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Archive for April, 2010

So…I don’t have a Tweet-Up story yet.  But I have a Twitter story.  It goes a little something like this.

I joined Twitter last summer.  Without much fanfare or many followers.  I used it for news information from the big outlets (NYT, ESPN…) and to follow celebs.  I had a few friends to follow,  but not many.  And followERS?  Forget it.  I was anonymous on Twitter.  Which was ok with me.  I wasn’t in the best place with so many things at that time, and I relished the escape.  To hide behind 140 character chirps, that were relatively trite and meaningless.  And then…

I had a lovely lunch date with Amy Bradley-Hole, who was a friend of a friend you may know, the ever-tweeting Kerri Case.  Amy and I discussed Twitter, among other things of importance, like climate change and shoe shopping.  After that lunch, I began to follow the Tweet-Up group.  Amy became the first to give me a “Follow Friday” shout…when I didn’t even know what #FF meant.  All of a sudden, I had followers.  I had “friends.”  I had a community.

My community now knows when I’m having a bad day, and those whom I haven’t yet met offer support.  My community knows what teams I support, and gives me some good-natured ribbing, win or lose.  My community knows what I drink, where I eat, and, most importantly, about my four-legged child, who has been referred to as “a rock-star on Twitter.”  My community has expanded by meeting my tweeps IRL (which I only recently learned the meaning of).  One follower stopped me at dinner and asked if I was Paige.  We shared a laugh and are now friends as well as book-club buddies.  A book-club started via Twitter, might I add.  Just this week, I did the same…walking up to a table and asking, “Are you ____?  I follow you on Twitter.”  And, he didn’t think I was crazy.  Probably because he’s a member of my ever-growing, ever-loving community.

While I’ve yet to attend an official Tweet-Up, I feel like I’m a part of something larger than myself.  And while we may not save the world…we also just might.  I’m fortunate to have found “friends” to laugh at, laugh with, cry with, cry for, pray for, and belong with.  It’s comfortable.  And just what I needed.

Today’s shoes: Blue (of course!) fuzzy slippers.  Safe, warm, and comfortable.

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Where were you?

Every generation has at least one “where were you?” moment.  I’ve heard countless versions of where my parents were when JFK was gunned down in Dealey Plaza.  My grandparents recelled in detail the attack on Pearl Harbor that will live in infamy.  Sadly, my generation has had more than its fair share of these moments of tragedy that define an era.  While I do remember where I was on September 11, April 20, and April 16, none has had the profound impact on me personally than 9:02 am on April 19, 1995.

I was born and raised in Oklahoma, as my parents and grandparents were before me.  It’s a stigmatized state, yes, but it’s also a proud one, and I had a wonderful childhood there.  However, I’m most proud of my home state in its darkest hour, early one April morning, when a nation grieved and a state survived.

I was in 7th grade, and it was student-teacher switch day.  I was “teaching” a class of my peers English, however it was my “planning period,” along with that of my then best friend, who was the art teacher for the day.  We gathered in the teacher’s lounge and were watching the news when my world changed.  The news broke.  Teachers and students began to rush to pay phones or the landlines in the lounge.  While now a given, I could think of no one who had a cell phone that day.  A pager, perhaps…

Granted, I knew no one in the building that day.  However, my aunt was immediately dispatched to the scene as part of the coroner’s detail.  Working for the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner, she had a difficult, painful task in the days ahead.  I have never asked her what she saw, what she felt, what she experienced.  However, I was recently given her well-worn Dooney and Bourke briefcase that she carried at the bombing site that week.  It’s truly a treasure to me, as well as a link to my family and my home.  I also have a print of the gorgeous Survivor tree in my kitchen.  The base of the tree well is shown in the photo, reading : “To the courageous and caring…”  I strive to embody those ideals while keeping my roots strong.  As Claire Colburn says in “Elizabethtown” (one of my faves, by the way):  “The Survivor Tree.  It’s my favorite tree in the world.  And I like trees.”  I also like trees, but this one is my favorite too. 

So, I ask, where we you?  And what touched you?  Hold fast to the memories.  Because, while not yet old, our generation has lived through a lot.  The memories and lessons strengthen us solely and bind us to one another.

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