Dispatches From the Edge: Going After a Dream

Dear Friends & Readers-

I am writing from the bottom of the totem pole. I currently work for CNN. I log the satellite feed from the routers, both domestically and internationally. Having only worked for CNN 9 months, grateful for this “shoe-in” position, I am eagerly searching for others, hoping to learn along the way. I suppose you could say I am young woman seeking to accomplish dreams- how optimistic- with a determination, that among most in my generation, seems so unreal. Nevertheless I am here. I want to share with you a little bit about my story, if you don’t mind. I just finished reading a Memoir, Dispatches from the Edge by Anderson Cooper, and for what reason, I am not sure yet, I just felt the need to write my thoughts on it. Again, I hope you don’t mind and I hope you will be patient as I unfold my own story. I have always loved to read. I have my father to thank for that. At a young age, he encouraged my reading and early on had me sifting through his thick novels, political journals and of course- the news. I often get the eyebrow when I tell people that one of the things I enjoy doing “for fun” is reading. One afternoon; after a long day at CNN, I decided I'd to head to Borders -to do just that. I thought I would pick up the latest books & mags that were out, and start a chapter, read an article...I can’t buy all the books I want, so sometimes, like sitting in a library, I read what I can until I can’t anymore and go home. I picked up Dispatches from the Edge first; I had been interested for sometime- after hearing Cooper promote it and of course watching him so many nights on AC360. I couldn’t put down. What started out to be a chapter or two turned quickly into the entire book. I finished it in 3 hours. But I don’t say that with a whole of pride. I wish I hadn’t, I think mainly because I sat in my car for almost ten minutes staring, my insides screaming to cry, the tears “right there,” and nothing coming out. Apparently, it had an impact. What he said, ALMOST made sense, but from a distance. At the same time, on some strange level, my heart felt everything.

Growing up, there were a lot of things I wanted to do- be a cop, a detective, when I was young, a starving musician, a hippie (so I could travel) and even my folks had me convinced at one point that I wanted to be an architect, & make a lot of money….but somehow, none of it really resonated. I wasn’t as passionate as I thought I was. I was junior in high school before I realized how much I love to write, how much I loved reading true stories, and telling them when I had one. But it wasn’t until I graduated that I had nailed it. I wanted nothing more than to be a war correspondent. I couldn’t explain it to anyone, let alone tell them. There was something about the story of the dying, struggling, the poor, or the soldier that I wanted to tell. Now there is much I could add here about my struggles growing up, but you know, none of that seems to matter and it certainly doesn’t encompass all that I hope to share. Since I graduated high school, I have not lived in one place/apartment for more than 6-8 months- I get itchy and want change, I love change. I held odd jobs, in retail, waiting tables and even Nanning all the while working and volunteering for local weeklies (newspapers) and making friends with the homeless, the buscars and the old men in the coffee shops. I’ve lived in Kansas City, several Locations in Colorado Springs and Florida. I paid for school on my own, never having any help and never able to get financial aid (finally coming out with an AA Degree in Journalism). I became independent, probably too much at times. I waltzed through a serious relationship, one that turned into a difficult marriage and divorce. At 23 years old, I have lived through more than my share; it certainly does not warrant bragging rights, but I don’t regret it either. I suppose everything served a purpose. Nonetheless- my passion, my drive- they stayed with me.

I remember the first time I opened my mouth about wanting to be a war reporter. It’s not an easy ambition to admit, most people might look at you funny and it’s certainly not a prayer you throw in God’s direction. But I had just gone through a book, written by one of my mentors, John Bolin and he and I were sitting in his kitchen, making coffee. His book is called Life Unlimited; it’s about getting past the mundane in life, pursuing and accomplishing dreams- being satisfied and seeking more all the time, a life that he openly lives. It’s not so much a “how to” book, if you read it for that, you might get confused; it’s more inspirational, spiritual. He was my sage, I was lucky and as we dissected the ideas he had written about, I told him what I wanted to do. He looked at me for a minute- and since that moment, more than once he has told me that while he thinks I’m crazy, he believes I’m destined to do it. I’d agree and with that said; I don’t have the slightest clue why it attracts me. I knew Cooper had felt that feeling. He said at one point in his book, “I wish I knew how to explain it to them.” It’s not to say that I would not be afraid…I think….I would say that while I’m not afraid to go, I would be afraid to get there- does that make sense? I agree with him when he states that any fearless fool is just that, a fool.

I know that at one point over the last few years there have been small moments of despair and out of that, I think “I’d rather feel the pain of war than the horror I go through now.” It’s a strange thought, to be honest with you. He mentioned that when he went to Africa; it was a place to forget and be forgotten. I suppose that attitude has come out at times. Then like an oxymoron- there is the inspirational side of me that says, if I can find one person’s story to tell, maybe I can change the world. Then again- he stated that he's just not shocked anymore, that it deepened his resolve- I haven’t been shocked yet. Moved, but…not shocked. For a long time, and this was due to the relationship I had, I was immersed in military affairs and surrounded by vets, young officers and enlisted guys- the ones who’ve been in Iraq, you can only imagine the stories they’ve confided with me, the ones who hadn’t been, their good and bad drives toward it were reflected all the time. I thrived on it and hated it all at the same time. I was always jeered and joked at- they told me I was the “perfect military girlfriend,” because I was the only female who’d go see the war films, talk about them, and loved being engrossed in the political gruff of it all. It made me that much more passionate to be a part of it; “catch it in action.”

My outlook now is much better than it was 6 months ago or even a year ago, but there are moments, esp. after reading that book, I strangely identified with his bleakness. I want to travel, I am determined to go, to see it all, and yet what I know I have to prepare for I can never understand until I’m there. It’s a whirlwind of emotions, I just cannot explain. I don’t know how. I suppose one day, I will write my own memoir of sorts, sharing my life lessons, one’s I’ve learned thus far and anticipate learning, but at the moment, I’m still at the bottom of the totem pole, looking for any opportunity I can grab hold of.


Peace Be With You- Ash