Pondering my profile subject...

I've been really freaked out about talking to someone I barely know and asking them if I can probe every aspect of their lives.  I had this great idea to profile Julie Madden, the Neuharth Coffee Shop lady.  I love her because she puts everything she has, everything she is into her job.  A job that some people may see as "beginner," or as "not so sexy," she just loves. 
She can make a mochaccino in 1 minute flat.
She will microwave your burrito, your SmartOnes meal, your baked potato, your mom's famous chili....etc etc etc.
Julie smiles hugely at you every time you see her and her sing-songy voice shrills, "Hiiieeeeeee!"
I always think to myself - she has to have a bad day once in awhile.  She just has to!  If she does...you don't see it.  It's all about you.  How is your day?  How is life?  Was it bad?  Let me lament with you and give you a free snack.
I'm afraid to ask her to do the story.  I don't know why. 
But then I did ask her and she is stoked about it!
Of course she is...she's Julie...

Mrs. Kelly's Monster - my reaction

This story really hit me hard for a few reasons.  The first is that I've never had quite that delicate of a surgery, but I've come darn close.  My first Thoracotomy (chest surgery) required two radiologists watching my tumor and chest live so that the surgeon wouldn't mistakenly nick any of the thousands of blood vessels that were running through the tumor as he tried to remove a chunk of the tumor for a biopsy.  My second Thoracotomy wasn't just into my chest cavity, it went straight into my lung, where my surgeon, unable to use the scope he had hoped to use, had to reach his hand in - between my skin, ribs, chest cavity, and lung walls - to cut out a tumor for a second biopsy.  Boy oh boy, the things we miss when we're under heavy anesthesia.  Pop, pop, pop...that's all I would hear if I were in her place trying not to think about what they were doing to my brain....that is, if I were awake.

The second thing that hit me was how I would live my life if I knew that I had two brain aneurysms that were ready to explode at any moment.  What would I do with my day?  I mean, when I was terminal, I knew I had a few months to live, to accomplish something, to spend time with my family.  If I only had moments...well...I don't know, but I would like to think I would accomplish something great, even if it were to just kiss my little nephew over and over, or play with my beloved dog Sampson, who is 5.5 pounds of pure joy, or watch You've Got Mail with my family, or talk to my sister about her boy drama, or sit on Facebook and play Happy Aquarium with my brother because it's the easiest way for us to connect right now.  All of those things qualify as great to me.  All of them.

Also, Mrs. Kelly called hers the monster.  I called mine Bannie.  Get it?  Bannie rhymes with Annie...

Hehe.

Suzie Bayer's Shirt - my reaction

Every month, I pay $28.00 to a foundation so that i can sponsor a child named Rediet Beliete Alibet.  She is so cute.  Since I started sponsoring her, I've gotten yearly pictures of her, as well as pictures she's drawn for me.  She can't actually write yet because she's only six.  Apparently, my money buys her food, clothing and school supplies.  I always thought they were blowing smoke up my butt because in America, you could barely buy a pair of shoes for $28.00.  However, in Africa, it literally will provide all of those things and then some.
A lady at my work is a refugee from Africa.  She told me that my money really did help this girl.  She'd seen it before.  Little kids that were waiting for someone to sponsor them.  The money that was left over from other sponsorships would help some of the kids.  But the ones who were sponsored - they were so lucky.
This story made me think of that.  How different our culture is.  Dead kids with American kid's castoff clothes on them.  It would be unthinkable here.  How did we come to this?  How can we help more?  We already give billions of dollars in aid.  Where does it go?  How does it not make it to the people who need it most???

The Man Who Couldn't Read - my reaction

What amazed me the most about this story was the lengths at which a man will go to protect his pride.  I mean, think about it - he learned how to read in 14 months, but that was after 65 years of painstakingly protecting himself by using others to achieve his goals.  And he worked so hard to achieve his goals without having to read, that he actually became extremely successful!  Who would think that a person could become successful without even being able to read?  I think it shows that you really truly can achieve what you put your mind to.  

I think about myself and how I have things I want to accomplish.  I want to get a good job.  I want to eventually start my own public relations business, or do feature writing as a freelance writer.  The only reason I would not chase after these things, and the only conceivable reason that I could not achieve them is because of my own fear.  My fear of rejection or my fear of not doing well enough.  But he used his fear to propel himself into becoming a millionaire.

Imagine having to be his wife!  I think the reason she tolerated his illiteracy is because she would be so incredibly embarrassed if it got out, that her husband could not read.  Your husband is an extension of yourself.  What if everyone knew that the extension of yourself was too "stupid" to read (even though he wasn't really stupid, just prideful and unhelped as a child.)

Shadow of a Nation - my reaction

Having spent time on reservations doing missions work, this story really spoke to me because it verbalizes so much of what I was thinking.  Many Native Americans who live on the reservation are living in a vicious cycle, a generational curse that is almost impossible to escape.  It is so hard because when someone does try to escape, they are not only looked upon with jaded eyes in the "white man's" world, but because they are almost shunned by their own people as being native on the outside and white on the inside.  Imagine that kind of alienation from ALL parts of the world?  It is so unfair.  And so the curse just continues.  Even I do a double take if I see a Native American in the "white" world who is dressed up or is a professional.  It is so unexpected.  And that is very sad.
I love the way he wrote this story.  It was very sad, but so encouraging in the end.  It shows you how this family comes together, and with the support of almost nobody but eachother, they are able to begin overcoming the cycle of failure that is always threatening to pull them in if dad takes just one drink.  It's like climbing the highest mountain, whereas the typical middle-class white person has just a hill to climb.
I also liked the style of the writer.  He really brought to light so many of the issues using really creative language, poetry, and real-life situations.  I was hooked through the whole thing...I didn't even skip through it reading just the first and last sentence of the paragraph, which I am very guilty of doing from time to time.

A Writer's Essay: Seeking the Extraordinary in the Ordinary

I really like the idea of how you interview for a feature story versus how you interview for a hard news story with a politician or a criminal.  Instead of having a list of questions that is meant to guide the person to say what you want, here you actually ask very open-ended questions like, "Where were you born?" in an effort to have them ramble into something that you could use for your story.  It is so fascinating.  When you interview for "hard" news, you must cut people off after a few sentences because they're going off on a tangent.  With a feature story, you want the tangent.  The tangent is where you find the most interesting stuff.
I was raised with a father who loved to talk about the weather.  When he and my grandma discuss his hometown, he asks about how Earl's cousin's brother was doing with his liver cancer and his daughter who just had a baby.  My grandma gives him every last detail.  Earl's coffin was lined with this odd color of green.  It's all she could think about during the funeral.  The baby has the oddest shaped nose - like it came from somewhere other than the planet Earth.  The Bouchets from across the street let their lamp-post go out and haven't gotten it fixed.  It makes it impossible to see their ugly little dog when you drive up at night.  I want to learn to love these things.  It's in these things that the best feature writing material is found.

The Job of Remembering for the Tribe - my response

First off, I love his use of the word "tribe."  It's so primitive, and can really apply to so many things.  What is the tribe exactly?  The readers of that particular magazine?  A town?  Anyone who speaks that language?  I think it is the readers.  Those are the people you want to remember.  When you profile the everyday happenings of John or Sally, how she digs in the garden, her calloused hands gently parting the dirt for the baby seed to germinate, you are doing all of the readers a favor because you are giving them insight into their own community.
I also enjoyed his discussion on how "hard" journalism has destroyed "soft" journalism.  Soft journalists are looked down upon because they don't rat out the governor, or they don't run as fast as possible to the nearest house fire to break down the logistics.  But skipping out on the conversations about the people in the tribe is almost a greater disservice then failing to tell people that Paris Hilton came to town and barfed in a nearby garbage can.
I think feature writing is my thing.