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​Athens, Ohio is my hometown. I lived my first 18 years there, graduated from Athens High School and - in a bizarre twist of fate - returned to my hometown to attend graduate school, becoming an Athenian again from age 35-40. 

Joe Burrow's dad, before he retired last year, and my brother-in-law coached together for nearly a decade at Ohio University. Burrow's mother and my sister are friends. I briefly met "Joey" when he was in high school at a few tailgate parties before Bobcats football games. I'm certain he has no idea who I am and I do not know him. I know his parents are nice people, who welcomed my family as part of theirs, with whom I've shared hugs and beers. 

I know Will Drabold, who is mentioned in this article. He was an undergraduate at Ohio University's Scripps School of Journalism, where I taught while working on my doctorate. We served on the Publications Board together. I know Mrs. Hartman, who is pictured and quoted in the story. She was a pleasant fixture at our local grocery store while I grew up. Her daughter, Katie, and I worked on the Athens High School newspaper together and were friends.

This is a story, written deftly by the New York Times' Billy Witz, about my high school, my hometown. It's a story about great things that can happen when a little light is shined on a problem. It's a story of Joe's bigger-than-life success, his humble roots and the magic of words.

While I think this is the best story I've read about Burrow, Drabold and what has happened since the Heisman Trophy presentation, this isn't the entire story.  

​Athens, Ohio is a consummate college town surrounded by the generational and crippling poverty of Appalachia. Between the town and the university, it has produced Pulitzer Prize-winners, a Nobel Prize-winner, doctors, a baseball Hall of Famer, inventors, artists, a PGA champion, actors, and more - all of whom have had a positive impact throughout the world. It also has produced a disproportionate number of hungry, homeless and hopeless people.

A gifted, young football player pointed out, on the national stage, the economic and social complexity of my hometown. Then he went out and continued to showcase greatness. I don’t find him to be a “hero" (it's simply too much to put on a 23-year-old for shining a light on a problem), but rather to be a person of whom to be proud — and a reminder that we all come from somewhere we can find pride in, too.

It's the best thing I've read this week. 

Unforgettable stories. 

I am loathe to suggest that the atrocities committed by the Nazis -- as abhorrent and inexplicable as they were -- produced a "silver lining." Suggesting such a thing makes it sound like there were positives. There weren't. 

But, generations later, the people who survived the atrocities have given us something beautiful: Unforgettable stories. 

The New York Times' Keren Blankfeld found one of them -- the story of David Wisnia and Helen "Zippi" Spitzer. It's beautiful, tragic, triumphant and hopeless. The end gutted me. 

Still, you won't forget their story. 

* For more "The best thing I've read this week" 

This story is a powerhouse of facts, statistics and emotions. 

Natalie Weiner and SB Nation make me thankful that there are still writers who can report the heck out of a story, and that there are publications that make time and space for it. 

The reporting of this story is fantastic because, not only does it reveal information I did not know until I read it, but it also evokes fantastic quotes and narratives from the subjects. The writing is descriptive and sharp without being overdone, without the writer inserting herself. Weiner lays bare the language of tragedy and triumph, all while vividly bringing her audience into a world most of us don't know. 

My students would learn much about style and reporting if they read it. I'm better for having read it. We all should read it. 

* For more "The best thing I've read this week"