Day 17. Relations.

I had forgotten until this morning over coffee and kolaches why I became a journalist.
Even tho, all along, I KNEW I didn't want to be a journalist.
My friend Courtney went off to college to be a journalist.  And I thought much of what she did leading up to that pretty hot stuff.  And it was.  She's smart and all that.  But, she wanted to be on TV and I KNEW I didn't want to be a journalist on TV!
And I didn't decide to become a journalist ONLY because there was only one math class required of me.  I discovered that much later and it was a happy bonus.
No, it was because ... well, I'll take you back.
Buncha years ago we met a sweet employee at St. Luke's hospital whose name was Lesey and she worked in "patient relations."  And it was her job to care for families of patients while St. Luke's cared for their patient. 
As I neared the year in high school when I filled out college applications and started considering what I wanted to be when I grew up, I kept thinking of Lesey and her clipboard and how "friendly" her job seemed and how perfect it seemed for me.
Not doing much more research into the career than having observed Lesey for a few days, I jumped with my pencil onto the first bubble on the application  that listed a "relation," w/ it being "public relations."  Made sense to me.  She worked w/ a "public," and I distinctly remembered "relations" being on the plaque on her door.  So, I bubbled in the circle next to PR (which happened to be in the school of journalism at the time), bought the text book and signed up.
I KNEW I didn't want to be a journalist.  But ... 
PUBLIC RELATIONS WAS HARD!
There was all that reading and theory and research and data and things. 
But, when people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I still responded "public relations in a hospital."
I KNEW I didn't want to be a journalist.  
I squeaked by w/ a "low B" in my general PR class ... and hated every minute of it.  The professor wore a SUIT.  Stuffy and confined.
Confident that the advertising route would be easier, I changed paths and regretted it as soon as my Advertising 101 professor walked in the door.  Unkempt and short, hardly funny but immensely proud of himself, he turned me off of advertising within the hour.  I suffered thru w/ a C.
I KNEW I didn't want to be a journalist.
My advisor suggested I stick w/ the traditional "news/editorial" track.  "Oh, I don't want to be a journalist," I replied.  "I don't want to ask someone how they felt when the twister blew thru their living room." 
And I wanted to be like Lesey. 
The minute Gary Rice walk into my News and Editorial classroom in pointy boots and blue jeans and spun tails of his days on the night news desk and the police beat, I was sold.  It wasn't just about asking questions, but it was knowing who to ask and how to record their answers.
It was about connecting w/ sources who HAVE the answers, not just the obvious resources.
It was about maintaining relations and working your way past the gatekeepers to the records and the files and the source.
I never worked in TRUE journalism.  I worked at a paper for a time and I wrote stories and built special sections, but I never really had a "beat." I fell in love w/ the press ... the mechanical one and the spirit of the collective one.  For years, I worked alongside beat reporters as a source for their stories ... in state gov't and the private sector.  I respected their deadlines and quest for the "real facts."
What I have discovered many years later as I go about a different mission ... that of relating to the homeless and telling the stories of struggling sectors of society, is that Lesey was a social worker.  I see them hard at work in my current "vocation" of volunteer to homeless mothers and children.  Just as the social workers ease the discomfort of a family at any given time, and help them rejoice in their successes as they build a home, Lesey's job was to keep her families comfortable w/in the walls of the hospital ... to tend to their needs as they returned home.
Misinterpretation of Lesey's job title, led me on a journey that has brought me full circle onto a path very similar to hers.  Thru public relations to advertising to REAL JOURNALISM ... to advocate for those for whom advocating is equal parts necessary and rewarding.  As a trained journalist, I can tell their story thru the written word.  As a communicator, I can speak of their talents and needs. As an advocate I can cheer their success.
I'll never understand the extent of individual struggle.  Or the fatigue of the fight.  Or the courage to get to the celebration on the completion of the journey.
That wasn't Lesey's job.
And it's not mine.
It's our job to make theirs easier.