Mended

I'll say one thing for being sick: It gives you permission to nap. A lot.

Which is what I did on Tuesday when, ordinarily, I would have spent the day teaching. I napped, stared out the window, thought some deep thoughts and read some Jane Austen. It was that kind of day.

Today is the first official day of spring, allegedly. It's snowing here; we're supposed to get 2 to 4 inches before this latest storm moves on. But the red-winged blackbirds know that winter's days are up. I saw a flock of them descend on a field down the road yesterday, the sun shining on their black feathers and those brilliant patches of red.

No naps today. I'm back on my feet and I have to clean the fridge -- something I'd planned to do earlier this week (putting off housework is another perk of being sick).

So, happy first day of spring. May red-wings grace your neck of the woods, may you wake up to the song of house wrens and may you soon see the bright green tips of those crocuses you planted last fall poking through the soil (or at least see that 2-foot pile of snow in your yard withering away to a mere 4 or 5 inches).

Winter is dead. Long live the spring.

Mending

Nothing puts a crimp in your writing career like the stomach flu.

I'll spare you the details.

Finding your voice

Students in a class at the university where I've taught journalism the past 27 years will be blogging for the second half of the spring semester. A few of them have blogged before, but most of them are new to it. A few of them seem a little intimidated by the thought of their words being out there for the world to see. It does take a leap of faith -- faith in yourself -- to hit the "Publish" button.

I know some professional writers fear that this democratization of writing/publishing will dilute the impact of their work -- and cut into their profits. (Garrison Keillor once painted this bleak picture of the future of publishing: “18 million authors in America, each with an average of 14 readers, eight of whom are blood relatives. Average annual earnings: $1.75.”)

So why require students to create and maintain a blog? Because I want them to discover their voice, that amorphous collection of choices that define who they are as writers. Too often, their other class assignments take on a certain sameness. I blame education -- the kind that has taught them to turn a simple phrase into a 40-word sentence so they can stretch their 12 pages of knowledge into that 20-page paper that's due tomorrow (and which they probably won't start writing until late this evening).

I can tell them to try a more conversational approach to their writing, but blogging has proven much more effective at getting them to loosen up, to take risks in their writing. When I read their blogs, I'm amazed at how much more they sound like the young, energetic, interesting people they are.

A few weeks into the blog project, I challenge them to use their blogger's voice in their stories. Some of them get it. Some don't. But a seed has been planted.

A long time ago, when I was new to reporting, I worked hard at sounding like a journalist. Which is to say, I was a boring writer. Luckily for me, I had a colleague who had long since learned to trust his own writer's voice. Reading his work led me to realize that perhaps I could "get away with" being myself in my writing, too.

Once I tried it, there was no going back.

90 looks good on her

An important person in my life turns 90 tomorrow, March 4. In her outlook on life, in her open-minded acceptance of others, in her faith and the way she lives it, she is, without doubt, my favorite role model.

Her name is Jaye, and for the past 35 years she's been there when I needed someone to listen -- really listen -- to whatever was on my mind. She saw me through the ups and downs of parenthood, put her own concerns on hold when one of my kids was hospitalized and always left me feeling that somehow, all would be well.

I've known a lot of people who weren't close to their parents. I can't imagine what that might be like. I lucked out. I've still got my mother, age 102, and though we live 400 miles apart we're still close. And I've got my other mom -- my mother-in-law, Jaye. I hope someday I can be as supportive of my grown children and their families as she has been of me and mine.

Thanks, Mom. And happy, happy 90th birthday.