A step back....

 For some time now I've been a little burned out.  I've been frustrated at the new way we live.  I've been disgusted at the way folks are behaving and treating each other.  I've been mostly wiped out when it comes to just keeping up with all of it.

It is no different in my professional life as well.  In fact it's been probably the thing we talk about most when off the air.  The burned out feeling on life is well shared and appreciated by others in my life.

I need to let you know that there are some professions when you're never really OFF work.  Mine is one of them.  You might sit your butt in the seat at a workplace (radio station) for some time but you're always eyes on it and ears out to watch and listen for something that might need to be covered.  I can come home and be with my family only to have someone send me a text or message that something is happening and I usually respond. 

My day usually goes like this, 4:30-4:45 AM WAKE up, log onto the computer and onto the state wire, read through dozens of stories to select what to use in the news.  Re-write what needs rewritten (this is quite a lot as colleges are getting lazy on teaching the new crop) stack the cast.  Edit and write up any local stories I've gathered that are relevant to the day and put them in the cast, write transitions, read over the first one.  Set up mic and record.  Repeat three more times.  Send news.  Check wire again, anything new?  Nope.  Ok, shower, get dressed, animal chores, pack lunch, pack news gear, drive 21 miles to work.  Arrive at radio station, co-host morning radio show with partner, then prep out for the noon cast, check the legislature's calendar, check my calendar, make phone calls to set up interviews, freshen up any promos in the production studio, write noon cast, record, edit and upload to station's operating system.  Eat lunch, do interview I planned earlier, log onto zoom for any meetings, check dockets to see if high profile hearings are happening.  Go home.

At home, sit down for about 15 minutes, then make dinner, eat, answer emails and get back on the computer to cover evening meetings from either city council or anything else such as town halls, etc.  Post on social media.  Follow up to comment, private messages etc.  Go to bed.

REPEAT.

I'm not writing and sharing all of this for you to feel sorry for me but to explain something.  You're never really off work doing what we do.  We love what we do.  But there comes a time when we need a mental health day away from it.  That's today.  And what am I doing?  Blogging to explain why I'm needing a mental break. 

In the meantime, if you hear of something happening in SE Colorado, please let me know.  I need to push back some and I just can't be everywhere, all the time.

Anne

You never know when the time is the last one....

 I pulled up some Facebook memories today.  I found this post from 2019:

The livestock barn was so peaceful at 5am, steers were passed out, I swear some of them were snoring. Almost hated to make any sound at all to disrupt the peacefulness before the busy day begins.

This year is the last although it is much different from the rest.  This year there won't be a week long stay for show animals in the show barn.  There won't be a wash rack to wash them on.  The smell of fresh wood chip bedding won't waft into the air jarring the memories of county fair.  There won't be any sitting around in front of large fans with friends and family while your show animals settle in their stalls.  

My daughter thought the summer before her Senior year would be as it always has been.  We take for granted the fact that this time will happen again.  The moments are cherished nearly enough until we know there will be none.  And then we realize they were more important than they seemed.  We will be at the fair this year with two show steers as we have for the last five years but the memories of before will not be repeated.  

When you think, oh, we'll do that again, we'll do that later, we'll do that next year, remember this moment in our history where nothing is expected to ever be the same.  Enjoy the moments now and really enjoy them for you might never get a chance to repeat them.

Some people say we will never be the same and maybe it's a good wake up call to really appreciate the things that we hold dear.  

However, it's not the way I thought we would say goodbye to 4H and FFA.

Breathe in!  Breathe out!  Just Breathe.

Those are the words from a friend of mine who happens to work in behavioral health as a counselor.  However, it's easier said than done these days.

Today, July 20th, 2020 marks exactly 5,229 days since I opened my eyes in the Emergency Department of Memorial Hospital in Colorado Springs, Colorado.  That day was a Thursday, March 23, 2006.

"You have NINE pulmonary emboli!  NINE!"  the nice little ER doc with the University of Oklahoma scrubs said out loud over my bed to me.  My first thought was oh he's from Oklahoma too.  It's hard to find an Okie out here in Colorado but they do drift northwest every now and then.  Then, he had a serious look on his face.  "One can kill you, one pulmonary embolism.  That's a blood clot in your lung, but you have made NINE of them, " he stated again.  "So I'm an overachiever!?"  not funny, apparently but true if you look at it that way.

I was feeling woozy from the good fall I'd taken.  I blacked out and was caught by my fellow police academy recruit friends.

"Ok, just fill my prescription and I'll be on my way, " I followed up with an air of confidence. 
Nope.  It was straight upstairs to the fourth floor for me.  I was headed to ICU.....without a change of underwear.  Thank God for girlfriends who brought me some.

I grabbed the oxygen mask off my face to exclaim that I had a test I needed to study for and be in class for the next day. 
Nope.
Sometimes life has other plans for you.  However, researching the severity of blood clots in the lung I realize now that God had other plans for me.  I was supposed to be here for a reason, a purpose. 

I think of this day often and the weekend and few days I spent in the Intensive care unit.  I have been able to run again, live again and breathe again. 

Life is too short to put off telling those you love that you do!!  And to appreciate the little things people do for you and what they mean to you. 

Sure, there are awful, greedy, mean and selfish (let's not forget stupid) souls out there but I think getting to know them makes me appreciate the good as much as I should. 

Friends!  Listen up!!  I love and appreciate all of you so much.  And we'll get through this asshat Governor's stupid mandate four months into a pandemic somehow.

 I might lose friends but if you've been able to click in and read this, you're still here.  Thank you for your support in everything.

A

April is......Challenging at best!

April really sucks! 

We were kinda conditioned to feel as if it was some sort of sacrificial suffering for rewards in May.  Remember the saying "April Showers Bring May Flowers?"

What a cruel and crass way to begin a blog, right?
But let's look at some reasons why I might say such a thing.

Historically, it's true.  April is the month in which Abraham Lincoln was assassinated as was Dr. Martin Luther King Junior.

April is the month the Titanic sank, the month of the Ludlow Massacre, the Hillsborough disaster of 89, the fire at Notre Dame.

I remember watching the events of the Waco Branch Davidian compound unfold on cable news.  And later as a reporter I covered the Oklahoma City Bombing April 19th where 168 people lost their lives as the Alfred P. Murrah building was bombed.  It was truly terror in the heartland until we knew what was really going on. 

Of course April is a terrible month for tornadoes.  The conditions are just right to make a whole bunch of them when cool spring airs collides with warmer air or something like that. As a reporter I've storm chased more in this month than any other.  Kinda like sleep with your clothes on, that was the feeling anyway when I worked in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Fast forward a few years to the Columbine High School Shooting outside of Littleton, Colorado.  I don't think that needs further explanation and I'm sure we all remember.  The Virginia Tech school shootings also occurred during this fourth month of the year. 

The Deepwater Horizon explosion goes down in the history books this month, in fact, it was this week.  You might remember that BP oil spill.  Several were killed and injured. 

The Boston Marathon bombing was April 15th, 2013.  A fertilizer storage and distribution plant north of Waco, Texas exploded this week in history.  The ammonium nitrate explosion killed 15 people and injured 160 others.

Now, I know all of this COVID-19 stuff started happening earlier in the year, but I'm going to go ahead and put it in the April category for suck as well.  After all the stay-at-home orders, everything closed, everything cancelled, changed, postponed, re-designed, moved on-line stuff is really starting to wear on us.  I think we need to understand that there is light at the end of this tunnel of trauma.

I didn't even mention TAX Day but that's bad and goes without saying, for most hard working Americans anyway.

Just some nerdy news thoughts about this month for you.

Come on MAY!

~Anne,
anneboswelltaylor@gmail.com

Sixteen lonely miles. 

It's almost exactly the distance of the time spent driving when I would pick up my phone to call my mom.
It was on my way home.
It was a time to talk about the day and ask about hers.
I have a silent ride home now.
No music fills it.

It's been seven months and five days since mom never again opened her eyes.
I miss her almost continually but some days are better than others
I always wondered what it would be like when those above you had gone.
I am, after all, now the one at the top.
It's an odd feeling.

And today my dad would've celebrated his 98th trip around the sun.
Even though they were divorced, mom would've had something to say about it.
So it's today on HIS birthday that I am missing her very much and I'm not sure I understand that at all.
It really doesn't make a lot of sense, it's Dad's birthday, not hers.
Hers will come at the end of September and maybe I'll miss him on her birthday.
I'm still sorting this out but once thing I'm sure of,

Sixteen miles and a lonely drive home.

~Anne Boswell Taylor
July 28th, 2019

Sundays are the worst, but so are Wednesdays...

Sundays are the worst!

They used to be the best.
I am still learning my new normal without my mom.
It's still new.
It's still hard.
Most days are easier because I fill them up with busy.
I fill my days with the "Protestant work ethic" of which mom spoke.
"Work hard. Work until it's done and then work some more."
"It won't kill you," she said.

Sundays are the worst!
She's gone.
I'm still working.
I'm still hurting.
I used to call her everyday on the trip home.
I would hit the edge of town and turn east rolling past tiny farms.
I would voice dial her to just say hello and ask how she is.
I am 524 miles, one right and one left turn away from the place I want to be.

Sundays are the worst.
I used to spend a lot of time with her on Sundays.
We would go to church, then lunch.
Mom died on a Sunday.
Ironic since that's when we lived the most.

Mom loved to worship on Sundays.
She loved to sing hymns, see friends, eat lunch after church.
She always had gum, candy and tissues in her purse.
She wore Lauren cologne by Ralph Lauren.
She always dressed up.

Sundays were the best!

Sundays are the worst!

~Anne

I've woken up to dogs jumping on me, a cat walking all over my face and my 40-something bladder telling me it's time "to go" but I've never really woken up to grief, well at least not in a great long while. 

As I sit here giving my grief its first cup of coffee I still feel numb.  Two nights ago in the middle of the night there were 918 area code calls coming into my phone.  Because we're adults now and we sleep, that's not a normal thing.  The news I got was far was normal.  Now, I live with this new normal.  Mom is gone.  Died on Christmas Eve.

She was encouraging me to believe she was getting better and even called Friday night during Hannah's basketball game.  Amid distractions I spoke to her, told her Hannah was in the game now and explained to her in my best yet very terrible attempt at play by play what was going on.  She said she's meeting with more doctors.  She felt encouraged that she was able to put weight on a foot and felt that therapy was helping even if it was hard on her weakened body.

*Sigh* Really. Really I wanted to believe that. So I did.  And at Christmastime, you believe in all sorts of miracles because you just do.  

Sometime this week, we'll say goodbye one final time on this earth in Tulsa, the city she loved so much.  She will rest next to her dad, her brother, her grandparents and others in the family. 

I have many friends who make posts about losing parents.   It's just that time.  We are in that season of our lives.  No one prepares you for this and I suppose everyone's grief is as unique as their fingerprints.  This is that awkward time in the post where this should be ending. So I guess that's what I'll do.  There are no news casts to write on Christmas Day, nothing to edit and nothing to update.  Til next time...........
Appreciate your parents if you're lucky enough to still have them. 

Tethered

Say the word tether and I'll bet you think of an animal tied up with a rope.

In radio we were all so happy to go wireless with a lot of our equipment and it was so freeing not having cables and cords.  However, it is not without issues because sometimes the connection just doesn't make it and sometimes that line or tether creates the best and clearest sound. It is dependable to have a tether in electronics.

It is practical in other parts of life as well.

There are some tethers that I sometimes miss.  I miss the old fashioned phone cord tether.  Yes, the phones that you couldn't walk all over the place with but rather had to sit your fanny down and actually talk to someone.  A conversation.  No one calls me anyone just to talk, they'd rather text or FB, constantly attached to that electronic tether. 
 
There are times when I feel I have some attention problems but concentrating sometimes just isn't creative.  I play through all of these thoughts on a recent run in the neighborhood near our radio station.  I run past a cemetery, now those folks are surely tethered.  I think about how we had a leash law in Colorado Springs for our dogs, tethered.  Tethered for the dog's safety and everyone else too.  You wouldn't want to have to worry about a dog bite when you're out for a run or walk, right.  Tethered. 

We come into this world tethered to our moms and the cord must be cut.  We are tethered to our families until we go out into this big bright world alone, cord cut....tether gone.

Now I feel as though another tether has been cut or is certainly on its way to be cut.  Peanut got her driving learner's permit this week and she's that much closer to being gone.  So much Mama sadness realizing it is just closer every day.

 Making reference to the radio paragraph above, sometimes when the tether is gone the signal is lost.  But also with families and relationships too.  When there is no longer something holding us in place we must actually work harder to stay connected.  I feel like we should do a better job at making those connections as if there is a tether.  Make them clear, strong, dependable!

~Anne Taylor

Cue the 4H Mom mode....

I should really feel a little guilty sitting inside writing this in the "coolness", well sort of, of my home while my daughter and husband deal with flies, poop and 1,200 pound beasts at the Bent County fair.
Well, not so much.
Later, I will be busy enough in my own mom sorta way.

I just had to sit down and write something because I was so full of enormous happiness, and I'm so proud of my kiddo.  She not only handled a very difficult to deal with steer but tamed him enough that he is going to fair.  He was a real booger.  I think I yelled many times at him and nicknamed him "Chicken Fried Steak."  I'm become attached to others in the past because these bovine beauties really do become gentle and sweet and a lot like a giant pet, but ...they are not.  They are a project.  Kids must care of them, tame them, feed them, wash them, brush them, walk them etc.  They also must keep a record book of their work with the cattle.  They record how much they feed them, how much they bought them for and how much is spent on all of the things related to their care up until the night of the livestock auction where they sell them.  Even though much of this depends on the beef market that night,  some of this is backed with the community's support as they buy the animal the 4H student shows.  They then load them on a truck and the experience is over, until they're paid the check.  This is when expenses that are due must be paid in full, then and only then does the 4Her get to pocket the rest which usually goes into a college fund.  Some is left out for fun money to spend.  So I wrap my part of this up to share with you how very proud I am of not only the job she did, the tasks and chores she labored through but also her take or story about it.   Her account of her year is so beautiful that you really must read it as it expresses gargantuan gratitude.  My heart is swelling!  And I would post all of  it here but I'm not....except for the last part because, it says it all so in summation, here's her wrap up of the year:

              

                ~There have been many helpful people and I don’t know what I would have done without them. The Reyher family has been a huge part of my beef project this year and years past. The Stokers at the La Junta Mill have supported me as if I’m part of their family. My grandpa, my uncle Travis Taylor, and my mom and step dad have always been there when I was having problems. Without them, I would have never gotten this wonderful opportunity which many kids and teens don’t get to have. Being a 4H member is a great privilege and I’m very grateful I get to be a part of the Blue Ribbon Winners club.   ~Hannah

~Anne Boswell Taylor, 2017