When You Grow Up

Thirty-five years ago, when adults asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up," my answers were as varied as the days of the week.

I like rocks, so I wanted to be a geologist. I had a collection of shiny stones, culled from various rocks around my parents' farm.

I like history and digging in the dirt, so I wanted to be an archaeologist. I envisioned myself discovering long-forgotten cultures. Maybe even a spaceship to prove we were seeded.

On other days I wanted to be a forester, a teacher, an astronaut, and an adventurer. At one point I wanted to travel back and forth across the Bermuda Triangle until I disappeared, so I could solve the mystery.

Mostly I wanted to be a writer. I remember, distinctly, telling my mother that I would one day grow up to write for the local weekly newspaper. I also wanted to write a series of books like Carolyn Keene. I wanted to create my own Nancy Drew, a hip girl character who would save the world. I wanted to write beautiful poetry that would move the world.

I did not want to be a secretary, which was my mother's job, nor did I want to be a business person, which was my father's job. My mother made being a secretary sound like the most miserable thing a human being could accomplish, and my father made being a business person sound so unscrupulous that it wasn't for me.

However, I tried both; I was a purchasing agent for a business in Roanoke for about two years before I gave that up. I couldn't deal with the business climate - too much cheating, too much sexual harassment, too much not-being-paid-the-same-as-the-men. I couldn't abide it.

Then I was a legal secretary, and I worked in that for about 10 years (off and on). Like the corporate world, there was too much cheating, too much sexual harassment, too much not-being-paid-the-same-as-the men. I could only abide it for a decade.

I started writing as a stringer for the local newspaper in 1984. My first published article was about making apple butter. A year later, I was on staff part-time. Eventually I returned to secretarial work, but remained a stringer.

It is writing that I love. Writing has allowed me, vicariously, to be all the things I wanted to be growing up.

A forester? I can't tell you how many articles I've written about the National Forest.

An archaeologist? How many articles about the history of my county and its towns have I written? More than I can count.

A geologist? There are quarry proposals, mining businesses ... it's not quite the same as gathering shiny rocks, but I'm there.

An astronaut? I've been up in a hot air balloon - that was about as high as I really wanted to go.

A teacher? What are my articles, but ways to teach the public about what is going on in their government? I see it first and foremost as teaching and explaining. It is much more than reporting to me.

So maybe I didn't travel the Bermuda Triangle, but I have solved some of the riddles of county government for fellow citizens. I'm not so sure it's not the same thing.

This is my 500th post on this blog. When I began it in August 2006, I didn't know what it would be or why I was writing it. I still don't, but I am okay with that. My blog has turned into a depository for my creativity, someplace to try out new things, to think different thoughts. It is a work in progress; it is growing, and it will continue to grow. Do we ever really grow up, after all?

Mostly my blog has been a place to meet people who think similarly, who love life and nature and one another, who find grace in the world around them and see through eyes that somehow veil some of the harshness of the world. Making friends has been an unexpected gift.

I am grateful and humbled to be read by anyone. I hope that this journey has been and will continue to be, if not an inspiration, at least something that makes you, my gentle reader, think every now and again.

Whoever you are, I wish upon you many blessings, today and every day. I wish for peace for us all, for kindness for man and animal alike, for good times and laughter. May joy find you, and may you hold it close for many days to come.