Musician's Widow

Happy Labor Day to my American visitors! Show of hands, how many people are working today?

Today’s holiday got me thinking about that age old question, “What do you want to be, when you grow up?”

I'm too busy relaxin' out here to think about a career in 20 years...

We ask children that before they can even read. We ask that of each other as adults, half joking, half knowing that chances are, we’ll all have more than one career in our lifetimes.

When I was growing up, I wanted to be a teacher. That was my answer, without hesitation, when someone would ask me that question. I hit second grade, and I loved my teacher so much that I decided I wanted to be a second grade teacher!

I loved that year of school. Amusingly, when you consider how much I hate math today, my favorite subject that year was math. My teacher made it fun with Wanda Ones, Tommy Tens and Harry Hundreds. We earned ourselves a banana split day through our successes (something that would be horribly, horribly frowned upon with our striving to “eat healthier” in school) and however many challenges we successfully completed decided how many toppings we had on our banana splits. Some of my classmates hardly had a banana and a couple scoops of ice cream. Others had every topping we could get. (I was in the later group. SCORE!)

My teacher found fun ways to motivate us to work and to make things stick with us. I loved her. I wanted to be her.

This want stayed strong in me until high school. In 8th grade, we had to sign up for our Freshmen classes. Certain ones were a given, but I ended up with one more elective to fill. A couple girlfriends and I signed up for Journalism. I figured, “Oh that sounds like an easy A!”

It was.

Working hard on getting senior portraits for the yearbook...

But not because it wasn’t a challenge! I had plenty of classmates barely get through that class at all. No, it was an easy A because I fell in love with it. Those hearts I had in my eyes for my second grade teacher turned towards journalism. I loved it. I found my niche! It made sense to me. I won contests in it, and that simply seemed to validate this new love I had found.

I proceeded from that year to throw myself into journalism. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go in the field, I just knew I wanted to be a part of it. So when I went into college, I took both print and broadcast journalism classes. I was so undecided what I wanted to do!

In hindsight, I wish I’d paid more attention in certain classes, because their lessons would benefit me more today. I wish I’d known then that my focus would some day be working freelance. But instead, I tried to just be a sponge and soak up a little bit of everything. I really wasn’t entirely sure where I was going, still. Just Journalism.

I eventually did get a job in journalism — at a weekly paper in Central Texas. It taught me a lot. Ironically it it taught me less about my strengths and more about my weaknesses. It showed me where I needed to improve. (For that, I am grateful! It ultimately showed me where I wasn’t supposed to be after all.)

Just another day on the job...

One of my biggest, “Can I get that day back to redo it?” moments was a day I went to interview a soldier home on leave. I didn’t know what questions to ask! And it didn’t help that I got the feeling he wasn’t that interested in being interviewed, so every question I asked received very short answers. I found myself trying to lead him to tell me what I wanted to hear for a story. I really, really wish I could go back and redo that one. My biggest failure in interviewing.

Just as it showed me places I was weak, that job also showed me an ignored love. A digital camera landed in my hands for the first time, and I found myself wanting to take some great photos. Some were appreciated. Others weren’t. I found myself remembering how much I’d wanted to take photography in high school, but it never fit in my schedule. It ended up off my radar in college. And with that digital camera in my hand, I found myself wanting to push myself.

While it was a few years after that before I started to go, “Hey, I’m pretty good at this!” I still look back on some of the shots I took while at the newspaper with appreciation.

Today, I want to be a published author. I want to write. I want to take pictures. I also have a love for listening and helping people. And I’m finding I’m pretty good at planning parties. I want to start a family, too. I have so many options still ahead of me for “what I want to be, when I grow up.” And you know what? That’s pretty cool. It’s not just little kids who have the world wide open to them. It’s each and every one of us.

So tell me…

What do you want to be, when YOU grow up?

…want to be a writer. I love words. I’ve always loved words.

I love painting pictures with words. I love telling a story. I love bringing things to life for others with my words. Come on a trip with me, as I tell you my story. I want to encourage you. I want to inspire you. I want to make you laugh. I want to bring tears to your eyes.

I want to be a published author. I want to be a successful blogger. I want to see my name in print behind the word “by.” I want to be a writer when I grow up.

… want to be a photographer. I love to take pictures. I love to capture a moment.

I love to search for a different perspective. I love to make the ordinary pretty. I love to be behind the lens, looking at you from a macro or a zoom. I want to make you say, “Wow!”

I want to take photos at weddings. I want to take photos at concerts. I want to take portraits. I want to take landscapes. I want to take the obscure. I want to see my name in the corner of a print on the wall. I want to be a photographer when I grow up.

… want to be a counselor. I love to study people and their interactions. I’m a listener, and I care.

I don’t see myself going for a degree in counseling, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find a way to still do this. I like to listen and aid others. I like to be a study of people. I find relationships fascinating, and I like the psychology behind them.

More than anything, I want to help others. Even if all I do is listen. I can be a sounding board. I can avoid giving advice until its requested. I want to be a counselor when I grow up.

… want to be a Mom. I thought I’d already be one, but life has a way of showing you how little you are in control.

I was on the fence about having children for years. And still, the idea of being in charge of a little one scares me! But now? Now I definitely do want to be a Mom. I want to experience this joy that all my Mommy friends tell me about… this love, and this adventure.

It still scares me. Financially. Emotionally. Logistically (to a degree). But more than that, it excites me. I want to be a Mom when I grow up.

… want to be the best person I can be. I want to keep to my values. I want to know I did my best.

Two of my greatest fears: letting myself down and letting those closest to me down. I’ve always strived to be the best me I could be, and within that, always be true to myself.

I love knowing I’ve done my best. I love standing behind my work, behind my opinions, behind those I love, behind everything I do. I want to look back on life and have no regrets. I want to know I’ve been the best person I can be when I grow up.

Yesterday, I picked up a necklace that just screamed at me to take it home. I figured my husband would tell me I needed to have it, which ended an internal war with myself about how I didn’t NEED it, I just WANTED it.

It’s a silver necklace with a camera charm. I love this necklace so hard. It’s probably a little ridiculous how much I already am attached to it.

It got me thinking, though, about how fun it would be to start building myself a charm bracelet to “tell my story.” Even if I only build it virtually right here in this blog. So, I tripped on over to the James Avery site. (If you don’t know James Avery jewelry, you are missing out. I mean, I don’t own any myself, but it doesn’t keep me from lusting over it from time to time.) I then proceeded to pick out charms I would want for a charm bracelet.

I would want:

• Texas A&M of course. There’s a whole DUH thing right there, right? Oh and a HOWDY to go with that.
• Texas and Tennessee — my two homes.
• Double heart, because that ended up a recurring theme in my wedding.
• A camera, a treble clef, a beer stein, cowboy boots, and a cat.
• Daddy’s Girl because I am.
• A piano to represent my husband.
• A cross for my faith.
• A pickup truck & a book (to represent writing)… but still searching for those.

Okay, so it would be a super-full charm bracelet, but its fun to play with the idea. Never hurts to look and dream. I’d add to it as life progressed… when kids came and other fun events happen or new hobbies and interests cross my path.

So tell me… what would your charm bracelet look like?

I have my BS in Journalism. The degree hangs on my office wall. It’s signed by Robert Gates… you know him. Secretary of Defense Robert Gates. Yup… he handed me my diploma. Told us if we looked to see if it was REALLY in our tubes at graduation they would disappear… CIA kinda stuff. You probably had to be there to find that funny.

I did good in my J-School classes. I’d have to pull my records now, but I think I pulled a 3.5 or 3.8 in them. Either way, I did good. I just loved the style of writing. I had gotten good at it back in high school, and college further perfected it. I think my favorite exercise was writing my own obituary. Morbid, perhaps, but it was fun to imagine where I wanted to go and what I wanted to be before I die.

I took a year “off” before I pursued a job in journalism. I got offered two jobs, opting for the one closer to home. A weekly newspaper… perfect for getting my feet wet. I was writing, taking pictures, editing and even a little designing. I had my own column (award winning!) which was my favorite thing ever.

I was there for about a year and a half. I hate to say it, but I just got burnt out. Perhaps it was the pace of the small town, or perhaps I was just doing too many things to really settle into one as my niche. No matter what, I was ready to move on and take the next step. Whatever that may be.

I can’t remember if I’d already resigned my position, or if I was about to, when I was sent to cover a car accident. Just before Christmas, I pulled up to the scene and saw… well. It was bad. I could hear a child crying from the crumpled, twisted car. And what did I have to do?

I had to take pictures of the scene. I had to try to get information. I watched as a life fight helicopter landed nearby. I felt like a vulture. I called my soon-to-be-fiance-but-I-didn’t-know-that-then, practically having a meltdown. Christmas. A child. Family member hurt. Life flight. Taking pictures. I felt dirty. I felt sick to my stomach. I realized that moment, my “career” as a journalist either wasn’t meant to be, or I would at the very least have to find a different route.

Since that day, I’ve had one other job opportunity at a newspaper here in Middle Tennessee. If I recall, it was a very similar position to the one I had before. I think I was the front runner based on my qualifications, to be honest. Heck, I didn’t even apply… they called ME based on my resume that was posted out on a journalism jobs site.

But in the interview, it just didn’t feel right. At this point, I can’t even remember if I was actually offered the job, but I know I never went to work there. And the state of the journalism industry today, I sometimes think that was just as well. Chances are, I would have been let go within the year — last in, first out sort of thing — as newspapers struggle to stay afloat.

All this said… I do still love the essence of journalism. I’ve been ashamed of my industry at times, but I still love being in the know and decimating whatever information I may have or learn. If I let myself, I can become a news junkie with ease. Twitter has been a wonderful resource for me to get my “newsie fix.”

And my blog… Well, this blog has become what my column was back in the day. The approach I took in that column is the same approach I take to every blog post. I won an award for my column, and I hope some day, maybe, my blog will receive recognition as well. I don’t write for the recognition, though. I write for the deep love and passion I have for it. It’s a personal satisfaction and, I like to think, natural talent for it.

If I were offered a job in the journalism field today… I’d probably take it. I’m not actively going to pursue it, but if the right offer came to me, chances are I’d take it. Because it IS still in my blood.

However, the chances of that are pretty slim these days, so I get my “fix” via Twitter and my blog. And that works for me. I’m not settling… I am constantly striving to find another way to make it better. To improve on my skills and trade. Because at the end of the day, even though I don’t work at a newspaper or TV station, I never left Journalism.

Never have. Never will.

Well, if you’re reading this, I assume the world hasn’t ended. #RaptureFail indeed.

Ahhhh… we make light of it. I think we kind of have to, at this point. For one thing, I think a lot of people believe this bible verse:

But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. -Mark 13:32

Predictions about the end of the world have been made my countless philosophers, radicals, and “church leaders.” But at the end of the day, it stands that no one truly knows when it’ll happen. I could be tomorrow. It could be a thousand years from now. We DON’T know. And when anyone so staunchly believes they know the time and date… well, it’s hard to take them seriously for that reason alone.

Further, I have to confess, I feel my stomach clinch at talk of “the end of the world.” Just as it clinches when I stop to think about any time I’ve possibly had a close call on the road, or if I think about the potential of a plane crash, etc. Because I think we all always have things we want to do. Or people we want just one more minute with… to say good bye to…

Things I want to do before my last day:

• Make sure my family knows how very much I love them. My husband, my parents, my brother and his family… everyone.
• Make sure my friends know how much I cherish them all.
• See my words in print (besides newspaper). I have had a passion for writing for too long in life to not be published some day.
• Find my niche in the photography world.
• Make a difference.
• Help my husband knock off more items on his to-do list.
• See my nephew be a part of a cure for Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy.
• REALLY start my own business.
• Be a mom.
• Never stop feeling young.

There is plenty more things, but that’s a few things, in no particular order. I guess some would call it a Bucket List. I just call it a path I want to ensure I stay on in life. So whether I am here when the world does end, or its just my time, I know I’ve lived the best I knew how to live.

I drive a pick-up truck. Well, my husband and I share a truck right now, but even if we didn’t… I’d still be a pick-up girl.

It all started when I was little. I wanted a red and white truck. On the way to school, we’d pass a house with a red and white truck outside, and I’d staaaare at it as we passed. I wanted that truck. Sooo bad.

When I got my driver’s license, I drove a Ford Taurus. I liked it… it had a charm that I made my own. But at heart, I still wanted a truck. My parents surprised me one day by finding a red and white truck for sale on a Wal-Mart parking lot… I was GIDDY when they bought it for me to drive.

I got my red and white truck.

Me and my dad, first day of Senior Year beside my red and white truck

I drove it through the rest of my high school years. Sometime senior year, it needed exhaust work. My brother took it in and had dual exhaust put on it, giving it a deep growl.

I remember one of the guys in my class asking me why I made my truck so loud. I simply said, “Because I wanted it.” Barely holding back a snide, “Jealous?”

I put speakers behind the seat. Replaced the original radio with one that had a tape deck (so I could listen to my CDs using the tape deck adapter… remember those?) That was MY truck.

My parents still have that truck, and even my brother wants to own it some day. I figure its the one item that, some day, my brother and I will tussle in the front yard over…

My freshman year of college, my brother was in an auto accident. Safety items in the truck he was driving saved his life.

I went the very next day and bought my very first truck in MY name. (The salesman tried like hell to put me in a Focus. I pretty much told him he would get in me a truck or he’d not have a sale that day.) The white 2000 F-150 was stripped down. I can’t even remember if it had power door locks now, but I remember driving off that lot beside myself giddy.

Old truck & new truck

It was the first of a long line of trucks, due to my only being able to get into the truck by leasing it. I followed that 2000 F-150 with a black 2002 (which I wrecked), maroon 2003 (the only truck I’ve ever regretted trading in…), black 2005 (which I also wrecked at one time, but that was also the truck that took me to Nashville), grey 2007, and today’s 2010 maroon F-150.

The last truck is the first one that’s not on a lease, and its not just in my name. My husband and I are proud of that truck. It’s one of our only “prized possession,” I guess.

I should perhaps also admit I got into ALL of these trucks thanks to my brother working for the dealership. Without the family discount I’d have probably been on foot years ago…

Why trucks? Why NEW trucks? I can explain…

• Again, I’m a pick-up girl. I’ve driven trucks since the beginning, and driving a car just freaks me out a bit. I’m nowhere near as secure behind the wheel as I am in a truck. It’s a comfort thing.
• With all of my family over 800 miles away and my husband on the road, I refuse to not drive a reliable vehicle. REFUSE. Not only is my truck reliable, it comes with roadside assistance. An 800-number call, and I have Ford on the way to help me. This alone is priceless to me.
• We haul gear. All the time. We could NOT drive a car and hope to move my husband’s keyboard gear. A truck is absolutely a necessity for us. And we got a four door so it’ll be a family vehicle just as much as being a utility vehicle.

Gas prices are rising to an insane level once again, and, yes, driving a truck can put a serious pinch on the pocketbook at the gas station. Especially when you have about a 25 gallon tank. However, the gas mileage on our new truck is wayyyyyyyyyy better than any of my previous trucks. Plus, we have moved so close to everything that we actually can go about two weeks between fuel stops. So… yay that!

Not only do I just LIKE driving a truck (call it part of my personality), it’s something I’ve really sat down and thought about… its what makes sense for me and my husband.