Thursday, December 23, 2010

christmas: a beautful scary time of the year

I apologize in advance for any typos since I'm typing this on my Blackberry at the airport and also the random nature of this. I haven't had time to write anything personal lately so I have a lot to say.

I haven't really made it a secret this year that I'm not all about the holiday season. This year, perhaps more so than ever, I'm tired of hearing the ringing of silver bells, seeing endless Christmas sells and just of the colors of red and green. Whatever the case, call me the Grinch.

Usually, the holidays are like this for me but eventually, something puts me in the Christmas spirit. There have been moments, especially when I saw a full grown man dressed as Santa riding a Harley and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas along with a "Ho, Ho, Ho" that brought me a moment of cheer, but then I went back down into the darkness.

Who knows? Maybe its just due to stress, due to lack of sleep, due to lack of family, due to money I don't have.

Or maybe its just me.

As I arrived at the airport earlier today, I thought, "Ok Wyndi, let's get cheery. Enjoy people watching, some McDonald's, free time and no work and get cheery." After all, I can't let my family down. They expect me to be happy, overjoyed to spend Christmas with them. I'm not. Its not that I don't want to, its just I'm tired, need some peace, no expectations and no responsibilities. I need a break from my life. But that doesn't exist.

So I will pick up the pieces, or the carry-ons, and move to get on the airplane.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Is this what it looked like in the beginning?

Today I got the honor of changing desks. A co-worker left, so I got the prime real estate so to speak. A window (sort of), a better computer and more space. While cleaning off my desk, I was struck with the memory of something. My first day. I was a scared little writer afraid to even pick up the phone to interview someone with my editor in the office (something I still hate doing). But I was scared. Terrified of making a mistake. Know what? I got over it. Not only was my desk full of dust-bunnied paperwork, hundreds of city council packets and a multitude of Post-it notes but it was also filled to the brink with notes. Notes of stories. Momentus occasions that have impacted peoples lives in the last four years. Tragedies filled with heart-break. Great honors, like a tree that is world famous or the building of a new highway that will impact people's lives for the next 100 years. It was also filled with thank you notes, of stories bygone, but not forgotten by the people who I represented. The people whose stories I was able to put into words. The people, that without me, would have remained silenced.

Being a writer, on a good day, is a difficult task. It's alot of pressure trying to capture a scene in words. Not misleading the public with a simple missed noun/subject/verb agreement. Ticking people off with a cleverly written (at least we think so) headline. But when I get down, when I mess something up, when I'm overwhelmed with taking yet another Santa photo that clearly doesn't mean anything to me, I pull out the thank you notes. They cheer me up. They remind me of the importance of being a writer, a journalist, of capturing the stories for future generations.

Today if I had to write a thank you note it would go a little like this. Thank you God for letting me be a writer.

Friday, October 22, 2010

The disheartening truth

I realized this week that as an adult some things don't change. You grow up and you expect everything to be different. Given, you have bills as an adult, less freedom and more responsibility. You don't have the dread of walking into middle school with a horrifying bow atop your head or uncool sneakers. Some things are better, some are worse. All this to say there were some very familiar parallels in my life this week.

Growing up, I was always one of the kids who attended church camp. Not only did I attend but I looked forward to it all year long. Once we arrived (generally in Kansas) I was ready. Ready to get my life right once again. Ready to worship, be all sold out for God. Ready to be surrounded by those who loved Christ as much as me. As the week went on, I would promise myself things would be different. I would read my Bible everyday, maybe even twice a day. I wouldn't miss church. I would be more active in the youth group. I would .... keep these promises I had made myself for about a week before the world would creep back in.

This week I attended a TCU journalism conference brought about by the Schaffer School for Community Journalists. While I had been to several (News Writing, Page Design and New Media) this one, which was about investigative journalism hit home. I learned lots and it reminded me what those at large newspapers (think New York Times and the Washington Post) have at their disposal. More than that I got excited about my craft and writing once again. I was going to tell the truth no matter what. City Government be damned. I was on all out crusade for truth. For about two days. Before I fell back to earth with a sickening thud.

All this to say, I don't think I'll be going to anymore journalism conferences. I need to stick to the real world. A world that doesn't include Leonard and Bernstein. I think I'll be happier that way.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Day in the life

This was written earlier in the summer and I just wanted to share it with everyone. It is reprinted with permission of C&S Media Publications, Inc.

Preparing to spend a shift with an officer of the Farmersville Police Department was a bit nervewracking. With the recent string of crimes such as the burglaries, the downtown businesses being shot I just didn’t know what to expect.

As I met Patrol Sargeant Brian Alford at the police department and entered the police car, I was calmed down by Officer Alford’s cheerful demeanor and his confidence toward his job.

The shift began with his explanation of the inside of the car, including moving the computer sideways so we could both see the screen. His explanation of the computer codes proved to be very helpful as calls from the Collin County Sheriff’s Office, Princeton PD and of course, Farmersville calls began to roll in. The first order of business it seemed for most police officers at the time we entered the vehicle was dinner. Officers throughout Collin County began to check out for dinner and Pizza Ghetti seemed to be a popular hangout for some of the Collin County Deputies. One officer went to Salt Grass and then several simply returned to their residences to eat dinner.

The first call we received as Officer Alford and myself drove traffic on Hwy. 78 was to serve as backup for another Farmersville Officer Chris Wallace. The call was a civil call at the Quik Check/Exxon station. Both Alford and myself thought it was an unusual place for a civil call but went to investigate nonetheless.

As Officer Wallace and Officer Alford went to talk to a gentleman about a custody complaint, I remained in the vehicle simply observing. At this point, I was also observing looming clouds pushed toward us by Hurricane Alex. It was going to rain, it was just a matter of time.

It turns out the gentleman who had placed the call had a scheduled custody appointment and the grandmother, who had permanent custody of the children, was 30 minutes late delivering them. Since the gentleman had a court order not to go to the residence where his three children were at, he called the PD to get an officer to go and get the children for the custody visit. In short, Officer Alford said he did what he was supposed to do.

As both officers, along with the gentleman (under police directive) went to the house to get the children, I rode along wondering what, if anything would occur. I was nervous. I had heard that custody disputes and domestic disturbances are usually two of the most dangerous types of calls.

When the officers spoke to the grandmother after doning bright yellow rain slickers, they learned that two of the children were at the house and after a phone call, the other one was on their way back from the movies. In short, we waited until all three children could be reunited with their father. After a brief wait, the kids ran to their dad … all smiles, happy to see him, bounding up to him with teddy bears in hand. I asked the officer if it was worth it to see the kids happy to see their dad.

Smiling, he replied, “Absolutely. It’s never fun to have to give kids to their parents when they don’t want to see them.”

The shift continued on, in the rain, we drove up and down Hwy. 78, Hwy. 380 (especially watching the Shell station) and through Farmersville and downtown. The rain was driving down, pouring. Officer Alford and myself decided it was perhaps time for a dinner break and headed toward Charlie’s Old Fashioned Hamburgers, a favorite of both of us.

Walking in, it was evident that the officer had a very cordial relationship with the staff at Charlie’s and apparently spent a great deal of time eating there. As a meal of meatloaf and Bratwurst was consumed, I quickly learned that eating with a well-liked cop had its benefits … fresh tea and great service.

After eating, we proceeded to start patrolling once again. Driving around, I began to get sleepy (this was at about 9 p.m. and the shift lasted until midnight.) I asked the officer how in the world he stayed alert and awake on his late night shift. “Lots of sugar and caffeine,” was his response.

As the officer began to look for traffic stops, which was difficult due to the rain, I learned that pulling a u-turn on Hwy. 380 was not an easy task. Traffic made it dangerous and the rain cut down on the visibility at night. Combined with the fact that most citizens seem to be law abiding, at least the night of my ride along, it was hard to pull people over. Several chuckles were issued by myself at how much people slowed down when they realized that was a cop around. When I asked the officer if it ever annoyed him he said, “No, that’s what were here for. To make sure people slow down and follow the law.”

Continuing to patrol, we eventually pulled over a couple of people for minor traffic violations, a couple of headlights being out. No tickets were written. I could lie and say the flashing lights and pursuit wasn’t enjoyable for myself, but I would be lying. It was exciting and the red and blue lights definitely look different from inside the police car. One thing I learned inside the car during traffic stops is that each and every license plate, to check to see if they have warrants, had to be ran through Collin County dispatch, which takes some time depending on what is going on in the rest of Collin County.

We continued to patrol, especially around the businesses, crossed paths with Officer Wallace and Officer Landry (who had came on duty at that point) a couple of times. The officer did a couple of security checks requested by businesses and home owners away for the weekend or on vacation. We eventually responded to an interior alarm for a business. It was a bird trapped inside but it had to be checked out nonetheless.

As the end of the shift approached, a call was received about a motorist assist at Sonic. The car had apparently gone haywire, just shut itself down and was locked in park. The motorist was going to have the car towed the next morning and just wanted to make sure it was ok to leave it in the parking lot overnight. After confirming with Sonic, that it was indeed ok, we made our way back to the police station.

After talking to Officer Alford about another possible ride along during the day because of it being so slow, I began to make my way, yawning, home. Officer Alford, however, went inside to finish paperwork and to go home to prepare for his other job. He had another eight hours to go before he could get sleep due to working security in Dallas. I learned that most officers have more than one job due to the pay scale throughout Farmersville and Collin County.

I learned lots during my ride along but most importantly I learned that an ordinary day in the life of a police officer isn’t always fun or exciting. Sometimes it’s really boring and full of empty streets.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Today was hard

As a reporter there are always things that are hard to deal with. Hard news, like fires, floods and accidents, while exciting to some extent to cover, always leave a bitter taste in my mouth. Yes, I believe it's news. Yes, I believe it belongs in the paper with specifics as the case allows. But while shooting the photos, taking down the facts, getting the news, the names, the specifics, in the back of my mind I always am thinking, someone's life changed today. Someone's family is hurting or in some cases, about to hurt.

Today was one of those days. Without going into specifics, there was a bad accident. Someone was killed. And emergency responders (i.e. cops, fire fighters, paramedics) couldn't help.

I like to play like I'm a big, bad, tough reporter, not afraid of anything or anyone but the truth is, I am a bit shaken up today. I am sad. Someone's life, in the blink of an eye, is over. Someone's family is hurting.

I'm also sad for the emergency workers who have to live things like this everyday. Who train and work hard and struggle and battle fires but who sometimes, despite their best effort, God has other plans.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the family and to all the local responders who do a very difficult job everyday.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

10 things you may not have known about me

Hello fellow readers.

Though this isn't an original concept (thanks for the idea from Pencil to Paper) I thought maybe I would let some of you new readers get to know me better.

Here are a few things you may not know about me (10 to be exact):

10) I have a compulsive disorder toward cupcakes and other baked goods. Other may call it cravings or a passion, but mine goes far beyond that. I eat a cupcake (especially from Sprinkles in Dallas) and start trying to break down its ingredients. (I will conquer you elusive cupcake.)

9) I really, really, really dislike country music. Yep, I am a rock fan. Give me Tool, Rage Against the Machine and A Perfect Circle any day. I can't stand sappy country songs and have been known to walk outside of karaoke clubs when someone is singing one.

8) I'm not good at relationships (at least not of the male variety romance). I just fail or missed the gene on that one. Ironically, most of my friends are guys and I really don't have a problem maintaining friendships. Hmm.

7) I didn't know my brother and sister until I was 21. I met my half brother and sister when I was 21 and found out I have six nieces. Yep, long story but I am so glad I have them all.

6) I don't drink carbonated drinks. If you're close to me, you know why but due to health issues, I haven't had anything with carbonation in more than a year. I don't really miss Dr. Pepper, but sometimes I dream about Sonic Ocean Water. Tear.

5) I have irrational fears... of clowns, mirrors at night (I actually cover mine up every night), tornadoes and spiders. I once duck taped a spider in my closet (all four sides, all the way around) until a friend could come over to kill it for me. It was big and had eight legs. Only requirement I need.

4) I am an avid reader. I don't mean occasionally, I mean everyday. I read for at least 30 minutes a day (usually right before bedtime) and have lots of different interests. I often read more than one book at a time and more than genre at a time. Half Price Books is a great thing.

3) I can't stand dishonesty. I can deal with many things in my life (including mirrors and spiders) but dishonesty isn't one of them. I would rather people be totally honest, even to the point of brutal, than to even think about lying to me. Been there, done that and bought the t-shirt.

2) I'm divorced. Yep, married for almost 2 years, been divorced for 5. Yep it hurt but it had to happen.

1) I love nature photos. Though I am a journalist by profession I love to try to capture unique settings through my photos. Sometimes I succeed and sometimes I don't. I usually take the best ones and put them in a calendar for my family each year. They love it.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

A day in the life of a quill pen

As a writer I've always been fascinated with the actual art of writing. I love calligraphy, old typewriters, anything and everything to do with the world of writing. At Scarborough Fair, I got to opportunity to buy a beloved quill pen. It has a pretty tan feather and a typical quill end, made out of metal. At the fair I couldn't afford the elaborate base which holds the ink so I waited, assuring myself I would find an equally nice container elsewhere. After waiting months and months, I found a small ink jar, in blue glass, for the perfect price at Farmers and Fleas. It was $1 and holds ink nicely.

Finally, I was set. I had no disillusions about my writing looking like Zaphino font or calligraphy but I thought, really how hard can it be to write a letter with my quill. As I sat down at my desk, I realized a) I had no stationery (who uses stationery anymore?) and b) I had no ink. After locating a simple piece of white computer paper I settled down to the task of locating ink. A co-worker simply got a pen, cut the tube in the middle and let the ink drip into my bottle. ( I should mention this process took about an hour.) I was set.

Setting out to write, I was giddy with anticipation. My quill was finally going to be used. Even my quill tattoo on my shoulder seem to be excited (wait, no that was a shoulder twitch.) So I dip and begin to write. Get a letter written. Faintly. Dip again, go back over the letter. Dip again, write another letter. At this point, it may be Christmas before I get the salutation written. I dip again and proceed to attempt to write. Finally, having enough, I grab my ball point pen and finish what I was writing.

No wonder quills went out of style with the dinosaurs. It would take me a year to write a column for the newspaper. I did eventually figure out that one must have a large quantity of ink (not just one simple stem from a pen) to make it work. Also, computer paper isn't the best thing ... the metal tears it. Maybe I'll get some real ink and try it again.

Monday, July 19, 2010

There are people in the world

As I slumped my way through the weekend, working my fingers to the bone (literally) putting up fences, I couldn't help but be unhappy. Not because I was putting up fence in 100+ temperatures. Not because I had scratch after scratch and chigger after chigger (darn itchy little bugs.)

It's more because I wonder how unrealistic expectations of relationships in the adult world are.

After recently being hurt (again) and betrayed (again,) instead of going the usual I-curse-the-male-species-route, I decided to take a look at the bigger picture.

I can't tell you how many hours, even in the last month, much less in my life, that I have spent reading romance novels and watching chick flicks. Yeah they make you feel good. Yeah there's nothing sweeter than books like The Notebook or a good Nora Roberts to make you smile. However, they are unrealistic. It's been said, "Art portrays life." Portrays. Gives a picture. Not tells it like it is.

Reality of the situation is that most men, however wonderful and terrific, aren't romantic. At least not the way it is pictured in movies and books. All throughout my life I can remember watching for my grandpa to pick the first rose in our garden at home and give it my grandma.

Yep very sweet. Yep pretty darn romantic. Yep, pretty much the only romantic as in romance novel thing he did each year. He didn't bring her flowers every week, or hire a hot air balloon for a special date or propose to her at a giant stadium ... they were just happy being together.

I've heard it said, "I want best friends with wedding rings." That's what I want. Screw all the pink and red fake candy hearts crap ... I want someone who is going to be my best friend for all time and if I can't have that, I don't want any of it.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

A bear, a car and lots of miles

Summer is unlike any other time of year. I love summer, truly I do. It avails one the opportunity to eat snow cones, watermelon and more importantly, welcomes a respite from adult responsibilities.

Vacation.


Just the word makes me want to sigh with relief.

Unlike the more glamorous vacations my co-workers took (the Bahamas and San Antonio), I simply returned home to the Panhandle to visit my family for an entire week.

After packing entirely too much and berating myself for not packing the essential iPod charger, I began to make the seven-hour trek home by myself.

By myself. Those two words don’t seem so scary until you realize that your iPod is dead and you are stuck with nothing to listen to but country music. For four hours.

Finally, after giving up on the radio and traveling in silence, I did have company... but not the kind you want.

As flashing red and blue lights deemed me to be breaking the law, I pulled over.

I had my cruise control set at 70 so I knew that wasn’t it, my seatbelt was latched so that wasn’t it either. Inspection current ... check. Tags current ... check. What in the world could be wrong?

The officer, who was a state trooper, walked up to my car and asked for my license and proof of insurance.

After searching among my cranberry snack mix and my pretzels, I came up with my wallet and license.

The police officer, I found out later after I was cleared of all possibilities of warrants etc., asked me why my child was strapped into the front seat instead of the back seat.

After being puzzled, I told him I didn’t have a child and that the seatbelt was simply fastened to keep the shiny buckle from blinding me while I drove.

After looking around me, he saw that I was indeed telling the truth and also began laughing because I had a huge stuffed bear riding shotgun.

A relic from childhood, he was being taken home to receive repairs from my grandma.

As the officer shook his head, wished me a good day and walked back to his car, I decided the country music might be a more suitable companion than red and blue flashing lights.

My vacation proceeded on with the laze and ease of non-scheduled time.

I read about five books, started a new scrapbook, watched movies, visited family and more importantly, enjoyed summer naps.

After being away from Farmersville, everything seems wonderful, and I am happy to be back in my cubicle of newspaper world.

Though Borger is my hometown, somehow Farmersville also feels like home to me now too.

I guess it’s true what they say about you always being able to go home, but make sure you don’t have a giant bear seatbelted into your car when you do.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Shouldn't we trust Him?

Lately, I've been re-reading a book by a Christian author named Lori Wick. In the book, a woman from a different country (Kashien) comes to visit her brother, Jeff, in Hawaii. Jeff is taken away suddenly on business for three months and she is left with a Christian family he is great friends with. I'm not sure why but I love this book. It's one of my favorites and I've read it at least five times. I guess part of it is how Godly the lead character Lily is. She defers to God in everything. I also love it because of the way she submits to males (showing respect) and how she honors the men in her life (her father, her brother and later on, her husband.)

I don't live in a world where women are that way. Every day, my roommate is all "males are inferior, women are better, any woman who would submit to a man is sick etc." I don't personally believe that way. God made women to complement men and men to complement women. We were made to help one another and be companions for one another and as females, to honor and respect our husbands by letting him be the head of the household. This is what God commands.

Eph. 5:23-32
For a husband is the head of his wife as Christ is the head of his body, the church; he gave his life to be her Savior. As the church submits to Christ, so you wives must submit to your husbands in everything.

In our world today, why is this considered wrong? Why do women try to take the control and screw everything up? It's hard enough without us messing with the roles God gave us.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

How can you feel united in a crowd of 10,000?

As music filled the air, artists took to the stage and the crowd applauded with outlandish behavior, I took a deep breath. I felt like I was part of something so much bigger, so much more important than the mundane details that daily fill my life.

At Edgefest 20, band after band performed on the huge stage, colorful lights dancing, making the rock stars seem even more important than they already were.

Edgefest, for those not familiar with it, is a rock concert which for the past several years has been held at Pizza Hut Park in Frisco. It features anywhere from 12 to 14 bands, most well known, some local. Over the past years groups such as Pearl Jam, Muse and even Korn have performed. Though the groups at this year's event were awesome (especially 30 seconds to Mars, Three Days Grace and Deftones) it was more about the experience for me.

Music and arts, like the communities that we live and work in, unite people. They unite towns, individual music lovers, states and even sometimes countries.

I realize at this point that this article is sounding very "I'd like to teach the world to sing" (enter bubbling Coca-Cola bottle) but hear me out for a moment.

Almost everyone is passionate about something. When you talk to people whether they are writers, photographers or even tax attorneys, they seem passionate about something. For many, it is a form of art. Music, movies, the written word, beautiful sunset photos or even classic art like paintings and sculptures. Art in its basic form unites.

Perhaps it's because when engaging in art, politics are dropped. Prejudices cease to exist. The economy, at least for a moment, doesn't seem so bad. For whatever reason, art seems to unite people.

Groups like The Beatles, Creedance Clearwater Revival and these days, even John Mayer and U2, seem to bring people together.

As part of a 10,000 plus crowd, I should have felt like a small fish in a big pond. I should have felt overwhelmed, confused and even a little bit suffocated. I didn't though. I felt like I was part of something much bigger. Call it art. Call it music. Whatever the term, it was an amazing experience. Regardless if one loves or hates rock music, the theory is the same.

Unite through the arts and the world doesn't seem quite so bad.