Three Part Blog: A Visit, A Photograph, and A White Suite

A Visit from the Weekly

I was really dreading coming to class last Thursday. I was stressed about my fiction writing class. I woke to a campus crisis that implicated me personally as well as an organization that I have come to care about deeply in the last nine weeks. I was not ready to interact with people who may be directly influential on my future. When I sat down across from George Prentice and Tara Morgan from the Boise Weekly, I was immediately put at ease. George Prentice in particular has a large presence that didn't overwhelm or intimidate me. I went from dreading class to enjoying it in a matter of minutes. Listening to both editors tell their stories made me remember why I wanted to be a journalism minor in the first place. I want to tell stories. Other people's stories. I want to find the interesting things that are happening around me and share them with the world. I sent in an application to intern at the Boise Weekly. Full disclosure, more than anything I just want to listen to George Prentice tell more stories.

Finding a Photograph

I don't know her name. I don't know where she lives. She was 17 when this photo was taken but I don't remember when that was or how old she was now. I didn't retain much from Postcolonial Studies last fall, but I do remember this photograph. Out of all the books we read and all of the lives we learned about, I remember this stranger's face better than anything. Her smile is so genuine. She's in the middle of a war. She might die ten minutes from now. 17 year old girls should not be caring firearms on their backs. And yet she's happy. She shows no fear. I can not imagine being in her place, and yet she's laughing. This photograph makes me realize what is really important in the face of danger. This photograph reminds me that happiness can be found in the most diverse, disruptive places. An idea that is getting harder to remember these days.

Flash Nonfiction Essay
Anne Panning wrote a story about her father. Not about the wonderful moments they had together or the fun times growing up. Anne Panning wrote about the death of her father's mind, and the cruel twist of irony that resulted from it. "The White Suit" in particular struck me because of the subject matter. Talking about your father losing his mind and being locked up in a mental institute isn't something you drop into casual conversation. Anne Panning wrote this story in the space of a page length. It's maybe 700 words. I've read blogs about cake that lasted longer than this story. And yet it's so poignant, so beautifully crafted. Anne Panning spent so much time putting this page together. Each word was very carefully thought out and selected you would never know that this page was plucked from the pages of a much larger narrative. It stands alone, and in that it is beautiful.