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vrobx1 · 08-22-2019, 07:30 AM

“Gosh. This is exciting!”

I sat down across the desk from Karen Prasek. Her teeth grinned wide behind silver braces. Her horn-rimmed glasses framed wide, eager eyes. Curly brown hair made a mess of itself on top of her head.

We were in the office of the Jackson County Herald-Tribune. Yes. Office. Not offices. The newspaper of the county was written inside a building about the size of a washateria. Most of the journalists there were like Karen. High school journalism students freelancing articles to the paper for ten, fifteen, twenty dollars tops.

Karen was one year behind me at Industrial High School. She would be entering her senior year in the fall of 1985. Already one of the candidates for Valedictorian for the Class of ’86. She was the middle child of three. Her older sister, Cheryl, had graduated in 1984 and gone on to Texas A&M University. Her youngest brother, Jason, was entering his sophomore year.

Donald Prasek was a farmer. Who wanted a son to leave his farm to. Which is the reason he ended up with three kids. He tried and tried until he got a boy. Then he was happy.

Cheryl, however, grew up to be the son Donald actually wanted. Except that she was a girl. She rode horses from the age of seven. Even participated in the Junior Miss Rodeo. Joined the Future Farmers of America in high school. Her senior year, she raised a calf that finished in eighth place at the Jackson County Livestock Show. But, she was a girl. And her daddy never would see her as the farmer he was. Simply because she was a girl.

But life has a sense of humor. And Jason Prasek had no interest in farming or animals or the outdoors of any kind. He preferred life inside the library reading mystery novels.

It was almost as if the fates were punishing Donald Prasek for not accepting his oldest daughter for who she was.

Then there was Cheryl. Freed from the burden of expectations, Cheryl was able to be her own girl and follow her own dreams. She had been with the school newspaper since her freshman year and worked with the Herald-Tribune since her sophomore year. She loved to write. And she was really good at it. She could take the results of a football game and turn the article into something that was poetic and dramatic and heartbreaking and ecstatic all with just the way she had with word usage.
Unfortunately, she, too, was a girl. And a female sportswriter would get even fewer chances than a female farmer would.

That was kind of too bad. Because she really did have a talent.

“This is the most exciting story I have ever gotten to write,” she said.

She was almost falling over herself. Which was very odd. Obviously, we were not strangers to one another. In a small high school like Industrial, everybody pretty much knew everybody. We didn’t hang out in the same social circles but we had spoken several times. She had interviewed me for the school paper after games before.

But, here, she was almost fawning over me like I was some kind of rock singer or ….

Wow, I thought as it dawned on me. This is what it is like.

I needed to remind Karen of who I was.

“Even more exciting than the time you went with Travis to see ET?”

The gasp from her lips could have sucked all the oxygen out of the newspaper room. Her face became so red her father could have renamed her Apple Prasek. Wide green eyes stared daggers through her glasses’ frames.

I grinned at her.

“Jerk!” She kicked me from under the desk. I started laughing. She started laughing.

“Okay,” I said. “Remember who you are talking to. We’ve done this dozens of times before. Take a deep breath and let’s have a chat about baseball.”

She shook her head. “Mention Travis again and I’ll be chatting baseball bat upside your head!”

As long as he doesn’t play for the White Sox, that shouldn’t be a problem.

08-22-2019, 07:30 AM	#2
vrobx1 Hall Of Famer Join Date: Apr 2017 Posts: 3,428	“Gosh. This is exciting!” I sat down across the desk from Karen Prasek. Her teeth grinned wide behind silver braces. Her horn-rimmed glasses framed wide, eager eyes. Curly brown hair made a mess of itself on top of her head. We were in the office of the Jackson County Herald-Tribune. Yes. Office. Not offices. The newspaper of the county was written inside a building about the size of a washateria. Most of the journalists there were like Karen. High school journalism students freelancing articles to the paper for ten, fifteen, twenty dollars tops. Karen was one year behind me at Industrial High School. She would be entering her senior year in the fall of 1985. Already one of the candidates for Valedictorian for the Class of ’86. She was the middle child of three. Her older sister, Cheryl, had graduated in 1984 and gone on to Texas A&M University. Her youngest brother, Jason, was entering his sophomore year. Donald Prasek was a farmer. Who wanted a son to leave his farm to. Which is the reason he ended up with three kids. He tried and tried until he got a boy. Then he was happy. Cheryl, however, grew up to be the son Donald actually wanted. Except that she was a girl. She rode horses from the age of seven. Even participated in the Junior Miss Rodeo. Joined the Future Farmers of America in high school. Her senior year, she raised a calf that finished in eighth place at the Jackson County Livestock Show. But, she was a girl. And her daddy never would see her as the farmer he was. Simply because she was a girl. But life has a sense of humor. And Jason Prasek had no interest in farming or animals or the outdoors of any kind. He preferred life inside the library reading mystery novels. It was almost as if the fates were punishing Donald Prasek for not accepting his oldest daughter for who she was. Then there was Cheryl. Freed from the burden of expectations, Cheryl was able to be her own girl and follow her own dreams. She had been with the school newspaper since her freshman year and worked with the Herald-Tribune since her sophomore year. She loved to write. And she was really good at it. She could take the results of a football game and turn the article into something that was poetic and dramatic and heartbreaking and ecstatic all with just the way she had with word usage. Unfortunately, she, too, was a girl. And a female sportswriter would get even fewer chances than a female farmer would. That was kind of too bad. Because she really did have a talent. “This is the most exciting story I have ever gotten to write,” she said. She was almost falling over herself. Which was very odd. Obviously, we were not strangers to one another. In a small high school like Industrial, everybody pretty much knew everybody. We didn’t hang out in the same social circles but we had spoken several times. She had interviewed me for the school paper after games before. But, here, she was almost fawning over me like I was some kind of rock singer or …. Wow, I thought as it dawned on me. This is what it is like. I needed to remind Karen of who I was. “Even more exciting than the time you went with Travis to see ET?” The gasp from her lips could have sucked all the oxygen out of the newspaper room. Her face became so red her father could have renamed her Apple Prasek. Wide green eyes stared daggers through her glasses’ frames. I grinned at her. “Jerk!” She kicked me from under the desk. I started laughing. She started laughing. “Okay,” I said. “Remember who you are talking to. We’ve done this dozens of times before. Take a deep breath and let’s have a chat about baseball.” She shook her head. “Mention Travis again and I’ll be chatting baseball bat upside your head!” As long as he doesn’t play for the White Sox, that shouldn’t be a problem.