I finally got to meet someone I've admired for a long time -- Tim Ernst. He is a very accomplished photographer who specializes in nature photography in Arkansas. I had heard him speak a few years ago, but never actually met him. Inspired, I wrote a story about him for the local paper. I read everything I could prior to making up a list of questions. I interviewed him via email. 

The story is profiled on my website http://www.ozarkattitude.com The paper submitted my story to the Arkansas Press Association. I was surprised to learn that I won an award for the story. In all the years I have worked for a newspaper, I've never won an award. I've never applied for one. I always figured that when you write a good story, you know it. And there is something to be said for humility.

Anyway, Tim had an open house at his gallery yesterday.  Meeting him was extraordinary, but seeing his work up close and personal was the icing on the cake. The man is an artistic genius. My first instincts were right-on.

It is always good to bond with people you admire, but to meet them for the first time is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

As a journalist, I have written many "last stories" about people. I recognize that these are some of the most important stories I've ever written. These are the ones that are clipped from the newspaper and saved in scrapbooks. I always try to be positive and sometimes add a little humor, depending on what is said about the deceased. Getting people talking usually reveals a story or a little quip about something said or done. I try to really capture the person's personality so whoever reads the final story can relate to what is said about the person they loved. Sometimes the final story contains information even people close to the person didn't know. I've never seen a time when folks weren't grateful that a final story was written about their loved one. Sometimes, the last thing said about a person is the first time their name ever appeared in a newspaper, during a whole lifetime. I only know it is a good story, worthy of being published, when it makes me cry.

While there isn't a big call for these kinds of stories, they do represent a small, but very important part of my freelance career. I was reminded of this aspect of my writing life this weekend with the loss of our dog Sam. He died Saturday, as a result of a tick-borne illness and complications from a heart condition.

Sam was a good dog. Gosh, he put up with our 6 cats. He was my husband's best friend.

When John and I went for a walk, just the mere mention of it made Sam's ears perk up. I swear he could smile. He always had a great disposition and was as eager to please us as he was to play with us. Even in his last days, he was a happy dog. We will miss him.

My last post was Oct. 29. Today is Nov. 9. It appears I'm not a very prolific writer. Not true. I have written so much in the last several weeks that for a couple days I didn't even turn on my computer. That is a rarity for me, because my morning routine begins with peel back the covers,  swing the feet onto the floor, and walk to the desk where even in the dark I can find the switch for the power strip that brings to life my instrument of communication --  computer, printer, and monitor. Only then can the morning commence.

My reluctance to fall into the routine was due to sheer exhaustion from already typing too many words. Actually this was the easy week. I just completed the last of the election wrap-up stories for my local paper (600 miles away). Even though I didn't have to reach for information since I already did the leg work in the candidate profiles, the task didn't seem easy after writing all those stories about contests prior to the election. I admit taking a little editorial liberty with the presidential race, proclaiming pleasure at the country's and my own exuberance from President-Elect Barack Obama's triumph. After all, I have met him. (See the picture of us in my profile)

But now that it is all behind me, I vow I will never cover elections again. I fear that is also part of a routine. Municipal elections are in April. I will make bets with myself that I get excited about the prospect all over again. Great, a bet I cannot lose.

It has been days since my last post. At least this time, I justify my excuse by saying it is because I've been writing.

While that may sound like a good thing, it isn't. My assignment with a local weekly newspaper involved writing a plethora of election stories. That in itself is a somewhat painful experience.

It is especially so when one of the candidate interviews involves a partner in a development firm, who is the vice-chairman of a county's land use committee, who votes on development issues. And he accepts generous campaign contributions from the developers whose projects are before his committee. And, one of them is his brother-in-law. ARG! I don't even like describing this! Maintaining objectivity is nearly impossible. Putting up with the name-calling and innuendos hurled at the messenger isn't fun either. The older I get the thinner my thick skin is becoming.

It is time to start thinking about writing for enjoyment, which is why I'm here.

In writing my blog profile, I've omitted a huge chunk of my life. Actually, my other side is too complicated for 'about me.' And, it also fits under 'what I write' and 'hobbies.'

In addition to being a journalist, I'm also an activist. While those may sound like conflicts, in my early days of reporting the news, I worked very hard to maintain a professional separation. It was one of the most dificult things I've ever done.

In September, 1988 I became a correspondent for a daily newspaper that published my first story. But, one month prior, I was instrumental in starting an organization to fight a new airport proposed in our state. Ten years later I became employed by that newspaper. I gave up the activist role - my choice. Due to unrelated abuse by an editor, I quit two years later. I became a reporter/editor for the local weekly paper which proudly displayed a 'no airport' logo above the masthead. This job allowed me the freedom to practice what I consider more honest reporting, because it was a better fit for me. It encouraged me to take on more of an advocacy role. I sincerely believe the thing will never be built for so many reasons, but basically because if it had merit, it would already have been built.

When my husband retired three years ago, we moved away. After six months of not writing, I was called by my former editor who asked me to continue writing. I jumped at the chance. So, I still write stories on this and other issues from 600 miles away.

This project will make an interesting book one day. In fact, I've written the first chapter. I can't wait to write it because I'm really looking forward to reading it. If only it were that easy!