I got to thinking the other day and I concluded I have done a lot of stupid things in my life so far. I’m willing to try anything once. I do things without thinking of the consequences because it seems like a good idea at the time. I’m also dumb.
Tag: Nebraska Page 7 of 12
Each year, the members of Nebraska Press Women gather in the spring for a convention to announce the winners of their communications contest and to provide continuing education in areas members would like to learn. This year, as things have been extremely rough for me, personally and professionally, I debated skipping the event.
When Friday morning came, my husband, Paul, asked me if I still wanted to go. “Yes and no,” I said. I wanted to attend, but am so wiped out from the ever-increasing assignments at work that four days hiding in my house instead looked promising. However, a promise is a promise. I gathered my things and began my journey to Broken Bow, the site of this years convention.
Spike and Ralph in black and white.
Since it was Spike’s birthday and I know he loves opossums, I called in all my favors at the zoo to arrange a visit from Ralph the Opossum. The zoo does not do this kind of thing for anyone and I am eternally grateful they made a one-time exception to make my friend smile. I hope you had a good one, Spike.
I often tell people that just being me is an overwhelming experience on the best of days. Most people have an idea of what I’m going through, but they never truly know.
I write the words I do here because I’m not ashamed of my diagnosis. I am one small cog in a giant wheel talking about mental illness to help remove the stigma associated with it. I am here for that one person who reads what I write and says, “yeah, me too. I get that.”
Geoffrey Evert at the Lake Minatare lighthouse.
I still miss the boy who became a man. His wide smile and thoughtful nature could always cheer up my day. I remember all the moments of all the days he was here. On March 17, 2018, the making of memories ceased.
I became a two-time member of a group I never wanted to join. I’m a four-time member now.
It was day nine or ten living on the basement couch. Hours had been spent staring at the wall, the ceiling, the floor. I knew every flaw in everything in the room. I saw the cracks in the ceiling. I saw the holes in the wall. I traced the outline of missing parts of floor tile with my eyes. I didn’t care about any of it at all.
Every six months or so, Paul and I sat down at my computer to pick a new set of music to play in my car. My 2000 Hyundai Accent had a tape player and I purchased an adapter so my CD player could be used. It was easier to burn a CD full of music than a cassette tape. On July 21, 2008, we only owned one car and Paul decided he wanted to pick the music.
I don’t do New Year’s resolutions. I don’t usually sit and reflect on an entire year. If something needs to be changed in my life, I take measures to make that happen when it occurs. This past year, however, was different.
I have found it rare to have a colleague that is hard-working, but also finds time for fun and friendship. Spike Jordan is one of those people. Spike originally joined the Star-Herald as a copy editor before moving over to reporter. When long time ag editor Sandy Hansen retired, Spike stepped in to fill those shoes. Earlier this year, he moved on to be the editor of the Hemingford Ledger. I’m pretty sure he came back to the Star-Herald solely because he missed my awesomeness.
As a journalist, he has taught me a lot about copy editing, design, and digging deeper in investigative reporting. He has joined me on interviews, particularly one where we got to hang out with yaks, told tall tales, and educated me on the finer points of stealing cake. He has been there for me when my mental health issues strike at work and helped me along the way. So, with the help of fellow reporter Mark Gaschler, we spent several hours creating a welcome back gift for Spike to show appreciation toward him as only a couple of nerds could do.
