It was homecoming in Waukee this weekend and, as a mom of three teenagers, I felt it was my obligation to attend the festivities. There was a parade and coronation on Thursday, the game on Friday night (we won, handily) and, of course, the dance on Saturday. My youngest daughter is a varsity cheerleader so she’s been fully-immersed in school spirit this week. My oldest daughter is still at the homecoming dance as I type this.
Truth be told, homecoming in my small town was a lot like Waukee’s. We decorated store windows on Main Street, walked/marched in the parade, belted out cheers at the pep rally and dressed in our finest sweaters and corduroys for the dance. Pretty sure the theme of my senior homecoming was, oddly, “Welcome to the Jungle,” but I digress.
I sat at the game Friday night wondering how I’d arrived here. How did I go from relishing every second of my own high school homecoming to sitting on cold, metal bleachers wondering how long before I could go home and take a hot bath?
And then it hit me—homecoming isn’t just about a game. It’s a moment—one where everything is in perfect alignment. You see it in the people awaiting loved ones arriving at the airport, or when service men and women return from deployment to their families. It’s when the birth of a baby is announced to family and friends in the waiting room or when an immigrant is granted citizenship in front of a judge. Or when your team wins the big game on home turf.
I was in that moment Friday night, never mind the bleachers. It was a near perfect fall night. With my adoring partner to my right and all three of my kids with us there to cheer on the team, I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I was home.
You could say this column is a bit of a homecoming, too. I’ve been a writer all of my adult life (and most of my childhood). I’ve worked for The Des Moines Register, The Indianapolis Star, Patch.com and some other publications along the way. When things started to shift in the news industry, I left for a more stable career in public relations and marketing. But the need to write never subsided. If I was copywriting during the day, I’d come home at night and blog. If I had a freelance article due, I’d sideline myself writing a chapter in a book I’ve never quite figured out how to plot. If I was awake at 4 a.m., unable to quiet my thoughts, I’d journal until things made sense again.
Writing allows me to experience that moment over and over again. It’s my home, my happy place, my life. I hope to be able to share that joy with you here, in Benign Inspiration.
What Inspires Me?
So, that title? Yeah, I’m easily inspired. I save every article, meme, photo, book, etc. that somehow piques my interest. I’m an information junkie and have a serious lack of storage on my phone, laptop and bookshelves to prove it.
This week I was inspired by Iowa farmer, Seth Watkins. Seth is the fourth generation to farm the family stead in Clarinda, Iowa. His approach to sustainable agriculture is admirable on its own but even more so when you learn about his “why.” Check out his TEDxTalk on YouTube to get to know a little more about what motivates Seth day-to-day.
Jody, I've been heads down working since the Okoboji Writer's retreat, plus two and a half weeks of travel thrown in. So I'm finally coming up for air. How nice to see that you've launched this column. I admire your ability to carve out time for your writing passion and to share it with all of us whilst in the middle of the the traffic jam portion of life--full-time job, parent to teenagers, friend, companion, trying to keep the dust bunnies at bay. Well done!
Thank you for this column, Jody. Look forward to reading more.