"May the Road Rise Up to Meet You, May the Wind Be Ever at Your Back..."

Last fall, my brother began dabbling in the fairly safe hobby of photography.  When I mentioned this to a friend (and, either good or bad, don't remember who it was) he/she said, "well, that's easy.  Anybody can do it."

Incredibly ignorant comment.

True, anyone can take a picture in a world of $100 click-and-shoot Kodak cameras from the Wal-Mart photo department.  Some people might even be able to take good pictures in this manner.  A vacation sunset, a pouncing tiger at a zoo, a plane in flight.  But, asking three people to stand in front of an awkward landscape and "say cheese!" isn't photography.  Ryan, in his limited time behind the lens, works on the art of telling stories and, while he is in the amateur stages, he is already developing an eye for capturing what the rest of us don't see.

To caveat all this, Ryan is the more creative of the Voyles children.  At seven he wanted to be video game designer and filled sketch books with pictures frowned upon by his educators.  In third grade he went a little more safe and started learning the tromboner (can't help myself) and developed more musical talent in junior high on the electric and acoustic guitar.  Every Saturday, Dad and I would walk around the mall for an hour and half waiting for him to finish his lessons at Samuel Muisc.  Within months, he taught himself to play Nirvana, Metallica and a medley of music outside the listening realm of a typical 12-year-old.  Thanks to him, and his ear for music that isn't crap, my iPod has developed nicely.  

Already a talented student journalist, now he is dabbling in the visual realm.  Today he told me, over Gchat, "want me to tell you something that may freak the family out?  Don't worry, it's not me coming out of the closet.  I think it would be really interesting to be a photographer in a war-torn country."  I went through initial shock, googled Libya and sent a devastating report of journalists that just yesterday were just martyred for their craft.  While it's just a thought in the mind of a 22-year-old with a graduation date three weeks from Saturday, it's a more realistic concept for someone like him.  Not only is he the more talented of the siblings, he is also more brave than I am in his desire to take on risks.  I find myself more tied down, more grounded, but missing out?  Not sure, but he shouldn't accept less than the best.


I found this comment following the report mentioned in the above paragraph.

"This is utterly tragic, shattering news. These men are the best of the best, they are the eyes and ears and memories and consciences of democracy; they are at the highest pinnacle of photojournalism. This is a terrible day for all of us, and for our country, and for the profession of journalism. As I said elsewhere-- 'the eye of an artist, the responsibility of a journalist, and the raw courage of an infantryman.' I am so sad. We are all bereft. I wish their families well...and their colleagues safety." - John Rudoff; Portland, Ore.

Ryan's response, "that's a great comment, sums up everything perfectly. But that's what I'm thinking though; maybe I could be one of those people out there telling these stories."

Brave, crazy, I'm not sure which.  Whatever path he goes, from the safe to the not-so-safe I am just a proud big sister wanting little Ry Man to follow his aspirations.

I love you!

 Tranny Prep.

 

 The Wrestler.

This picture added solely because of the conversation below.

Yours truly: These people are the epitome of southern Illinois class. Especially the tattooed hooligan in the front row.

Ryan: She was clearly drunk and out of control when I was there

Yours truly: She looks like she sobered up a bit.
"Better get used to these bars, kid" - Marty McFly

Ryan: Nice use of the quote, sistah

A Lengthy Post about Baseball, Steroids and Childhood

Today is one of those rare days at work that I have time to myself, most of which I use to read.  CNN, Gawker, blogs, whatever.  Unfortunately, this means I will be slammed on Monday as our processes are delayed but no matter.  Happy Friday.

First, I give props to my brother.  An aspiring journalist at SIU, Ryan is on the campus desk after a stint as sports editor.  He was the first one that got me thinking about my own personal experience about the McGwire issue, not so much my reaction.  We have similar views of the topic as we obviously grew up together talking about it.  At only two years apart, we were siblings and playmates and amused ourselves with endless games of catch (until one would likely get pissed at the other and stomp into the house over a bad throw).  So here is Ryan's take, where I quote the stages of "McGwire grief" later on.  Finally: The McGwire Saga.  I admire his writing, not only because it's my sisterly duty but because of his ability to form ideas in the written word.

Another read for today was my friend Steph's baseball blog, Baseball Between the Lines, as I have mentioned before in a post.  The girl breathes baseball and shares that passion online.  I read her most recent post on Mark McGwire's steroid "admittance."  She's a Cubs and Red Sox Fan (I can forgive her for one of them) and I'm a Cardinals fan so we obviously have different experiences concerning the extent of the issue.  So I started to comment on her blog post then realized it was getting pretty lengthy and, honestly, I wanted to make it my own post.  So here we are, the unabridged version.

"I went through the stages of "McGwire grief" during the congressional hearing years ago.  Only years before, I remember watching Big Mac slam number 62 and run around the bases missing first like a excited t-ball player.  I laughed and cried and updated by AOL webpage (seriously).  I viewed numerous clips of him and Sammy Sosa's hug and watched ESPN on repeat.  For God's sake, him and Sosa were said to have saved baseball! 


His image crumbled years later as I watched him cry before Congress and seemingly forget that he ever donned a St. Louis Cardinals uniform.  A uniform I thought I would never turn my back on, number 25.  I mean, my birthday was the 25th of June, total destiny!  On that day, he sat only seats over from Sosa, the pair that brought my family and the nation back to baseball after the '94 strike.  The home run race that, for the first time in baseball history, finally thrust the Cardinals and Cubs rivalry of the Midwest into the spotlight.  East Coast?  West Coast?  Nah.  The real show was somewhere on Interstate 55 with special appearances all over the country. 


Between Sammy's sudden inability to speak English and Big Mac's mutters of "I'm not here to talk about the past" some of my earliest memories of baseball cracked like a bat making contact with a 97-mph fastball.


It's sad what baseball became and, thankfully, will never become again.


For McGwire, I don't think it's so much as asking for forgiveness as rather just coming clean (pun noted).  It's easy to pin point one player, in the media spotlight for a hot second, per usual.  Unfortunately, the names on the leaked steroids list kept the ESPN ticker busy and David Stern's office even busier.

'The bigger they come, the harder they fall.'

I agree that none of these men should be in the Hall of Fame, no matter the sure potential we never saw.  The potential that was there without the steroids.  For this player in particular, I will breathe a sigh of relief.  The devil on my shoulder already told me the obvious, that the idealist image of baseball in my childhood was destroyed."

What I'm Thankful For

Back to the grind!  I hate that term.  Only 3.2 weeks of work until Christmas break.

For realsies though, it's almost December and this morning I accepted the fact that a cold Chicago winter is inevitable.  As if there is any other kind.  In reflection of the holiday, here is a list of things I am thankful for in somewhat of an order.  Family first, then everything else!

• Being my Dad's sidekick when I am home.  Sporting events, Wal-Mart three times in one day, Cracker Barrel?  Works for me and padre.
• My brother and the next Peter Gammons, Ryan!  (Please see resemblance below.)  I imagine Ryan will age better than Peter but that's neither here nor there.  Catch his front page story, here SIU Daily Egyptian 

•  That after viewing the effects of my mom taking vitamins I decided they all negate each other and, in conclusion, cause unnecessary napping.
• Casey, the boyfriend.  I forgot him in the first publish of this post.  We spend a solid amount of our time making fun of strangers...and each other.  When he buys me flowers for the second time (ever) I might buy him a helicopter.
  
• Returning to Chicago after a long train ride and riding in the cab home.  Seeing the lights of the city and personally being part of the skyline is an outstanding experience.
• On the Chicago note, not being a Bears fan.  For real, they are awful.
• To piggyback off THAT, not being a Cubs fan.  Go Cardinals! Less than 100 days until pitchers and catchers report.  My winters are so lonely.
  

• Lady Gaga.  "If I'm a guy and I think Lady Gaga is incredibly talented, am I gay?" The answer is no.
• Kitten Mittens
• Glee and 30 Rock.  I, like, really enjoy those shows.
  
• Being incredibly better looking than the mutants that shop in Southern Illinois at 5 a.m. on Black Friday.  Straight from Dante's seventh ring of HELL, they resembled Sloth from the Goonies.  I will not stand in line with these freaks for a $79 Blu-Ray player.
  

The end.

Shameless Plug & opinions about options.

Here I am, promoting one of my favorite sports writers. Also, defending.
Ryan Voyles, my youngest brother.

Ryan is the sports editor for Southern Illinoi University's Daily Egyptian newspaper covering football, basketball and softball. He also writes a blurb, entitled Voyles' Visions whenever the mood strikes him. Recently he wrote an article entitled Ode to WNBA. I will not summarize it because I expect you to click that link. Within days, he received a 791 word response to his 590 word article. This frantic, middle-aged, feminist (and self-proclaimed journalist) proceeded to bash him not only as a writer, but personally as well. Furthermore, she failed to comprehend Ryan's comparisons of women's sports at the collegiate level. Basically, she called him ignorant.

Well that's respectable.

Unfortunately, sometimes, the age of internet allows anyone with an opinion to share it. Bashing in forums and nasty comments are abundant. Even my dad had to report someone on a sports blog because he wrote a reply comment asking my dad where our home is located.
Nice, sir.

Opinions obviously keep nearly all conversations flowing, personally or over the internet. The difficulty with the internet is that anyone can hide behind a screen, rant and claim a level of professionalism that may or may not be accurate. In a personal conversation, no one expresses his opinion by rambling for 791 words. Nobody has time for that.

So Ryan, kudos to you for expressing your beliefs through a respected medium in what will be a rewarding career for you. And fodder for free lance (see: unemployed) writers everywhere.

Just call me by my pseudonym, Ryan Voyles

I would just like to share my little scrap of brilliance found in last Monday's edition of the Daily Egyptian. Although my dear younger brother is full of wit and sass, his big sissy outdid him for one day only. I'll let him take the credit...this time.

Original brilliance: AQUI!

Snippet:
Banter: Schilling blogged his retirement, but how could it have been better?

Theresa "Ryan Voyles" voyles:

After some careful DNA extraction, I would breed thousands of career pigeons believed extinct since 1914. With only orange party hats on their heads and GPS devices on their wings, they would deliver the news of my retirement to the locations I saw most relevant. This is the only logical way to announce a retirement.