5:00 p.m. Coffee

Currently having coffee at 5:38 p.m. in the tiny house. I made it in the tiny coffee maker. It's really not the best coffee, but it'll do. I had a 5:00 p.m. coffee the other day and the buzz was initially awesome, but then I was up all night and that was not so awesome.

I remember there being a lot of coffee when I was in DC before. There was the "Arlington" video with the Starbucks and the Starbucks and the Starbucks and the Starbucks. Y'all remember that?

I remember basically being a short, blonde ball of caffeinated energy with a White House hard pass, who worked and worked and worked and worked. I loved it.

I remember being a newlywed - overwhelmed trying to find my place in my new world. I remember coming into the role of "caregiver." This blog was kind of invented during that time.

I'm a different person now.

I've been back in DC for a couple of weeks. The novelty still hasn't worn off. There are memories at every turn. I am caught in the romance. This city, all that it represents and what it did for me years ago sweeps me off my feet once again. It's like living inside a high school reunion.

Yesterday, we interviewed the President. It felt great to be back at the White House. Like I'd never left, really. I'll never get over how cool it feels that they let me in. That I get paid to do this work. I love journalism. I'm so thankful for the opportunities it has given me to get to see, hear, and witness history.  After the interview, there was a rush to get clips out. The President made news. It was burning a hole in my pocket. So, I rushed back to the bureau and got into crank out mode, existing on the banana and blueberry muffin I had in the cab on the way back. 2:00 p.m. First time I'd eaten all day. I existed on coffee and adrenalin.

After producing the clips, I went to grab some real food. I walked by a restaurant that used to be McCormick and Schmick's. Now it's something else. But I remember the dinner I had there with Michael in 2012. We were out on date night and I had a big topic to discuss. I was ready for us to start trying for a baby. I wasn't sure what he would think. There was no logical way we would be able to make it happen, or care for a baby on our income at that time - so I didn't know how he'd react.

I just threw it on the table. He bit. And that was it. Cheers. We'd start trying. I left that McCormick and Schmick's bouncing on the inside. Full of hope and ideas. Possibilities. With no idea the road that was ahead.

I was gone for four years, chasing that baby dream. Believe me, I did everything I could think of to make it happen. Nothing, yet.

I didn't think I'd be back here. I didn't think we'd still be "just us." But - here we are. And maybe this is said in grief, and most people won't understand, but if I can't have a baby - being back here - doing this job - interviewing a sitting US President, that's a close second for me.

God has surprised me with His plans. So - I'm determined. I am going to completely live this life we get to have here in this city. Just us. I want to enjoy every bit of it. The journalism. The teamwork. The romance. The opportunities.

These are going to be good years. I just know it.

I cried in front of my staff today

Photo: CNN

I didn't know Alison Parker or Adam Ward.
I've never worked at WDBJ. In fact, I spent the first three years of my TV news career trying to catch up with WDBJ!

The internet doesn't need to hear from me.
But I need this blank screen tonight.

I need its space.
I need its grace.

I was in Roanoke when 9/11 happened. I didn't cry until 9/14. I was 20 years old. I immediately went into "breaking news" mode. I digested facts and video as accounts of tragedy came into a newsroom of Beta tape decks and big fat desktop computers. Churn, churn, churn. I remember thinking I should be feeling something, but I don't. I just keep churning. Update the ticker. Do a cut-in when NBC gives us a local availability. Book satellite time for our crew in DC. Cue the reporters. Write the scripts, sort the scripts. Count the show out and close with a shot of the red, white and blue Roanoke star on top of Mill Mountain.

I was a baby then.
20.
I didn't even know what a terrorist was or where exactly Afghanistan was on a map.
The day before that, I had been working on an animation about shark attacks.
I didn't feel anything for three days. Until my pastor prayed during my 6:00 p.m. newscast. I cried then.

I've worked in Roanoke, Norfolk, Pittsburgh, DC... I've covered plane crashes and school shootings and child abuse cases and horrible things being done to animals. I've been around the news sun quite a few times. I've been shaken a few times but not like today.

Today, I cried in front of my staff. At the head of a conference room table.

This morning, I found out about the shooting on my way to work. I hoped it was just a dramatic Facebook video. Maybe they are okay. Maybe it was just shots fired in the area, and they ducked and they are okay. I got to work and found out WDBJ didn't go on the air for the CBS This Morning cut-in at 7:25 and I knew then - it was going to be bad.

I was sitting in my office across from one of my fresh-faced-first-job-journalists just back from the Poynter Institute. She is newly inspired and I'm unpacking all she learned. The alert crosses my phone: Alison Parker and Adam Ward are dead.

It stopped me.
I fired off a quick e-mail to my staff: We will not be using the video. I didn't even think. I just hit send. It was like a reflex.

Then I went into the conference room for the morning editorial meeting. I bet TV newsrooms across the country had awkward morning meetings like ours this morning. We debated: Do we cover this from city council or preview that? Should we follow up on this bus story? I was trying to hard to listen and weigh in on story assignments but I couldn't hear any words. My Assistant News Director sounded like the Charlie Brown teacher. Time had stopped. I couldn't hear words.

I fired off a couple of e-mails to trusted mentors about the ethics of showing the video. Was my knee-jerk reaction the right decision?

I tuned back into the meeting. It had started with "Man, this is crazy." "So sad." "Did you see his fiancee' was the morning producer and she was in the booth and saw the whole thing?" "Any updates on if they caught the guy?"

Then the time came to talk about the video. Are we going to show it? I think Brene' Brown was whispering in my ear or something. I was trying to be so strong, y'all. But I sat there at the head of the table and shed a tear. I was just honest. Vulnerable. I told my staff: I can't hear anything. I can't focus. This is so terrible. I need your help to weigh the ethics of this video.

There were conference calls and logistics planning e-mails and updates to the story through the day.

In the middle of all of this, I found out my Granny Nora had a heart attack and for about an hour, I didn't know what was going on with her and if this crazy day was going to end at the airport, catching an emergency flight to California.

My morning anchor stood in my door as I got off the phone with my mom. I was almost in ugly-cry mode at this point. He told me to breathe. He was right. Air is good. (Granny is doing okay now, by the way.)

As I have gotten older, the churning has gotten harder. I think some of it has to do with the insane amount of information that comes at us faster than we can even comprehend. I think it's also because I'm not 20 anymore. I've lived more. I've loved. I've lost. These are not just stories we are telling. They're realities. It's not just a line on a rundown. The responsibility of what we do weighs heavily on me.

And I lead with my heart. To a fault!
I suck at hiding my true feelings. I knew I needed to pull it together, so I had to get out of the newsroom for a little bit.

I came back and we went on with more meetings and coverage and planning. But my heart was heavy through the day.

To my fellow journalists: Breathe. Cry if you must. But we have realities to tell. Do right by Alison and Adam. We have to go on.

I bet this is how teachers felt the day of the Sandy Hook shooting. Numb. Empty.
But we have to go on. We have realities to tell.

Do right by all of the victims' stories we tell. It's easy to feel this one, I'll admit. I've been the young producer who was dating a photog in Roanoke. There are 24-year-old fresh-faced up-and-coming reporters who work for me. I'll see them in the morning meeting tomorrow. Sitting right back in that seat where I cried today.

It's not always easy to feel the hurt and the loss when we don't identify with it. The crime victim. The plane crash victim. The people who are not shot on live TV. We need to serve all of them, too.

Breathe.
Forgive me for my tears. They don't mean I am weak. I promise. I am stronger than I look!
So are all of you.
We have realities to tell.

The Best Jobs Don't Feel Like Work

When I was a kid, I wanted to be a doctor. I remember my dad studying to be a paramedic, and I would read his textbooks for fun. So, I figured becoming a doctor would be the perfect thing for me.

Then, Algebra I happened. And I decided I wanted to be a journalist, instead.

I had guilt about this, because I’m a promise-keeper. At the age of 14, I was so afraid of letting the world down, and telling it I didn’t think I’d be able to be a doctor. Then one day, the man who would end up marrying my mom told me I should do what I want. I’m sure Dave had no idea how he was freeing me to be me when he told me that, that day.

I’ve been working in TV news for 15 years. It’s not all puppies and unicorns. I’ve worked long hours, and crazy hours, and filed stories from taxi cabs and bathrooms and I’ve bought gas and groceries with a credit card and cried in stairwells at work. But, I can say that I love what I do. I’ve never stopped loving it.

I’ve been paid to witness history. To record it. To hold the powerful accountable. To tell stories people need to hear in order to be better citizens. And now, I get to lead a team of people who do that, and watching them learn and grow is even more fulfilling than it was to do it myself.

If I could give everyone one thing, it would be Jesus. If I could give them two things it would be Jesus, then a job that doesn’t feel like work. It’s truly a gift.

It's Not This, It's Me

Let's talk about stress for a minute.

Today I woke up 2 minutes before my alarm, panicking. In my dream, all I wanted to do was to go to CrossFit. But Michael kept calling me back. He had the lawn mower and was trying to figure out a way to mow the lawn. I knew I needed to mow it, so - I set my gym stuff down and started walking the lawn mower to the back yard to mow. Then, when I was pushing the mower, I noticed all these bags hanging on it - the bag I use for work, plus a bunch of reusable grocery bags. That mower was overloaded with bags! I was trying so hard to push it, and then I saw my CrossFit coach go by, and people from the gym were like, "are you coming?" And I started to cry.

Then I woke up, in tears, panicked, and so tired. Like I do every day, I got up and made coffee. But unlike every day, I decided to not go to the gym.

I decided to sit down, watch the news, then come upstairs and write.

Because the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, right?

I'm one of these people who stresses themselves out. Are you familiar with this type?

We fill all of our "free" time with obligations, we have never-ending lists of things that need to be done at work and at home, and given an extra 10 minutes here or there, we'll check those lists to see what we can do as to not "waste" any time.

It's sick, really.

The weird thing is, in the professional world - we are hailed as organized, productive, and lauded for being the people who "get things done."

Well, we do. That's true.

This time last year, I was in the thick of traveling constantly for work - covering the Presidential campaign. I absolutely LOVED it! But, I wasn't home a lot, and when I was, I was so tired, I didn't enjoy spending time savoring life with my husband. All I did was rush around, cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping.

We decided we would get through the election, then re-evaluate. So, the election came and went. And then I was presented with a great job opportunity back in my hometown at a TV station I worked at about 10 years ago, the station I grew up watching.

It was a perfect fit, and everything happened so fast. We moved here and got settled and living at the beach and near family has been great.

But guess what I do?
I work, work, WORK, then rush home and rush around cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping and now I've added to that - going to the gym.

And Michael looks at me like I'm crazy. And I get jealous of him because he gets to work from home, doesn't have all of the responsibilities I have, and he just seems so relaxed. And I don't get it.

Because when I sit down to read a book, or watch TV - you know - relax - for more than like 5 minutes, I fall asleep.

I realized and admitted this weekend that I have resentment over that! That is not good. There were tears, there was forgiveness, and I'm trying a different way.

I'm owning up to the fact that it never was my busy DC job, it wasn't all the travel, it isn't because I am the breadwinner and a caregiver and it isn't because I work an overnight schedule.

It's me.

For a while, everything in my life has been pointing me toward facing this, but I'm finally doing it.

If this is something you struggle with - I recommend Jeff Goins' latest book, "The In-Between," which I finished this weekend (without falling asleep!!) and this message Michael sent me months ago, but I just listened to, by Jack Graham.

I'm tired. Something has to give. It's time to try a different way.

A New Chapter

I finished my first week at work. Insert celebratory date night picture here.

Which means I'm not quite feeling like a foreigner in a country I'm not used to, but also not feeling like I've been in the neighborhood for a long time.

I have the computer login.
I know people's names, but not their phone extensions.

It's very familiar, because I worked at this same television station 10 years ago.
I was 23 years old, and just starting out on my dream journey to become a network television news producer who covers the White House.

Now I return, having been a network television news producer who has covered the White House.
There are a lot of the same people there, a lot of the same technology systems.

But, a lot has changed, as well. There are new people, a new set, and literally some walls that weren't there before.

I'm sitting one cubicle over from where 23 year old Dana Brown sat. It's so weird. Like riding in the backseat of your own car or something.

But, I'm 100% certain I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. I'm so pumped to learn, and to grow in ways that I haven't yet.

And I'm looking forward to experiencing covering the news in my hometown now that I'm a legit adult. Now that I'm not looking at this job as a stop on the train that is speeding towards all those "dream job" goals.

This is me.
I am here.
I am here to do this, and only this.

And I'm so ready.
I can't wait to be a part of this team.
To be a leader in the newsroom.
To be a force of good and take journalism in this market to the next level.

I start Monday.
Bring it on.

On Goodbyes, and Dreams, and Such

I need to write.
I can feel it in my bones.
I ache for my thoughts to become words and for my fingers to tap this keyboard, and for this blank page to fill up.

But, I haven't.
I don't want to.

Because it's hard.
Because it hurts, kind of.

We're moving on Tuesday.

There are boxes piled 7 feet high in our apartment.
There are checklists, and bubble wrap, and e-mails to insurance agents, and goodbye lunches, and parties, and today there will be cupcakes in my office. My mother-in-law has been packing, and cleaning, and taking care of my husband, and sleeping on a futon that is in like a bunker of boxes, near a drafty window.

There is one K-cup in my drawer, a mouse pad, a can of hairspray, and a coffee mug in the space at work where I have lived for the last three years.

It all feels so final.

And like most things in life, you don't realize how great they are, how much you love them, how much you will miss them, until you face that finality head-on.

Like selling a house.
You put in all the work you never did right before you sell it.
And you realize, this is a great house - and you're jealous of the person who buys it, because there is a big part of you that secretly wants to stay.

There is still so much to do.
I need to make copies of keys, and write big checks, and say tearful, mascara lining my face goodbyes. I need to pick up my step-dad from the airport so that he can drive my SUV down to our new home.

But I want to hang on.
I want to drink all of this love that we're being sent of with in, slowly. I want to sip each and every sweet mouthful, taste it, and say grace.

There is plenty about DC that I will not miss - like traffic, and the metro, and parking garages, and people who don't speak English. I won't miss living in an apartment. I won't miss the gate that surrounds our neighborhood that feels like a cage. I won't miss having to walk around with four different magnetic IDs hanging around my neck, feeling like I have to prove who I am anytime I come to work, go to a press event, come home, or get on the train. Like a tagged cow or something.

But, wow is there a lot I will miss, like the sun rising over the Capitol when I'm driving into town. Like my awesome co-workers, who I have traveled the country with so much that I don't think I'll ever forget their middle names or birthdays. Like the hugs of good friends who I know I'm not really saying goodbye to, but I kind of am. Like the thrill of hearing Hail to the Chief, and watching the President of the United States, in person. Like going to White House briefings, and feeling like I'm in a real life version of The West Wing.

Working in DC was my dream when I was a 19 year old college student, interviewing for my first internship in TV news. The main anchor who ran the intern program asked me what I wanted to do, and I told him I wanted to cover the White House.

I am so blessed.
I have lived my dreams.

There is literally only ONE thing that I didn't check off my professional bucket list. Riding on Air Force One. And you know what? I'm not giving up. It could still happen, one day.

In many ways, I'm leaving this dream job to go back.
Back to my hometown, to be surrounded by my family.
Back to local news, where I started this long road of journalistic dreams coming true.
Back to the TV station I watched when I was a little girl, and I first fell in love with news.

I worked there before.
When I was a news baby.
I'll start at WAVY TV 10 almost exactly 10 years to the day of the first time I started there, in February 2003. I was 23 years old. And at that time, I was on a dream track already. Getting that job at WAVY then was my dream. The first step on my list.

Wow, have I been checking things off, since then.

But dreams, you know, they change.
I don't think they die.
But I do think they grow, as we do.

And now, my dreams are different. This opportunity to move to Virginia Beach, to work at WAVY, to be close to family, friends and the people who shaped me into who I am today, is just too good to pass up. I feel like God is smiling down on me, as He leads me down this road.

I feel my heart shifting from a posture of "God - I want this!!!" to, "God, let's do this..." and, I think that's a good thing.

Life on the Campaign Trail: A Little Update

Greetings from a Hilton Garden Inn on Long Island, where this morning I ate half of a waffle.
The guy in the kitchen looked at me like I was crazy when I ordered half of a waffle, but I just explained to him that I've had two years of Hilton Garden Inn waffles and 2:00am Taco Bell runs, and my clothes barely fit.

This is going to be a very random update.

Last night was the 2nd Presidential Debate.
And it was feisty!
I watched from the media workspace, where I brewed my own coffee, tweeted, and worked on our story.

There is one more debate next week.
Then, there is the actual Election Day, three weeks from today.

We have worked so hard over the last two years covering this presidential race, and I feel like this campaign is 9 months pregnant.  It's just huge, and uncomfortable, and feels overdue.

Yesterday, on our Facebook page, I asked for advice and encouragement on finishing strong and you guys gave me some amazing Bible verses and quotes. Thank you SO much!

Today is an important day in Dana and Michael Ritter history.
It's the anniversary of the day we got engaged!
So glad we did that.
And that we followed through and got married.

More randomness...
Yesterday, at about 5:40am, as I was getting ready to go to the airport, it happened.
Michael's home health aide walked in while I was still home!
Oh, the horror!!

You guys may remember, I had major adjustment issues getting used to having help come in.
One of my key coping strategies has always been to GET OUT before they get there. I was in my bathroom, fixing my hair, and she walked in. I saw her walk by in the mirror. I was freaked!
I felt like I had been caught or something.

So, I finished getting ready, and snuck out.
I didn't say goodbye.
Michael texted me a little bit later, and we didn't even talk about it, so it's still kind of secretly like it didn't really happen (except that I'm writing about it right now.)

I don't know why this makes me feel so awkward. I've been going all Dr. Phil on myself, but I still haven't really drilled down and completely figured it out.  I didn't cry, or get mad though, so I think I'm making progress! I think.

One day we will have a house and it will have an upstairs and I will have my own little place to hide. Looking forward to that.

Anyway, it kind of wasn't a big deal, but it kind of was. I'm so weird. Whatever.

Friday is my birthday and I will actually be in town! We're hoping to go to a pumpkin patch on Saturday and get pumpkins and apples and apparently you can dig up your own potatoes and peanuts, so we're going to bring Brokaw! I'm so excited!

Oh - real quick - a Brokaw story.

It's not related to this photo, but that doesn't matter. Just look at his face!

Before the debate last night, Michael and I were Skyping. Brokaw was on the couch in the background, he heard my voice and so I said "hi" to him.  I was in the media workspace at the time, surrounded by reporters. I got more than a few strange looks when I was looking into my computer saying, "Brokaw! Brokaw? Hi Buddy! Are you being a pretty good little booger head?"

Brokaw has earned the nickname "Booger Head," or just "BH."
Sometimes I forget I named my dog after a broadcast media legend, and when I use his name in media circles, it gets some attention.

When I Knew I'd Marry Him

Note: This post is kind of long. And it includes some writing that is straight from my journal, 4 years ago. I love looking back and seeing how God was at work in my life!

It's pretty common to remember where you were when major news events happen. We can all recall where we were on 9/11. Our parents remember where they were when President Kennedy died. Some of us remember where we were when the Challenger exploded, and when O.J. Simpson's white Bronco was followed on live television. We remember where we were when it was announced that Osama bin Laden was killed.

I work in news, which means for most (a.k.a. ALL) of the major news events of my adult life, I have either been in a television newsroom, or at the scene of the actual breaking news.

The news value of this story is not on par with the examples I've listed above.
BUT the news factor of my personal life, is.

The last few months of this presidential campaign keep bringing 2008 memories rushing back.
Because when you work in news, not only do you remember where you were when certain events happened, but all of life is framed in this sort of news-timeline.

It was August, 2008.
The Republican National Convention in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

I was Dana Brown. I was 28 years old, and I was covering my first political convention. I think I look like a baby here! I think I need one more thing hanging around my neck, what do you think?

I was covering the convention for my old job, with Hearst Television, producing morning reports for close to 30 TV stations across the country.  I was working overnights, and I was just thrilled to be out in the field, because unlike my current job, that job was mainly a control room job, so getting out in the middle of the country was really exciting!

I was there for Sarah Palin's speech, and John McCain's speech, and I watched the big balloon drop from our skybox.  It was fun.

But what I remember the most from that trip was the moment I realized I was - for sure - going to marry Michael Ritter.

At the time, Michael and I had been dating - long distance - for about 9 months, officially. Things were moving fast, and we had fallen in love. Michael was living in Texas, I was in DC. Over the Summer, he had been looking for opportunities to work in the Raleigh-Durham, NC area.  His brother and family lived there, it was only about 4 hours from me, and he thought it would be a good move for him.

But - nothing about it was working. The logistics were just not going to happen.  He'd need a job, an accessible apartment, and someone to help him with his personal care. None of the above were lining up, even though he was trying to work it all out. It was frustrating.  We wanted so badly to just be closer to each other!

Then, one day while I was at the RNC, I got a phone call.
Michael left me a message, "We need to talk."
Those are not normally good words when you're in a relationship.
I was in a trailer where we had our workspace, working.
But I stepped outside and called him right back.
I was surrounded by satellite trucks and generator fumes.
I will never forget what happened during that conversation.
That was the moment I knew I'd marry him.

The following is from my journal, September 2, 2008:

He beat around the bush a little.  Told me that God was speaking to him about ministry and opportunities and he’d been thinking a lot lately about the kids and the youth at Vineyard.  He said it’s not what he wants, he said, but it’s what God is saying to him.  Calling him to dive into the ministry there in Nacogdoches. 

My first reaction was shock.  Utter shock.  You’re going to call me in the middle of one of the hugest events of my professional life and drop this bomb on me?  What?  Seriously?   For real?  You’ve got to be kidding me. (my filter kept this thought to myself)

He said he’s going to really be focusing on that for the next 3-4 months, that we both know that he’s not going to make it up to Durham by the end of the year.

I asked him, "you don’t think this is going to mean you don’t want to be with me, do you?"  I almost had tears welling up in my eyes and a huge gulp was forming in my throat.  His reaction was great: No!  No way!  He tried to tell me this in a way that made it very clear that I am very much in his plans.  

I want him where you want him, Lord.  That is my prayer.  Use us where you want us.  I encouraged him, ever his cheerleader, as he says... that this is really exciting!  I had to go because Sally and Eric and Russ were about to leave.  I told him I loved him, twice.  David was joking me, “awwww, puppy!!” Etc.  It was funny. 

I called him when I got back to the hotel and asked him if he talked to Jim.  He had.  He was excited.  I pray for him, Lord, as he goes through with this.  Keep him close.  Give him your vision.  Oh, Lord, keep him focused.  I love this man and I thank you so much for him.  Thank you so much, Lord.  I am truly grateful.  He is amazing.

Also, when I talked to my Michael on the phone, he asked me if I had been talking to his sister-in-law, Crystal.  She apparently told him that all he needs to do is ask me to marry him.  That I’m just waiting.  I kind of laughed it off when we were on the phone.  But the truth is, it’s true.  And I now secretly wonder if maybe that would be possible to do that soon?  To get engaged.  And look forward to getting married possibly next summer? Then, we could be together.  All of these dreams we dream of going through life together could happen.

One more thing he said to me that was cute: He said he knew I was in it for the long haul when I asked, “They make adjustable beds that two people can fit in, right?” :)  There is no way I’m sleeping separately from my man.  

Phew.  I think that’s it for now.

I’m in love.

I think that’s about it.

And, I’m thankful.

And hopeful and so very excited about the future that we will have together, laughing and learning and doing ministry and supporting one another.

Very excited.

For now, I need to get this day started.

The GOP convention is re-gaining momentum and I am so blessed to be here.

My Michael sent this message to my blackberry first thing this morning, I got it on my way into work:

Philippians 1

3I thank my God every time I remember you. 4In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy 5because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, 6being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus

How cute is this!?!? Do you ever look back at old journal entries or think back on memories, and see your life coming together? I love to do this. And this is a reminder to me of how important it is to document our lives - so we can go back and see where God has been faithful, and where we've grown.

Thanks for reading.