I was driving into work today (something I dislike very much) and my mind wandered beyond the stacks of vehicles in front of me to all the jobs I have had. Starting a new job got me thinking...so many people are defined not by who they are, but rather the career path they have chosen. What if I was defined by just the places I have been employed? I would be...
A concession stand worker, babysitter, hostess, sales associate (at a handful of fine establishments), sports editor, public relations intern, bartender, baseball grounds keeper, magazine editor-in-cheif, inventory tyrant, order keeper, college instructor, quiz maker-upper, freelancer, professional Strider bike builder, score recorder, and journalist. Am I leaving anything out?
Just a thought, but one thing I know is my taxes would have been a lot easier on my dad if I could have just made up my mind!
Monday, November 1, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
My Non-Superhero Cape
Riding bikes proved to be more than great transportation to the Rockies game a few weeks back, it also won Lyle a 4-pack of tickets to a September ballgame including a on-field batting practice experience. We finally went to the game this past Monday with my mom and dad, but first let us get a bit sidetracked.
Usually when I am down on a field or court, it is to do business. I'm dressed professionally and have a task to gather news and quotes for whatever publication is looking for some text. Casual conversation ensues with players and coaches. We talk about the game at hand, the direction of the season, and after a while even how life in general is going. The strange thing is, when I'm in my reporter cape, I don't see Adrian Peterson "the celebrity gracing the covers of ESPN and Sports Illustrated" or Yao Ming "NBA sensation and giant man." For that time, they are just people doing their jobs, so I can talk to them and do mine. After an interview with Yao Ming at a Nuggets game, I was riding home with my dad and brother talking about the whole experience. I can't lie and say I was not excited to interview him, but I started thinking less about his play on the court and more about him as a person. As I stood next to him, he was sitting, we were looking eye-to-eye. I may have even had to glance up. His legs were as big as I am around. After the interview I kept wondering, what kind of accommodations have to be made when he has to travel. Does he get the airplane seat with the extra leg room? What kind of hotel bed can he get where his feet aren't hanging off the end? And like many other celebrity athletes, does he ever get sick of people staring and wanting all of his attention? I don't have answers for any of these questions. When fans see athletes on and off the court, their first instinct is to take part of the athlete with them in terms of an autograph. I'm fortunate to get the opportunity to know some of these athletes as people beyond the stats and headlines we read in the media. They are just people. doing their jobs, and making TONS of money.
How quickly I can switch back from my reporter to fan cape. It is hard not to get excited to see professional athletes in-person after you seem to acquaint yourself with their personalities on television or from the nosebleed section of the stadium. You read about these "celebrities" in your favorite local daily and catch up with their happenings online. To actually be standing next to them, is a thrill. Monday was one of those experiences.
After arriving at the stadium, we were escorted by Sarah (a wonderful employee of the Rockies) through the mazes of corridors leading down to the home plate entrance of the field. We walked out on the field and as usual, I was struck not by who we saw, but where we were. Ever since I was a little kid, there has been something about a professional baseball field that amazes me. It could be the manicured grass (which I have the opportunity to help with, a story for another day) or maybe the magnitude of stadium itself. I get that "the players are walking out of the field of dreams kind of feeling."
Anyways, out on the field we were detained to a roped off area with the explicit instructions NOT to call the players over for autographs. We didn't. It was kind of like being at the zoo. We watched the players in their natural environments. Some were curious, made eye contact, and came over to say hi and sign autographs. Others shied away from eye contact as to seem a little embarrassed that we would stand for an hour to watch them swing a bat and converse with one another. We all stood behind the ropes in awe, watching the beasts (some of them are a lot taller in person) causally swing their bat and crush baseballs 400 feet from home plate. Just like old times, Mom and I waited until the end of practice to see if any autographs would come our way, and they did. We met Don Baylor (the one-time skipper of the Rockies and the Chicago Cubs) and Jeff Francis. But, the one autograph I wanted waited until we were back in the seats.
We had several things on our agenda after we made our way to our first baseline seats. We needed beers, hot dogs, nachos, and most importantly an autograph that was may years in the making. We went down to the first baseline wall and waited for the players to come out for pregame. Who would have thought one of the first players out would be Eric Young Jr. When I was six, I decided that Eric Young (Senior) would be my favorite player after he hit the first ever homerun for a brand new Rockies organization in 1993. Fate would have it that I still haven't met EY, even after making a trip to Milwaukee only to see him traded the morning before the game. Fate headed our way this day. The players had been starting the autograph signing at the front of the line only to make it through 10-12 people before calling it good. EY Jr. didn't sign autographs right away, but after warming up and the National Anthem, he came straight to the middle of the pack where we stood. Here was my chance to be a fan. I don't know EY Jr., yet I wanted his autograph more than Tulo or Ubaldo. Just because.
We enjoyed our great seats and good food. I folded up my fan cape for another day and prepare to take my reporter cape back out again on Saturday. Each are equally fun to wear, yet prescribe a different view on situations.
How quickly I can switch back from my reporter to fan cape. It is hard not to get excited to see professional athletes in-person after you seem to acquaint yourself with their personalities on television or from the nosebleed section of the stadium. You read about these "celebrities" in your favorite local daily and catch up with their happenings online. To actually be standing next to them, is a thrill. Monday was one of those experiences.
After arriving at the stadium, we were escorted by Sarah (a wonderful employee of the Rockies) through the mazes of corridors leading down to the home plate entrance of the field. We walked out on the field and as usual, I was struck not by who we saw, but where we were. Ever since I was a little kid, there has been something about a professional baseball field that amazes me. It could be the manicured grass (which I have the opportunity to help with, a story for another day) or maybe the magnitude of stadium itself. I get that "the players are walking out of the field of dreams kind of feeling."
Anyways, out on the field we were detained to a roped off area with the explicit instructions NOT to call the players over for autographs. We didn't. It was kind of like being at the zoo. We watched the players in their natural environments. Some were curious, made eye contact, and came over to say hi and sign autographs. Others shied away from eye contact as to seem a little embarrassed that we would stand for an hour to watch them swing a bat and converse with one another. We all stood behind the ropes in awe, watching the beasts (some of them are a lot taller in person) causally swing their bat and crush baseballs 400 feet from home plate. Just like old times, Mom and I waited until the end of practice to see if any autographs would come our way, and they did. We met Don Baylor (the one-time skipper of the Rockies and the Chicago Cubs) and Jeff Francis. But, the one autograph I wanted waited until we were back in the seats.
We had several things on our agenda after we made our way to our first baseline seats. We needed beers, hot dogs, nachos, and most importantly an autograph that was may years in the making. We went down to the first baseline wall and waited for the players to come out for pregame. Who would have thought one of the first players out would be Eric Young Jr. When I was six, I decided that Eric Young (Senior) would be my favorite player after he hit the first ever homerun for a brand new Rockies organization in 1993. Fate would have it that I still haven't met EY, even after making a trip to Milwaukee only to see him traded the morning before the game. Fate headed our way this day. The players had been starting the autograph signing at the front of the line only to make it through 10-12 people before calling it good. EY Jr. didn't sign autographs right away, but after warming up and the National Anthem, he came straight to the middle of the pack where we stood. Here was my chance to be a fan. I don't know EY Jr., yet I wanted his autograph more than Tulo or Ubaldo. Just because.
We enjoyed our great seats and good food. I folded up my fan cape for another day and prepare to take my reporter cape back out again on Saturday. Each are equally fun to wear, yet prescribe a different view on situations.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Denver: Angel or Devil
From my last post, all can tell that it was hard for me to leave 7,220 ft. and move to the Big City. But, I quickly realized that my destinations could have been far worse. For instance, when Lyle and I contemplated moving to North Dakota, a land my cousin once told a job interviewer was the one state this country could live without.
Denver was the best of all the options Lyle had for PT school and we were extremely excited when he got accepted to Regis University. Yet, I was wary of Denver. Like all the other cities in our group of options, because I had become so fond and frankly comfortable living in a small town. Now I would have to drive to work (because I routinely do not get off until 11 p.m. and I work downtown Denver) and a trip to the mountains would be more than a quick trip to the Happy Jack summit. Then again, I'm blessed to be able to stay in the Rocky Mountain Region and be so close to much of my family, especially my Mam (yea I said Mam, you know with a Chicago accent) and Dad. With equal weights on the scale, it was time to let experiences here be the test.
With just over a week in the bag at the Denver Post, I thought I was beginning to know how city life worked. I left my house just after four to beat the 5 p.m. rush hour. I took the path of least resistance by learning some side streets instead of maneuvering I-25. I made sure to have an extra granola bar in my car every couple days to give to the homeless guy who set up shop a couple blocks from my office. My cup holder always had enough quarters to fill the meter for the 5-6 p.m. time slot before the meter maids head home for the evening. And that's when things started to go downhill.
Starting next week I will have a spot in the parking garage, but for now I have been hunting down well-lit spots on the street. I found a row of parking right in front of the building where I just had to pay for an hour of parking, until Wednesday night. I walk out at 11 p.m. and there is a little yellow envelope sticking out of my door. My optimism thought it was an advertisement, but no such luck. A $25 ticket for parking over the one hour time limit and right above my car, a newly posted sign signifying that the meters will be checked until 10 p.m. Monday-Saturday. I'm pretty sure that sign was posted while I was in the office that night.
Lindsey-0, Denver-1
Denver, if you want me to go back to Wyoming I will, but I don't think Lyle will be too happy about it. I hate to end on a sour note, as Denver tried to win me back on Sunday.
Due to our new proximity to LoDo and the spirit of a Pedal House gathering, Lyle, Large, and I took the opportunity to use the free bicycle parking in front of the first base entrance. We parked our two-wheelers, indulged in the free Clif Bars and water and made our way into the game.
It was a great game filled with sunflower seeds, an argument with Rockies officials stemming from Large trying to start the wave, and a walk-off homerun earning the Rockies their 10th straight win. But, the exciting part came as we went to pick our bikes up. The bicycle guard woman asked our last name and promptly stated that not only had we won four free tickets to a Rockies game later this month but also received the opportunity to watch batting practice from the field. All this goodness just for riding our bicycles to the game.
So we will watch the Rockies host the Giants later in September, hopefully at the start of another Rocktober like in 2007.
Lindsey-1 , Denver-1
For now Denver, we are tied. But, there are many rounds to go. I want to like you Denver. You just have to be nice.
Denver was the best of all the options Lyle had for PT school and we were extremely excited when he got accepted to Regis University. Yet, I was wary of Denver. Like all the other cities in our group of options, because I had become so fond and frankly comfortable living in a small town. Now I would have to drive to work (because I routinely do not get off until 11 p.m. and I work downtown Denver) and a trip to the mountains would be more than a quick trip to the Happy Jack summit. Then again, I'm blessed to be able to stay in the Rocky Mountain Region and be so close to much of my family, especially my Mam (yea I said Mam, you know with a Chicago accent) and Dad. With equal weights on the scale, it was time to let experiences here be the test.
With just over a week in the bag at the Denver Post, I thought I was beginning to know how city life worked. I left my house just after four to beat the 5 p.m. rush hour. I took the path of least resistance by learning some side streets instead of maneuvering I-25. I made sure to have an extra granola bar in my car every couple days to give to the homeless guy who set up shop a couple blocks from my office. My cup holder always had enough quarters to fill the meter for the 5-6 p.m. time slot before the meter maids head home for the evening. And that's when things started to go downhill.
Starting next week I will have a spot in the parking garage, but for now I have been hunting down well-lit spots on the street. I found a row of parking right in front of the building where I just had to pay for an hour of parking, until Wednesday night. I walk out at 11 p.m. and there is a little yellow envelope sticking out of my door. My optimism thought it was an advertisement, but no such luck. A $25 ticket for parking over the one hour time limit and right above my car, a newly posted sign signifying that the meters will be checked until 10 p.m. Monday-Saturday. I'm pretty sure that sign was posted while I was in the office that night.
Lindsey-0, Denver-1
Denver, if you want me to go back to Wyoming I will, but I don't think Lyle will be too happy about it. I hate to end on a sour note, as Denver tried to win me back on Sunday.
Dewey, the boss man at the Pedal House, bought the whole crew tickets to a Colorado Rockies baseball game during the summer to encourage team bonding (as if we needed more of that) over America's pastime, some dogs and beers. While Joel was unable to stomach the trip due to illness, Dewey, Jessica (Dewey's wife), Pedar, Katie (Pedar's girl), and the Large man took in a game at Coors Field.
It was a great game filled with sunflower seeds, an argument with Rockies officials stemming from Large trying to start the wave, and a walk-off homerun earning the Rockies their 10th straight win. But, the exciting part came as we went to pick our bikes up. The bicycle guard woman asked our last name and promptly stated that not only had we won four free tickets to a Rockies game later this month but also received the opportunity to watch batting practice from the field. All this goodness just for riding our bicycles to the game.
So we will watch the Rockies host the Giants later in September, hopefully at the start of another Rocktober like in 2007.
Lindsey-1 , Denver-1
For now Denver, we are tied. But, there are many rounds to go. I want to like you Denver. You just have to be nice.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Where we came from
For how much I enjoy writing, it is a strange that I have failed to make a move into the blogging arena. This blog has no boundaries, nothing I MUST write about, so I intend to use it as a forum for the random parts of life. Who knows if these thoughts will be read or just become part of the immense flow of communication out on the Internet, but that's not the point.
After reading the blogs of friends, family, and professionals, I have found it inspiring to read the public diaries of these individuals. It broadens horizons of thought and connects people who may be divided.
And now to the purpose of my first post.
Lyle and I moved from Laramie, Wyoming to Colorado just about 3 weeks ago. But, before I left the Gem City, I found myself consciously recognizing the mundane parts of that town that I would miss the most. Here they are, connected loosely:
-The ability to ride a bicycle anywhere in town with such speed and ease. Without this luxury, I would have been more than 6 minutes late to work every morning.
-The Pedal House. It goes without saying that this establishment turned out to be a home more than a job with a family instead of co-workers. After visiting many places, there is not another bike shop like this one. If you can get by the sarcasm and just sit on the right side of the counter for a while, soon you will see a group of people working hard to make dreams come true.
-Walking to Coal Creek to get coffee (iced mocha, a habit directly connected to the Pedal House). There is something about walking down the street, train roaring by, and getting waves from friends and strangers. Besides the coffee and Cokes, there is something comforting about the creaking of the Coal Creek door. Sure the wind blows non-stop in Laramie, but no matter the weather, temperature, or traffic through the entrance, the door always creaks.
-After a quick ride home from work, we usually turn around and come back downtown. Pedaling down Second St., the sun makes its final appearance on the West facing buildings. The light illuminates the buildings that have stood since the days the railroad was the source of this Wild West town.
-Much of my days in Laramie were spent on the University of Wyoming campus. There is something about this place that makes me most happy in the fall. As much as I love Laramie summers, the lack of people and the perfect weather, when Prexy's Pasture begins to buzz in the first few weeks of school there is such an energy. There is a distinguishable scent of freshness.
-Along with school in the fall comes Wyoming athletics. As a reporter, I have been granted special privileges. I'm not referring to the access to coaches and athletes or my courtside/pressbox seat. It is the moments on Jonah Field at War Memorial Stadium after the Cowboys take possession of the Bronze Boot, the fans go home, the players are done with interviews, and my story is complete. I walk back on the field remembering the energy expended on this field and the excitement from 20,000+ fans. It makes you feel small, in a good way.
-Laramie would not be such a draw without its mountain surroundings. The simple and quick access to Vedauwoo, Gowdy, and the Snowy Range Mountains, make these areas a great escape.
-The final point, yet certainly not an exhausted list, of amazing parts of Laramie, is the openness. I love to get 5 minutes outside of town and be able to see to each horizon without buildings and other structures in the way. There are not a flood of people taking over this town because most can't get beyond the lack of a Target. The people who do CHOOSE to live in Laramie, love it. They love it like I do.
Laramie was a great home to me for five years and hopefully will be my home again in the future. A great town filled with great people. But for now, I am on a new adventure in the "Big City."
After reading the blogs of friends, family, and professionals, I have found it inspiring to read the public diaries of these individuals. It broadens horizons of thought and connects people who may be divided.
And now to the purpose of my first post.
Lyle and I moved from Laramie, Wyoming to Colorado just about 3 weeks ago. But, before I left the Gem City, I found myself consciously recognizing the mundane parts of that town that I would miss the most. Here they are, connected loosely:
-The ability to ride a bicycle anywhere in town with such speed and ease. Without this luxury, I would have been more than 6 minutes late to work every morning.
-The Pedal House. It goes without saying that this establishment turned out to be a home more than a job with a family instead of co-workers. After visiting many places, there is not another bike shop like this one. If you can get by the sarcasm and just sit on the right side of the counter for a while, soon you will see a group of people working hard to make dreams come true.
-Walking to Coal Creek to get coffee (iced mocha, a habit directly connected to the Pedal House). There is something about walking down the street, train roaring by, and getting waves from friends and strangers. Besides the coffee and Cokes, there is something comforting about the creaking of the Coal Creek door. Sure the wind blows non-stop in Laramie, but no matter the weather, temperature, or traffic through the entrance, the door always creaks.
-After a quick ride home from work, we usually turn around and come back downtown. Pedaling down Second St., the sun makes its final appearance on the West facing buildings. The light illuminates the buildings that have stood since the days the railroad was the source of this Wild West town.
-Along with school in the fall comes Wyoming athletics. As a reporter, I have been granted special privileges. I'm not referring to the access to coaches and athletes or my courtside/pressbox seat. It is the moments on Jonah Field at War Memorial Stadium after the Cowboys take possession of the Bronze Boot, the fans go home, the players are done with interviews, and my story is complete. I walk back on the field remembering the energy expended on this field and the excitement from 20,000+ fans. It makes you feel small, in a good way.
-Laramie would not be such a draw without its mountain surroundings. The simple and quick access to Vedauwoo, Gowdy, and the Snowy Range Mountains, make these areas a great escape.
-The final point, yet certainly not an exhausted list, of amazing parts of Laramie, is the openness. I love to get 5 minutes outside of town and be able to see to each horizon without buildings and other structures in the way. There are not a flood of people taking over this town because most can't get beyond the lack of a Target. The people who do CHOOSE to live in Laramie, love it. They love it like I do.
Laramie was a great home to me for five years and hopefully will be my home again in the future. A great town filled with great people. But for now, I am on a new adventure in the "Big City."
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