Hello, my name is Frances Renée; people call me Renée. This here must be a comfortable hat. I have worn lots of hats. When I was a little girl my first hat was an Easter bonnet. My mama hand sewn it for me to wear one Easter Sunday to church. She said it made me look pretty.
We went to church a lot. My mama she didn’t always go. So I went with my grandma. Grandma told me, ” pretty is as pretty does.”
When I graduated from high school I got to wear another hat. It was my graduation cap. At graduation I cried. I don’t know if I cried because I thought it was the end or the beginning of life continuing.
A year after I graduated I got married. I guess you could say that I wore another hat, the hat of a wife.
Two years after I got married, my father died. He had been sick with cancer. My father was a good man and he taught me lots of things. He taught me to have good morals, the importance of family values and the strength that comes from a well-laid foundation. He was a man dedicated to our country. He served in the military as a Staff Sergeant for the Army. Even though my father may be gone, I kept the hat. The one that says, Daddy’s little girl.
Three years later I got another hat, the one that says mama. Our baby boy Travis was born. Over the following four years, Christopher and then Sara were born and our family was complete.
Sara was almost a year old and my mama passed away. After that I lost my grandma, too. Even though these people that meant a great deal to me are gone I will never forget what their love meant to me. I carry with me their extended love and spirit today. I hope to lay out before my children the same foundations that were laid for me. In hopes that they may find the peace and harmony that it may provide for them in their lives.
Today I wear the hat of grandma.
Throughout my life I discovered an array of other hats. Some said, teacher, journalist, accountant, counselor and so many more that I can not name them all. But you know what I think. I think the most comfortable hat I can wear is the hat like all the others. The hat that is a gift from God.
That was written for college speech course in 1996, with the movie, Forest Gump, as its inspiration; later modified and used as my Ice Breaker speech for Toastmasters International, in 2008, Dickinson ND
Stringer; A gatherer of human-interest stories
What do I want to be when I grow up is a question many of us ask ourselves at some point in our lives. My Daddy’s advice to me, he told me I should be a writer, because he thought me to have a vivid imagination. Still not sure what that was suppose to mean, when I entered high school in 1976, I took Journalism as an elective class.
My parents had me change schools though, before the end of my first year. They enrolled me into a private Christian high school. In my senior year came the opportunity to work as part of the yearbook team. I sold advertisement, for the yearbook, so as to help fund its publication.
I graduated in 1979 and enrolled in the Junior College with a major in Journalism. However, a year later I met a man, I later married, that changed my future course.
I did became a writer though, a writer of a journal and that of many letters, as well. I wrote often to family and friends and in their replies several remarked that I should be a writer. The influence of my father and now that of those who are close to me, I did pursue the idea, some what.
I read in a classified ad of a publisher in New York City, that they were looking for stories to publish. So I wrote the publisher a letter. They are called query letters, but I didn’t know that then. I do not recall the content of the letter, but it must have been good, because he phoned. He was most interested in my journal. The stories they were looking to publish were handwritten diaries of what it was like to grow up in the 70’s and I had one, handwritten.
During the course of our conversation I let me him know that my diary could not be made public. I told him in order for me to publish my journal, none of the parties mentioned it, could ever know that was them. So after a time in our discussion he disclosed some helpful tips, as well as, a magazine [Writer’s Digest] that I might find most helpful, so as, to publish my story through a more creative means. I did subscribe to the magazine that he had suggested and I kept the subscription active for many years and I found the information within its pages, to be a great learning tool. Even though I hadn’t applied what I had learned towards a manuscript.
In 1992 I entered a community college and once again. I minored in Journalism and my major was Legal Secretary. During the two years I was in college, my husband and I divorced, which put me in need of employment. I talked to people in the town we lived and I spoke of the local newspaper and my ideas on getting a job with them. Every one I spoke to told me that they didn’t hire people and so not to even bother at applying.
Many times while running my errands in town I would pass by the newspaper office and every time I became drawn to the idea of putting in my resume. And each time my heart said do it, my head said, but the people say, not to bother. Then one day I became so consumed with the idea that I went home and wrote out my resume, carefully drafted to note, that I was presently enrolled in college; studying to be a Journalist.
After I was satisfied that I had done my best to put my best skills forward, I put myself in the car and drove to the newspaper office. I walked in and I saw an older man that he seemed to be looking for something under the counter. After a moment he looked up at me and asked if there was something he could do for me. I told him I was looking for a job and I would very much like to work for the newspaper and I handed him my resume. He took the paper from my hand and then said to me, ‘we’re not hiring’. I told him that if ever though they changed their minds to please let me know and I left.
Some days later, but not long after, my now ex-husband showed up at my house for a visit. It was his phone number I had listed on my resume as a contact to leave a message, as I could not afford a home phone and he brought me the message. Enough time had passed that I had phone service, so I was able to respond to the message and when I called the number, it was the editor of the small town newspaper and we set a date and time for an interview.
I was hired during the course of the interview as he gave to me, my job title and describe the nature of the job. He said he needed a Stringer to cover local human-interest stories and he thought I would be a good fit, for the position. That was in 1994 and while my job at the paper was short lived, my 15 minutes of fame has never been forgotten.
When I signed my name on the check to give to a cashier or when I went to pick up my mail at the local post office, they said, “you’re her, the new writer for the paper. It’s about time they hired someone with talent.” For a moment I felt that rush, the same one that other people have felt, every time they have received recognition for a job well done.
It’s been 25 years since I was a Stringer on that small town newspaper and 43 years since my first idea that I might one day hold a position in the field of Journalism. While Journalism has changed over the years; my desire for story telling has not.
Wikipedia, gives a description of what it is to be a stringer:
“I’m still gathering string” to refer to the initial stage of reporting or fact-finding.
“Still gathering string” newsroom jargon for the process of “looking for something that you can’t yet name.”
“String” may be used by journalists or researchers to describe a piece of information discovered in the process of looking for something else.”
I’m always in the initial stage of whatever stage I’m in. And I’m looking for that thing, you know, that thing and as I’m looking for it, I usually find something else. That’s me — still gathering string and discovering anomalies that are or ever will be in life.