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The Gannon Family Farm in upstate New York.
I never really got into blogging before making this website.  Well, I did, for about three days in college, and then some hot date or ten page paper got in the way.  I've thought long and hard about what my first entry ought to be, and frankly, I didn't want it to be a downer.  But most news -- these days -- is just that.

So instead, I shall make this an opportunity to gloat about myself, my accomplishments, and why on Earth I find myself so all-important I need to make a blog about me.  

I'm no one special, and I mean that. I'm the product of two farm kids, much like many of my cousins.  My parents worked hard every day, digging ditches, putting up fences, gathering eggs, and trying to cajole an unforgiving land into yielding its treasure every day.  

My mother was raised in Western Kansas, the daughter of a man who survived the Dust Bowl. Grandfather is now gone, but his sisters, and stories, remain.  My mother was one of 8; none of them stayed in Ness County.  Mom was the second oldest, often looking after the younger kids, tending the chickens for eggs, and weeding the garden, and doing anything that kept her occupied on that tract of soil.  She worked hard in school, went to college, and upon graduation, moved to California.  She taught me how to hang laundry on a clothesline, make bread, make the best of a situation, and always look for opportunities.

My father always lived in the Northeast.  He was the oldest of four and, the way he tells it, did most of the manual labor on the family farm.  He'd get out of school on a Friday afternoon, drive all night to the farm, fix fences and tractors, cut hay and wood, and then drive back home with his father Sunday night, doing homework when he could.  He lettered in three high school sports, attended the Naval Academy, and forced me to change a tire 6 months before I could drive.  From him, I learned self-reliance, determination, and an appreciation for manual transmissions (and manual labor).

I moved around a lot with my father's job; I blame him for my affinity to constant change.  I was born in Western Kansas, lived in California and upstate New York, and by the age of three, resided in Puerto Rico.  Those are my first memories, and I attribute that to my fondness for tropical fronds and temperatures.  We moved to North Carolina when I was eight, and that remains the place I lived in the longest.  At the rebellious age of 16, we moved to oh-so-apropos Defiance, Missouri.  I graduated from Mizzou in 2004 (with two degrees and three part-time jobs, all in four years), and took a job on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.  In 2006, sick of wasting vacation days in airports, I moved back to the Midwest to be closer to my family.  In 2009, I married my college sweetheart.  December 2010 through June 2011 were banner times for family deaths -- 5 in 7 months (his grandmother, his aunt, my uncle, my grandfather, and my grandmother).  By July 2011, he had a new job, and we moved to Kansas City.  Which is where I sit typing this long, drawn-out, rambling soliloquy for some insomniac or bored cubicle inhabitant to stumble upon; hope it entertained you.

Now that formalities are behind us, I hope to use the rest of this blog to enlighten, enrich, and possibly enliven your understanding of what really happens in the news business.  Or, at least, give you an understanding for my experience in the news business. 

 


Comments

Ronn Rinker
08/24/2012 8:39pm

Have you changed a tire since that first one? I hope you keep writing these blogs Rebecca. You are as good a writer as you are a reporter.

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Duane
10/22/2012 6:37pm

Rebecca, Congratulation, Good Luck, and Best Wishes on your new Adventure. If you don't follow you dream, you will never know if it came true.

Reply
Ike
10/23/2012 1:42am

Rebecca Please do keep writing & posting. Heck Write a book or a script! I doubt your new job allows you much creativity in that respect.bookmarking this so I can read more of your Awesome Grammar & such. oh and Ain't IS a word and it IS in the dictionary!

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    Rebecca Gannon

    Time, prudence, or something may prevent some things from becoming broadcast.  I like to thank the Journalism Gods for that.  Here are (some of) my thoughts and observances that never made air.

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