Earlier this month, I attended the University of Montana School of Journalism’s internship and career fair. I traveled to Missoula without any expectations – though The Madisonian and the West Yellowstone Star are not desperate for interns, I wanted to see a young crop of journalists. If I found a student with skills complimentary to what our organization preferences, all the better!
Whether you celebrate Christmas, Chanukah, another holiday or nothing at all, this time of the year is full of traditions.
I moved to Madison County at the end of high school football season three years ago. By the time I was settled in at the paper and ready to go out on assignment, the Ennis Mustangs football team was the only county team still left in the playoffs.
Quite frankly, I’m not concerned with whom people voted for. I hope everyone made informed decisions, and that they are satisfied and confident in the bubbles they blackened on their ballots. What I do care about is how we all move forward.
What about newspapers? What about print journalism? What is the importance of a physical newspaper in this electronic age?
A few weeks ago, I hopped a plane to Las Vegas to spend a quick 40 hours celebrating my best friend’s 21st birthday. Now, when you meet me, my personality does not scream VEGAS, but Grace is like a little sister to me, and I would do anything to spend time with her. That meant I braved pool time on a 105 degree afternoon and rallied for partying until the wee hours. Everything considered, the time spent with the birthday girl, her mother and her sister-in-law was great fun. On the plane home, my sides hurt from constant laughter, but my feet hurt even worse due to the torturous shoes I wore … thanks, fashion!
Geographically, Madison County is split into two areas – the Madison Valley and the Ruby Valley. In fact, three areas – don’t forget the parts of Big Sky that fall in our county line.
Last weekend, Mike and I attended two weddings – in fact, we even had parts to play in one of the celebrations. Mike was the best man, and I was in charge of not losing the rings, so I think we know whose job was the most important.
After my third birthday, my mother took me weekly to Roanoak Community Center in Kansas City so I could spend an hour somersaulting and cartwheeling my way up and down the gym.
Sometimes, I still feel like a little kid. I’m 25 years old, I live 1,300 miles away from my family and I am definitely an adult. But every once in awhile, I miss the days when my mom made all my big decisions.