Thanks Banjo

Somewhere along the way, a teacher told me I couldn’t write. And you know what I did? I believed her.

That was my first mistake.

Since then, I’ve made many more mistakes just like it. I believed people in “authority” when they told me that I couldn’t do something. I listened when bosses doubted my ability. I agreed with friends who lacked belief in my talent.  Thankfully like my food allergies and acne, I grew out of it. I no longer put much stock into their discouragement. In fact, their sometimes well-meaning but negative comments drive me.  If I have a goal, I pursue it. Full speed ahead. Damn the torpedoes. Damn the naysayers.

Rejection is the poker that stokes my dream’s fire.

Yesterday, I won two awards at the Mississippi Press Associations’ Better Newspaper Contest.  One was for editorial cartooning (my long-time craft that I love) and the other was for Best General Interest Column for  my newspaper-size classification.  The column that won was Banjo’s obituary.  As I stood behind the podium (I was co-emceeing with the talented Stephanie Patton), I saw his big grinning face on the screen.  My eyes started to water and I had to look away. Banjo was why I started back writing in the first place. It only seemed fitting that he brought me to that moment.

Banjo was the little brown dog who reminded me how precious life is. He was the little dog who reminded me to always pursue your dreams.

Thanks Banjo. The award was for you.