Thursday, August 05, 2004
The Farm Beat
Nothing makes you more accutely aware of how little happens in small towns than being its newspaper reporter. Now, I must admit that I have had an amazing summer as a professional reporter. There's something exhilarating about seeing your name in print and knowing that thousands of people are reading what you write, even if it's just an article on the local fair.
Speaking of the local fair, I was on fair beat tonight. I saw cow patties twice the size of my head. My pictures included a girl kissing her cow, a boy leaning on his llama, a goat and his owner, and various cowboy-hatted babies. I'm not sure it's safe to put such large hats on really little ones though. It might mess up the shape of their heads or apply too much pressure to the soft spot.
I took Becky to the fair with me. Usually, I'm a really professional, but tonight I couldn't stand the thought of manuvering around manure alone. Becky had never been to an event like this. I, on the other hand, made my first TV appearence at age 10 from this same fair.
I love Becky; after all, she's been like a sister to me since junior high, but sometimes she is a little too honest. She announced that the fair "smelled like sh*t," and I was mortified. After all, that reflects really badly on the paper when its reporter's tag-along swears about the fair's odor. Plus, farm people often get offended when you say that their animals smell, even if they do. She also used the term "Hickville," which is also offensive.
After we escaped the agricultural shindig, we had a good heart-to-heart. Yay for girl talk! Yay for friend who are more like family!
Nothing makes you more accutely aware of how little happens in small towns than being its newspaper reporter. Now, I must admit that I have had an amazing summer as a professional reporter. There's something exhilarating about seeing your name in print and knowing that thousands of people are reading what you write, even if it's just an article on the local fair.
Speaking of the local fair, I was on fair beat tonight. I saw cow patties twice the size of my head. My pictures included a girl kissing her cow, a boy leaning on his llama, a goat and his owner, and various cowboy-hatted babies. I'm not sure it's safe to put such large hats on really little ones though. It might mess up the shape of their heads or apply too much pressure to the soft spot.
I took Becky to the fair with me. Usually, I'm a really professional, but tonight I couldn't stand the thought of manuvering around manure alone. Becky had never been to an event like this. I, on the other hand, made my first TV appearence at age 10 from this same fair.
I love Becky; after all, she's been like a sister to me since junior high, but sometimes she is a little too honest. She announced that the fair "smelled like sh*t," and I was mortified. After all, that reflects really badly on the paper when its reporter's tag-along swears about the fair's odor. Plus, farm people often get offended when you say that their animals smell, even if they do. She also used the term "Hickville," which is also offensive.
After we escaped the agricultural shindig, we had a good heart-to-heart. Yay for girl talk! Yay for friend who are more like family!
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