Monday, October 15, 2007

Savann-ahhhhh...

Jeremy and I spent the weekend in Savannah, Ga., with our great friends, Larry and Deirdre. Here's a fun recap:

We began the night peacefully at Bernie's, where the enchanting sounds of kareoke magic pulled us in.



Soon, we couldn't help but join in the fun. Larry brought down the house with a horrible rendition of "I Wanna Come Over," by Melissa Etheridge. And by horrible, I mean FANTASTIC!


On Friday, we spent the afternoon walking and riding around town. We enjoyed a yummy lunch at Huey's on the Riverfront, and then went on a trolley tour. And, of course, a little more drinkin'!!



Next, we went on a haunted pub crawl. As you can see, the spirits were with us!

(OK, maybe the guy taking the picture was smoking... Who knows?)



Some of us handle our booze and ghosts better than others...



On Saturday, we had WAY too much fun at the Jepson Museum downtown. I was enthralled by the work of Philip Morsberger, an artist whose display of works representing the 1960s were incredible, particularly this one:

Hey, Let's Have Some Red Man! Depicting the trial of the Mississippi sheriff laughing at charges of violating the civil rights of three men murdered by the Klu Klux Klan.



We also had fun in the interactive part of the museum:



That night, we enjoyed our last evening in Savannah at the Moon River Pub, sampling their fine micro brews.



We ended our weekend with a wonderful picnic in Forsythe Park, complete with fried chicken and mashed potatoes from Paula Dean's restaurant, Lady & Sons. All told, it was a fantastic weekend, filled with great food, great friends, and incredible sites.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

You CAN go home again...

For most of my young life, I struggled to define my location as "home." I feared calling Raleigh, N.C., my home, because so much of me was still in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., and vice versa. Plus, with parents who both regarded me as part of their homes, how could I possibly choose?

It wasn't until I went to work at Disney World that I discovered the home I had been looking for had been right under my nose for nearly four years. When asked to give our hometown (so it could be printed on our nametags), the answer came without hesitation: Boone, N.C.


I spent four years (and one very warm summer) at Appalachian State University, from 1998-2002. It was, without question, the best time of my life. At Appalachian, I found a home, because I was constantly surrounded by friends who were closer than sisters. My residence hall buddies literally became my family, and, as a result of my devotion to them and my school, I became active in just about every on-campus leadership organization: the newspaper, radio station, campus resident association executive board, student government, and so on.

Appalachian and my family there became my passion, and I owe all of my current success, both professional and personal, to the lessons I learned and opportunities afforded me there.

It is that passion that made my trip back home for Homecoming this past weekend so sweet.

Jeremy and I spent Friday catching up with old friends at the Daniel Boone Inn, where you stuff yourself sick on fried Southern food, served family style. As if our bellies weren't full enough, we carried the party over to a new bar, called The Library (cleverly named so any charges on your credit card will look to your parents as though you were buying things at the school library).


We enjoyed dangerous 3-foot tall beers (including one skunky one chosen by my husband!), and stumbled back to the hotel around 1 a.m. Word to the wise, avoid any beer with the word "Mountain" in the title that is made in Winston Salem!


Saturday, our friends and I attended the Homecoming football game, but not before hitting my favorite restaurant, The Black Cat. It is a cool little whole in the wall that serves delicious chicken nachos!


We also made our rounds at the various stores, and marvelled about how much the campus has changed.

Then, it was onto the game, where Appalachian (in true champion form) beat Gardner Webb 45-7. Ouch!


At the end of the evening, we enjoyed a nice dinner at Outback, catching up on old times, and enjoying new ones. I miss everyone already! I can't wait to go back next year! (Please, Jeremy...!!!)


Another word to the wise, when applying fake tatoos to your face, always remember to apply sunscreen as well. I'm still sporting the vague outline of an "A" on my right cheek!

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Rubbing elbows (and lobster claws)...

Last week my classmates and I got the opportunity to meet two highly respected authors in our field of study, journalism.

Rick Bragg, a former New York Times feature writer and author of the memoir, All Over But the Shoutin', took us out to lunch at a fish house in Birmingham. Mr. Bragg is now a professor at the University of Alabama. He is originally from Anniston, and he filled Jeremy in on the ins and outs here in town.

Mr. Bragg brought with him his friend, reknowned author and former New York Times editor Bill Kovach. We talked with Mr. Kovach about his book, The Elements of Journalism, in which he and a partner lay out the principles good journalists should follow during their careers.




(From left) Jeremy, Anne Anderson, Emily Amick, Bill Kovach, Sandra Martinez, Rick Bragg, Andrea Young, me, Cassandra Mickens, and Christina Smith.



This program is great, because no where else could we get the opportunity to pick the top minds in our field, face-to-face. Hopefully, when this program is complete, we will have made a great number of contacts, and will have a wealth of experience to take with us into the field.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Maybe with some chili, too...

More puppy pictures, since they seem to be a big hit!

(Let me know when you get sick of seeing Nacho pictures! I won't stop posting them, but I'll note your angst!)





A sleepy little Nacho (or, as we like to call him, Country Bear!).



















Up close and personal with Oscar!









Some cutie pies actually behaving (for once!).

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

I'm no Coppola...

Check out the video I had to make for my production class. You'll get a chance to meet my classmates here.

Everyone got the same video, but got to edit them differently. You can check out Jeremy's version on his blog, http://fourthestater.blogspot.com/.

Best with cheese...

I've been having some problems getting pictures of Nacho up on the blog, so I'm going to try a few more.





Nacho playing with his new toy, compliments of our friend, Anne, as Oscar looks on enviously. (Oscar stole it moments later, and has yet to give it back.)














Nacho gets his first bath (much to his chagrin!).










Nacho is doing very well. He went to the vet yesterday and got all of his puppy shots and pills. He and Oscar play non-stop, and are having a ball.


We're still working on the potty training, of course. We came home to quite a mess today (be glad we don't have pictures of that!).


We're all getting used to our new family life. It's nice to have two snuggle bugs again! We can't wait to show off the pups to all of you!

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Pitter patter...

After losing Pickle, we knew our family would never be the same. His place in our hearts will remain his forever and ever.

Still, we knew there would be room in our hearts and homes for another dog someday. Today is that day.

Please say hello to Nacho Pickle Cox, the newest member of our little family.


We met Nacho yesterday while we were walking Oscar around a lake in Oxford, just outside our hometown of Anniston. He is a 10-week-old, red dachshund, with one brown eye and one blue eye. His owners, a nice, young couple, do not have room in their small apartment for another dog (they own Nacho's mom and dad). They wanted a good home for the pup, and we are fortunate enough to be able to give it to him.

His big brother, Oscar, has already taken to him. The pair was inseparable from the moment Nacho arrived. They played outside for 15 minutes, and both are now napping!

I believe in serendipity. I'm not sure Jeremy and I were quite ready to open our hearts to another dog yet. We had planned to wait until Christmas before getting another dog.

But I believe in the mysterious ways of fate, and when fate plunks something obvious in your lap, you have to take the chance. Maybe we are not quite ready, but Oscar most certainly was. He needs companionship, and Nacho has helped fill that hole for him.

As I said, nothing and no one will ever take Pickle's place. We just want to share the love we gave him when he was with us as best we can. Hopefully, we'll be the best parents to Nacho and Oscar that we can possibly be.



Keeping you on the edge of your seat...

Hopefully, I'll have a big announcement tomorrow... If my husband doesn't beat me to the punch, as always!

And NO, I'm not pregnant! Crazy people...

She ain't heavy, she's my T-Rex...

Jeremy and I visited the Anniston Natural History Museum today, which now includes the famous exhibit, "A T-Rex Named Sue." It was a small town museum, but still an enjoyable experience.

For a short time, I actually entertained the idea of becoming an archeologist, which is why exhibits such as these interest me. After one archeology course, and one evening the lab cleaning rocks, that dream was quickly dismissed. Still, the findings of others intrigue me.


I was a little disappointed to discover the bones of the most completed T-Rex on exhibit today (90% complete skeleton) were not the real bones. Although, I suppose it would be unreasonable to expect the Chicago museum that owns the real bones to send out their $8.6 million prized possession on tour!

Even though they weren't the real thing, it was still neat to see that 42-foot long, 13-foot tall monster up close and personal. I would recommend the experience to anyone in the area.


The rest of the museum was semi-interesting. A small Egyptian exhibit featured two mummies, and a few artifacts.


But the main attractions were the stuffed animals. Birds, bears, snakes, bugs. They were everywhere. Taxidermy is of little interest to me, so I moved on.


Despite the modest collection, I enjoyed myself. It was nice to spend a day outside of the wild world of journalism.

Oh, did I mention the visit was partially for a journalism school assignment? Oh well...

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

So far, so good...

Yesterday, Jeremy and I celebrated 6 months of marriage.

Phew!

I feel like I have learned a lot during the past 6 months. But the key lesson I have learned is that there is still so much to learn.

Jeremy and I had been together a little more than 3 years when we got married on March 24. We had been living together for almost 2 years. We knew each other so well, probably better than we knew ourselves.

How could marriage possibly change anything?

Our lives, on the surface, remained the same. Same home, same jobs, same amount of time together. Yet, there was a unique change, imperceptible to anyone but us.

We knew each other so well prior to being married. But we didn't know ourselves in these new identities of husband and wife.

Who is Jennifer Cox? I didn't meet her until March 24, and I'm still working to figure it out.



As spouses, we are forced to think of each other. Every decision I make isn't just about me anymore; I have a family to think of. My actions, my thoughts will forevermore affect someone else, and his actions will always affect me.

I would be lying if I said everything has been easy. We're still adjusting to this purely unselfish lifestyle. But I think we're finding a nice balance.

Marriage, for us, has been fantastic. It has been a journey filled with love and mutual respect. And, it has been a very welcome challenge. That's what keeps life interesting.

I can't wait to see what the next 6 months, and 60 years, have in store for us. As we grow in age, we must strive to grow in understanding, and to evolve together. We must remember the overwhelming love we shared on our wedding day, and every day since.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Turn, Turn, Turn...

I've spent an unfortunate amount of time talking about loss lately. But it seems whenever one light burns out, another brightens the dark.

With that in mind, I can think of no better time to reveal two thrilling pieces of news: Val and Alex are both pregnant!

Most of you know Val: my aunt/sister. We grew up together, and are only 5 years apart. She and her husband, Mark, were married in June, and live near Orlando. They couldn't be more thrilled, and I couldn't be more excited at the prospect of being an aunt in May!







Me receiving the news while walking at Mount Cheaha!








Val is an incredible third grade teacher. The way she connects with her students while maintaining her role as an authority figure is excellent.

Since we were kids, she has always looked out for me, and, whether I liked it or not, she has taken charge. She's watched over my younger cousins since they were born, and helped them all with anything they have ever needed.








Obviously, there is no doubt in my mind that she'll be a fantastic mother.







My somewhat adopted sister, Alex, and her husband, Adam, are expecting their second child in January. They've been so great with Tyler (Tyler Monster to me!), and I know they'll be just as wonderful with their second little boy!








Tyler Monster!















Mom, Alex & Me!











Please join me in congratulating them both! I'll make sure to post their progress, starting now:











What Val's baby looks like -- 7 weeks old!
(Not the actual baby!)

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Echoing eternity...

I attended Greg's memorial service today, and it finally hit me like a ton of bricks: he's really gone.

Since I began following Greg's story, a lot of people have asked me how I've managed to stay with it without falling apart. The truth is, I never really accepted in my heart the words I was writing on paper. I may have written in detail about his declining health, but I never believed he wouldn't rebound. Miracles always seem to happen.

But being surrounded by his family today, for the first time without him, I realized what I had never accepted to be true. Here we are, and here he is not.

Thankfully, Greg never veiled the truth. He lived every day knowing what was in store, and he treasured every day because of it. Although he hoped, he never kidded himself into believing his time on Earth was unlimited.

I thanked Greg today for teaching me so much. He showed me that complaining doesn't make things better, but my attitude does. He helped me to be more passionate about what I do, which couldn't have come at a more crucial time in my career. He made me a better writer, and a better person, because he wouldn't let me shut him out of my heart.

Here is the last installment from my Naples Daily News series on Greg. I only hope it does him justice.

By Jennifer Brannock
JenCox416@yahoo.com

Perched with a smile at the foot of winding white stairs that appeared to extend from the stage at Gulf Coast High School into the sky, Gregory Lang, immortalized in black and white, said goodbye Saturday morning.
A slide show of images, some sentimental, but most goofy, revealed the 18-year-old’s life story. Frozen moments of Greg and his girlfriend, Brianna Hanson, his family, his days as a golfer, drummer, graduate and public speaker paraded across an oversized screen, accompanied by a collection of rock music, from Dire Straights to U2.
Greg’s prized golf clubs, personalized and sent to him by professional golfer Greg Norman, stood poised beside a podium in the auditorium of his alma mater. His prosthetic leg, decorated with the Gulf Coast mascot, the shark, stole the gazes of guests at the door.
Most had never seen him without it. Or it without him.
Greg’s contagious smile shone from an overwhelming mĂ©lange of photographs that captured a life too short, but far from unfulfilled.
Saturday’s memorial service was a time for celebration and remembrance. It was a time to carry out Gregory’s final request.

***
As she approached the podium, Ann Lang placed her son’s favorite teddy bear on top of his golf bag for all to see.
Greg, she said, had been speaking to her from Heaven all day. Ann addressed the crowd confidently without a speech, because, she said, Greg would tell her when to stop talking.
“The last time I spoke publicly, Gregory was standing next to me,” Ann said, composed and peaceful. “Guess what, Gregory is still standing next to me.
“He always will be next to me.”
She wanted to remind the crowd of over 100 friends and family members why they were there.
Greg didn’t want his loved ones focused on the cancer that cost him his life Monday. His message of positive thinking and hope, and his perpetual playfulness, even in his final days, are to be Greg’s legacy.
“Gregory hated negativity,” Ann told gatherers. “Now, he’s watching you all from Heaven, so go out and do good things, and be positive.
“Do what’s right. And, if you’re not sure what’s right, talk to Gregory.”
On the front row, Greg’s immediate family – his sister, Kaitlyn, adopted father, Tim, and stepbrothers Tim and Peter – embraced Ann as she returned to her seat.
She had done her job. Now, her son can be at peace.

***

A few weeks ago, Greg and his 17-year-old girlfriend made each other important promises. Greg promised to stay alive until their 11-month anniversary on Sept. 8. Brianna promised to be by his side.
Although he was silent, in an irreversible coma, Brianna felt his presence. He kept his promise, so she kept hers.
Greg and Brianna said their private goodbyes that day. She took with her his favorite clothing item, a faded gray T-shirt from Key West.
“It still smells like him,” she said, smiling.
As she received hugs at the front door of the auditorium, Brianna found herself staring at her boyfriend’s portrait over well-wishers’ shoulders. She allowed herself to cry.
“That smile…” she whispered, trailing off. “Always that smile.”
Robbed of her love at the start of her senior year at Gulf Coast, it would be easy for the teen to slip into a state of depression and mourning.
But Gregory begged her not to, and, if she can, she will listen.
Friday, she braved her first day back at school since Greg’s passing. She cried, and she ached. But she pressed on, just as he had hoped she would.

***

To call attendees of Saturday’s memorial “mourners” would have been an insult to Greg. Though there were plenty of tears, Greg’s friends and family made sure there were lots of laughs, too.
Lutheran Pastor Bill Miller spoke of his 10-year history with Greg as a journey of joy. He gleefully recalled a time when Greg, as a young boy, removed his prosthetic leg and raced around the carpet, bragging to the pastor that he was the fastest crawler in the world.
Greg’s attitude, Miller said, never changed. He didn’t complain when he lost his leg as a result of foot cancer at the age of 3. He embraced it, and became the champion of carpet racing in his own home.
“I’m sure he’s hitting a few hole-in-ones right now. I’m sure he’s hitting some double-bogeys, too,” Miller said, chuckling. “He is rejoicing.”
Throughout the service, rock-and-roll favorites of Greg’s, such as “Beautiful Day,” by U2, and “Spirit in the Sky,” by Norman Greenbaum, blared over the auditorium speakers, reminding guests of Greg’s silly and spontaneous style.
“This is the way Gregory wanted it, and I honor my son,” Ann told guests.
Greg’s drum teacher and friend, Drew Conner, treated gatherers to a unique tribute. Conner, who said he spent time in Africa furthering his spirituality, played a rambunctious tune on the bongos, and encouraged the crowd to clap and sing along.
“We love you, Gregory!” he yelled in tandem with his drumming.
“Let’s send Greg a spiritual telephone call,” he urged guests.
Two specially selected songs marked the conclusion of the service. “Now We Are Free,” by Enya, was chosen in honor of Greg’s favorite movie, Gladiator.
In his final months, Greg often quoted a prophetic line from the movie: “What we do in life echoes in eternity.”
At the 2001 funeral service for Greg’s father, Gregory Weber Sr., who also died of cancer, Ann, Greg and Kaitlyn attempted to play U2’s “Beautiful Day.” In what Ann calls a stroke of serendipity, the CD accidentally skipped to the song “Walk On.”
“And if the darkness is to keep us apart, and if the daylight feels like it's a long way off, and if your glass heart should crack, and for a second you turn back, oh no, be strong. Oh, oh, walk on, walk on.”
Those lyrics still hang on the wall in Greg’s bedroom. Ann could think of no better way to end the day than with the inspirational song.
“Every one of you made Gregory feel at home here in Naples,” Ann said, smiling. “I want to thank you all for that gift to my son.”

---

For information on the Gregory Weber Lang Foundation, promoting cancer research and awarding scholarships to students triumphing over adversity, contact Colonial Bank, (239) 352-3075.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Bravery and triumph...

Many of you readers know I have been following the story of a Naples 18-year-old who was diagnosed with terminal cancer in February. Over the past several months, I have been so blessed to not only get to know Gregory Lang and his family, but to feel a part of it.

This family has experienced more pain than can possibly be imagined. Yet, they press on, and encourage others to do the same. Greg and his family have inspired me so much, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.

I first heard Greg's story in March. I approached it with the same level of detachment most reporters need to get through the day. Here was a kid, in the midst of a blossoming romance, and with limitless potential, and he was sentenced to die. Getting involved with such a sad story was not an option, in my head.

Then, I heard the story. And I met the Langs.

My life will never be the same.

Greg and his 16-year-old sister, Kaitlyn, suffer from a rare genetic mutation, known as Li-Fraumeni syndrome, a hereditary condition which typically results in the patient having recurring and severe bouts with cancer. It is the same condition that robbed them of their father, Greg Weber Sr., a few years ago.

Greg lost his foot to muscle cancer at age 3. Kaitlyn beat leukemia at age 8. Greg was diagnosed with cancer again in 2005, and again in 2006.

Hearing this story, and meeting Greg, Kaitlyn and their mother, Ann, who has now lost a husband and a child, I knew I couldn't let it go.

There's wasn't a story filled with self-pity and depression. It was one of hope and fierce love. It was one I needed to hear, and to tell.

The Langs opened their homes and their hearts to me, because they wanted me to tell Greg's story of bravery. Even though I knew how the story would end, I couldn't refuse, and I found myself falling deeper in love with their family every day.

Greg died this morning, but he will always be with me. Every time I think my situation is hopeless, I'll think of his eternal optimism and strength. Every time I meet someone who wants to make this world a better place, I'll remember how Greg made me want to write those stories, and the way it makes me feel to tell them.

Every time I think love is gone from the world, I'll think of the Langs, and of Greg and his girlfriend, Brianna, and how true love transcends time, fear, and evil.

And, because I let down my guard and became a part of their lives, I'll probably go ahead and give them a call, thanking them for that gift.

The Lang family charged me to tell the world how great Gregory was, and how he, as one person, felt he could change the world. In accepting that responsibility, I got so much more than I could have imagined.

In Gregory, I found a friend, an inspiration, and hope. The world he changed wound up being mine.

Be at peace, Gregory. You were too good for this world.

Below is the story I wrote about Greg's passing today. To see a fantastic slide show of him by Wasim Ahmad, or for a list of all of my Greg stories, click here.

naplesnews.com

Long brave fight ends: Greg Lang dies of cancer

Originally published — 10:11 a.m., September 10, 2007
Updated — 4:50 p.m., September 10, 2007

Editor’s note: Gulf Coast High School graduate Gregory Lang has battled cancer since he was 3 years old. In February, doctors said Greg had about six months to live. Greg, his sister, Kaitlyn, and their late father, Gregory Weber Sr., suffer from a rare genetic condition, Li- Fraumeni syndrome, causing recurring cancer. Greg’s battle with cancer ended when he died this morning. The Naples Daily News is following his continuing story.

Ann Lang told her son not to struggle when the time came to let go. She told him not to worry.

She promised him everything would be fine, and said not to be afraid.

“I told him not to fight the feeling if it came over him, but simply to just grab his wings and go because we all would be OK,” Ann wrote last month on the family’s blog, www.thegregoryweberlangfoundation.org/blog.

“ He smiled and said, ‘OK, Mom.’”

Gregory Lang took his mother’s advice Monday morning.

He died painlessly in his family’s Naples home, surrounded by loved ones, his aunt, Nicole Halabi, said. He was 18 years old.

Greg was never scared of the cancer that permeated his frail body. In spite of his emotional and physical pain, he never let the disease poison his positive outlook.

He may have lost his life, but Gregory Lang triumphed over cancer.

“Goodness will always triumph over evil,” Ann said in July. “As long as he stays positive, the cancer cannot win, even if it takes him from us.”

Greg became a community celebrity following his terminal diagnosis in February.

Fellow Gulf Coast High School students rallied around him, hosting a fashion show in April to raise money for his scholarship/cancer research foundation, The Gregory Weber Lang Foundation.

At his high school graduation in May, classmates erupted in applause and rose uniformly in ovation as Collier County School Board Chairman Steve Donovan awarded Greg his diploma.

Most recently, community members raised more than $5,000 for the foundation at a karaoke fundraiser at Porky’s Last Stand on Marco Island. Despite his weakening condition, Greg attended the event with his family and girlfriend, 17-year-old Brianna Hanson.

Early last month, doctors informed the Lang family the cancer had spread from his bones into his lungs, and the end was drawing near. But the pain never crippled Greg’s sense of humor, his charm or his drive to promote positive thinking in the face of adversity.

“Gregory can’t change his nature, even when his body is failing and ready to die,” Ann wrote on the family’s blog on Aug. 28. “He just can’t do it.”

Hospice of Naples workers began pumping painkillers into Greg’s body intravenously two weeks ago. Saturday, he slipped into an irreversible coma.

Thankfully, Ann wrote Sunday, her son had heard all she had to say.

“We have all said what we have needed to say and, as I have said before, it’s now between Gregory and his God.”

Greg is survived by his mother, adopted father Tim Lang, sister Kaitlyn, brothers Peter and Tim, and his girlfriend, Brianna.

A memorial service will be held Saturday at 10 a.m. at the Gulf Coast High School auditorium. The public is invited to attend.

For information on the Gregory Weber Lang Foundation, promoting cancer research and awarding scholarships to students triumphing over adversity, contact Colonial Bank, (239) 352-3075.

Jennifer Brannock can be reached at jencox416@yahoo.com.

© 2007 Naples Daily News and NDN Productions. Published in Naples, Florida, USA by the E.W. Scripps Co.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Because I can't...

Please take a look at my mom's blog for a tribute to my Picadilly. This would have been his fifth birthday.


Sunday, September 02, 2007

Go APPS... Fight APPS...




Appalachian State University is officially in the history books. Not that us true fans had any doubt! Commentators are calling Appalachian's 34-32 victory over the University of Michigan the biggest upset since Knute Rockney's Fighting Irish in 1929! Oh yes, it is great to be a Mountaineer!




Here's what others are saying about the game:


ESPN.com on sophomore quarterback Amanti Edwards:

"He opened his sophomore season by orchestrating perhaps the biggest upset in modern college football history. Playing in front of more than 109,000 fans at the Big House, Edwards completed 17 of 23 passes for 227 yards with three touchdowns and two interceptions. He also ran 17 times for 62 yards and one score."










My former editor Dave Osborn:

"The Appalachian win has huge ramifications for college football for years to come. I often said that Michigan won games before they entered the stadium, meaning, many teams lost to the Michigan mystique and therefore felt they couldn't beat them. Now all of that is blown out of the water. When teams line up against Michigan, they'll know that they're not unbeatable."




More from ESPN.com on App's saucy students:



"Shortly after Appalachian State pulled off perhaps the biggest upset in modern college football history by winning at Michigan on Saturday, the goalpost came crashing down.

More than 600 miles away. In Appalachian State's own stadium.

A few minutes after the Mountaineers stunned No. 5 Michigan 34-32 in the Big House, a group of Appalachian State students climbed a fence and tore down a goalpost in their own house. They carried the goalpost more than a mile from Kidd Brewer Stadium to the front yard of Chancellor Kenneth E. Peacock's home.

"It's all right," Peacock said, after celebrating with hundreds of Mountaineers fans in the parking lot outside the school's football stadium late Saturday night. "As good as today was for Appalachian State, they can take it up there and put it down. I can't wait to get there and see it."

Razing the goalposts was the just the beginning of a raucous celebration in this small college town in the Blue Ridge Mountains of northwestern North Carolina.

A campus tradition is to jump in the duck pond behind the dining hall after the football team's big victories. Well, beating the mighty Wolverines in front of more than 110,000 fans certainly called for a quick swim.

In the nude, which is what more than a few students did."

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

School daze...

So, Jeremy and I are in our second week of school, and it is going very well. I absolutely love being back in an academic environment again. It's been fascinating to learn not only how to do things, but why we, as journalists, do them.

Here's a quick rundown of our classes (which are surprisingly different, even though they all sound the same!):

Monday: Producing Community Journalism -- this class has been the most time-consuming, so far. Not only will we attend 3-hour lectures in the morning, but also production workshops in the afternoon. So far, we've learned page design, PowerPoint, and Excel, and are working on projects in each. Throughout the semester, we'll also learn still photography, videography and other production methods. Very cool stuff!

Tuesday: Issues in Contemporary Journalism -- in this class, we discuss different issues in the journalism field. This week, we are writing papers attempting to define community journalism. I think it's important for us to define it if we are to understand it, but coming up with a definition is harder than it seems. For this class, we'll be reading books, producing weekly papers and working on several other semester-long projects.

Wednesday: Seminar in Communication Theory -- this is a particularly interesting class, because we spend the majority of our class time discussing theories in community journalism. We spend time outside of class reading numerous trade journals and studies, which inform our discussions. Again, this is helping us define what our roles are as reporters, and why we want to do what we do.

Thursday: History of American Journalism -- this class has been particularly challenging for me, in a very good way. It has been ages since I last wrote a research paper, but already I am finding myself perusing British newspapers from the 17th century. Very interesting stuff. Well, at least it is to me!



Emily Amick & I pay attention to history professor, Dr. Julie Williams at Jacksonville State University Library. Photo from Anne Anderson.

Friday: Grand Rounds -- Not only is it the shortest class, but it is also the most interesting. We meet with editors and reporters at The Anniston Star to discuss news coverage as it pertains to certain beats. So far, we have discussed local government, and some of the issues going on in the county. Our weekly outside assignment is to visit a local place to observe activities related to the discussion topic. I visited a very twisted Anniston School Board meeting last week, and wrote about the quick firing of their superintendent.


Our reason for being here, Director and Grand Rounds Professor Chris Waddle. Photo from Anne Anderson.

The classes have all been stimulated, and, while I can see the workload getting overwhelming, it's at least stuff I'm interested in. Right now, I love learning. But after another week or two, I may regress to a desire to cover government meetings and write six stories per week!

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

My Intellectual Half

If you get a chance, check out my husband, Jeremy's, blog. His is a bit more "newsy," and just as entertaining. He likes to scan the news and post interesting articles, all to save you the trouble! Plus, he occasionally says something about me, which makes reading it totally worthwhile!!


Better days and rolling with the tide...

As I'm sure many of you have heard, we've had a bit of bad luck here that has made life considerably difficult. Two weeks ago, my great-grandmother, Grums, passed away at the ripe age of 93. I visited with her a few weeks before, and her smile still lit up the room. She still looked at me like the little girl she always loved to play Uno and cards with, and that is the face I will always remember.



Shortly after that, our beagle, Pickle, died. He would have been 5 next month. It was the worst tragedy Jeremy and I have experienced together, as what happened was a horrible accident. To all of you dog owners, if you cage your dogs, I'd advise you to remove their collars everytime. That is all I will say about that.

Anyone who knows me knows what Pickle meant to me. He was my graduation present to myself after finishing my undergrad at Appalachian. I walked across the stage, picked up my puppy, and the two of us set off to Orlando alone. It truly was him and me against the world. He was my only companion for some time, and when I met Jeremy, they bonded instantly. I firmly believe no one could have loved him as much as we did. He was a handful, but he was ours, and we adored him.




Aside from those tragedies, Jeremy and I have endured yet another move, this time to northeast Alabama. We will be pursuing our master's degrees through an innovative program called the Knight Community Fellowship. We are officially University of Alabama students, but we will be attending classes inside the reputable Anniston Star newsroom. For more information on the program, or to take a peek at our biographies, click here.

Throughout the year, Jeremy and I will be participating in a barrage of journalism theory courses. But the one that I believe will be most interesting is one called Grand Rounds. During this course, taught by our program director and newsroom editor, we will participate in discussions about different types of
journalism, attend community events geared toward certain topics and write journal entries about them. I will do my best to post those entries, and other thoughts, on this blog.

I just want to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their support during this difficult time. I know I haven't been in contact much, but as time eases our pain and stress, I promise I will get back to you. Please just know how much I appreciate your support and love.

Wish us luck...




Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Sweet Home Alabama...

The time has come for me to make an announcement: Jeremy & I are leaving Florida to move to Anniston, Alabama in August.

We've been accepted to a master's fellowship program through the University of Alabama. We were selected as two of eight students to enter, what they have dubbed, The Teaching Newsroom at The Anniston Star newspaper.

We'll be full-time students, taking classes inside the newsroom (about an hour west of Atlanta). They pay our tuition and a monthly stipend, and at the end of the year (if all goes well), we'll have our Master's degrees in journalism.

It's going to be a big change for us, obviously. All of our parents and siblings are here in Florida. It's where we both grew up. But over the years, as home prices got to be outrageous, and we developed a taste for changing seasons and prettier neighborhoods, we knew it was time to go.

When I left Florida the first time, at the age of 12, it was a devestating experience. I didn't want to leave, and my choices were limited (practically non-existant).

I'll never look back on my 10 years in North Carolina with regret. I made some of the best friends I've ever had in my life. I lived in a great neighborhood, went to a great high school and college, and got exposed to a different way of life.

Still, a part of me always ached for Florida, and those I had left behind. Everyday was a struggle to balance the great things I had with the great things I missed. So, after graduation, I came back.

It's been over four years, and they have been great. I've gotten closer to my families, made new friends, and, of course, met my husband.

Now, I'm leaving on my terms. The decision wasn't easy, but it was mine. This time, there are no broken hearts, no angry feelings and nothing but best wishes.

I'm going to go. But my heart will always call Florida home.

Reeling in the years...

In the past two weeks, my life has changed, both completely and not at all.

On March 24, I married the man that was too good for even my best dreams. We understand each other completely, which led us to what we realized right from the start: there will never be another.

On my customs declaration, entering Antigua on our honeymoon, I checked the box labeled "married." So far, that's been the only change -- on paper.

Everyone has asked me, in the short time I've been back, if I feel any different, now that I'm a wife. I tell them no, and that is the truth. What's different isn't me -- it's the way I see him.

Every time I catch a glimpse of that shiny gold ring on his left hand, I see a man. I've always viewed Jeremy as being mature, and even wise beyond his years. But for the first time, I look at him now as a grown-up, and he said the same about me.

The thing is, neither of us has changed. We've lived together for so long now, there aren't many surprises for us to tackle.

What has changed isn't even our perceptions of each other. He's still that smart, goofy, loving person I fell in love with, and I'm still that adventurous, admiring girl he always knew.

When I look at him and see a grown-up man, what I'm really seeing is my own grown-up reflection. And it's a little scary. And it's a little wonderful.

It's hard for us to see ourselves as grown-ups, because "grown-up" to us means: "like our parents." We've separated the roles of parent and child for so long, we can't even recognize it when we become one in the same (whether we have kids of our own or not).

I've always objected to those who believe you become a "man" or "woman" after you're married. Marriage, I believe, just shows you the mirror.

I think it's the challenges you go through on your own -- living alone, finding a job/career, struggling to pay rent -- that develop you into an adult. I know I wouldn't be the woman I am without those things. I also know that a child, with no sense of responsibility or ability to self-reflect, has no business entering into the complete partnership that is marriage.

So have things changed? On the surface, sure. But really, truly, we are still the same man and woman we were before. We were just lucky enough to find each other, and to find love, to make our lives more complete.

Monday, October 23, 2006

Greener pastures, not acres...

There has been a mass exodus in effect at work during the past month.

Lately, I feel like I've done nothing but go to "good-bye" parties, and it has left me feeling a bit anxious. No, not anxious; antsy.

One recent departee accepted a much higher paying job in a completely different career field.

Another is leaving overpriced housing in Naples to explore overpriced housing in Washington D.C. with her fiance. A definite adventure in the making.

My brave friend, Shannon, recently took off for a 2-year work experience as a professor in China -- a place where she has never been that uses a language she doesn't speak. Crazy cool.

Another is taking a massive leap of faith, traveling overseas to Spain to find herself, a degree and, hopefully, work. But before she embarks on that completely cool journey, she'll spend time in South America volunteering and brushing up on her already impeccable Spanish.

I am unbelievably jealous.
These people who boldly travel outside their comfort zones amaze me. They will truly reap some of the greatest experiences life has to offer.

I know I have no room to be jealous. I've had tons of adventures, including a crazy internship at Disney World, a study abroad program in Europe and frequent travels all over the country.
But I'm kind of a rare breed. The idea of setting sail for new adventures excites me beyond measure, but the prospect of leaving behind friends and family saddens me to no end.

I guess I just want it all. I want to be married and settled, but only because I've found the right man. If not for Jeremy, I would already have one foot out the door of wherever I happened to be.

It occurred to me, though, marriage isn't the end of adventure. It's really a solution to my seemingly unfixable problem.

I can travel anywhere I want. I can change careers, change homes, change my life if I want to. But now, I won't be afraid to change, to leave my family behind, because my family will be traveling right alongside me.
I can have it all.

Compromise and balance will be important, but Jeremy is the yin to my yang. When I want to run wild and he wants to stand still, we meet somewhere in the middle, and somehow, everything works out.

No matter where we wind up, be it down the road or out of the country, I know any place we travel together will be an adventure. Everything is as good or as bad as you make it out to be.
The choice between adventure and monotony is yours alone. I've already made my decision.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

The shame, the debauchery, the memories...

I am one hugely important step closer to getting married.

One bachelorette party (to be followed by at least one more) is under my belt, and what a party it was!

Friends from all over flew down, and groups of friends and family from all different stages of my life blended in Key West, the drinking capital of the southeast. I don't know if it was all the beer or the embarrassing games my maid of horror (I mean, honor) made us play, but my buds seemed to bond instantly, despite their only link being me.

I tried to imagine who would hit it off before we even set off for the Keys, and the combinations were endless. Personalities ranged abundantly, and included:
  • The single party girls in their early-30s, who still throw down better than any college student I've ever known, and are totally up for anything
  • The married and engaged family members, who, despite having settled into monogamy and having toned down their partying significantly, have an obvious wild streak that rears its crazy head each time the occassion calls
  • The local friend, who doesn't know anyone, but makes friends easily and goes with the flow
  • The reformed party girls, who, when they knew each other well, would go nuts every night, but now lead sensible lives and can drink without puke-n-rally (puking, then resuming the party, for those who didn't follow that)

And then there's me -- a combination of all of these personalities, and many more, rolled into one neutral friend, who identifies with everyone.

The pairings suprised me.

  • One family member and one 30-something bonded over their love of Dane Cook and *ahem* substances
  • Two former friends reunited, and spent the majority of the trip bouncing off each other
  • Another reformed partier joined a 30-something, a family member and a new-comer wherever the party took them

The truly amazing thing, however, was the way everyone managed to stay together. We ventured to one drag show, a sunset street party, five bars and one clothing-optional rooftop club throughout the course of one night. We began the night together, and we ended it the same way.

Four days later, I am sitting here reflecting on my favorite moments from the trip. My e-mail inbox is flooded with funny one-liners from one former stranger to another, reminders of the fun we all had during our brief, and probably only, encounter as a group.

Chances are, we'll never have that again. There won't be another opportunity for the nine of us to say "we're all together."

In just two days, we learned each others' secrets, quirks and personalities. We heard stories we could have lived a lifetime without hearing (or telling, Mara), made comments we would never make to strangers and did and saw things that need not be published.

It only took one weekend -- 48 hours -- to freeze ourselves in each others' minds forever.

It must have been the booze.

Friday, October 06, 2006

Red wedding dresses and other nighttime horrors...

If you come across me these days and wonder why there are dark circles under my eyes, blame my impending wedding.

We’re less than six months out. My conscious brain is impatient, counting the days, hours, seconds until my friends and family gather to watch my fiancĂ© become my husband.

My subconscious has other plans, apparently.

My peaceful slumber has been interrupted regularly by nightmares about wedding plans gone awry. I wake up completely confused about what month it is, what I have and haven’t done and in a state of panic. Lately, the nightmares have become more frequent.

At this point, I should mention to my parents who have already written several checks to Signature Grand, and are probably hyperventilating into a brown paper bag, thinking I have cold feet, that my dreams have nothing to do with my fiancé.

At no point in my slumber or my conscious living have I questioned the fact that I’m getting married or the man I’ve chosen. As it often is, the devil is in the details.

What’s funny (not funny ha-ha... more ironic, humorless funny) is that I am totally organized. I have multiple tasks jostling around in my head, and all of them are getting done ahead of schedule. In my conscious state of being, I am totally calm and on top of things.

But here's what's going on in my subconscious:

  • Someone has replaced my wedding dress with a red one.
  • My bridesmaids have decided that royal blue is a better color for my wedding, and have replaced their black dresses accordingly.
  • I have yet to find a hairdresser.
  • The DJ is messing up the ceremony music, because I've forgotten to rehearse it with him.
  • My step-mother is crying, because I'm doing too many non-traditional things (No idea where that came from, Mindy!)
  • My dad is missing when it comes time to walk me down the aisle.
  • Jeremy sees me before the wedding.
  • We have forgotten to tell Jeremy's parents when the wedding is, and we can't find them.
  • (A common, recurring theme) I'm running unbelievably late, and we're losing valuable party time.

Added up, it's enough to make me wake up in a cold sweat.

I know myself well enough to know what is causing these nightmares. The event planner in me always feels the need to be ahead of the curb. The things I'm dreaming about are things that I haven't done yet, because it's not time for them yet. But each time I cross a to-do item off my mental list, the dreams surrounding those ragged edges stop.

The truth of the matter is, none of the pesky details are all that important to me. (Note: parents not showing up is not a pesky detail) Consciously, I am totally together, because I know that all that really matters is that Jeremy and I are married, and our friends and family are with us to celebrate.

Consciously, I am a normal bride, with normal concerns and a workable to-do list.

Subconsciously, I'm a loon.

Monday, September 25, 2006

The Devil Peddles White...

I'm only getting married once.

After wedding dress shopping last weekend, that statement transformed from being a goal to being a mission. More than a mission; It's a fact.

Let me lay it out for you:

Having been through the experience several times with my friends, I knew not to get my heart set on anything in particular before trying on dresses. You really can only tell so much from a picture in a magazine, so I did some research, and had a vague idea of what I'd like to try on before I went. More than anything, I determined strict rules for what I did not want:

  • Nothing strapless (didn't need to be messing with my top all night)
  • Nothing with sleeves (because, hello, it's not 1985)
  • No elaborate train (too much to deal with)
  • No veil (can't stand the thought of spending $300 for something that's going to annoy me all day)

Keep this list of no-nos in mind. They'll be relevent later.

That being established, my mom, step-mom, flower girl and maid-of-honor travelled to the seventh circle of hell, a.k.a., David's Bridal. It was there that we met the most confused woman in the world. She would have made an excellent addition to the president's cabinet.

We were made to wait for about 15 minutes, even though we had an appointment, but we figured, "No big deal. We've got all day." Thank God.

The bored salewoman at the front of the store asked for my sizes (why she didn't just take my exact measurements and erase the guesswork, I'll never know). When it finally came time to try things on, I was given a strapless body suit and slip, neither of which were my size.

Right about now you're thinking, "Don't they have your size written down on a piece of paper you just filled out for them?" I know... It gets better.

We asked for a larger size. She brings us a smaller one.

We said no sleeves. No strapless. She brings both.

We said no veil. We argue for 15 minutes about it, before I finally consent to put it on, so I can reitterate my reasons for hating it.

In a room roughly the size of a shoebox, and the approximate temperature of hell's sauna, my mother and I wrestled with dresses that made me look like, if I may borrow a line from My Big Fat Greek Wedding, a snow beast.

Fortunately, the torture was over quickly, because in the store that boasts the biggest selection in the country, they only had three dresses in my size. THREE.

Luckily, we liked the third one a lot, and ended up purchasing it, even though the train is longer than I would have liked. However, the "Eureka!" moment, the one where the moms get teary-eyed, and the bride says, "Oh my God, I'm really getting married," never came, because we were too busy being pissed off.

We left the store quickly, after reminding them MANY times of the exact size, style and color that I wanted them to order. Knowing my luck, my pale pink, size-zero tutu will arrive shortly.

I'm only getting married once. Mark my words.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

My buddy, my buddy...

Last weekend, Jeremy and I faced a moment of truth: The meeting of the parents! (Cue dramatic "dum dum dummmm...")

We weren't nervous at all, but we knew the meeting was a big deal. Jeremy's mom and dad have met my mom and step-dad before, but this was the first time they'd be meeting my dad and step-mom, not to mention the rest of our extended family.

Whether we had anything to be nervous about or not, it was a bit nerve-wracking. After all, first impressions are very important, and difficult to forget.

Much to our delight, our parents got along well. Almost too well. Actually, more like long-lost best friends.

The parents sat out back chatting, having smokes and beers and chit-chatting about everything from the weather to high school. And the conversation never halted. They talked all through our engagement party, all through dinner that night, and even when Jeremy's parents came to pick us up in the morning.

What's funny, though, is that the conversation never seemed to veer towards the one thing bringing us all together: Our wedding. In fact, I don't think I heard mine or Jeremy's names mentioned the entire night.

It was nice to see our parents become friends, not because they had to, or because they felt obligated to accept each other as family, but because they genuinely enjoyed each others' company.

As we go forward with the wedding, and with the rest of our lives, I am not sure how intertwined our lives will all be. But it is nice to know that when we need someone, we'll have not two parents, or even four, but six on our side, all working together for us and for fun.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Every cook will tell you that...

Meshing groups of people who have never met can be a tricky business. By the end of this wedding process, I will either be an absolute master, or a total failure.

My whole life has pretty much been an experiment in juggling eggs. Having visited and lived in so many different places, I have made several groups of friends, each as special as all of the others.

During my bachelorette party in October, one of two things is bound to happen: Either we all make omelets, or I wind up cleaning a lot of broken shells.

So far, the groups I'm dealing with will consist of my Disney friends, family members, Naples friends, Stuart friends and college friends. And, possibly, friends of friends (that addition to the web makes my head ache). This list doesn't even include high school friends, most of whom probably wouldn't even believe who I am now, compared to then, anyway.

First, there's my Disney friends. This is a group of girls who saw me at my absolute wildest. They know me as a party girl. Someone who is always up for action. Someone who probably has no business getting married. (Thankfully, I've changed a bit!)

Then there's the Naples crew. Here, I am often referred to as "Jeremy's girlfriend/fiancee." It's strange for me, because I have always been the dominant person in relationships. Usually, everyone knows me, and I know everyone else, and Jeremy is often along for the ride. But here, I'm sort of quiet and domesticated. The kind of girl who will skip a night at the bar to stay home and cuddle with a significant other.

The Stuart group knows a bit of both worlds. They've done shooters with me on Sunday nights before having to go to work Monday. But they've also missed me at parties, because I was over on the other coast visiting Jeremy. They get a glimpse of both sides, and I'm sure it can get pretty confusing for them.

College is another story entirely. My college friends have met Jeremy a few times, and, of course, they think he's perfect for me. But I think some of them still have a hard time picturing me in a settled relationship.

At the last wedding I attended before our engagement, two of my friends were talking about the wedding we were at, and how natural it seemed for our friend to be married. Then they turned the topic to me, and how strange it will be to see me walk down the aisle. It wasn't meant in a mean way at all. They've just known me as an independent, free-floater for so long, and they don't know Jeremy all that well, so it's hard to imagine me on the brink of matrimony.

Plus, early on in our friendships, my friends learned to write down my address in pencil. Staying grounded has never really been "my thing." But as I now have more than one person to consider, it's going to have to become "my thing." Tough beans.

Finally, there's the family unit. These people have seen me through every stage of my life. They loved me when I cried, because I thought my dad was an alcoholic (for having ONE BEER!), and they supported me on my 21st birthday when I didn't know that tequila and vodka don't mix.

They remember me as a shy, little girl, who never wanted to talk to anyone, and they know me as an outgoing friend, who is always eager to talk to a nice person. They've seen the drama, participated in the healing, and, most importantly, they know that I'll be a great wife, because I will have a great husband.

At my bachelorette party, my friends will meet for the first time, which would have come to pass someday anyway, I'm sure. They, like I, will have two choices: omelets as a family, or egg shells on the floor.

Personally, I'd rather crack them, and mix them all together now than walk on them forever.