I began working for the Messenger when I was just 16. I first worked after school as part of a mentor program kindly arranged by Roy Eaton and my English teacher, James Bell.

By the summer, I was a full-fledged intern. The folks at the Messenger were generous and allowed me to write news and feature stories, in addition to the more typical intern tasks like typing obits, making corrections and photographing giant vegetables.

That’s right. During my summer internships here, I was the official giant vegetable and/or fruit photographer. I took many pictures of giddy gardeners and the fruit of their labor. If anyone grew an abnormally large squash or a gigantic watermelon, they would tote it to the Messenger’s office for a photo-op.

Now I’ll be honest. Taking pictures of giant vegetables was not my favorite thing to do. In fact, I began to loathe it. During my last summer, I received a note to call a gardener on Trinity Street in Decatur who had grown an enormous tomato.

I didn’t call him back right away. I put it off for weeks. Keep in mind, his home was just a few blocks away from the office. It would have only taken 10 minutes to run down the street and snap a picture.

About August, the guilt overwhelmed me and I called the gardener with the enormous tomato. But it was too late. The tomato was gone and the vine was burned and scorched by the sun.

I had shirked my duties, and the county was deprived of seeing one gardener’s pride and joy. Maybe a giant tomato wasn’t important to me, but I’m sure it meant a lot to the gardener that tended its vines and lovingly watered it.

I recently came across a book that reminded me of those days — Backyard Giants by Susan Warren. Warren follows pumpkin growers in “the passionate, heartbreaking and glorious quest to grow the biggest pumpkin ever.”

It’s on my bookshelf at home and as soon as I read it, I’ll report back. I’m thinking these gourds may be a bit bigger than anything I ever saw in Wise County.

We went to Woodstock.
No, not the original in ’69, but the 30th anniversary concert in 1999.
And we didn’t exactly go to it, just in the area, quite by accident, and it proved to be a royal pain.
Echoes of “the New York throughway is closed” caused us to take a six-hour bus ride from Philadelphia to Utica, N.Y. when our plane broke down.
It was among the most brutal of several air travel mishaps in recent years.
When Nolan Ryan retired from the Texas Rangers after his storied career as one of baseball’s greatest hurlers, I vowed to be in Cooperstown for his induction five years later.
Traveling to the National Baseball Hall of Fame is a pilgrimage for the baseball fan. Combining it with the induction of the man who epitomizes larger-than-life Texans on the diamond was not to be missed.
So as far in advance as possible we booked the tour, with a motel room in Utica, which is a short drive from Cooperstown and the nearest airport.
But when we got to Philadelphia we found our connecting flight canceled by an air conditioner malfunction on the small jet.
There was only one other flight into Utica that day but it was full.
The final solution was a six-hour bus ride through the Poconos to Utica on one of those rattle-trap shuttle buses meant for short hops, not long trips.
Off we went with three other fellow travelers.
One of the alternatives had been to fly us to Syracuse, about an hour from Utica, and then bus us in from there. But they refused to do that, fearing the 30th anniversary Woodstock concert would again close down the throughway (a concert that had not even been scheduled when we booked our trip).
Turned out that was a crock, because the bus went right down the throughway and there was virtually no traffic.
Then we got to the Utica airport only to find one of our passengers’ bags wasn’t on the bus. Lo and behold it was at the terminal, delivered by the later flight, which it turned out had about a half-dozen empty seats. Think we were happy to hear that?
If the trip wasn’t enough of a mess, the same plane taking us from Utica back to Philadelphia taxied to the end of the runway, revved the engine, and a warning light went on in the cockpit. Back to the terminal and a cab to Syracuse.
When we learned our connector would be through Washington, DC, we used our bad fortune to convince the gate agent that his airline owed us, big time, so we were able to wrangle a two-day layover in DC to visit my sister.
And just to show you things can always be worse, the guy whose bag wasn’t on the bus also couldn’t get his rental car since he did not own a credit card, and his hotel room had been given to someone else when he showed up late.
Woodstock? I think I’ll pass.
The only music I want to hear is “Take me out to the ballgame.”

I was quite jealous of my husband, Daniel, this summer. As a teacher, he had only had four weeks of summer school to occupy his time during the week — and those were HALF days. He worked from 8 to noon. He would call in the afternoon to tell me about what fun he and our son, Caleb, were having taking naps and watching TV. Unfair.

But that changed on Monday, Aug. 3. That’s when he started two-a-day practices. I was left to tote our son to and from the babysitter — something he usually does. This has left me arriving to work quite late — how can I possibly get ready for work without taking several breaks to play with Caleb? I can’t.

Anyway — that has also left me husbandless during the evenings. While he gets a nice break in the afternoon (during which he takes more naps - unfair), he is back at work from about 5 until 9. Which means I am all by myself with Caleb (awesome!).

This new schedule has placed a burden on my coworkers. The meetings I normally cover in the evenings were picked up by Travis and Brandon.

I also have scanner this week. That means that if something happens while Daniel is off coaching, I have to call Brandon or Travis or Kristen or Robert and beg them to leave the comfort of their homes to go cover an accident or fire — and there have been several this week.

Have I mentioned that my coworkers are great?

I am not left to simply lounge during my evenings away from meetings. During that time I have to feed little Caleb several times, make sure he’s getting the necessary tummy time, give him a bath, read a few pages of “To Kill A Mockingbird,” make dinner, clean the kitchen, make sure our dog is getting his evening exercise, try to clean the house a little, and etc.

I love every second of time I spend with Caleb. That’s why nothing on my “to do” list is completed until after he goes to bed.

This experience has given me a whole new respect for mothers with far busier schedules than I. While I am only a single mom for about four hours an evening, many are carrying the title permanently. That means they are working, nurturing and living productively without any extra hands, while I can’t seem to find time to do something as simple as sweep.

I have to hand it to my mom. She was also a coach’s wife and was our primary guardian during many a football, basketball or track season. She taught third and fourth graders all day at work, then came home and made sure my brother and I did our homework, had our dinner and got in bed at a decent hour. We donned our green and white on Fridays and went to every football game — near and far. We went to birthday and slumber parties, school and church events, piano lessons and all those other things that kids have to do.

I also have to recognize my dad. While he put in many, many hours with the kids he was coaching, he always made time in his schedule to see us. He made our breakfast in the mornings and came in to tell us goodnight when he finally got home from practices or games. He managed to help me learn how to ride my bike, teach my brother anything and everything about football and play along with our silly games throughout our childhood.

Wow - I’m blessed. I won’t complain anymore.

This is my apartment at 11:30 p.m. Friday night. Within minutes, everything I owned, save a few shirts, jeans and some pairs of dress pants, were completely destroyed. I’m going to write more about it in this weeks Messenger, but I have had this constant thought rolling in my head over the past few days: I have to start completely over. Everything that comprised my old life, 23 years of memories, is gone.

What does that mean for me? Is this another life? What will I make of it?

ALCOHOL — Next May, there will be a vote to allow alcohol to be sold within Newark. The rational behind that is to increase sales tax for the city. I don’t see how this isn’t a great idea, and why every city doesn’t at least sell beer and wine. Chances are, if your city doesn’t sell alcohol, there is somewhere nearby where you can go, buy beer and bring it back to your city. Since the police aren’t stopping people from doing that, why not allow it in your city?

2009 DALLAS COWBOYS — Last month I saw that Las Vegas had the Cowboys at the third-best odds to get to the Super Bowl from the NFC this year. That absolutely blows my mind. The loss of Felix Jones hurt the Cowboys last year, but not that much. Not having T.O. is going to be an absolute crushing blow…there isn’t a sane person out there that thinks Roy Williams can hack it as a No. 1 receiver. Playing in the NFC East…the Plowboys are a ten-win team at best.

THE GYM — There was a guy today in Fit-N-Wise working out in a cut-off Affliction T-shirt. Outstanding. Left me absolutely speechless.

NEWARK — Long time Newark city secretary Sherry Edgemon will be retiring in December after more thank 31 years. Congrats Sherry! Newark…good luck.

The Messenger staff has been discussing our new product — Community Focus — all week. The section will focus on specific regions of the county, highlighting the people, schools and government of those regions.
The whole idea is quite exciting for me. As I have the tendency to get stuck in creative ruts, this concept will really help me get out and about in our communities and talk to people, gather ideas and get to know our county a little better.
And it’s coming at the perfect time. The first section, the Bridgeport and lake area section, will be in the Sept. 3 issue of the Messenger, coinciding with the beginning of school. Both of my parents were teachers and now my husband is a teacher, so I am perpetually on a school calendar. Ever year, I get a little antsy in May, anticipating the freedom of the summer (which never comes). Then as August rolls around, I get antsy again  — the first of school serves as my New Year. I set my resolutions to be more creative, punctual, active, etc. when all the teachers and kids go back to school.

But between May and August, my brain shuts down.

Maybe this will truly get the ball rolling again for me. I’ve been a little out of it since our little boy joined our family in March.

The perilous on-ramp at U.S. 287 south and Farm Road 51 in Decatur has always been a tough place to navigate. Coming up that ramp, you can’t see a single thing coming down the highway as you try and merge at 40 mph until the 6-foot entrance road ends. I can’t tell you how many times I have come to the top of that hill with a huge 18-wheeler occupying the space I need to merge onto. I drive a Toyota Solara, a semi would bat me away like a fly. At least U.S. 287 is two lanes, so if someone coming down the highway sees a vehicle suddenly shoot up the FM 51 on-ramp, he can move into the left lane to allow room to merge.

Or at least U.S. 287 WAS two lanes.

Today I was coming back to U.S. 287 from the hospital. After stopping at the red light at FM 51 and the access road, I went up the hill to merge onto U.S. 287. When I got to the top, there was a 18-wheeler passing the on ramp at 60 mph. He could not move over because for some reason the left lane is closed. There are ZERO signs on the on ramp alerting mergers of this fact. I had to swerve off the highway onto the shoulder and come to a complete stop to avoid being crushed.

I am not sure how long the left lane is going to be closed, or why is it closed, but it is dangerous and someone is going to get hurt.

TxDOT, how about working a little harder to ensure the safety of your state’s drivers?

EDIT: An e-mail to the TxDOT office in Decatur resulted in the following explanation:

US 81 and FM 51 work began this week.  We expect to have the detour installed by next week to switch traffic. … TxDOT’s contractor will be repairing a beam that was hit at that location.  Traffic will have to be switched from the northbound lanes to soutbound lanes around the FM 51 Bridge Structure and back to the northbound lanes.  That means that during this time the southbound lanes of US 81 (particularly at the bridge) will be reduced to one lane in each direction.  This work is scheduled to take place over the weekend of August 14-16th.

For three weeks the Mess has been a mess.
Decatur’s downtown improvement project has deterred visitors and detoured drivers around our building as construction closed the block of Trinity south of the courthouse square so that a decorative brick walkway could be placed across the street connecting our southwest corner and the visitor center. As well electrical lines were laid under the street, which will eventually connect a couple of period lights, like those already installed around the square.
Similar projects have been ongoing around the square for a few months, rotating in a clockwise basis. The crews moved on to the west this week.
Last week’s rains, while a blessing, were also a curse, because they helped stretch a project slated for two weeks into three, pushing the closure right up to a critical time for us, selling school supplies.
We made it known that the street had to be reopened by the first of August, and when the barricades went down late Friday afternoon, we were just a little giddy.
The inconvenience to customers is one thing. Jack hammering and other pounding, vibrating and disruptions right outside the window is another.
We’re glad to be rid of both. Come see us.

It came out a few days ago that former Boston Red Sox outfielder Manny Ramirez and current Red Sox David Ortiz were among those that tested positive in 2003 for performance enhancing drugs, the same year the Red Sox went on their magical run to break the 100-year curse of Babe Ruth.

Professional sports are going to be what they are, and just because athletes may or may not have done steroids doesn’t mean we are going to stop going to games or watching them on television. However, what kind of message does that send to young kids that want to grow up and be pro baseball players?

I did a story this week on a kid in Rhome, Cade Garner, who is one of the best pitchers I have every seen, and he is only 13. He told me he wants to play professional baseball one day, possibly for the Red Sox. Not that he would ever do steroids, but what can he possibly think, looking at his idols right now in the sport he loves, watching them break rules and put things into their bodies that can kill them?

Baseball needs to end this steroid controversy now, not because its “cheating,” because honestly, most everyone is doing it, so the playing field is pretty level. Baseball needs to take care of this now because in ten years, when kids like Cade are old enough to play pro ball, you want them to play clean and honest. Someone within baseball needs to step up and publicly chastise the MLB and its players, because they are role models and are shaping the minds of our future stars

Come on baseball, someone think about your future instead of your present.

Top night for the 2009 Wise County Old Settlers Reunion?
Judging by Decatur Lions Club receipts in the parking lot, it was Friday, with1,098 vehicles. Friday has taken over from Saturday in recent years as the busiest night.
In the past attendance built each night Monday through Saturday. But the past few years the Friday crowd has been a little larger – by 177 cars this year and 140 last year.
Overall attendance was up quite a bit this year, as Lions parked more cars on each night for a total of 3,839, compared to 3,464 a year ago. Record attendance in 2007 was 3,859.
Gas prices likely had a negative impact a year ago, and with the cost down about 40 percent in 12 months, and people taking trips closer to home, interest in the event improved.
Why Friday has overtaken Saturday is anybody’s guess. Used to be folks who couldn’t make it during the week would come in for Saturday’s event. But this year it could have been the entertainment or the fact that there were several other organized events Saturday – something that didn’t happen in years past. Scheduling something opposite the Reunion was somewhat akin to having something on Wednesday night. You just didn’t do it.
Manning the parking lot has always been a challenge for Lions, sort of like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. The lot is not a uniform shape and has some trees.
And drivers are not always completely tuned in to the directions Lions are trying to give non-verbally.
We always have a blast doing it and plenty of chuckles wondering how some folks can so badly misinterpret our wild arm-waving.
And seeing what some folks will do when left to their own devices makes you wonder how they ever got a drivers license.