My Blog's 2-Year Anniversary!!

Last year my dad told me he would buy me an NHL team jersey to wear for hockey, but I had to pick the team and a player’s name to put on the back. I don’t watch a lot of professional hockey but I knew I wanted one of the original six teams and since I have family roots in Canada, I wanted a Canadien team. Wanting to differentiate myself from my dad’s favorite team, I chose the Maple Leafs. I didn’t know any of the players so I told my dad he’d have to pick one for me. I couldn’t have prepared myself for who he chose.

Tie Domi, #28. I’d never heard of him. But one 30 second YouTube video gave me a pretty good idea of why my dad picked him for me. The video showed him dumping a water bottle on a heckler sitting behind him while he was in the penalty box, which quickly escalated to a full out brawl. To put it simply, Domi was a FIGHTER. He played off and on for the Maple Leafs during his 16-year NHL career from 1989—2006.  He has more penalty minutes than any player in the history of the Maple Leafs and is ranked third overall in penalty minutes in NHL history. Every time I put on his jersey now, I remind myself to be a fighter.

On January 23, 2014 I celebrated the 2-year anniversary of my blog. The whole week leading up to my anniversary, I was trying to formulate what exactly to write about for such an auspicious occasion. For some reason my dad’s choice of Tie Domi as my hockey player kept popping into my head. He was a true fighter all the way through his hockey career. Looking back, I realized that I’ve been a fighter the whole way through my writing career as well.

I’ve been out of college for over five years now, and I have yet to go a single month without paid writing work. Most days it feels like I get paid in pennies, if at all. But when I think about the fact that I’ve never had a shortage of work, I realize that my dream is still unfolding. Achieving the greatness I want with my writing has been slow coming, but I’ve stayed the course. This past year has been full of writing milestones for me, and the most beautiful part is that I’ve had personal ties to all of them.

Last spring the editor of the Helena Vigilante asked me to go interview Larry Kucsulain, the owner of Cutbird Skateboards. I only had to spend about five minutes with Larry to realize that he is a truly unique soul. Not only is he an incredibly gracious and friendly man, but he is one of the rare people who is actually trying to make a difference in the world and change the lives of others. He is a major proponent of skating in town and dispelling all negative stereotypes people have about skaters. He helps kids improve their skills, keeps them drug and violence free and sees to it that their success as skaters transfers to their academic life as well. It was a true privilege not only to meet and befriend Larry, but to spread the word about all of the amazing work he is doing in the community.

 

Earlier this fall, I learned the heartbreaking news that Larry was diagnosed with stage 4 of an aggressive form of brain cancer. While immediately undergoing surgery and maintaining the most upbeat attitude possible, the last I heard he was moved to hospice care and only given 2—4 months to live. Not a single day has passed since I first heard the news that I haven’t prayed for him. For me, he isn’t just some skater guy that I wrote a humble article on. He is someone who touched my soul and who I am forever bound to by the words I strung together to share his story. Peace be with you Larry, and never EVER give up the fight. 

On April 19, 2014, I was baptized into the Catholic Church. It was the most transformative and beautiful night of my life. I was glowing from the inside all the way out for weeks afterwards. I was so inspired that I was practically bursting to write about every feeling inside me. I couldn’t get the words down on the page fast enough. As soon as I read through it the first time, I knew my Easter blog post was one of my very favorite ones. The best part though, was how many other people read and reacted to it. I think it meant something to a lot of people, regardless of where their faith and beliefs lay. 

A few weeks after Easter, my boyfriend of over 8 years proposed to me. Only a week into our blissful engagement, my family received a devastating blow. My fiancé, Andy, was diagnosed with MS. I saw the future I had started to plan flash before my eyes….and I wondered if this was how it would all come crashing down. But I quickly realized that God had not cast us aside or forgotten us. We were blessed with a wonderful and compassionate team of doctors who gave us reassurance and got Andy’s health as close to back to normal again as possible. He has been completely unfazed since and I know all the way through to my bones that he will triumph over his MS and it will never slow him or us down. 

 Once the dust from that storm had settled, I felt a tug inside me and knew that I needed to write about my experience….from engagement to ER. I felt terrified and knew that it would be emotional to write, but that was exactly why I knew I had to do it. By not writing about it, I would let fear conquer me rather than me conquering it. The response I received from that blog post was overwhelming. Messages started flowing in within minutes of publishing it that offered words of encouragement and support as well as praise for me simply having the courage to write about everything. To date, that post has the highest readership of any posts on my blog.

 This past fall, I had another article published in Distinctly Montana Magazine. It wasn’t exactly the article I initially proposed to them, but it still gave voice to my topic: women motocross riders. I am certainly not the fastest or most skilled rider. I have only rode in a couple of off-road races that I was happy just to finish. But as I’ve grown as a rider, I’ve had the privilege of riding alongside several other girls who aren’t afraid to get dirty and push themselves beyond what society often thinks girls are capable of. Opening the magazine and seeing my article and byline along with pictures of lady riders flying off jumps as well as a photo of me on my bike, was a pretty special moment to say the least. I hope other women read it and were inspired to try learning how to ride.

 Ever since I started writing for the Independent Record six months after graduating college, I always longed to write a feature article for them. Unfortunately, everything I wrote was usually brief and printed in special inserts in the paper. Thankfully, the gutsy ambition of my cousin this past summer finally lent me the opportunity to snag my dream in glorious fashion. Ashley, along with her boyfriend Sam made the decision one day to ride their mountain bikes the entire length of the Continental Divide Trail—which runs from the Canadian border to Mexico for nearly 3,000 miles! Not long after finishing their trip, Ashley’s mom contacted me to see if I could help get an article written about them. After hounding the IR editor for a few weeks, he finally gave me the green light. On Thanksgiving Day I opened the newspaper to see my article and several colorful pictures spilling over two pages in the newspaper. Not only did I get to check another item off of my writing bucket list but I was awarded the honor of getting to share my cousin’s incredible accomplishment.

 A few weeks ago, my writing resume was kicked up a large notch when I added SnoWest to my list of publications. After participating in a women’s snowmobile riding clinic with pro rider, Dan Adams, last February, I knew I had to write an article about it. Not only did that clinic dramatically transform my riding abilities and confidence but it opened my eyes to the serious level of commitment other girls just like me have to that sport. I asked Dan Adams if he could pass the idea along to the editor of SnoWest, which he was only too happy to do. After weeks of no responses back, I began hounding the editor and publisher myself. When they asked me exactly what I wanted to write about, I don’t think they were prepared for the passionate and well-versed response I gave back. I knew they wouldn’t be able to say no. After piecing together my memories and questioning some of the other ladies who attended the clinic with me, I had a ready to go piece. I submitted it along with several pictures and then began the anxious wait. When my January issue of SnoWest finally arrived in the mail I couldn’t flip through it fast enough until I saw my article. It was one of my proudest writing moments.

 While my name has yet to grace the spine of a novel at Barns and Nobel’s or make the New York Times Best Sellers List, I feel that my career as a writer thus far has been a successful one. What I am most proud of at the end of the day, however, is the fact that I’ve never given up on my dream. I've kept fighting. It isn’t easy being a writer and, for the most part, it doesn’t pay the bills. But the smiles and words of praise and gratitude I receive after each piece, is reward enough. 

I set a goal 2 years ago when I started this blog to make a difference with my writing and to do something good with it. Whether it’s telling the amazing stories of people in my community or helping open doors for women in the activities I love, I’d say that so far I’ve met my goal and then some.

Here’s to a third and hopefully even more glorious year of writing about and living the dream………  

 

The Little In Between Moments

Sometimes, I think, we devote so much time and energy to waiting and planning for those big milestone moments of our lives that we neglect to appreciate the small and seemingly insignificant moments in between. This past Christmas was a strange one for me. I knew going into it that it would be the last Christmas with my family before I get married. I know that next year, traditions may change and it is likely that there will be Christmases in the years to come when I won’t even see my parents and grandparents---who I traditionally spend Christmas with. The realization of that impending change only echoed what has seemed like an endless string of changes that I have struggled to cope with in the past few years.

Most of my closest friends have gotten married and popped out babies and no longer have time for me. Some friends have moved to other parts of the country and I hardly ever see them anymore. Others are wrapped up in their prospering careers and building their custom dream homes. And with wedding bells chiming in my ears daily, I now find myself on a collision course towards all those final bindings of adulthood…….and quite frankly, I hate it.

I don’t quite remember when times were simpler, but it was a long time ago. Thankfully, however, Christmas morning brought with it more than just presents under the tree. It gave me one of those “in between” moments. Those moments you don’t think much about at the time, but that mean something to you down the road. That moment involved me and my dad, two hockey sticks, and a slippery road.

The streets in my parents’ neighborhood were literally sheets of ice on Christmas day. I joked that if I had brought my skates over, I would’ve tried skating on them. Apparently my dad didn’t entirely think I was joking. After returning home from visiting some friends, he grabbed two sticks out of the garage and whacked a puck out onto the shiny street. He yelled at me to grab my new Toronto Maple Leaf’s jersey he’d got me for Christmas so we could take a picture playing on the street. 

With him in his Montreal Canadien’s jersey and me in my Maple Leaf’s one, we stood on opposite ends of the street passing the puck back and forth. I’m pretty sure the whole neighborhood could hear the loud thwacking sounds of the puck hitting on and off our sticks over and over again. As we passed, my dad told me how he was pretty sure it was the first time he’d played ice hockey in the streets since he was a kid. He said how when he was a kid, all the neighborhood boys would get together and make sticks out of plywood because none of them had real sticks. Of course, the sticks were only good for about one hit or so before busting, but they didn’t care. He recalled the glorious day, though, when the first kid got a real stick and they all oooed and awwwd over it and swapped it between them. 

As he talked, I forgot all about my wedding stress and worries about work, money, friends, kids and a dozen and a half other things. All I focused on was the feel of the stick in my hands and the reverberation of the puck hitting against it. It seemed so old-fashioned to be out playing in the street before a holiday dinner….like something you’d see depicted in a Norman Rockwell painting. It seemed like such a simple thing, but in that moment I somehow knew in my gut that that moment would matter to me later.

I’ve had a lot of unique opportunities in the past couple of years to share in some of my dad’s greatest passions. Hockey has been one of my very favorites. I have played in dozens of games with my dad and he’s been there to see me score all of my goals. Those were great moments. But I think that Christmas morning, out on the slippery street outside our house passing the puck between us, was the best one yet.

We always take care to appreciate, document and put to memory the big moments in life like graduations, weddings, and babies. But sometimes, just sometimes, it’s those little moments in between that will grow the deepest roots in our soul and keep us appreciating and loving life and all of the people we share it with for much longer than a lifetime.