Take a Bow, Cate!

Today I'm going to indulge in that time-honored tradition enjoyed and practiced by grandparents since time immemorial:

Brag on my granddaughter.

If you look on the right side of our home page, you'll see a new addition under "Contributors" -- called "Center Stage With Cate." It's a new blog from our 11-year-old granddaughter, Catherine, or as she is known, Cate.

While she is gifted with many amazing talents, her creativity and artistry do indeed take "center stage." Check out her blog and that's where you'll find her latest endeavor -- writing a book.

It's the story of a farm girl and a family of cats, told in alternating chapters, the first two of which have been posted in the blog. It doesn't have a name yet, but so far, she has written 20 chapters and counting.

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​While we are justifiably proud of all her accomplishments, I take particular pride in her love of words and writing. Partly because that's been my own chosen profession -- journalism -- and partly because that was the path I chose at almost the same age.

And even though I loved science (as does Cate, by the way), I was drawn to expressing myself through the written word. My own grandfather, who worked in the printing industry, told me I had "ink in my veins," and I think he was right.

Unlike Cate, I never tackled a novel. My efforts were mostly short stories, poetry and science fiction. My handwriting was, and is, terrible, so it was the happiest day of my young life when I successfully harangued my father to get me a typewriter (at the time, computers were the stuff of science fiction).

It was a used Underwood, which he found in a pawn shop. Interestingly enough, it used to belong to a reporter for our hometown paper, The Fort Worth Star-Telegram. That same paper where, some 10 years later, I would go to work as a copy editor and then, their first, full-time rock music writer. Who knew?

The downside to getting a typewriter in middle school is being self-taught to type -- the "two-finger method," as it were. And once you are programmed, you can't unlearn it. But I am proud to say I can still get to 45-50 words a minute (if you don't count the typos).

Whether Cate ultimately decides to pursue writing, or art, or science, or something entirely different, I'm busting my buttons. That's one of the joys of being a grandparent.

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