Find the good, it’s more fun

Not long ago, a young woman who happened to be a friend of a few people I know lost her life. By all accounts, it was a tragic death and  they say she was a very giving person and that she will be missed.

As I sought information about her out of my own curiosity, I stumbled into a column that appeared in a local newspaper about her nearly a year ago. As I read it, I felt it gave interesting insight into the woman’s life and her art. The art was clearly the focus of the article, as the column was pegged on a display of several photographs she had taken.

I felt I definitely knew her more after reading that story than I did after just learning of her death.

But the column’s author also did something that all reporters try to do: he did not sugarcoat his article. He was not writing a P.R. piece for this woman, nor was he writing an obituary at the time. He was letting readers know about the woman behind the photographs.

In the column, the author quotes the young artist as a human being and she admits that “I have no idea” whether she should be considered an artist or not.

Fast forward to about one week ago. This young woman dies and someone saying he was the woman’s former co-worker also reads this same piece. But he viewed it as an attack job. Among his complaints was that bringing up a divorce was inappropriate. He said the author was the equivalent of a TMZ reporter.

But what the commenter seemed to miss was that, because this reporter wrote about this young woman, he had an account, a memory, of his friend to permanently supplement his personal memories. Instead of focusing on how he perceived – and I stress it’s a perception – the writer got it wrong and made it “personal,” he should have focused on the good.

With society where it is right now, it is fairly easy to find the bad in a situation and dwell on it. Much more difficult is finding the good. Most who know me understand that I am not afraid to be positive. Some people have even said it annoys them. I am OK with that.

It started with a walk

This is my goal: taking off from the start line with a mass of crazy people who should be at home enjoying themselves

Note: Yeah, it’s been a long while since I have blogged. But I’m vowing, once again, to get back to it. Consider it a New Year’s resolution about two months early.

When I went to the hospital in May for a disgustingly painful headache (see June 17 blog post), it was something of a wake-up call to stay healthy. While I sat in the doctor’s office for a follow-up, I thought of what to do. Nothing came to mind.

How do you change years of lethargy and inactivity when you know results will not be immediate? The answer: just start walking.

Thanks to the wonderful world wide web, my first step was to find an online tool that could track my distance. I did not feel like getting a pedometer as I really did not trust that this “wake-up call” would lead to anything. When it comes to exercise, I’ve had more false starts than I can remember.

I found dailymile and measured a half-mile out from my home. I decided to get out there and just walk. After a one-mile walk, I was exhausted. But a couple of days later, I added a jog. The jog killed me.

Fast forward several months. In August, I found the Couch to 5K program. It was the first time I decided to measure improvement and try to become a runner. While my initial push to run a 5K stalled, I am still proud that I can now run more than a mile without walking.

Compared to some of my friends, this is nothing. I have great friends who have run the San Francisco Marathon, friends who run triathlons and friends who are just insanely in shape. Hell, my roommate ran a 15K last weekend without thinking.

But one of the great things about running is that you really are only battling yourself. Every day I get a new personal record is a great day. I try to run at least four times per week and have started running 5K distance. Well, actually, run/walk is probably a more accurate term.

Add into that my recent addition of a new hole on my belt, and there really has been some tangible, visual evidence that this running has put me on the right track to good health. While my eating habits have not changed too much (my goal is to add this in 2011), I still feel pretty good about life after a good run.

For years, I used to “not have time” to run. I’ve since changed that and made time for it. I may not be the best motivator. Some people have chafed at my insistence that anybody can make time if they try. I am the prime example of that. In just five months, I’ve gone from an unhealthy, lethargic and inactive bump on a log to someone who is preparing to tackle his first 5K and the Shamrock Shuffle 8K in April. I have become a runner.

And it all started with a walk.

Pride should be permanent

The anniversary of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, as it does every year, has brought forth from many friends a renewed sense of pride in the United States of America. They fly their flags proudly today and many have also changed their Facebook profile pics to display their patriotism.

However, it brings up a question that a couple very patriotic friends have brought up: Why is pride in country not something that is celebrated every day?

You don’t have to agree with everything about a country to be proud of it. I will admit that my pride in the U.S. has been challenged in the past by many things. For one, there is so much anger toward Mexicans today that I would bet that many people would be offended at my pride, despite the fact that I was born in McHenry, Ill. Apparently, I’m an anchor baby.

As people commemorate this anniversary, many probably forget that people of all faiths, nationalities and cultures were in the towers and people of all faiths, nationalities and cultures ran toward the towers to help. Recently, a bill to help those who remain ill because of the dust kicked up at the towers was stalled because, among other things, lawmakers wanted to make sure no illegal immigrants would get the money. Forget that they were hailed as heroes for risking their lives. Their heritage makes them less worthy of assistance, apparently.

However, while some things bother me, there are also many things that I love. Troops overseas are doing things that I would probably never be able to do. Their courage is unmatched. Also, I love that this country has been built around values that I think are important to always remember, including freedom of religion. To wonder aloud whether we should abandon these values because “if they can be violent and hateful, so can we” cheapens the intentions of so many patriotic people’s heroes, the founding fathers.

As  you vow to never forget, just also never forget that the country has flourished because of its acceptance and tolerance. In the immediate aftermath of the attacks, there was a blind rage that could have easily compromised those values. Today, some groups continue to use Sept. 11 as a way of venting their hatred and promoting intolerance while dressing it up in a veil of patriotism. However, every day I still take pride to be from a country that protects, as strongly as anything else, the freedoms that make it great and make it a place that people still want to come and find their American dream.

‘Your health is your wealth’

A friend of mine told me the city of Elgin, Ill., uses this motto. Kind of cheesy. But, unfortunately, I’ve learned the hard way during the past several weeks that it is very true.

As many people may know, high blood pressure has been a battle waged for several years. At one point, a doctor used the term “dangerously high” when he saw the numbers. Basically, the first number was in the 200s. That’s not an exaggeration, either. In fact, during a doctor’s visit this week, the number was 164/134. Technically, that is also dangerous.

However, believe it or not, that was a good day. After the meeting with the doctor, I was prescribed medication I will probably have to take the rest of my life. As a colleague put it today, that clinches it: I’m officially old.

A little background: The annoying and strong headaches began about six weeks ago. They were just there, kind of lingering but  very annoying. About three weeks in, the headaches intensified and really peaked in the middle of a work day. It was impossible to concentrate and had to be the most debilitating headache I have ever experienced. The first instinct was to tough it out. I even conducted an interview or two while they were there. But in the early afternoon, I could no longer take it. I went to the hospital and got checked out. Again, that’s no exaggeration. I had a headache, of varying intensity, for about six weeks.

During those weeks the headaches were consuming my life, I complained more than I ever had before. It’s hard to explain exactly how debilitating the headaches were to people who, since they were children, probably dealt with any headache successfully with Tylenol. I was called emo, told I complained too much, you name it. It was definitely not my usual attitude.

However, since I’ve started taking the medication, I’ve felt better than ever. Maybe it’s a result of feeling so terrible and knowing how bad things can be. It really helps you appreciate it when you feel good. Now, I know it’s cheesy to be positive. For some reason, positive thinking seems to be looked down upon. But after feeling like a different person for several weeks, I have no problem coming out and saying that life is great right now and I hope the medication continues to do its work. Because everybody loves a happy Marco, right?

Wait, there really was a Mr. Waterfall?

When I first moved to Willowbrook, Ill., in September, several questions came to mind: What is the fastest route to get to the newsroom? Where is the nearest Buffalo Wild Wings? And, having just moved into an area known as Waterfall Glen, where exactly is this waterfall?

After more than eight months, I finally found it Thursday. Granted, it will not give Niagara Falls a run for its money. It’s not much more than a six-foot drop nestled in the middle of one of the county’s largest forest preserves. But it was a peaceful rest stop during a leisurely stroll that turned into an eight-mile nature hike.

So, was this the waterfall they named the community and forest preserve after? Oddly enough, no, it was not. The waterfall they named Waterfall Glen Forest Preserve after was actually a man named Seymour “Bud” Waterfall. He was chairman of the county board and a president of the forest preserve in the early 1900s.

Hyper-local history has long been an interest of mine. To me, learning about textbook history, while important and sometimes fun, has got nothing on learning about what any area looked like before huge cookie-cutter subdivisions took over. I love learning about the everyday lives of the people who built and helped guide this or any community through its formative years. So the minor level of research into Mr. Waterfall brought on by my decision to go experience the trail was a fun exercise.

Here’s a quick slideshow of the waterfall.

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Memory lane, a trip down

It is not a stretch to say that my appreciation for where I have come from knows no bounds. Those who know me know this. But until today, perhaps even I did not know exactly how much I appreciated it.

As part of a state junior college journalism convention, a former adviser asked me to reprise my first acting role and speak to junior college students about the wonders of covering governmental bodies.

Daily Herald movie critic Dann Gire entertained students at the 2010 Illinois Community College Journalism Association convention at Elgin Community college.

The session was well attended considering my program with the absolutely awe-inspiring title “Covering Government” was held at the exact same time as Daily Herald film critic Dann Gire’s session, titled “How to be a Quote Whore in 10 Sleazy Steps.” I do believe I will be giving more attention to the title next time. The convention was held at my old stomping grounds, Elgin Community College, 1700 Spartan Drive, Elgin. I’ll let you guess the school’s mascot.

I didn’t expect much of a reaction within me when I arrived on campus. At first, it was nothing more than a chance to continue to hone my skills speaking in front of a group and teaching. I presented, they asked questions, we laughed, they learned. A follow-up email will impart a lot of what I know about the topic.

This was the newsroom of Elgin Community College's school newspaper, the Observer. Yes, this was all of it. In the upper part of the screen, you can see the book rack.

But it was after the session that some nostalgic thoughts popped in my head. I passed the classroom I aced a statistics class in. I passed a couple of biology classrooms. Again, aced them because my focus back then was on my grades. I even went by the office of the first “adviser” I had ever had, a woman who wasn’t necessarily an adviser by title but who had pointed me toward  journalism. Unfortunately, she was no longer at the school and I couldn’t thank her.

Then I walked into the ECC Observer’s “newsroom.” Quite frankly, the name fits as it is nothing more than a one-room office in the Student Life area. It did, however, bring me back to the four semesters and a summer I attended Elgin. The 50- to 60-hour workweeks that I did while going to school working toward a degree. The parking lot story that I knew was going to net me a Pulitzer Prize, or, at the very least, some award at the Illinois Community College Journalism Association convention, lovingly referred to as “ICK-JA.” And the woman in her mid-40s who was a non-traditional student, like me, but who handed me over a

My first journalism desk, by Playskool

newsroom copy of Carole Rich’s “Writing and Reporting News: A Coaching Method.” As she said at the time, “You will be able to use it more than anybody else here.”

Little did she know that for weeks I would take the book with me to work and read part of a chapter every night during my shift. Even after I transferred to Eastern Illinois University, I would break it out every now and then after class, especially during the semesters I did not have a journalism class. I was absolutely hooked. If there were a large bag filled with things and events that made me pursue journalism, that moment when the woman saw how much I asked about the book and decided to give it to me would be included.

I have since passed that book on but do have an updated version I occasionally take a peek at. So what is the point of this rant? I suppose there is not much of a point to it other than to show my appreciation for a school like Elgin Community College. If not for that school, I would not have pursued journalism. Its convenience and location kept me encouraged and pushed me to make the ultimate decision that anything sacrificed to transfer to Eastern would be worth it.  And it was.

Give back where you can

Illinois College Press Association took place in the greatest city in the world, Chicago

To meet John Seigenthaler is to be inspired. The 82-year-old founder of the First Amendment Center in Nashville, Tenn., has lived a life that you usually only read about. He was the first editorial director of the USA Today. Starting in 1961, he served as an administrative assistant to then-Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy.

When the Freedom Rides of 1961 reached Montgomery, Ala., he was sent as an escort and, while trying to protect a young  woman, he was knocked unconscious for about 25 minutes by a lead pipe. Afterward, Kennedy sent Seigenthaler a lead pipe as a memento of the trip. That pipe now sits in the hallway of the First Amendment Center.

In January of 2009, I had the privilege of meeting Mr. Seigenthaler during a weeklong trip to the Freedom Forum Diversity Center in Nashville. It was a Chips Quinn Scholars trip that deserves its own blog entry some day. But, long story short, I met a lot of talented young journalists and the trip changed me quite a bit.

One of the main messages I took from that trip, however, was to give back wherever you could. This past weekend, I had a chance to do just that.

For years, I have attended the Illinois College Press Association‘s annual convention in Chicago as a student. For the first time this year, I attended as an instructor. Even typing that makes me cringe. How the heck could I teach anybody anything? I could barely make it to class when I was in school. Nonetheless, I led a session on covering meetings and, to my surprise, we had a nearly full house.

It took a couple of minutes to get comfortable in front of the student-journalists, who attend colleges throughout Illinois. But once I was comfortable, I do believe the session went smoothly. They asked questions and even laughed at some of my jokes. That’s always a good sign.

For my first time in front of college students — I did instruct some high school students last summer — I thought it went well. My hope is that this turns into a regular thing. It’s the least I can do to thank those endless advisers, professional reporters, professors (who can confirm my attendance record) and student editors who selflessly helped me at school.

In the end, I hope to make a difference in some people’s lives, whether they be up-and-coming journalists or beneficiaries of volunteer opportunities in the area.

It is nowhere near the work that Mr. Seigenthaler has done in his life. I doubt if I will ever be able to make the difference that he has made. But at the very least, I hope to take the message I learned in Nashville forward.

Want to know your future?

On Sept. 24, a television show debuted on ABC called “FlashForward.” The premise is somewhat interesting. Everybody in the world blacks out for 2 minutes, 17 seconds, during which time they get a glimpse at exactly six months into their future. As the characters continue their lives, they either accept their fate or work to avoid facing whatever it is they are meant to face.

It brings up a question of whether you would want to know what you would be doing in six months. Every year at about this time, I do what many others do: I reflect on the past year. Almost invariably, I come to this conclusion: Holy hell, how did I get here? I will pause for a second here to explain that, OK, I don’t sit on some special chair and reflect for hours or anything like that. But I think about things that have gone on during the year. OK, back to the originally scheduled blog.

Anyway, using the theme of the show, six months ago I would never have guessed I would be back in the suburbs of Chicago. I would never have guessed that, because of my job, I would be slowly learning everything there is to know about two towns that, before, had merely been names on a map. Six months before then, I had never even heard of Galesburg, Ill., and had no clue that my first professional gig would land me there. And, of course, six months before that I would have thought you were crazy if you had told me that I was heading to Des Moines, Iowa, for a brief stint with the Associated Press. In between those six-month spans are countless events that came out of nowhere and changed me, with a Chipsters trip to Tennessee probably being tops on that list.

The point is to never take your life for granted. And don’t let negativity beat your butt. If I were to really concentrate, I’m sure I could come up with many negative things that have happened this year. But I try not to dwell on them. You have to move forward because in six months, what might seem like the biggest crisis that you have ever had to deal with will be just a small blip on your life’s radar.

All in all, though, would I like to know what six months in the future holds for me? Nah. But I cannot wait to see what it is. Happy new year and I hope to blog more in 2010.