumphs that go with producing a newspaper on a regular basis. Most were young and hip, and I often felt a little guilty because our days were filled with laughter and witty conversation. After work we would attend endless happy hours, free events and business mixers known as "sundowners."

I was truly fortunate — in my element as editor-in-chief with the San Diego Community Newspaper Group. I called myself the "editor-in-cheese." Others simply called me "Chief."