Where I Grew Up

One of the questions that makes me fumble over my words is “Where are you from?”

I have served as a writer for the military in some form throughout my entire career, which means a lot of moving around and lacking of a place to be “from.”

The more I talk about it, though, the more I realize where I’m from is not where I grew up.

I claim Ohio, since I was born and raised in Cincinnati, but I’ve lived as a legal resident in three different states over the last 10 years. So, it’s not exactly true to say I’m from there. But, I’m not a Georgia peach and I’m not an Alabama or Texas southern Belle, either. So, from? Well, it’s quite the story.

I moved around for journalism. I served four years as a soldier, but the other six were as a journalist.

It’s difficult to answer because where I’m from is two Army bases where I lived in hotels and completed internships for college; then two more military installations in Georgia, including one where I donned the uniform and was sent to a base overseas. I also lived in two Alabama homes just across the state line from the Peach State with unexpected roommates who were my friends. Finally, I’m from a $425/ month apartment in a tiny town in Texas where the whole town knew my name and face from a column I wrote about living at a campground my first week in town.

But all of this doesn’t fit in an introductory handshake conversation, at least not before I’ve gauged if they care to hear it.

I’m a Cincinnati girl, branded by the experiences at Riverbend Music Center and kayaking adventures with friends in the Whitewater River, as well as Easters with family and celebrating a birthday at least every month with cake and a song sung by the whole family. But that’s not where I grew up.

I grew up having $15 to spare from my first career-job weekly paychecks and surviving off the free summer squash given to me by a coworker from her garden in Texas; I grew up rolling the windows down and slapping my face in the middle of the night to stay awake as I drove nine hours from my home to visit the closest family I had; I grew up posting what I thought was an innocent social media post about hating that a call from a bill collector could make me cry only to be sent a check from a family member that supported my dream and didn’t want to see me drown; I grew up learning the hard way that not every character who joins your story makes it to the proceeding chapters (and I’m still learning this one).

Not only that, but I grew up going to work after having crashed my car on the commute in because I didn’t have anyone to rescue me; I grew up making friends in new states because I know it takes a whole lot of support from a whole lot of different people to make it on your own; I grew up sometimes not getting the invite because no one knows you and you don’t have a clique to be a part of; I grew up missing family members’ last breaths because no mode of transportation can get you where you need to go in an instant. I grew up choosing different priorities in different moments, but somehow living the best life because of it.

I’m no military brat and I’m not even sure that I’m done moving, yet. My story is changing with every decision I face. Right now, it’s that I got tired of watching my family’s lives happen as if I was on the outside looking in. My niece and nephew are growing up and my brother and his wife are getting gray hair. And it was all happening through the posts of a social media feed. I wanted in.

So, now, where I’m from is a place on Polly Lane in Lafayette, Louisiana. I did a whole lot of growing up before I got here, but now I’m in the Bayou State to be a bigger part of the family I’ve been watching grow up from afar.

The people who were a part of it can invisibly put their name in this post. They know where I’m from and when that smile flashes across my face when I’m asked this big question of “Where are you from,” they know all the things flying through my mind because they’ve been a part of my story.

I know where I’m from, and I know where I’ve grown up. This is where I’m at and where I’ll continue growing up.

And from where I’m at, I’ll keep chasing my dream, too, as everchanging as it is.

Choose your greatness

I think that we all should have something we’re striving to be the best at.

When I was told I’d been chosen as one of the Top 10 Military Veterans in Journalism, I was ecstatic.

The list of people were nominated by someone. So, the list couldn’t be all inclusive, but it was filled with excellent journalists who served their country at one point in their lives and have since written or coveted amazing topics. They’re some of the best of who they are and what they do.

They are experts in their field. And in 2022, I was one of them.

I see athletes standing on podiums, I hear of people being “best” at what they do. I think it’s the most admirable thing for us to achieve greatness in any certain thing. It means we’ve put our heart into something and people have noticed. They’re chasing a dream and it’s rising up others in their lives.

I’m not currently actively in the journalism field, but I’m supporting those are are and working on the other side of them.

All the while, I’m thinking about what greatness I’m striving to achieve next.

The Long-Distance Thing

I talk to my cousin, Allison, almost every day. We’ve been doing it ever since we officially met, or re-met in 2012 when her family hosted me while I interned in Washington state. Her dad (my uncle) took us to see Batman where both fell asleep, we had a day out on the Washington shore, and I stayed at the house and had grill outs with her family and neighbors. I didn’t see her all that much, but this is where our relationship really started.

We don’t talk the traditional way, though. Our relationship is the epitome of long-distance friendship: we chat through Snapchat.

When we first started messaging, I was learning to live on my own in Texas or I was spending time at my boyfriend’s barracks in Georgia.

We’d snap throughout the days, and most often at nights. I learned about her blossoming relationship with Kyle, her six-figure job, and her relationship with her brother.

She also helped me through one of the most difficult nights. Just because I knew she was always on the other end of that phone. I think that day I was messaging her over Facebook. But I still remember her being there as best as anyone could be in my life. It’s one night I won’t ever forget. I knew I couldn’t lie to Allison and talk about how great this guy was after that. But she also listened no matter what.

A time I saw her through was her transition from a job that was making her cry every single night. We talked about passions and going back to school, and I supported her. There wasn’t much else we could do for each other, being so far away, but we were connected as best anyone could be.

The most magical moments happened when we took our relationship from virtual to reality. She invited me to her wedding in 2017. I had seen her relationship over snap, we talked about it all, and now I could show up for her. It was just a few months after I had graduated from basic training, so it was my first big trip of the year. I spent nearly $1K on the tickets to get my boyfriend and I across the country. She and I went out for pedicures, I snapped a photo of her and Kyle massaging each other’s cheeks from smiling so much at the rehearsal cocktail hour, and she even came out for sushi in the midst of all the chaos. To be a part of her life was just a happiness I couldn’t have imagined. At the wedding, I made friends with some of her friends, got a fancy memorable coffee mug, and witnessed her first dance with her dad. It was an incredible moment and I was just beaming that I got to be a part of it.

More magic happened when I watched her pregnancy and then her son, Carter, grow up over this app. I heard his sounds before I met him and learned what he loved. Then, in July 2022, I got to meet him. It was strange because I knew him already but we’d both only seen Snapchat messages of each other. I had talked to him, and he almost learned to say my name. Then, when I finally met him in person, it was the morning after we arrived to his house. He was talking and playing when I came out in my pajamas to meet the little boy I’d watched grow up from afar. He was shy, but I think we became friends. Maybe we’ll grow even closer when he learns to use the app.

Now, Allison has had her second baby, Jemma, and she walks me through her daily struggles of a life as a mom raising two kids while her husband goes off to work. She asks me if I get annoyed or thanks me for letting her share. What she doesn’t know is how happy it makes me. I’ve lived far away from everyone in my life since I turned 21. I don’t get to see the potty training, the development, and the struggle. I don’t get to give words of kindness to anyone the way I give them to you. We’re distant cousins, but we talk often, and we know so much. We’re family, and through it all, we haven’t given up or disappeared in the last 10 years.

No, Allison, I won’t ever get tired of the snaps. We’re stuck with each other.

My distant cousin is a perfect example of the importance of long distance relationships and how amazing it is to make it work. We’ve always been what the other needs in times of struggle or triumph. She was the first person to know I’d been hit by a car when it happened. Because through Snapchat I could share a photo of a moment that wouldn’t have to sit in my photo album forever. I shared it, she saw it, and it was gone.

I’m grateful to have the relationship we do and the means to do it. It makes me excited for when I can make my next trip back to Washington or for when her family can come to see me here. It’s the little things in the big moments that make our relationship what it is. Damn, that reminds me, we’ve got to get a new streak going.

It’s Been a Year

It’s been a year

Since I’ve been back to Sarasota

My grandparents are gettin’ older

And if I had to guess

It’s been a year

Since my best friend had her baby girl

Now she’s got a whole new world

And I ain’t even met her, yet

Not a post about me sharing my accomplishments written from a Marine-owned coffee shop in Washington, D.C.

I’m overflowing, and this is my chosen location for the spillage.

My friends are going to get sick of me if I keep boasting about why I’m absolutely beaming from these past couple of days. Therefore, I’ll share here. Still with my friends, but only if they choose to spend their time here.

They usually do. And I hope they do. But also, your choice.

This is also a great place of historical documentation for myself. I want to read about this incredible week 40 years from now when my already terrible memory will probably be nonexistent. I mean, let’s hope not, but of all the things that could happen to me…

Not where I thought I’d be

I’ve been at Coffee or Die for a year now. I started on Aug. 1, 2021, after a long conversation with several people about ‘… if I’m doing to do this, I’m going to have to give it my all.’

I thought at first I could keep my editor-in-chief job in downtown Savannah while working remotely for the Black Rifle Coffee Company’s magazine at night since they weren’t going to be paying me. But, the entity that would be paying me, Military Veterans in Journalism, told me that this was an all-or-nothing opportunity. They didn’t want to lend a part-time fellow to the magazine.

That night, despite all the opposition from people in my life saying I can’t just quit a solid job for an opportunity, I called my mom’s best Ohio friend, Elizabeth Villing. She and I have been exchanging letters for years (literally, years! In fact, I’m sure I owe her an update). I called her and said I needed some encouragement or a wake up call. “This is my dream job, potentially, even though I may not even be hired after the fellowship.” She couldn’t have been more excited for me. “Fucking do it, girl! You have to!” or something along those lines is what she told me.

Jeeps, Parades, Ear-to-Ear 90+-year-old Smiles, and the only thing I paid for was a straightener…

I went to France.

I got a call Thursday right about the time I’d be texting my senior editor, Carl, to start my work day. He wasn’t telling me I was late, or asking what I was working on. Carl called to tell me they needed me to go to Normandy.

While still on the phone, I jumped onto my couch, flung upon my BRCC-issued laptop, and Googled — just to be sure.

I was 32-years old when…

Note to self, and anyone else going into an interview where you might be quoted:

TAKE NOTES BEFOREHAND! Have something in mind to say for when they ask the “is there anything else you’d like to add” bit.

You’d think it’d be in my nature. But to be honest, I’ve been off my game the past few months. I’ve been unorganized and forgetful and anxious. Maybe as deep as the past year. So, this time I made sure I was prepared. And it was honestly my first time being interviewed in this manner.

✨ I did it this time and it paid off

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