• Hello. Again.

    Macintosh Plus In the early 1990s, there was a contest called “Apples for the Students.” Kids would collect receipts from a local grocery store and if those receipts totaled a certain dollar amount, the store would donate a new Macintosh to their school. Back then, buying such a computer cost nearly $2,000, and where I lived, most schools — or parents — couldn’t afford that.

    Well, the contest was a success. A dozen or so machines were donated to my high school’s “computer lab,” and three went to the student newspaper. It was on those computers that I learned how to write a news story, how to scan and crop photos and how to design a newspaper’s layout. Working on those computers in journalism class also helped me to land my first internship, then a job at a local newspaper. And that experience led to other jobs reporting at local newspapers in Florida, Mississippi and California.

    Apple iMac G3 blueIt would be nearly a decade before my best friend Amy and I were able to join forces to buy my very first home computer, an iMac G3 blue. I wrote the first issue of Inscriptions Magazine on it as well as dozens of stories and poems. It was a real workhorse.

    My next desktop was a gray Power Mac G4. Then-Apple CEO Steve Jobs was all about making the company’s computers more futuristic-looking and this one certainly fit the bill. By the time I obtained it, my career had advanced to the point where I was working in the media at the national level.

    Apple iBook G3 gray clamshellA few years later, I was able to afford my first laptop, an iBook G3 gray clamshell. I worked on it so much and for so long that the lettering on the keyboard disappeared. Eventually I was able to upgrade to a silver MacBook Pro laptop — the 17-inch model because I was doing a lot of layout and photo work (and because my eyesight was starting to weaken as I aged).

    Macbook ProIn the 2010s, I received a 13-inch MacBook Pro for Christmas that I mostly used while traveling, though I continued to bang away on the larger laptop at home for my day-to-day work until it finally died. Next, I bought an iMac desktop with a 27-inch screen, which I still use to this day. His name is MacDubh. Although he’s starting to struggle in “old” age, he recently helped me land a new job.

    Starting tomorrow, I’ll be working as a contract overnight editor at… Apple News (via PRO Unlimited). For the next year, I’ll be curating local news stories in 14 different markets. Which means when you wake up in the morning and open the Apple News app on your phone, you’ll probably read stories that I suggested.

    From a computer contest to a contracting gig in 30 years — that’s what I call going full circle.

  • 2020: The Year In Review

    At the end of each year, I always take a moment to examine the ups and downs I experienced. What follows is my personal and professional review of 2020. I:

    * Produced/edited hundreds of breaking news stories about the near-war with Iran, Trump’s impeachment trial, the massive wildfires in Australia and California, the coronavirus pandemic, the busy hurricane season, the racial injustice protests, the 2020 election and numerous celebrity deaths.

    * Penned 16 journal entries.

    * Passed the 60,000th tweet mark on my personal Twitter account (@jadewalker).

    * Began a stay-at-home regimen due to the pandemic on Feb. 26. Took one COVID-19 test (negative) and purchased a dozen masks. Avoided getting sick.

    * Maintained two Instagram accounts: @thejadewalker and @catsofjade.

    * Read 64 books and numerous magazines.

    * Watched 48 TV programs, 64 movies and listened to many podcasts.

    * Participated in The Society of Professional Obituary Writers, the New Hampshire Writers Guild, the New York City Writers Group, the South Florida Freelancers Group, the Authors Guild, PEN America and the Silent Book Club, Manchester, NH chapter.

    * Planted a container garden and launched a gardening journal.

    * Spent months searching for our next home (alas, not in Scotland — damn pandemic). No luck yet.

    * Tried to get more sleep. Failed miserably, due to stress.

    * Fainted, landed face-first on hard tile, lost a few teeth, fractured my jaw and suffered through a lot of dental work. Now wearing braces.

    * Decorated the front and inside of our house for Christmas and mailed 30 Christmas cards.

    * Suffered from at least 33 migraines and lost 62 days of my life to pain. Average headache duration: 19 hours.

    * Mourned the deaths of my dear Aunt Mona, several colleagues and our 14-year-old cat Brigid.

    * Worked my 30th year as a professional journalist. Am once again facing possible layoffs since my news outlet has been sold.

    * Celebrated my 20th anniversary as Jade Walker.

    * Celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary.

    * Turned 47.

     


    End of the year

     

    Goals for 2021

    * Change careers.

    * Avoid any library fines.

    * Organize the pantry.

    * Plant more flowers and veg in the garden.

    * Sleep at least 7 hours a night.

    * Work on my fiction.

    * Read at least 60 books.

    * Practice hygge.

    * Win the lottery.

  • Bingo balls and cards

    I just needed one number: A bingo player’s lament

    When I was a cub reporter, many many years ago, an editor assigned me a feature on bingo. I was familiar with the game, having learned it in elementary school as a way to identify numbers and letters. The women in my family would occasionally spend an evening together playing it (they even owned their own chips, which they stored in small travel cases). And, of course, I knew the song. But I had no idea what in the world I could possibly write that everyone didn’t already know. So, one Tuesday night, I headed out to the local bingo parlor.

    The cavernous room held long tables, the kind used during lunch in school cafeterias. In the center of each table was a pad of bingo cards, colored daubers and a bin of small plastic chips. Most of the players were women over 50, which at the time seemed ancient to me. The air contained a cloud of smoke that slowly rose until it stuck to the ceiling and stained the paint. Yet it was the sounds inside that hall that remain in my memory to this day: the monotone call of the numbers, the eery silence that followed as a room filled with players searched their cards for matches, the delighted shout of “Bingo!” that was always followed by scattered groans, the crinkle of used paper cards and the rip of new ones leaving their pads as the players prepared for another round.

    I observed several matches and wrote furiously in my reporter’s notebook. I marveled at the players who worked on up to nine cards at a time, scanning the numbers with sharp eyes and marking each correct spot. I recorded the various trinkets that players displayed on the table for good luck. And I coughed a lot as my eyes teared up from all that cigarette smoke.

    When I informed the players at my table that I was writing an article about the game, they insisted that I had to play a few rounds. I admit I did hesitate at first, wanting to remain in observer mode. Then I figured, in for a penny…

    Twenty dollars and two hours later, I was hooked. Even though I hadn’t won a single match, I found the process of playing — and the camaraderie formed with the other players during the game — positively invigorating. The article turned out to be just as much fun to write.

    I’ve occasionally played bingo over the years: a few times with my best friend, many virtual rounds on Pogo.com, several memorable matches in Scotland on my honeymoon. And now that we’re midst of a pandemic and forced to remain at home, I’ve decided to start playing the game again. Since my friends and I are separated for safety, we’re going to conduct our bingo sessions via video. But I sense the sheer joy of playing — and yelling “Bingo!” — will overcome the distance we’re forced to observe.

  • tilted gravestone

    Quote of the day

    “I really never thought I’d ever in my career write a ‘mass graves in New York City’ story.” –Ed Mazza

  • war

    Bast And The Bad Place

    I finished work in a very bad place.

    I’d sat at my desk around 9 p.m. on Thursday, determined to stay in a “Friday” frame of mind. Minutes after opening a browser, however, I discovered that the United States had assassinated the highest ranking Iranian general in an airstrike. This development did not bode well for the future, which quickly became evident when “World War 3” became the number one trending topic on Twitter. Like me, others were remembering history and examining the possible geopolitical chess moves that were likely to occur in the coming days.

    It didn’t take long for Iran to react, and as you can imagine, its leaders were furious. The U.S. president responded by tweeting a pixelated American flag. Republicans backed his play. Democrats decried the use of force without Congressional approval. Liberals urged leaders to be cautious; they also suggested such an attack was meant to dissuade Americans from voting out an impeached president during such a scary moment in time. And the hawks began to “Cry ‘Havoc,’ and let slip the dogs of war.”

    Historians and security experts suggested that retaliation was bound to occur and offered various possible scenarios, many of which escalated to apocalyptic levels. Political leaders in target cities began to take measures meant to increase security — or at least provide a sense of it. One poor fellow disembarked from a plane at LAX late last night only to discover the airport was filled with soldiers. What could have possibly happened while he was in the air, he wondered.

    As the night wore on, I noticed that many of the people in my cyber social circle couldn’t sleep. Oh, a few dropped off with plans to disappear into a book or a marathon of streaming shows, and really, who could blame them? Others kept returning to the Web, desperately searching for more information.

    That’s where I came in.

    I spent the overnight hours tracking these conversations, weeding through the chaff and searching for news. By the end of my shift, our news org had published nearly a dozen stories about the assassination, including an article detailing Iran’s promised response, a profile of the slain general and a look back at the president’s past comments on launching a war with Iran during an election year. All of the other terrible things happening in the world — the devastating fires in Australia, the deadly floods in Indonesia, the upcoming impeachment trial in the Senate, the continued separation and detention of families on the southern border, yet another woman making allegations of sexual misconduct against the president — were pushed down the page to make way for this latest calamity.

    When my 10-hour shift finally ended, I had a migraine. My chest felt tight. Every muscle in my neck and shoulders and back was tense in a way I hadn’t felt since the middle of November when I was able to take a vacation and enjoy the holidays. Alas, that sense of peace and relaxation was gone.

    So when morning came and the daywalkers took over, I shut down my computer and retired to the chair in the library. To my right was a stack of books, my iPad and a large cup of tea. Chilled by the events of the night, which continued to swirl inside my head, I donned a blanket and put up the footstool. Mere moments later, Bast sent me a couple of kitties to begin the process of detoxifying my mind. Treacle settled on my lower legs and purred herself to sleep. Choux leaped into my lap and softly kneaded my belly. Chai hopped onto my chest and demanded affection. Thoroughly covered in feline therapy, I closed my eyes, took my first deep breath of the night and silently thanked her for their help.