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Oftentimes, I try to associate my column with what this week's Valley Life article is about.
So when I decided to write about local authors, I thought perhaps I should talk a little bit about why I decided to become a writer myself. If you could call me that. I am certainly not an author.
Typically, I am a waitress. It is usually the profession I always find myself going back to simply because it makes me enough money in which to live sort of comfortably.
What I always truly wanted to do, however, is write.
I mean, when I was little, I didn't think about becoming a writer.
As a matter of fact, while growing up, I don't think I ever thought of any certain profession that I wanted to become. I never said to myself, "When I grow up, I want to be a ..."
Although I do remember setting up stuffed animals and acting as if I was their teacher.
I would take pieces of chalk and write on the walls of my grandma's attic bedroom. (It was paneling so it came right off.)
I remember I had a friend, LeeAnne Redmond, who would come over and together we would be "teachers" to our imaginary students. I miss those times.
I recall taking my grandparents groceries -- canned goods and boxes, out of all of the cupboards and adding up the totals labeled on each one using her calculator. It even printed out long white paper receipts.
I would bag the items and pretend as if I was working in a grocery store. I tried to be quicker every time.
I even placed the canned goods on the bottom so as not to smash the softer items on top. I miss those times, too.
Of course, you could not do that today because nobody labels their products anymore.
All of the labels are on the stores' shelves. I guess there aren't a lot of children who play grocery store anymore.
I can remember playing waitress a lot. My mom would buy me those check receipt books, and I would set up my stuffed animals in different groups around the room and go to their table and write down their order.
I didn't cook the food. I just delivered it. I still do not cook often. That should've told me something right then.
There was even a time I played "modeling" as my career of choice.
When I was in either junior or senior high school, I can't really remember which but I am thinking it was the latter, my mother enrolled me in a modeling school in Pittsburgh, where I went on weekends.
I guess because I was 6-foot tall people thought that should have been what I was supposed to do with my life.
The school taught me how to do makeup -- that special kind you use when on camera, how to walk a runway and how to present yourself on camera when interviewing.
It was after that, when we were told to write something, present it to our classmates in front of a camera and then watch it back on a television screen, that I finally knew what I wanted to be when I grew up.
I wanted to write. I wanted to come up with something in my head and put it down on paper.
I wanted to memorize it and present it in front of a ton of people. I wanted to be a public speaker. And that is what I should have been.
But instead, I became a mother. I had three wonderful boys. And I would not trade that opportunity to raise them for even the most well-paying public speaking job in the world.
I did write my own speeches and present them when doing local competitions in high school.
I even won first place in the state of Ohio talking about the company, Nike. It advanced me to nationals, where I competed against winners throughout the country.
The company's founder, Phil Knight, heard about that speech and wrote me a letter and sent me a T-shirt. I wish I knew where that was because it would be worth a fortune. It was a newer company at the time. I miss those days, too.
But writing … writing began much later in life. Sure, I wrote poetry in high school. I even recall writing a poem for my mom and reciting it to her during a senior tea. But it wasn't until I had a family of my own that I went back to school. I received my degree in English and was given a job at the Herald-Star, where I worked for six years. Twelve years later, Janice text and asked if I would replace her when she retired. Obviously, I said yes.
I do love my job. And when I no longer work here, I will be missing these days, as well.
These good old days.
Believe it or not, I have been told time and time again by several people, that I should write a book. The question is, would anybody buy it? Perhaps one day I will. I would like to think I would anyway. I'm not getting any younger, though.
My stuffed animals have long since gone. I am now that grown up. Finally doing what I didn't even know I wanted to do all those years ago. And I want to take a minute to thank each and every one of you who takes the time to read what I choose to put down on a plain, white piece of paper every single week.
(Stenger is the community editor for the Herald-Star and the Weirton Daily Times.)