Wyoming it is

(Courtesy of AA Roads)

 

The last few weeks have been a roller coaster. In mid-May I walked down the aisle at the Super Pit, home of the University of North Texas Mean Green basketball squads. Some students were receiving a doctorate while the others, including myself, were receiving a Master's. As "Pomp and Circumstance" played, I smiled as I realized the significance of the occasion.

After three years of hard work, plenty of writing and loads of traveling, I received a Master of Arts degree from the Mayborn School of Journalism at UNT, one of the best programs in the country. I am proud of myself and it has led me to the point of making decisions of where I will live and hope to continue my writing journey.

A couple of weeks ago I suffered a personal setback. My grandma died at age 95. While she died naturally (could we be so lucky) it was very sad. She was the last surviving grandparent and my mom's mother. I will be seeing mom and hugging her like crazy on our mom and son road trip from Las Vegas to Arizona via Route 66 in California (more on that later). The roller coaster reached another peak this past Monday when I made a life altering decision. I accepted a reporting job in Wyoming, a place that always captured my imagination as it epitomizes the Old West. Plus, it is a place on my bucket list.

As I embark on this journey to Wyoming, where will I be mingling with the community and helping produce solid news and feature stories, I have been giving it serious thoughts and re-thoughts. Why am I relocating to a publication over 800 miles away? Could I have tried harder to get a reporting job in Texas where I know many people or perhaps go back east so I could be closer to my mom and sister who live in New York?

While "The Equality State" has not always treated others equally (Rock Springs Massacre), it has a unique old west heritage that hypnotized me and one that they continue to preserve (Frontier Days in Cheyenne). Wyoming may be a sparse state with plenty of land and scarce amount of people, but it offers plenty for  adventurers.  As for Rock Springs, it is 6,739 feet above sea-level with a semi-arid climate with frigid winters. It was a stop for travelers along the Lincoln Highway as they left the fast pace industrial east seeking greener pastures further west.

This is also a place where I can and should find out about myself, a proverbial moment of truth. Will I bring old habits such as relaxing too much rather than climbing and trying to reach new heights. In this case it is literal, as there are a plethora of opportunities to get active again, by climbing various trails or taking hikes. God has a plan. I am not sure about its destination yet, but the signs are pointing me somewhere. Where do I go? What do I do? Well, Wyoming it is, but what am I suppose to see, what stories was I brought to tell and what will this next step tell me about Gregory?