That defining moment

I'm completing a story right now for an educational insert which will appear in the Daily Blat sometime in November. School Board trustee Mindy Cameron first asked me to write a Sandpoint High School success story by profiling a single grad.

The more I thought about it, the more I figured a story about the recently created SHS website could provide an even wider view of success stories from Sandpoint High School. After all, with 572 alumns and more registering every week, the potential for stories of achievement is limitless. Mindy agreed. I kept in mind her motive for the story: trumpeting the success of our local high school by mentioning how SHS had inspired each of the three grads who'd set up the website.

With any project like this, I'm often thinking of my own experiences. In this case, what were the defining moments of my life that sent me down a certain path. I always think that's a fun subject to discuss, so I'm hoping this posting will inspire some comments from readers about their own life epiphanies.

In my recently-published Sandpoint Magazine article, new principal Becky Kiebert talks about spending the summer selling educational books door-to-door when she suddenly realized that she needed to be working with young people rather than getting ahead in the business world. The rest is history: a Bachelor's, Master's and Doctorate in education and very positive reviews from teachers, students and parents about her success so far as the newest SHS principal.

In my case, I can think of three defining moments that directed me down some of roads I've chosen to travel. In each case, they were brief but profound.

One occurred one day during my junior year in high school. I had signed up for journalism and had done my very best to achieve some recognition for my passion to write stories. It was spring. The annual University of Idaho journalism conference was coming up, and Bob Hamilton was signing up students to attend. When I didn't sign up, he pulled me out in the hall and asked me why. I told him I didn't have the money. He told me he'd find the money for me to go. He also told me I had some talent as a journalist.

As a fumble-fingers who couldn't draw a box or sew a straight seam and as a pathetic soul whose singing talents meant pain to other suffering ears, I stood there in shock and awe. Somebody had finally recognized something in me that could propel me onward toward a career as a writer. I'd never be a seamstress, artist, or singer, but I could write. That moment of recognition on that day by a teacher I respected made all the difference.

Another epiphany occurred one day during my first year of teaching when I was advising the yearbook. Until that time, the Monticola staff had relied on the local professional photographer to do most of the pictures for the annual. We used a Brownie bullseye camera for a few snapshots here and there, but most pictures were taken during scheduled picture days during the school year. That's why so many people back in those early annuals just kept wearing the same clothes.

Anyway, as a newbie, I'd been interested in doing things a little differently. A defining moment happened one evening after school when Leslie Tatterson, the editor, and I went down to the Beehive office (that was the Daily Bee at the time) and visited with Jack Swanson, who was a photographer for the local paper. Single lens reflex cameras were new on the scene. During the hour we were there, he told us about all the options these cameras offered.

Then, he took us into the darkroom and showed us how a print was made. I watched him put the negative strip in the enlarger, determine how long to expose, flip on the enlarger light and expose the photographic paper. Then, he took the paper and dipped it in those three trays of dectol, stop bath and fixer. It was magical. I was hooked. Since then, photography has continued as a lifelong passion.

Another moment---or two--occurred a couple of years ago when I was assigned a story about the Idaho Draft Horse Show for Sandpoint Magazine. During the days I spent at the fairgrounds, I got to know a number of exhibitors. One of them was a man from Crestbrook, B.C., named Lawrence McGibbon. One day he told me I was going to ride with his son during Sunday's competition with their Clydesdale hitch.

That experience atop their exquisite wagon pulled by those powerful horses was all it took for me to decide I wanted to do something similar, just in smaller scale. An Amish cart sits in my barn, and readers may recall the excitement of the weekend when Monty and my sisters introduced Casey to the cart. I'll continue to pursue that as a pleasant passion of country living.

We have many epiphanies along the way, but some stand out more than others. It's funny how those moments, many times totally unpredictable, can transform us. And, that's exactly what keeps life so exciting. We never know when they're going to happen or how often, and those possibilities are what keep us moving forward with great expectation on this grand journey.