Growing up in religion

Religion was never a big deal in my house growing up.

We went to church on Easter and Christmas Eve and said grace before every big family meal. I prayed, and still do, before bed that the next day be as good or better then the last.

I used to pray before each inning of baseball I pitched. I would cross with my right foot behind the mound and ask for guidance in getting through the inning (like that would be high on the to-do list).

One morning, during an 8 a.m. game, I got lit up like a Christmas tree. When the coach came to pull me in the first inning, the only explanation I could offer up was that God must have slept in.

But I never had religion forced upon me. I was never told to read the bible or was dragged to church every Sunday.

That's why I find stories about people who were raised by a strict religion fascinating.

Some people have great experiences while others don't.

I've known families where religion is a deep bond they hold between everyone. I've also seen a family go through a rough stretch because one member began rejecting his religion.

At the end of the day, it seems like a silly reason to break your family up over. That's why I'm glad my family raised me somewhere in the middle.

Church, I'll see you on Easter.

That's a wrap

Before last night, I had 24 live interviews go off without a hitch for my Independent Professional Project.

Then No. 25 didn't pick up his phone. So much for the final show going smoothly.

Back when I first started the Manitoba Sport Report in October, there would be little chance I could ad-lib through 20 minutes of live radio if I couldn't reach an interview over the phone.

But as this project grew in time, so did my radio skills and last night, with the help of my iPad, I found enough ground to cover during those 20 minutes.

This is a project I forced myself to pitch to my instructors back in last April. Some kids sing in the shower; I would pretend to talk calls for a fictional sports radio show on some hot topic I just seen on Sportscentre. I had a passion to do this and wanted to use the opportunity I had through the school to do a radio show.

At points, the days leading up to the show would be stressful. Guests would back out on me in the hours leading up to show, forcing me to scramble to find somebody else. Finding material could also sometimes be a challenge. But I always made it to air and by a few minutes to eight, be able to sign off for the night.

When I presented this project to a panel of instructors last week, I found myself being really excited to show off my work and what I had done. Although it was big item on the weekly to-do list, I created a product that I'm happy to show off, talk about and am really proud of.

There are a lot of people I need to thank for helping me out throughout the way. My classmate Meg Crane helped board-op my show for the first few handfuls of show and I'm grateful she volunteered her time to help me out. Riley Aisman, a first-year student, did the same for the last stretch. My advisor, Dan Vadeboncoeur, also helped me out with ideas and shaping my show. His advice was so valuable to me as I went through this project.

I got to say though, next Monday is going to be a lot more restful without having a show to do.

I'll miss it.

Time to commit some retirement

While in the midst of hitting the snooze button on my phone a few Mondays ago, I briefly scanned Twitter before getting another 10 minutes of shut eye.

It was there that I saw Duncan McMonagle was retiring from teaching.

I wasn't going to get that extra 10 minutes anymore.

Duncan has been my journalism instructor for the past year and a half at Red River College and I'm thankful that he didn't retire a year earlier.

I didn't have Duncan as my journalism instructor in my first semester at the program but you could feel his presence in CreComm. I remember being a little nervous in my first few classes of second semester with Duncan as my instructor. Knowing I wanted to major in journalism, I felt the need to make a good impression.

Our first assignment that semester was a streeter. A few days later, I emailed my other journalism instructor, Joanne Kelly, for a job reference. Absolutely, she said, and ask Duncan for one too. He really liked your streeter.

Exhale.

There has been plenty he's taught me as a journalism major since I first walked into his classroom last January, and I know in speaking with my classmates, they feel the same way. It's amazing how much I have learned from him in what feels like a very short amount of time.

When I peer over my own stories by myself, I will often ask myself, "What would Duncan tell me right now?"

In addition to all the things he has taught me about journalism, I'll remember many other things. The Monday morning greeting of "It's nine o'clock in the big city..." and the phrase "it's time to commit some journalism". The bullshit detector. Oh, and the in-class standoffs when he asks a question and doesn't get a response. He'll stand at the front of the room silently, waiting for someone to speak up. We've never won one of those standoffs. 

And of course, the two words I'll have stapled to every desk or cubicle I find myself working: "Says who?"

He always had time for you as a student. There were a few times when I was unsure of what step to take next with school assignments or in my career. After having conversations with Duncan, I always felt much better about the direction I was heading.

In his blog post where he announced his retirement, Duncan told a story about a former colleague who wasn't fond of having to deal with students.

"I resolved never to be that person," he said.

In the time you were my teacher, you were never that person. Judging by the well wishes you've received on social media from past students you taught, you never were.

Enjoy retirement, Duncan. I'm sure the view inside Rogers Centre will be nice.