The Pan American
As a youngster, I remember the thick yellow border of National Geographic issues peering out of a stack of letters every day once my parents brought in the mail.
Nevermindthe bills – hand me those colorful photos!
The pile of issues we had at the house seemed to accumulate almost immediately after the first one arrived. I kept asking my old man why we had so many and what we were going to do with all of them but he would simply hand one over to me and soon my thoughts turned to whatever subject was at hand in that month’s issue.
Guess he knew the attention span of his little girl quite well.
Keep in mind at the time I was much younger than today and the only thing that I seemed to be interested in were the magnificent photos jumping out at me. But soon enough I began to actually read the articles.
I can recall cutting out maps that sometimes Nat Geo was nice enough to include and taping them to the walls around my room. While reading an article I would map out the journeys these people would go on.
India, Morocco, the Fiji Islands and Mount Everest were among the destinations This only fueled my ambition and desire to reach out of the Valley. It suddenly became more and more attainable. My mind was blown at the idea that a different world existed outside of my backyard, as silly as that might sound.
In my mind these people were “writers” simply documenting their adventures. I had never heard the term, “journalist” before. But I was hooked.
Whether it was investigative, war or music journalism, I wanted to do it – and maybe all of it. I was interested in disconnecting myself from home, traveling the world while writing about these experiences and meeting different sorts of people while I was at it.
But I never realized how much work goes into such an under appreciated and sometimes overly scrutinized profession. Not to mention the ever-changing nature of it But it’s not the appreciation that makes it worth it, far from it. It’s the excitement that I love and the knowledge that is garnered by it.
Not to mention the impact that this job entails. And the implications that come along with it. In associating myself with the newspaper and magazine on campus, I’ve been able to hear amazing stories and talk to many equally intriguing individuals
I remember interviewing a woman at her home on 17th Street last semester. While sitting on her front porch in the already indented old chairs that she owned, she opened up about her life and how the neighborhood grew into the entertainment district it is now. Almost expectantly, for someone in their late 80s, she had quite a bit to say.
Another time I got to interview a fellow journalist from Mexico amid the height of the border war on drugs. And then there was that time that I got to meet Lisa Ling during a dinner prior to her speech last year. Words can’t express the excitement I felt when I got to take a photo with her.
Now my college career is drawing to a close and my time is up. It’s time to step out into the real world and I’ll tell you one thing, I’m scared as [insert gratuitous cuss word here.
But somehow I’ve managed to settle into a profession that I’m passionate about. How many of us can say that?
