Word on the Street

Some good news: I’ve finished a rough draft of my memoir.

For the past few years, I’ve written several personal essays in hopes of eventually writing a memoir. Since getting some in-person inspiration from one of my favorite writers, Anna Quindlen, I’ve spent the past year researching, reporting and writing my book. One of my former editors is now reading and editing it. Once I get feedback from her, I’ll make some changes and then send it to an agent.

It feels liberating to have finished a rough draft and to have made so much progress on a goal that I’ve wanted to accomplish for more than a decade. The memoir is about the difficulties I experienced after losing my mom at a young age, and the lasting effect they’ve had on me. It centers on three key themes that intersect in a lot of ways: food, loss and love.

Between writing my memoir and working long hours, I haven’t had as much time to keep up with my blog lately. I’ll be posting memoir updates more regularly, though, when I have new information to share.

If you want to get a better sense of what my memoir’s about, read these personal essays:

How losing my mom led me to neglect a hungry heart

Why I’ve struggled with eating for so long and how I’m learning to let go

Why we turn to food when we’re stressed and what we can do instead

My not-so-easy response to the question: ‘So, why did you become a vegetarian?’

Spotting signs from loved ones who have died

Learning to heal from the loss of my mom, struggles with food

Mother-daughter song stirs memories of happier times with mom

Last night, my boyfriend slipped a ring on my finger …

Planning a wedding without your mom

Every day, I think about my mom. Sometimes I’ll look in the mirror and see a resemblance — the same high cheekbones, the same thin lips. Or I’ll hear a song she liked and start singing along to it. “Love shack, baby love shack!“

Other times I’ll see material things that remind me of her — her old eyelash curler, which I admittedly still keep in my makeup bag. The crosstitch she made that’s now hanging in my home office. The small sterling silver bracelet she once wore that I now wear every day.

Mom died of breast cancer 16 years ago this Saturday. I was 11 when she died — old enough to tell her about my first crush in the third grade, and old enough to go dress shopping with her just before my first middle school dance. I never got to ask her for dating advice, though, or tell her about the night in October 2012 when my fiance Troy proposed.

I’ve gotten used to Mom not being here for the big moments. But a wedding without a mom is different. You can’t help but feel the loss. You can’t go wedding dress shopping with her or ask for her opinion while planning for the big day. (“What do you think about this venue? … “Should our floral centerpieces be short or tall? … How do you think I should address the ‘we-can’t-invite-everyone-even though-we-wish-we-could’ situation?”) It’s not to say I’d even ask my mom all of these questions if she were alive, but I’d like to know I could.

Weddings aren’t just about brides and grooms; they’re about mothers and daughters. Mother-daughter traditions make way for assumptions that pop up in wedding magazines and in conversations with acquaintances; it’s in our nature to assume (and hope) that if you’re a young bride-to-be, you must have a mom.

On more than one occasion, people who don’t know me well have said something to the effect of:

“Your mom must be so excited for you! Are you going to go wedding dress shopping with her?”

“Actually, my mom passed away when I was younger,” I kindly tell them.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Then, they switch to the bridal party — something seemingly more fun.

“Who’s going to be in your bridal party? Your sisters?”

“Actually, I’m an only child.”

“Oh…”

Cue the awkwardness.

These conversations are a reminder of what I don’t have. But they’re also an opportunity to think about how I can incorporate what I do have into the wedding: memories.

I’m going to put one of the costume jewelry pins my mom bought me on my bouquet, and see if the priest who’s marrying us will say a prayer for her during our ceremony. I’m also going to ask our DJ to play “Love Shack” during the reception. “Everybody’s movin,’ everybody’s groovin’ baby!” (As for the lack of sisters? My cousin and close friends make up for that.)

My dad and I can’t help but think of Mom when we talk about the wedding. Recently, he found Mom’s wedding dress in the attic of my grandma’s house. It had been there, wrapped neatly in a box, for nearly 30 years.

“It still looks brand new,” Dad said. “It’s yours if you want it.” I contemplated wearing it, but decided I want to shop for my own dress. It’s possible I could take a piece from her dress — some lace or ribbon — and add it to my own.

The last time I was home in Massachusetts, my dad showed me their wedding album. As I flipped through the yellow-tinted pages, I held my camera up to the pictures. Snap, smile. Snap, smile.

“Wow, look how beautiful Mom was — and how skinny you were!”

“Yep,” my dad said, a look of nostalgia in his eyes. “Mom really was a beautiful bride. You will be, too.”

Ever the sentimentalist, Dad got an emotional look on his face. He went on to tell me about his special day with Mom and how right it felt. Then he reached for a wedding CD he had made me. He stuck it in his CD player and skipped to no. 2 — Paul Simon’s “Father and Daughter.” “I thought this would be a good father-daughter song for us,” he said. As we listened to it, he started to cry.

I’m gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you’ll always know
As long as one and one is two wooo
There could never be a father who loved
His daughter more than I love you

I wish Mom could have been there with me to hug my dad — and poke a little fun at him. I wish she could be here to help me do all the stuff that moms are “supposed to do” for weddings. But she can’t, so I have to find other ways to fill the void. I know that on the big day — October 19, 2013 — Troy and I will be surrounded by people we care about; family members, friends and coworkers have all offered to help us plan and celebrate our wedding. I feel lucky, and loved.

For as much as I think about the past, I get more excited when I think about my future. Troy and I have a lot to look forward to as a married couple. We’ll carry on some of the pastimes we’ve shared with our families and start our own traditions. We’ll share new experiences — and we’ll create new memories, together.

Here are some photos from my mom and dad’s wedding album. (You can click on the photos to enlarge them.)

Mom, the beautiful bride. I love how elegant her dress looks.

Mom and dad.

Love.

First dance. (No, they didn’t dance to “Love Shack.”)

Mom and her bridesmaids. (That’s my aunt, second from the left.)

Mom and Dad with my maternal grandparents.

Mom and Dad with my paternal grandparents.

Gramz and my late grandpa (or Pop-Pop, as I used to call him). The height difference is striking. I know my Gramz would like to be at the wedding, but her health has declined. (She’s going to be 90 in March!) I’m keeping my fingers crossed she can make it.

Grandma and Grandpa. Gramps died about 10 years ago. Gram is alive and well. Just this week, I talked with her by phone about the wedding. “What kind of dress are you thinking of getting, Mal? A topless one?” she asked. “Well, I’m sure Troy would like that,” I said, jokingly. “But I think you meant to say a ‘strapless one’!” Whoops. We couldn’t stop laughing.

When I started wedding planning the first week of November, I thought it would be easy to find affordable venues that we both liked.

It turns out, planning a wedding is more complicated than I thought it would be. My fiance Troy and I looked at several different venues that we both liked. We were pretty sure we were going to get married and have the reception at a hotel in St. Pete; we had asked the hotel’s wedding coordinator to hold a date for us, and told her we were ready for a contract. I was so happy with how things had progressed that I (prematurely) announced on Facebook that we had found our ceremony and reception venue.

When we got the contract, Troy and I cringed. We hadn’t factored in the service fees and tax, so the total amount was far more than we had anticipated. We agreed it was too much for us to pay.

And so the search for venues continued.

For two months, we visited and considered a variety of venues. Then, we decided to look into the church that I go to — St. Paul’s Catholic Church in St. Petersburg. I’ve always envisioned getting married in the Catholic Church. Troy’s not Catholic, though, so we hadn’t seriously considered it as an option. We assumed the Church would make him convert or go through several pre-marital classes. But the requirements aren’t nearly as rigorous as we thought they would be. Troy assured me that he would be OK with getting married in the Church, so we booked a date: October 19, 2013. (It just so happens, that’s “Sweetest Day.”)

The St. Petersburg Women’s Club, where we’re having our reception.

We then thought we were going to have our reception at my workplace, but just a few days ago we realized that the space isn’t big enough. I had made wedding dress appointments last week but ended up canceling them so I could start searching for reception venues again. Just about every place I visited was already booked on Oct. 19th — except for the last place I visited — the St. Petersburg Women’s Club. It turns out, that was my favorite venue of them all.

Oct. 19th was the one date that was still open in October and November 2013, so we booked it. The Club is a historic landmark, and it’s right on the water. It’s old-fashioned inside, but I like that aspect of it.

It’s a relief to have a ceremony and reception spot. Now, planning seems more fun. I just created our wedding website and have started booking vendors — a d.j., photographer, caterer, etc. I’m trying to take everything one day at a time so that it doesn’t get too overwhelming. It helps that I’ve been on vacation and have had more free time than usual.

Troy’s been my voice of reason through it all. He’s calmed my nerves when I’ve started to get worried, and he’s been so good at listening to my ideas for the wedding and offering his input. He’s also agreed to help out with certain aspects of the planning.

I’ve quickly learned that wedding planning can become all-consuming if you let it. So, I’ve been trying to be level-headed about it. I’ve created a budget and have been researching vendors that are both reliable and affordable. I have no desire to spend lavish amounts of money on one day; I would much rather spend money on our life together.

I’ve been heeding advice from Meg Keene’s of “A Practical Wedding,” which has great ideas about how to plan a meaningful and affordable celebration. She offers creative ideas for how to approach the big day, and explains that it’s not necessary to follow every.single.tradition. (There are so many!) Keene writes:

“You should focus your planning on things that make you feel delighted and alive. Because if what you are able to give your guests is yourself in your purest form, if you are able to lead them by joyful and relaxed example, then you are giving them the greatest give you can give. Your wedding will be one for the history books — not because it was the prettiest party anyone has ever seen, not because you played by all the rules and hit every single mark, but because it was so real, so true, so indescribably full of joy. Remember what your wedding is: a celebration. It’s a reason to rejoice. And it’s as simple and as complicated as that.”

If you focus on the joy, rather than getting caught up in a million little details, your happiness will be contagious. A wedding day should be one of the best days of your life; but it’s really just that — a special day. The more important part is the life that you and your partner will share together afterward. I can’t wait for that part.

Related: How Troy and I got engaged

December has been a busy month of writing, editing — and teaching. My priority at work is Poynter.org, but I try to teach on the side when I can. I find that my reporting informs my teaching and vice versa.

After I teach a session, I often write a related article. Similarly, I refer to articles I’ve previously reported/written when I’m teaching. This is especially helpful when I teach social media sessions; rather than just talk about different social networking tools, I can draw on my reporting to show how other journalists are using these tools and then share related tips.

Just before my talk at Providence College. That’s my college’s “Veritas” seal that’s all around campus. Seeing as it stands for “Truth,” it seems like a fitting seal for a journalist.

In the past week, I’ve had a few different teaching opportunities: I gave a talk at Providence College (my alma mater) about how young journalists can make themselves marketable; I taught a social media session in a Poynter seminar for newsroom editors; and I coached a group of Tampa high school students on how to improve their school newspaper.

Whenever I teach at Poynter, I read the seminar participants’ evaluations to see what they thought about my presentation. A lot of times, participants will say, “This was great! I didn’t know about X social media tool. I learned SO much.” Other times, they’ll say, “It was good … but I already knew how to use all these tools.”

That’s one of the challenges of teaching social media — trying to reach people who have really different levels of familiarity with social networking sites. I’ve taught groups that include people who don’t know how to tweet and people who tweet every day on top of using Facebook, Pinterest, Instagram and Tumblr. How do you accommodate everyone? I try to keep the sessions pretty advanced so that even the participants who are already well-versed in social media can learn something. And I always try to introduce the group to one new tool (like RebelMouse) that they might not be as familiar with.

One other piece of feedback I got from the Poynter session I taught last week: “She was too quiet.” That line stuck with me because it speaks to a deeper issue involving my self-confidence. When I’m confident and at ease, it’s easier for me to project my voice. But if I’m nervous or doubting myself, I tend to mumble and get quiet. I realize this about myself, but I don’t always know how evident it is to others.

Hearing this feedback reminded me that I need to stand up straight (enough with the slouching!), speak up and trust that I know my stuff. I’ll practice later today; at 4 p.m. ET, I’m leading a Webinar for GateHouse Media. Should be fun!

Running just as fast as I can…..

A couple of months ago, I told myself I wanted to accomplish a goal outside of work. I had been talking for weeks about signing up for the women’s half marathon in St. Pete.

“You should sign up for it,” my fiance Troy kept saying.

I procrastinated and then, with four weeks to go before the race, I signed up for what would be my fourth half marathon. As I trained, there were mornings when I just wanted to stay in bed and skip my workouts, but I kept the finish line in mind and persisted.

It paid off. On Sunday, I ran the race and got the time I had been hoping for: 1 hour, 50 minutes. It’s five minutes slower than my fastest time but five minutes faster than my last half marathon. I felt strong for most of the race and was motivated by Troy’s cheers. He typically rides his bike along the half-marathon courses and stops at various points to cheer me on.

“Go Mal, go!”

The cheers carried me through to the finish line.

I’m glad I ran the race; I set a goal and accomplished it in the company of thousands of other women (and a few men) who had also signed up for it. Setting goals for myself — professionally and personally — helps keep me grounded and gives me a feeling of accomplishment. My goals for the next couple of months involve memoir writing (I’m aiming for two pages per week) and wedding planning! I don’t know if you can really count wedding planning as a “goal,” but I like the idea of setting goals for myself instead of setting “deadlines”; it makes everything seem more manageable, and fun.

I’ll keep you posted as I (hopefully) accomplish them.

As I walked in the door Tuesday night, I spotted a homemade pizza sitting on the counter next to a bottle of Pinot Noir.

“Oooo, a pizza!” I said, giving my boyfriend Troy a hug. “And wine!”

“I thought we could have a nice dinner together,” he said, giving me a hug and a kiss.

I love when I come home from work to find dinner already prepared. I told him as much, and then went upstairs to change into my pajamas. When I came back downstairs, I went into the living room and noticed a ladder leaning against the wall.

“Why’s the ladder out?”

“I wanted to hang up a sign that I made you.”

“A sign?”

“I made you a sign to show you how much I love you ….”

(Insert “awww” here.)

Troy took the sign out of the closet and placed it on the table. He had hand-engraved and painted the phrase “All because two people fell in love,” on it. There was a sign with the same saying hanging above the door of my old apartment. The sign was so recognizable that when I mentioned it to people who were familiar with the neighborhood, they knew which house I was talking about. I always liked the sign, and so did Troy.

“Thank you! That is so sweet. I love it!” I couldn’t get over how thoughtful the gift was.

“Go get your camera so I can take a picture of you standing in front of it,” Troy said.

I got it, then picked up the sign and saw that the other side had some words engraved on it, too: “WILL YOU MARRY ME?”

Ahhh! It all felt so surreal.

“Oh my God! … Babe! … Of course!”

He took a video of me reacting to the news, then he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.

“YES!”

He slipped the ring on my finger and made me the happiest girl. I was shaking and couldn’t stop smiling. I may have even flailed my arms a bit at one point. (OK, I definitely flailed my arms at one point…) The ring was the same one I told him I liked and had originally seen on Pinterest.

I knew the engagement would be coming sometime soon. A few months ago, I found out Troy was starting to look at engagement rings. Every week, I wondered when he was going to propose and inevitably set myself up for temporary disappointment. Whenever we went on a dinner date, I would think: “Maybe tonight’s the night!”

I tried to be patient.

When the engagement topic would come up, Troy would jokingly chant, “Two more years! Two more years!”

“I’ll be long gone if you wait two more years to propose!” I’d (half) jokingly respond.

Shortly after Troy asked me to marry him, we talked about how we would spread the news on social networks. He knows me too well. (I had been thinking about how I would break the news on Facebook and Twitter for months!) He suggested that we post a picture of me holding the “All because two people fell in love” part of the sign, then a picture of me holding the other side of it, followed by a picture of the ring. We did, and the photos quickly generated comments from friends.

For about two hours after Troy proposed, we read all of the congratulatory notes on Facebook and Twitter, responded to text messages, and called friends and family. My friends started sharing ideas about what the wedding would be like.

The ring!

A good college friend said something to the effect of: “I’ve always pictured you wearing a bright pink dress and flying into your wedding in a bubble, like Glenda the good witch from ‘The Wizard of Oz.’”

When I relayed this to one of my other college friends to hear her reaction, she laughed and said: “I’ve thought about that, too! Except I picture you looking like Cinderella. I think of it as a fairy-tale wedding. With some glitter.”

I don’t believe in fairy tales, but I do believe in pink dresses and sparkles.

My college roommate shared this good advice: “When people start asking about the wedding (and they will), you’re allowed to say, ‘This is our time to enjoy the engagement.’ You don’t have to start everything all at once.”

My best friend from childhood, who got married last year, said: “When you do start to plan, make it fun!”

My grandmas, who I called just before they went to bed, both let out little shrieks. I think they would have jumped up and down if they physically could have.

My dad reminded me: “You two are so lucky to have one another. Troy’s a good man.” I could tell that Dad was happy for me, his only child, his perpetual little girl. Troy had asked him for my hand in marriage when we were in Massachusetts last August. (At the time, my friends were betting that he had.) He also called my dad about a half-hour before I got home from work to say he was going to propose. Not surprisingly, my dad kept the information to himself for nearly four months; he’s always been a good secret keeper.

My dad and stepmother are flying in to visit me and Troy later this week, so I’ll be able to talk with them in person about the engagement. I want to be able to share my excitement with my dad, considering I only get to see him once or twice a year.

I wish I could also share it with my mom, who passed away from breast cancer when I was 11. Though she’s been gone for 16 years, I’ve been able to keep her memory alive through writing, and through signs that she sends me. Often, when I’m thinking of her, I’ll look at the clock and will see her “special time” — 7:24. It’s symbolic of her July 24th birthday.

Me and Troy.

I wish I could show Mom my ring, go wedding dress shopping with her, and see her reaction when I become a mom someday. I wish she could meet Troy, who has taught me what it means to let go of the fear of loss and let love in.

He’s the guy I met on Match.com two-and-a-half years ago and decided to go on a date with — partly because he wrote well when messaging me on the site. He’s the flirt who loves holding hands, the boyfriend who brags about me because I’m too humble, the fiance who won’t let a day go by without telling me that I’m beautiful and that he loves me.

I’m lucky.

I know Mom would have approved of Troy and loved him. A couple minutes after he proposed, just before we started to eat our pizza, I picked up my phone. I looked at the time and felt especially loved. It was 7:24.

If you haven’t been following the trending #literaryrestaurants hashtag, check it out. People have been using it throughout the past day to tweet creative literary names of restaurants. Stephen Elliott, founder of a site called The Rumpus, created the hashtag. Here are a few #literaryrestaurants tweets that The Huffington Post highlighted:

I thought of “Lord of the Fries” but then saw that someone (not surprisingly) had already come up with that. Micheal Cavna of The Washington Post crafted a lot of fun ones — including “The Crepes of Wrath,” “Animal Parm” and “For Whom the Taco Bell Tolls.”

It’s been about 15 years since my mom died of breast cancer. The pain from the loss has subsided over the years, but the desire to share important moments with her hasn’t.

There have been so many times when I’ve thought to myself, “I wish Mom could be here for this.” I wish she could have been there to see me get my license, go to prom, graduate from high school and college, and get my first job. I wish she could be here for all the things you turn to your mom for as you get older — things like figuring out how to replicate her signature dinners, picking out a wedding dress and becoming a mom yourself.

Even though I haven’t been able to turn to Mom, I’ve always been able to turn to my dad (and my grandmas). My dad’s been a constant in my life — someone I can turn to for advice and who always is willing to listen. Though we live more than 1,000 miles apart, we’re still just as close as ever.

He always finds ways to show he cares about me, his only child. He reads every one of the stories I write for work and gives me feedback on them. He’ll always make time to talk to me on the phone even when he’s having a crazy busy day. And it’s not unusual for him to send me an email that says “I LOVE YOU, MALLARY!!!!” in oversized, colored font. He’s perhaps the biggest sentimentalist I know.

Given how close we are, I can’t help but love the new Google Chrome commercial about a girl named Jess who has lost her mom and is keeping in touch with her dad via Gchat during her freshman year at college. I’ll admit: I cried when I watched it the other day. Sounds cheesy, but it’s true. The commercial made me think about how lucky I am to have my dad, and how much I miss my mom. And it was a gentle reminder that it’s OK to still get sad about the loss of a parent, even if you lost that parent more than 15 years ago.

My dad can’t take the place of my mom; no dad can, no matter how hard they try. But he’s certainly helped fill the void.

If you haven’t seen the Chrome commercial, you should take a minute to watch it here. (Note the dad’s blank stare after his daughter virtually introduces him to her new boyfriend. It’s priceless.)

I’m excited to say that I’ve been promoted to a new role at work: managing editor of Poynter.org.

As managing editor, I’ll have many of the same responsibilities that I did when I was associate editor; I’ll be writing and editing stories about the media, overseeing the How To section of the website, moderating live chats, teaching sessions on social media, and helping to grow Poynter.org’s audience. Now, I’ll also be more involved in the day-to-day decisions about what we publish and the storytelling approaches we take.

I’m lucky to work with talented colleagues at a place that encourages experimentation and innovation. When I started working at The Poynter Institute five years ago, the editor who hired me said: “Challenge us to think about things differently.” My current boss has given me similar advice.

I try to put her good advice into action, and I always keep two words in mind: “grounded” and “growing.” It’s important, I tell myself, to stay grounded in traditional journalism values, but at the same time grow — and open myself up to new ways of telling stories.

At Poynter, I’ve had a lot of opportunities to grow. In the past year, I’ve been asked to join committees aimed at shaping the institute’s curriculum and future, and I’ve started teaching more. Teaching has forced me to step outside of my comfort zone and, in turn, has given me a newfound sense of confidence. (It’s much easier for me to “teach” via the written word, as opposed to teaching in front of a live audience.)

It’s been great to see how my teaching and writing overlap. After I teach a session, I often write a Poynter.org piece related to it. My teaching informs my reporting, and my reporting informs my teaching; it’s a creative cycle of learning and discovery.

As I take on my new role, I look forward to continuing to learn new things. I want to keep striking a balance between writing, editing and teaching. I want to grow as a writer, an editor and a leader. I want to work hard, and still make time for fun and the people I love.

I have a good feeling about the weeks and months ahead; there’s lots to be happy about.

This week, there are about 15,000 journalists in Tampa covering the Republican National Convention. They’ll be covering the political speeches, talking with protesters, taking us behind the scenes, and finding out which politicians are attending local strip clubs. (There are a lot of them here in Tampa Bay.)

Catching up with Howard Fineman, editorial director of the AOL Huffington Post Media Group.

While it’s important for journalists to cover the conventions, I wonder whether we need so many there. Jeff Jarvis wrote a good piece estimating that the news media will spend about $60 million sending journalists to both conventions this year. Just think about how else that money could be spent in newsrooms, which have significantly reduced their staff throughout the past few years.

I don’t like to think about how much money the media business is spending on the conventions. But, admittedly, I still get excited thinking about how many media professionals are in the Tampa Bay Area this week. As a media news reporter, I can’t help but want to be where the action is and meet some of the journalists I cover.

On Monday, I attended a Politico-sponsored breakfast where Karl Rove was the guest speaker. The following day, I covered a Poynter-sponsored luncheon, which featured a talk with Mika Brzezinski and Joe Scarborough, co-hosts of “Morning Joe.” They had some really interesting thoughts to share on how the news media lost the public’s trust and how they can regain it. (You can read my coverage of their talk here.)

Me and Arianna Huffington, president and editor-in-chief of The Huffington Post.

At the luncheon, I caught up with Howard Fineman from The Huffington Post. I first met him when he spoke at Providence College, my alma mater, and have kept in touch with him throughout the years. He introduced me to Arianna Huffington, who I’ve interviewed but hadn’t met in person.

Maybe it’s a little unprofessional for me to be taking photos with high-profile journalists, but it’s something I’ve always done. I like being able to go through old photos and see who I’ve met, and where my job has taken me.

I passed on the invitation to last night’s “Rock the Vote” dance party with DJ Steve Aoki in Ybor City. (I feel old saying this, but I didn’t want to drive all the way to Ybor at night and try to find parking just to go to a dance party where I wouldn’t know anyone!)

Tomorrow, I hope to hang out at the CNN Grill and talk with the journalists there about how they use Poynter.org, what they like about the site and what they think needs work. My editor and I figured that since there are so many journalists in the area this week, we might as well take advantage of the opportunity and see what we can learn.

It’s a good week to be a media news reporter in Tampa Bay.