Wendi {at random}

I have this recurring dream from back in my Roanoke Times days. I used to work in the Features department, putting together the Friday calendar of events for the Extra section. I felt proud of my job, back in the day. Thrilled to play a part of the weekend planning of my fellow Roanoke-ians. Truth be told, I liked to think I was higher than my "editorial assistant" title. I was high on the hog of pride, back then. I was on top of the world when I saw my byline. It didn't matter if it was in the NewsFun section, the Neighbors section, or the coveted Extra section. Heck, I'd have been over-the-moon to have appeared in the classifieds.

To this day, however, I have this dream that I am late for work at the Times, or that I do not show up at all. In my dream I know that I did the calendar, but then I just got bored. I quit doing it. And I didn't bother to show up after I did it. Which means that at least one Friday calendar wasn't done. At least one Roanoke Times & World-News Extra section wasn't complete. And I left it to my co-workers to figure out because, apparently, I didn't bother to report to work that week. In my dream, I am thinking that I have DONE everything, but I still have all these hours to fill up. How will I ever pass the time when the calendar is already DONE??? Whatever is left to DO?

Oh, this is a horrible nightmare for me. It's a lot like the dream I have when I'm late for a final exam and I get there only to realize that I showed up for only the first class. How in the world will I ever pass this exam?! The professor always looks at me and says, "How could you have let this happen, Wendi? We expected so much more of you." And I always feel that horrible bomb-in-your-gut feeling. "I don't know! I just showed up this very minute!"

When I finally wake from the Roanoke Times dream, the first person I think of is Beth Macy. She was my idol. Oh, how I wanted to be like Beth Macy. I wanted to name my first born Macy, but, alas, he was a boy. And I couldn't do that to him. So I called him Camden. But Beth Macy was my Mentor Of All Mentors. She was an actual REPORTER for the Roanoke Times. And she was good. G.O.O.D. I read every single thing she wrote. Even when Ed Shamy had a sure-fire headliner, I read Beth Macy before Ed Shamy. Shamy had nothin' on Macy. Shamy, quite frankly, scared the daylights out of me.

But Macy was my friend. She called me Cal-Gal and made me feel like I was a part of her reporterly world. Macy taught me how to make a brisket. She loaned me her wedding dress. She made me feel like I belonged in the Features Department and that I could do a tad bit more than answer the phone. At the time, she lived in Salem. I will never forget passing Butt Hollow Road on the way to her house, thinking that only Beth Macy could pull that off. Yeah, she was that cool.

As I type this little blog of mine, I am perusing Macy's own blog (which I just discovered via the Roanoke Times) and I just read the line where she remembers her own plot of land on Texas Hollow Road. Holy crow, but I just was thinking of Texas Hollow Road and her rented ranch house that stretched across FOREVER and the divided Pepsi~Cola crate I purchased at her yard sale!!!

OK, so, yeah.

As I was saying. I have this recurring nightmare. And in it, I'm late. Very late. I am always a mess when I awake from this dream. But I'm always relieved when I realize that it's not real. I'm only dreaming. The calendar is fine in the hands of somebody else.

And I always pause to thank Beth Macy for being my mentor and my friend back when I didn't even have a clue who I was. Thank you, Beth Macy. I miss you.