Wonder Writer

An unlikely group gathers It’s a hodgepodge of people huddled together as an audience.  For new music performers, it’s feeling a mound of nerves. For some, it's more like mandatory fun, at first. Some of us have pretend smiles. Some of us just don't sing.  However, the night quickly turns to far more as strangers become new friends and family-like bonds form over an evening of student musician performances and caroling.  Organized by an emailed map, about 20 of us gather for holiday treats of assorted colors at a young neighbor musician's home.   I see a cheerful student inviting me into his home. And, another sweet former student of mine, now home-schooled, is downright Elf- happy-to-hear-Santa-is-coming giddy to see me. And, piling in one by one are people of all ages and international backgrounds. Youngsters and new musicians arrive, some ready to perform, and some, not so much.  The leading music man starts the party- -our music teacher, an

We arrived way too early for the Nutty Brown concert. So, we hung out with parking lot attendants, bugs and employees hanging four, no five, no four “No Re-entry” signs. We stood. We sat. We drew circles in the dirt. My son wrote his name in cursive lined with rocks, sticks and shrubs. This was my son's first concert.  We look back and we are first in line. We MADE the line. We talked with the first new couple to join us. The friendly man offered my son an orange Tic Tac. The man's wife and I talked about concerts we’ve attended before. She said she was friends with Hayes Carll’s wife.  We walked in and I immediately found the first grassy area before the concrete splashpad with “stand only” room. We got to watch bands set up for themselves, no roadies here, and wild music notes and voices warm up. We were also first in line for food. The teen-face employee was confused. She couldn't add quick enough, and there were no pictures on the cash register. So s

It keeps coming up. And, I noticed when I mention it casually to friends or in passing, people raise their eyebrows. So, I figured maybe it was a bigger deal than I originally thought, and maybe I should write about it- -you know get it down on paper so that maybe I could forget about it…a little…more. It has been a while, but the outcome is still etched in my head and the images, I think, kind-of scarred me for some time. But, I didn't see that feeling at the time. Acting on adrenaline, I just kept going. You see, in Journalism school you hear that sometimes investigators refer to bodies as "fancy" furniture and you would also hear the mother's response, "my baby's not fancy furniture." But, it's a coping mechanism. And, journalists may talk about the "hamburger meat" flung all over the ground after a serious car accident. And after awhile, the tragic events become another news story assignment: you get the facts and you write th

I miss grandma. I miss curling up in her lap and knowing everything would be okay. I miss watching her pin her hair back away from her face. I miss her wrinkled hands. I miss her Muumuu dresses, shopping trips and our trips away for the summer months. I miss trips to Luby’s every Sunday after church. I miss how she’d let me drive her blue Cadillac on road trips at the age of 15. I was a nervous new driver, but she always believed in me. I miss how we’d sing loudly together in the car on road trips. We didn't have to hit all of the right notes.  Our guards were down.  I miss the way she’d sit on the edge of the church pew so she could rest her feet on the last piece of carpet. I miss how she’d sing beside me. Sometimes she’d just tap her legs with her hand on her knee. This week,  she would have been 89 years young. And, I missed her while I played at my first piano recital. She got me playing 25 years ago. And, life's challenges took ov


  Here’s the tale of an average work day at a big-deal sports network. Some of the details are changed to protect the humor. “What a Future!” Today is Saturday. It’s time to go to work. I work at an unusual place. It’s not the typical part-time college job. In fact, here, 40 hours is “part-time.” You just work 40 hours and you get benefits, but it’s still considered “part-time.”  It’s not my dream job, but it has moments of possibility, I think. Well, I thought it was THE job when I started. But, I think everyone else did too. As a member of the Program Resource Center, I am instructed to work together with a team of five to ten other librarians. We gather videos to prepare them for air. Today is different though. Bobby, a woman in her fifties, is training three new video librarians to replace the others that have been promoted or fired. It will take six weeks to train the new recruits. Three recruits waddle like ducks behind their instructor. So far, two of the thre