Who am I?

I've always been proud of the fact that I know exactly who I am, I've never had to question it.
A country girl, born and raised in rural Missouri, I've been working since I was ten years old with my 10 siblings helping my Mom support us.
I worked long hours during every summer vacation in the corn and soybeans fields, picked strawberries and worked at the local shoe factory.

A college education and a lot of hard work and determination helped me to realize my dream of becoming a broadcast journalist.

I am the sum of all those years of life experiences rolled up into one.

But this weekend as I helped my husband and brother move my sister out of her third floor condo in Sagamore Hills with no elevator, a half dozen folks or so... made me stop and ask myself the question. Who am I or Who did they think I am?

We started around 9:30 Saturday morning and finished about 3pm. For hours, I carted out boxes, lamps, end tables, chairs and a zillion other odds and ends up and down three flights of stairs! To say I was exhausted would be an understatement!

Along the way, I would get stopped and asked; Aren't you Romona Robinson? You're on the News! Romona, what are you doing? I smiled at all of the curiosity seekers, answering their questions, even asking a few if they'd like to help!

But it was the question two ladies my husband overheard saying; Why is Romona Robinson carrying stuff, helping somebody move?...that spawned our conversation about how people perceive people on television.

Do they have visions of me being chauffeured around by limo, sipping on champagne and caviar, a team of hairstylists, makeup artists and a masseuse waiting on my every whim? Sure, I pamper myself once in a while, but I truly have a pretty normal life. I shop for my own groceries, take out the garbage and do some of my own lawn care.

I enjoy my family and friends, I'm fiercely loyal, when ever they need me; "that includes moving," picking up their kids from school, hospital visits etc.

I enjoy people in general, working in my community, like so many other unsung heroes who don't get the recognition. I learned from my Mother that you should never forget where you came from and who you are.

That's why the answer to those ladies question was so clear; Why was I carrying stuff helping somebody move? Because, that's just "WHO I AM."

"LONG ROAD HOME"

You know the saying; "There's no place like home.
I thought long and hard about that phrase as I took a trip back home to attend my Aunts funeral recently.
I grew up in Wilson City, Missouri, population 212 surrounded by corn and soybean fields.
I rented a car at the St.Louis airport and was on my 150 mile long road home. Its not a bad two and a half hour drive, straight down I-55 South. This is gonna sound weird to some, but I always smile when I hit Benton, Missouri, which is about 20 minutes from my sisters house in Charleston. I smile because a warm summer breeze lifts the thick smell of cows and horses into the air. It's a familiar smell that lets me know I'm almost there.
I don't get all the way to Wilson City very often, since my Mom moved away to Jefferson City, Missouri several years ago.
I was struck by all the delightful sights and sounds I had stored away in my memory.
There was the young fresh corn stalks sprouting for miles and miles. I had walked these fields picking corn for days and days, year after year since I was ten years old. The tractors were plowing the soybean fields, kicking up dirt twenty feet high. I reminisce about the 10 hour days my sisters and I spent working, chopping soybeans to help my Mom provide for us. I just kept smiling as I got closer to my sisters home in Charleston. Its about 5 miles from where we grew up.

My sisters and I couldn't wait to go to Boomland in Charleston. It's a local truck stop\fireworks store\burger joint, arts and crafts, groceries and anything else you might want.

Charleston is also where I went to High School, so imagine my shock when I ran into one of my English teachers, who I hadn't seen since I graduated high school at 17!
Ms. McCullough and I relived the days when I was so shy and hardly said a word in class. My how times have changed she said, "My Romona, who I couldn't get two words out of is now an anchorwoman in the big city."
There really is no place like home, I thought on my drive back to the airport. Cleveland is my home now and I love it here tremendously, but that down home upbringing in Missouri helped to shape the woman I've become today. I feel its part of why I can give and share so much of myself with my community.
I was reminded during my long drive home of just how much struggle, hard work and dedication it takes sometimes to make it in this world and if you're lucky, someone will share a glimpse of their long road home with you.

"THE BEE ENCOUNTER "

WHAT A FRIGHTENING FIND IN MY BACKYARD THAT STILL GIVES ME CHILLS JUST THINKING ABOUT IT.

THE OTHER DAY I DECIDED TO PULL WEEDS IN ONE OF MY FLOWER AND SHRUB BEDS THAT'S SHADED AND RARELY NEEDS MUCH MAINTENANCE.

AS I KNELT DOWN GRABBING AN ABUNDANCE OF NEW WEEDS OUR RECENT RAINS HAVE PRODUCED, I HEARD A BUZZING SOUND A FEW INCHES FROM MY FACE. I SLOWLY LOOKED OVER AND COULDN'T BELIEVE MY EYES. IT WAS A MAMMOTH OF A HIVE, A BEE COCOON OF SOME SORT. IT LOOKED LIKE IT COULD HOUSE HUNDREDS, EVEN THOUSANDS OF SWARMING BEES.

HOW COULD I HAVE MISSED THIS HUMONGOUS HIVE? IT MUST BE TEN TO TWELVE INCHES IN DIAMETER AND I WOULD THINK IT TOOK YEARS TO CONSTRUCT.

MY NEXT ORDER OF BUSINESS OF COURSE IS WHAT DO WITH IT AND HOW TO DESTROY IT. MY HUSBAND WANTS TO GO "RAMBO" ON IT HIMSELF, BUT I THINK WE SHOULD PROBABLY CALL AN EXPERT.

IF YOU'VE HAD A SIMILAR ENCOUNTER, I'D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR STORY AND HOW YOU HANDLED IT.