Last 'Two-Way' Post Isn't Our Last Story: A Look Back, And How To Find Us Now : The Two-Way Head over to npr.org/news to find the latest news updates. Or click through to learn why the blog is shutting down, and take a walk down memory lane with your humble news team.
NPR logo Last 'Two-Way' Post Isn't Our Last Story: A Look Back, And How To Find Us Now

Last 'Two-Way' Post Isn't Our Last Story: A Look Back, And How To Find Us Now

Let's not bury the lede: The Two-Way will no longer be updating with the latest breaking news from NPR. Our work is not stopping, but it is relocating.

NPR is shifting how stories are presented online, removing a number of blogs and organizing those stories by topic instead.

That means this page — the Two-Way homepage — will no longer update. However, the reporters and editors are sticking around, and all our stories, on the same wide range of subjects, will continue to be on NPR.org.

Here's how to find us:

If you want to hear more about why the change is happening, our ombudsman has got you covered. Short version: Most people looking for the news from NPR don't come here, to the Two-Way's feed.

If you're reading this, you are the exception.

So before we say adieu to this corner of the site, we thought we'd take a moment with all you exceptional people to reflect on our time together.

The Two-Way launched in May 2009 as a blog hosted by Mark Memmott and Frank James, home to news, analysis and "stories that are just too interesting — or too entertaining — to pass up."

(The name was a bit of radio jargon meaning an interview between a host and subject — tying our Web presence to our radio roots, with a nod to our conversational tone.)

Since 2009, a lot has happened. We know, because we wrote about it.

Michael Jackson died. Occupy Wall Street spread. Thirty-three trapped Chilean miners were rescued. The shooting of Trayvon Martin started a national movement. From the Boston Marathon bombing to the legalization of same-sex marriage, The Two-Way was always there for the latest updates on the biggest news events.

But we've never been just big news.

We were there when the world's cutest earless rabbit was killed by a photographer's ill-fated misstep. We offered directions when a cargo jet landed at the wrong airport. We gazed at mystery houses. We picked apart what went wrong at the Fyre Festival, the music festival that wasn't. We shared the news when an ancient tomb was replaced with a picnic table. We reluctantly explained what was up with Pepe the Frog.

Remember that time NASCAR driver Kurt Busch testified that his ex-girlfriend was an assassin, which she didn't deny? That time NASA sought haiku for Mars?

The giant Styrofoam head that washed ashore on the Hudson River? Or that weird thing with the clowns? Or the three-part saga of Jeremy, the loveless, left-twisting snail?

We've never just been straight news stories. Mark observed Father's Day through a poignant essay with an audio extra. Frank discussed photojournalism ethics, offering a glimpse inside NPR's newsroom conversations. Bill Chappell, reporting from the Rio Olympics, escaped Ryan Lochte and reflected on the beauty of Olympic race walking.

As the Powerball cash ballooned, we pondered what that kind of money could and couldn't buy. Howard Berkes brought you the story of the Challenger engineer who still blamed himself ... and of how your letters helped him shed his guilt. Korva Coleman pondered a debate over media coverage of women in tech, without offering easy answers.

We've never been just the latest updates. We took our time and dived deep — into the driving life and death of Philando Castile, the challenges facing American citizens who are deported, the stories of Harvey evacuees at the Houston convention center. We went backstage for the circus before Ringling Bros. closed, and went to Puerto Rico's landfills to cover the post-Maria trash disaster. We captured the memories and meaning that can be hidden in a family heirloom.

We covered a lot of truly awful stories. Genocides. Terrorist attacks. Mass shootings. We wrote victim memorials and victim memorials and victim memorials and victim memorials and victim memorials and victim memorials.

But NPR's mission statement, as originally written in 1971, called for reporting infused with "respect and joy," not despair. So we were never just bleak news.

We sought balance — some light with the dark. We asked you to help, and created "ads" for some of life's little joys.

We covered sports! Not just who won the national titles but the stories that made us smile: the celebrations of longtime Cubs fans, the triumph of the accountant turned emergency NHL goalie, some very questionable uniforms, our own Super Bowl haiku.

We had the animal beat on lockdown. We had a parrot with a catchy laugh. An otter playing the keyboard. An elephant snuggling an ostrich. Eagles adopting a hawk. A stubby squid with googly eyes. Punxsutawney Phil, of course, and the Comedy Wildlife Photography Awards. The tragic deaths of Pedals the bear and Larry the Lobster (not to be confused with Larry the Cat, who is thriving) and a cat story I can't recommend you click on.

We had lynxes yowling. A "terrordog" howling. A rich kitty scowling. A snowy owl just ... owling. And a surprising number of cows — runaway cows rescued and runaway cows freed, rebellious cows, incognito cows, airlifted cows, artistic cows, a cow painstakingly buried by a badger, and, of course, the inimitable headline, Yvonne, A Cow Wrapped In A Mystery Inside A Forest.

Speaking of which: We never wrote a story just for the headline. We promise. But there were some headlines we loved a little bit more than others ...

On a more serious note, a lot has changed over the past nine years, but it has always been an honor to bring you the news — and we are delighted to continue that mission.

See you on the Internet!

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