Monday, August 8, 2011

It's all in fun.

I finally finished this piece and while the Pulitzer Prize will have to wait, it is good to put this out there. I did feel strongly about it, I did have evidence to support my claims, and my thesis is clear. Mrs. Reymond (may you rest in peace) would be so proud !
(persasive writing, 8th grade English class, 1982)

http://www.winona360.org/winona360/article/op-ed-its-only-funny-until-someone-gets-hurt

Misty transitions

There is a low mist sitting just above a field of wild flowers on Madeline Island. It is quiet and noisy at the same time. No street traffic to speak of and my brain won't shup up.

Being in the moment when it is all about you is an entirely different ballgame from enjoying time with your child or your mother or your spouse. "What would you like?" seems to be a trick question. I have joked with Big Man "that I am not responsible for other people's happiness". However, it seems catering to other people's happiness is more direct than figuring out how to spend wads of time in a beautiful place.
I am getting there. I am still abuzz after meeting a serious news person, Katherine Lanpher, who is smart and funny and direct and on-fire about women's voices in the news.
Despite feeling like I am still shedding skin I didn't know I had, I can feel I am in the right place at the right time. One instructor discussed stories as being everywhere, but finding the one that only you can and should tell is the trick. This made me smile because one major mantra from my teacher days within my writing curriculum was, "Everyone has a story. Tell me your story." News and opinion writing takes a different spin on this, of course, but the premise remains. We all have stories and they are important. It seems that our world has produced one shit storm after another and most days, I fear looking at the headlines. But then I think of Tommy Thayer, a man who was hunting one day, contracted a life- threatening infection, nearly died, and weeks later, was trying out his new prosthetic legs after a double amputation. Today he is thriving, and I hope to tell you his story one day. I think of Matt Shultz, battling and thus far winning the war against cancer. I think of my own parents who have weathered countless storms and still find ways to laugh. I think of people who have lost children (children!) and still get up in the morning. If we have nothing in this world, we have stories. They, more than any news, connect us in the ways that are right and essential and true.

I am not sure how any of this will fit in to what I am about to do, but for now I will let the mist continue to float and attempt to do the same.