Read this:
http://www.thetelegraph.com/news/alton_16450___article.html/wheeler_hospital.html
And then listen.
I wrote that story yesterday, after having traveled to the 200 block of Mounier Street to investigate what exactly happened with the ATV accident. I touched the ATV, looked at the perimeter, and probably stepped right over the blood. I called the police department and the fire department three times yesterday, and I was the first to know (besides the family) that Crumley "expired" (I am still irate over such a term being used on a dead person) last night. I even drove by the house again this afternoon, looking at all the loved ones sitting outside Crumley's house, smoking cigarettes to relieve stress.
I could use one of those cigarettes right now, to be completely truthful. Because I spoke with Crumley's daughter just now, and I have never felt more miserable in my life.
The poor woman came to our office frustrated and in tears over what our newspaper published yesterday. In my opinion, it was very over the top. A picture of the step-son scratching his head in disbelief as his step-father is rushed to the hospital. A picture of a policeman using a hose to spray blood off the street pavement. A map to the now-widow's house. Directions, if any thieves should choose.
I would have been just as mad if not angrier if I were that woman.
The two editors took two approaches to appeasing her: one decided it was best to comfort her and then tell her the hard truth while the other gave her the hard truth, no feelings barred.
In the end, Dan's way worked and Dennis was able to give me the "eye" to get me into the room.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Me and Mr. Presley
It's my second to last night at Park N Shop, and I'm impatiently counting down the minutes until I get to leave. 8:50 p.m. and the store is completely empty. Brian is standing beside me, one arm leaning against the register. My back is to my register and my mouth is gaping open, wishing that Kim would just let us go home. But she doesn't.
And the clock turns 8:51 p.m.
I start to fidget with the lottery ticket that Bob gave me two hours before--of course I didn't win; I never win--when "Pretty Woman" comes over the speakers.
A good song at Park N Shop is like a mini oasis from boredom. I've learned to better appreciate music because of the speakers at Park N Shop. Now when I hear a good song on the radio, I'm elated. When I hear a bad song, well, time goes by even slower.
So, I hum to the tune and reach for the spray bottle to spray down my lane. I hear the automatic doors swing open down the way and roll my eyes. Another customer. Sure enough it is, a man in an "OPERATION: IRAQI FREEDOM" t-shirt pushing a cart. Never a good sign when it's near closing time.
Bryan shakes his head and keeps staring at the clock. I'm still humming "won't you pardon me, pretty woman, I couldn't help but see, pretty woman..." when there he is. A man with slicked back shoe-polish black hair and two sideburns that resemble landing strips. He struts in with a Hawaiian shirt and an over-the-hill kind of suave air about him.
I want to laugh. Elvis has entered the building, 5 minutes before Park N Shop is scheduled to close.
Bryan and I watch him as he walks past lanes and toward the produce section. Once he is out of sight, I start giggling. "Did you see--?"
"Yeah," says Bryan, his eyebrows raised. "And can you believe the song over the speakers?"
I shake my head. Out of all the years I've been at Park N Shop and the strangest person in the world has to walk in on the day before I'm leaving. Oh the irony.
Anyway, Elvis eventually finds his groceries and (as I was the only checker on the floor) comes through my lane. I am smiling from ear to ear as he pulls out his leather billfold and looks through his bills.
Ask him! Ask him! I keep thinking to myself. My smile gets even bigger and I had to suppress a laugh when I say, "Uh, can I ask you a question?"
He smirks and closes the wallet. "Go for it."
I swallow as I scan his iceberg lettuce. "Are you--"
(I want to ask him if he is really Elvis and if he'd just come back to life to grace us with his presence as one of his most famous songs blared over the speakers. But I know that isn't true, and I also know that I am in dire need of some sleep in order to regain my sanity. So, I instead ask--)
"Are you Steve Davis?"
(Steve Davis = famous Saint Louis-area Elvis impersonator that nearly 3.3 million people have heard about. He is featured at many country clubs and 80-plus year old's birthday parties.)
He almost rolls his eyes as he says, "Well, yes I am."
An even bigger grin spreads across my face. "Oh!" I said.
"(Oh!" As if I've never met Bill Clinton, Bob Dole, Anthony Edwards, John McCain, Ron Paul, Jim Ryun, Don Piper, Francine Rivers, Sam Beam, and scads of other equally if not more famous people than said Elvis impersonator.)
He gives me a strange look. "Was that your question?"
I stare for a moment. "Actually, yeah."
"Oh," he said. We stare at one another for a while. It is rather awkward.
"Well, have a nice day!" I say.
(By this time, I am really hoping that he would give me a "thank ya, thank ya very much" and one of those famous winks with the finger gun pointing at me but instead I got--)
"Uh, thanks. You too."
I have a couple baskets to put away so I follow him to the door. He looks behind and sees me staring at his Hawaiian print shirt. I think that creeped him out even more, because he takes off walking faster.
In the end I return to my register to lean with Bryan and wait for time to move faster. 8:59 p.m. But at least I've now met myself a Mr. Presley.
And the clock turns 8:51 p.m.
I start to fidget with the lottery ticket that Bob gave me two hours before--of course I didn't win; I never win--when "Pretty Woman" comes over the speakers.
A good song at Park N Shop is like a mini oasis from boredom. I've learned to better appreciate music because of the speakers at Park N Shop. Now when I hear a good song on the radio, I'm elated. When I hear a bad song, well, time goes by even slower.
So, I hum to the tune and reach for the spray bottle to spray down my lane. I hear the automatic doors swing open down the way and roll my eyes. Another customer. Sure enough it is, a man in an "OPERATION: IRAQI FREEDOM" t-shirt pushing a cart. Never a good sign when it's near closing time.
Bryan shakes his head and keeps staring at the clock. I'm still humming "won't you pardon me, pretty woman, I couldn't help but see, pretty woman..." when there he is. A man with slicked back shoe-polish black hair and two sideburns that resemble landing strips. He struts in with a Hawaiian shirt and an over-the-hill kind of suave air about him.
I want to laugh. Elvis has entered the building, 5 minutes before Park N Shop is scheduled to close.
Bryan and I watch him as he walks past lanes and toward the produce section. Once he is out of sight, I start giggling. "Did you see--?"
"Yeah," says Bryan, his eyebrows raised. "And can you believe the song over the speakers?"
I shake my head. Out of all the years I've been at Park N Shop and the strangest person in the world has to walk in on the day before I'm leaving. Oh the irony.
Anyway, Elvis eventually finds his groceries and (as I was the only checker on the floor) comes through my lane. I am smiling from ear to ear as he pulls out his leather billfold and looks through his bills.
Ask him! Ask him! I keep thinking to myself. My smile gets even bigger and I had to suppress a laugh when I say, "Uh, can I ask you a question?"
He smirks and closes the wallet. "Go for it."
I swallow as I scan his iceberg lettuce. "Are you--"
(I want to ask him if he is really Elvis and if he'd just come back to life to grace us with his presence as one of his most famous songs blared over the speakers. But I know that isn't true, and I also know that I am in dire need of some sleep in order to regain my sanity. So, I instead ask--)
"Are you Steve Davis?"
(Steve Davis = famous Saint Louis-area Elvis impersonator that nearly 3.3 million people have heard about. He is featured at many country clubs and 80-plus year old's birthday parties.)
He almost rolls his eyes as he says, "Well, yes I am."
An even bigger grin spreads across my face. "Oh!" I said.
"(Oh!" As if I've never met Bill Clinton, Bob Dole, Anthony Edwards, John McCain, Ron Paul, Jim Ryun, Don Piper, Francine Rivers, Sam Beam, and scads of other equally if not more famous people than said Elvis impersonator.)
He gives me a strange look. "Was that your question?"
I stare for a moment. "Actually, yeah."
"Oh," he said. We stare at one another for a while. It is rather awkward.
"Well, have a nice day!" I say.
(By this time, I am really hoping that he would give me a "thank ya, thank ya very much" and one of those famous winks with the finger gun pointing at me but instead I got--)
"Uh, thanks. You too."
I have a couple baskets to put away so I follow him to the door. He looks behind and sees me staring at his Hawaiian print shirt. I think that creeped him out even more, because he takes off walking faster.
In the end I return to my register to lean with Bryan and wait for time to move faster. 8:59 p.m. But at least I've now met myself a Mr. Presley.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
My Short Adventure with the Famous Mr. Piper
I met Don Piper today, and I don't know if to believe him or not.
I should probably start at the beginning with this. Don Piper, New York Times Best-selling List author who has sold 1 million copies, inadvertantly dropped into my life in April when I heard a speaker at the Calvin College Writer's Conference say that his book was one of the most widely requested Christian books on the market. I immediately decided that a book like that was not my style--I don't want to be spoiled with other people's perceptions of what heaven is like!--so I pushed him and his book aside in his mind.
Three months later, I'm laying on my grandparents' couch in Kansas when I see this book sitting on the coffee table. 90 Minutes in Heaven. I'm not particularly interested in watching the Cards lose another game to the Cubs, so I pick up the book and start reading through it. I read the first four chapters until Don Piper comes back from the dead (he died in a horrific car accident and came back to life after 90 minutes). Then I put the book down and roll my eyes.
Why was I so frustrated? First of all, his perceptions of Heaven were not exactly what I wanted to hear. His old friends and family were standing at the pearly gates, smiling and being merry. His grandfather looked just like his grandfather did when he (Don) was a little boy: gray hair and a big toothy smile. I didn't really want to hear that. Does that mean that, when I die (which will hopefully be at an old age) I'll look old? Not exactly what a girl wants to hear, to be frank. Also, we would be singing songs and smiling all the time. I love to sing a good hymn and I am also one to have a perpetual smile on my face, but I can't really see that singing all the time would be my best way to express my love to God. I was thinking more along the lines of writing something.
Anyway, I ranted and raved to my parents on the way back to Godfrey (I'm sure that they would have preferred that I watched the Cards game instead of reading) about the book. Rachel had brought it back to read, so I figured I'd be able to get another good dose of Piper at a later date.
When I was driving to an interview for my internship, I saw that the Abundant Life Community Church sign read "Don Piper: 90 Minutes in Heaven visiting in July." I almost slammed on the brakes. A best-selling author in ALTON? I could hardly believe it.
But it was true. I found out later that he would be coming on the following Sunday. When I went into the news room on Thursday, I didn't hear any buzz about the guy at all. So I mentioned the story idea to my editor who told me that maybe I should consider writing the story. I was very excited, until I found out that Vicki Bennington had also written a story and that both of our stories came out on the same day. Yikes. My editor told me to write a follow-up story nevertheless.
So, I marched my high-heel wearing, dress-sporting behind into Abundant Life today and waited for Piper's sermon to intrigue me.
I was supposed to be writing an article, but I already knew that it wouldn't focus around him as much as it would around the people who attended the event. So, I mentally constructed what I would say at said interview, knowing that I wanted him to answer my personal questions about his ministry.
Turns out his sermon did most of that for me. I was searching for someone who was passionate about what he did, and I can't say that I found that.
Don and his (cute) son Chris travel 300 days out of the year to different communities speaking about what happened to Don. So, it would make sense that his retelling of his horrific accident would sound canned and rehearsed to a tee. And it was. He told the cold hard facts of his death as if he were telling you how to pay taxes or mow the lawn. He had no passion, because he's said it a thousand times before. He was cliche in his assertions about faith and about his death, too.
I will say that some of his stories brought me to tears, though. The girl Andrea whose leg was severed by a Jet Ski really got me. I admire Don for going to her bedside--even if it was in the hospital that he had his surgeries, the hospital he hated most--to comfort her and tell her that he knew what she was going through. I also felt bad for the young soldier who died in Iraq that he talked about.
But, it was his description of Heaven that really got my attention. Like a good speaker, he kept the most interesting part of his sermon (namely his experiences in death) until the end. Hearing him actually describe Heaven brought it into reality for me. The vibrant lights of heaven, the strong Heaven-ly aroma that permeated the air, and the sounds: he seemed authentic in his beliefs about it.
Then it occured to me that, perhaps God had sent him to Heaven. I'd disregarded his beliefs and assertions simply because I could hardly believe that God would let someone see the Heavenly gates and return to earth to tell about it. But I looked around the room and I realized that perhaps God was ministering through him so that other people could come to an understanding that GOD IS REAL and that there is a heaven out there.
I talked to Letha, a Catholic woman from Hardin, who is thoroughly convinced now that there is a God. "That book just reaffirmed it for me," she said.
One of my friends told me yesterday that he thinks that the only thing we need to believe is that Jesus Christ died for our sins. Religion doesn't matter. And I tend to believe that now. I can see that, despite Don Piper's altar calls at the end of his sermon and his moments of complete cliche overload, Don really could have seen Heaven. He saw that what he believed before he died really was truth. He saw that Jesus is the way and the truth and the light. Who cares about semantics and the non-essentials. As long as we believe that there is a Heaven and that there surely is a Hell and that Jesus Christ is our Savior, I would say that we have it right.
Anyway, I was more nervous than anything when I interviewed him. I asked him if he'd enjoyed his stay in Illinois (stupid question for my article) and then I went into my own questions. Here's the highlights in my opinion:
What do you say to skeptics who don't believe what you preach?
"I'd say that I don't blame them. Before my accident, I'd heard about stories of people who had died and gone to heaven. They just don't seem real unless you go through them, so I don't blame people who don't believe me. But what I went through when I died is more real to me than this transient and changing physical world we have right now. If humankind were erased from the planet and a thousand years were to pass by, the only thing that would remain of our existence is the Pyramids. Can you believe that? I mean, this physical world will be gone before we know it. But the heavenly one will last forever."
So, how do you keep yourself from becoming stagnant in your work?
"I don't (get stagnant). I don't tell the same story twice, first of all. You can ask anyone who's been to one of my conferences or heard one of my sermons. I try to tell 15-20 different stories at eveyr place. I don't want this to become routine. I try to be as real and as genuine with people as possible."
He ended our short interview by telling me that he "is grateful for what I do." Whatever that is supposed to mean is beyond me. Perhaps he was referring to the fact that I'm a reporter? Or maybe it's just another cliche saying.
I don't know how he does it, though. There are so many people he has to listen to and talk with, and then he has to remain calm and happy while doing it! Incredible. I do not envy him, no matter if he is sincere or not. I admire him in that respect: traveling around and keeping a Christian-like attitude. He must spend a lot of time in prayer.
So, that is Mr. Don Piper of 90 Minutes in Heaven fame. Nice man, great dresser, yet I still cannot figure out if I believe him. I believe Heaven, but as for his personal sincerity, I guess I won't know until we both get to Heaven.
I should probably start at the beginning with this. Don Piper, New York Times Best-selling List author who has sold 1 million copies, inadvertantly dropped into my life in April when I heard a speaker at the Calvin College Writer's Conference say that his book was one of the most widely requested Christian books on the market. I immediately decided that a book like that was not my style--I don't want to be spoiled with other people's perceptions of what heaven is like!--so I pushed him and his book aside in his mind.
Three months later, I'm laying on my grandparents' couch in Kansas when I see this book sitting on the coffee table. 90 Minutes in Heaven. I'm not particularly interested in watching the Cards lose another game to the Cubs, so I pick up the book and start reading through it. I read the first four chapters until Don Piper comes back from the dead (he died in a horrific car accident and came back to life after 90 minutes). Then I put the book down and roll my eyes.
Why was I so frustrated? First of all, his perceptions of Heaven were not exactly what I wanted to hear. His old friends and family were standing at the pearly gates, smiling and being merry. His grandfather looked just like his grandfather did when he (Don) was a little boy: gray hair and a big toothy smile. I didn't really want to hear that. Does that mean that, when I die (which will hopefully be at an old age) I'll look old? Not exactly what a girl wants to hear, to be frank. Also, we would be singing songs and smiling all the time. I love to sing a good hymn and I am also one to have a perpetual smile on my face, but I can't really see that singing all the time would be my best way to express my love to God. I was thinking more along the lines of writing something.
Anyway, I ranted and raved to my parents on the way back to Godfrey (I'm sure that they would have preferred that I watched the Cards game instead of reading) about the book. Rachel had brought it back to read, so I figured I'd be able to get another good dose of Piper at a later date.
When I was driving to an interview for my internship, I saw that the Abundant Life Community Church sign read "Don Piper: 90 Minutes in Heaven visiting in July." I almost slammed on the brakes. A best-selling author in ALTON? I could hardly believe it.
But it was true. I found out later that he would be coming on the following Sunday. When I went into the news room on Thursday, I didn't hear any buzz about the guy at all. So I mentioned the story idea to my editor who told me that maybe I should consider writing the story. I was very excited, until I found out that Vicki Bennington had also written a story and that both of our stories came out on the same day. Yikes. My editor told me to write a follow-up story nevertheless.
So, I marched my high-heel wearing, dress-sporting behind into Abundant Life today and waited for Piper's sermon to intrigue me.
I was supposed to be writing an article, but I already knew that it wouldn't focus around him as much as it would around the people who attended the event. So, I mentally constructed what I would say at said interview, knowing that I wanted him to answer my personal questions about his ministry.
Turns out his sermon did most of that for me. I was searching for someone who was passionate about what he did, and I can't say that I found that.
Don and his (cute) son Chris travel 300 days out of the year to different communities speaking about what happened to Don. So, it would make sense that his retelling of his horrific accident would sound canned and rehearsed to a tee. And it was. He told the cold hard facts of his death as if he were telling you how to pay taxes or mow the lawn. He had no passion, because he's said it a thousand times before. He was cliche in his assertions about faith and about his death, too.
I will say that some of his stories brought me to tears, though. The girl Andrea whose leg was severed by a Jet Ski really got me. I admire Don for going to her bedside--even if it was in the hospital that he had his surgeries, the hospital he hated most--to comfort her and tell her that he knew what she was going through. I also felt bad for the young soldier who died in Iraq that he talked about.
But, it was his description of Heaven that really got my attention. Like a good speaker, he kept the most interesting part of his sermon (namely his experiences in death) until the end. Hearing him actually describe Heaven brought it into reality for me. The vibrant lights of heaven, the strong Heaven-ly aroma that permeated the air, and the sounds: he seemed authentic in his beliefs about it.
Then it occured to me that, perhaps God had sent him to Heaven. I'd disregarded his beliefs and assertions simply because I could hardly believe that God would let someone see the Heavenly gates and return to earth to tell about it. But I looked around the room and I realized that perhaps God was ministering through him so that other people could come to an understanding that GOD IS REAL and that there is a heaven out there.
I talked to Letha, a Catholic woman from Hardin, who is thoroughly convinced now that there is a God. "That book just reaffirmed it for me," she said.
One of my friends told me yesterday that he thinks that the only thing we need to believe is that Jesus Christ died for our sins. Religion doesn't matter. And I tend to believe that now. I can see that, despite Don Piper's altar calls at the end of his sermon and his moments of complete cliche overload, Don really could have seen Heaven. He saw that what he believed before he died really was truth. He saw that Jesus is the way and the truth and the light. Who cares about semantics and the non-essentials. As long as we believe that there is a Heaven and that there surely is a Hell and that Jesus Christ is our Savior, I would say that we have it right.
Anyway, I was more nervous than anything when I interviewed him. I asked him if he'd enjoyed his stay in Illinois (stupid question for my article) and then I went into my own questions. Here's the highlights in my opinion:
What do you say to skeptics who don't believe what you preach?
"I'd say that I don't blame them. Before my accident, I'd heard about stories of people who had died and gone to heaven. They just don't seem real unless you go through them, so I don't blame people who don't believe me. But what I went through when I died is more real to me than this transient and changing physical world we have right now. If humankind were erased from the planet and a thousand years were to pass by, the only thing that would remain of our existence is the Pyramids. Can you believe that? I mean, this physical world will be gone before we know it. But the heavenly one will last forever."
So, how do you keep yourself from becoming stagnant in your work?
"I don't (get stagnant). I don't tell the same story twice, first of all. You can ask anyone who's been to one of my conferences or heard one of my sermons. I try to tell 15-20 different stories at eveyr place. I don't want this to become routine. I try to be as real and as genuine with people as possible."
He ended our short interview by telling me that he "is grateful for what I do." Whatever that is supposed to mean is beyond me. Perhaps he was referring to the fact that I'm a reporter? Or maybe it's just another cliche saying.
I don't know how he does it, though. There are so many people he has to listen to and talk with, and then he has to remain calm and happy while doing it! Incredible. I do not envy him, no matter if he is sincere or not. I admire him in that respect: traveling around and keeping a Christian-like attitude. He must spend a lot of time in prayer.
So, that is Mr. Don Piper of 90 Minutes in Heaven fame. Nice man, great dresser, yet I still cannot figure out if I believe him. I believe Heaven, but as for his personal sincerity, I guess I won't know until we both get to Heaven.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
You're Hired.
Today, Dan told me he'd hired me.
Alright, he didn't say that he would hire me now, but he told me that if I ever did decide to go into journalism and if the Telegraph ever gets out of its hiring freeze, then I should think about putting in my application at the Telegraph. I could go to SIUE and get my master's on the side, he said. Maybe I could think about television broadcasting, even.
It was a little unexpected dose of reality for me. I guess that I am going to be a junior (technically a senior) this year and that it's less than a year until I have to start thinking about my future, job- or graduate school-wise. Suddenly it hit me that I actually could do something like that: live at home, work at the Telegraph, go to grad school part-time. I could seriously start my career off that way.
The thought got me a little excited. Not necessarily the fact that I could work at the Telegraph, but that I have a future ahead of me. I can do whatever I want--as long as it's not engineering or scientific studies--and go anywhere that I want, to a certain degree. I do have something to provide to companies, businesses, or newspapers for that matter: I can write, and (apparently) I'm kind of good at it. Besides that, I have nothing to hold me back at the moment. And that's a pretty good feeling right about now.
Alright, he didn't say that he would hire me now, but he told me that if I ever did decide to go into journalism and if the Telegraph ever gets out of its hiring freeze, then I should think about putting in my application at the Telegraph. I could go to SIUE and get my master's on the side, he said. Maybe I could think about television broadcasting, even.
It was a little unexpected dose of reality for me. I guess that I am going to be a junior (technically a senior) this year and that it's less than a year until I have to start thinking about my future, job- or graduate school-wise. Suddenly it hit me that I actually could do something like that: live at home, work at the Telegraph, go to grad school part-time. I could seriously start my career off that way.
The thought got me a little excited. Not necessarily the fact that I could work at the Telegraph, but that I have a future ahead of me. I can do whatever I want--as long as it's not engineering or scientific studies--and go anywhere that I want, to a certain degree. I do have something to provide to companies, businesses, or newspapers for that matter: I can write, and (apparently) I'm kind of good at it. Besides that, I have nothing to hold me back at the moment. And that's a pretty good feeling right about now.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
The Groneck Girls' Library Book Receipt
Em and I went to the library today for the first time in nearly a month. As we were walking out of the building, it occured to me how strange of a conglomeration our books, movies, etc. were. Here's the list:
Pan's Labrynth (DVD for both of us)
A River Runs Through It by Norman MacLean (book on CD for me)
Bellydance: Hip Drop Hip Hop (a DVD for me, but Em said she'd learn too)
The Witches of Eastwick (DVD for Em, which looks kind of funny)
Rihanna: Good Girl Gone Bad (Me)
Elton John: Greatest Hits 1970-2002 (Me)
Speak German with Michel Thomas (CD for Em; she wants to be multi-lingual so badly)
India.Arie: Vol. 1, Relationships (Me)
Gilberto Santa Rosa: Directo al Corazon (Em; wants to learn Spanish)
Taylor Swift (Me and Rachel)
Introducing Kierkegaard (Book for me; Tom always talks about this philosopher)
Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller (Book for me; uncles love this book)
Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason by Helen Fielding (The girly side of me told me to pick up this book)
Sacred by Dennis LeHane (Book for me--think Dean Koontz but with a Boston accent and a sickening yet intriguing tendency toward the most taboo subjects of our society)
Basically, I got a good laugh out of our library picks. Funny how our interests can be so diverse!
Pan's Labrynth (DVD for both of us)
A River Runs Through It by Norman MacLean (book on CD for me)
Bellydance: Hip Drop Hip Hop (a DVD for me, but Em said she'd learn too)
The Witches of Eastwick (DVD for Em, which looks kind of funny)
Rihanna: Good Girl Gone Bad (Me)
Elton John: Greatest Hits 1970-2002 (Me)
Speak German with Michel Thomas (CD for Em; she wants to be multi-lingual so badly)
India.Arie: Vol. 1, Relationships (Me)
Gilberto Santa Rosa: Directo al Corazon (Em; wants to learn Spanish)
Taylor Swift (Me and Rachel)
Introducing Kierkegaard (Book for me; Tom always talks about this philosopher)
Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller (Book for me; uncles love this book)
Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason by Helen Fielding (The girly side of me told me to pick up this book)
Sacred by Dennis LeHane (Book for me--think Dean Koontz but with a Boston accent and a sickening yet intriguing tendency toward the most taboo subjects of our society)
Basically, I got a good laugh out of our library picks. Funny how our interests can be so diverse!
Saturday, July 5, 2008
My Chance Encounter with Legendary Runner and (Former) Senator Jim Ryun
On Thursday I told my editor that I was planning on going to Manhattan, Kansas for the Fourth of July. He immediately looked up from his desk and leaned back in his chair.
"Oh really? Do you know who Jim Ryun is?"
Do I know who Jim Ryun is? I wanted to laugh at his question. Of course I know who Jim Ryun is; he's one of the greatest track runners in Kansas history, not to mention United States history. He's my uncle's idol, and Bob M. was one of Ryun's best men in his wedding.
"Yeah, I've heard about him my whole life," I responded.
Dan smiled and said, "I ran track in high school and I always wanted to be just like him. The four-minute mile, you know? Well, while you're out there, try to dig up some information about Jim Ryun for me, why don't you?"
I left the office early that day, not really thinking about Jim Ryun or Dan's request.
We got to Kansas really late and were up early for a family-filled Fourth of July. We went to my aunt's house for lunch and then went to the carnival to check out the rides I'd frequented since I was a little girl. Soon the time came for the parade to start, so we rounded up our family and carried our lawn chairs to Main Street in downtown Wamego. The little children crowded around the curbs, but somehow Em, Rachel, and I managed to squeeze in a little grass space relatively close to the floats.
I can't say that I'm a huge proponent of politics, but I do have some interest in local and national politicians. So as the trucks and tractors drove by with signs saying "John Smith for County Sheriff" and "Jack Sheeley for U.S. Senate," I made a point to ask for a pamphlet.
I'd accumulated quite a range when the Jim Ryun truck came by. There were girls dressed in shirts reading "Jim Ryun for Congress" handing out candy, but I didn't see any pamphlets! I knew that Dan would get a kick out of a Ryun brochure, so I was eager to get one. At the end of the float, I spotted a couple guys with red buckets filled with pamphlets. I jumped up and walked to the nearest one.
As I neared him, he reached out his hand and gave me a big political smile. I knew right then and there that I was meeting Jim Ryun.
I was in a state of mild shock, so all I could say was, "Hi, uh, could I have a brochure?"
He laughed and said, "Of course, here you go. Thanks!"
I sat back down on the grass, staring at my family in disbelief. Dad, Grandpa, and Russ were all staring at me as if I were crazy but also some sort of hero. Mom was laughing and saying, "Sarah! What--wow!"
I was in shock for the next two or three hours, that's for sure. I kept kicking myself for not having asked more or been a little more prepared to see the man, but in the end I was just glad that I could have shaken his hand and said anything to him. It was like when I saw Senator McCain, but somehow a little bit better.
Now I'll definitely have a good story to tell Dan when I go back to work on Wednesday.
"Oh really? Do you know who Jim Ryun is?"
Do I know who Jim Ryun is? I wanted to laugh at his question. Of course I know who Jim Ryun is; he's one of the greatest track runners in Kansas history, not to mention United States history. He's my uncle's idol, and Bob M. was one of Ryun's best men in his wedding.
"Yeah, I've heard about him my whole life," I responded.
Dan smiled and said, "I ran track in high school and I always wanted to be just like him. The four-minute mile, you know? Well, while you're out there, try to dig up some information about Jim Ryun for me, why don't you?"
I left the office early that day, not really thinking about Jim Ryun or Dan's request.
We got to Kansas really late and were up early for a family-filled Fourth of July. We went to my aunt's house for lunch and then went to the carnival to check out the rides I'd frequented since I was a little girl. Soon the time came for the parade to start, so we rounded up our family and carried our lawn chairs to Main Street in downtown Wamego. The little children crowded around the curbs, but somehow Em, Rachel, and I managed to squeeze in a little grass space relatively close to the floats.
I can't say that I'm a huge proponent of politics, but I do have some interest in local and national politicians. So as the trucks and tractors drove by with signs saying "John Smith for County Sheriff" and "Jack Sheeley for U.S. Senate," I made a point to ask for a pamphlet.
I'd accumulated quite a range when the Jim Ryun truck came by. There were girls dressed in shirts reading "Jim Ryun for Congress" handing out candy, but I didn't see any pamphlets! I knew that Dan would get a kick out of a Ryun brochure, so I was eager to get one. At the end of the float, I spotted a couple guys with red buckets filled with pamphlets. I jumped up and walked to the nearest one.
As I neared him, he reached out his hand and gave me a big political smile. I knew right then and there that I was meeting Jim Ryun.
I was in a state of mild shock, so all I could say was, "Hi, uh, could I have a brochure?"
He laughed and said, "Of course, here you go. Thanks!"
I sat back down on the grass, staring at my family in disbelief. Dad, Grandpa, and Russ were all staring at me as if I were crazy but also some sort of hero. Mom was laughing and saying, "Sarah! What--wow!"
I was in shock for the next two or three hours, that's for sure. I kept kicking myself for not having asked more or been a little more prepared to see the man, but in the end I was just glad that I could have shaken his hand and said anything to him. It was like when I saw Senator McCain, but somehow a little bit better.
Now I'll definitely have a good story to tell Dan when I go back to work on Wednesday.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Vienna
Slow down, you crazy child
You're so ambitious for a
juvenile
But then if you're so smart tell
me why
you are still so afraid?
Where's the fire, what's
the hurry about?
You better cool it off before
you burn it out
You got so much to do and only
So many hours in a day
But you know that when the
truth is told
That you can get what you want
Or you can just get old
You're gonna kick off before
you even
get halfway through
When will you realize...Vienna
waits for you.
Slow down, you're doing fine
You can't be everything you
want to be
before your time
although it's so romantic
on the borderline tonight
too bad but it's the life
you lead
you're so ahead of yourself
that you forfeit what you need
though you can see when
you're wrong
you know you can't always see
when you're right
you got your passion you got
your pride
But don't you know only fools
are satisfied?
Dream on but don't imagine
they'll all come true
When will you realize...
Vienna waits for you.
Slow down you crazy child
take the phone off the hook
and disappear for a while
It's alright you can afford
to lose a day or two
When will you realize...
Vienna waits for you.
[Billy Joel]
You're so ambitious for a
juvenile
But then if you're so smart tell
me why
you are still so afraid?
Where's the fire, what's
the hurry about?
You better cool it off before
you burn it out
You got so much to do and only
So many hours in a day
But you know that when the
truth is told
That you can get what you want
Or you can just get old
You're gonna kick off before
you even
get halfway through
When will you realize...Vienna
waits for you.
Slow down, you're doing fine
You can't be everything you
want to be
before your time
although it's so romantic
on the borderline tonight
too bad but it's the life
you lead
you're so ahead of yourself
that you forfeit what you need
though you can see when
you're wrong
you know you can't always see
when you're right
you got your passion you got
your pride
But don't you know only fools
are satisfied?
Dream on but don't imagine
they'll all come true
When will you realize...
Vienna waits for you.
Slow down you crazy child
take the phone off the hook
and disappear for a while
It's alright you can afford
to lose a day or two
When will you realize...
Vienna waits for you.
[Billy Joel]
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