46 Times

May 2, 1975: The first image of Jesse Horne.

I started out confused.

Early in the morning of May 2, 1975, my life began. Later that day, the first photo of me was taken. Mouth slightly open. Right hand along the side of my head. Left hand raised towards my chin. Hair combed up from each side and spiked at the center.

It was, however, the eyes which dominate this first image of Jesse Horne. They’re looking off to the left in a state of curiosity. Granted, that little guy has only been out in the world for less than 24 hours. Yet, even here, there’s the look of someone wanting to know what’s next.

Starting out confused, and not much has changed.

This Sunday, May 2 is my 46th birthday and I’m once again stuck with that look. 

Forty-six times, I’ve orbited a giant flaming orb in the cosmos. Forty-six times, there’s been a day where many people I know - and a few I really don’t know - offer a standard greeting of happiness fit for the occasion. Sometimes, there’s even been a pastry or baked something-or-other to digest.

Forty-six times, the moment has also come when I wonder what the next 12 months will bring. 

I admit, the rolling over of the biological odometer becomes rougher each year. It’s a pretty good bet that there are more days behind me than ahead of me. If it’s an equal amount, it would mean I’d make it to 92. Can’t see that being the case, especially being haunted with losing a father to cancer when he was 41. A shortened life has always been a back-burner fear of mine.

Spring, 1993: Me, with my parents, just before my high school graduation.

So far, it’s been a good ride. An only child to blue-collar parents, I was instilled with the value of hard work. With each orbit around the sun, I appreciate this more and more. Too often, I’ll see those of a younger generation seem to disregard this notion. 

However, there was a time when I was that younger generation - hard to fathom, I know.

Early on, there was a side in this kid which felt the world was of no worry. Yet, I was the 3rd grader who watched the “Today” show rather than cartoons before going to school. It wasn’t until this drive manifested itself through a creative outlet where my career was truly born. This showed itself in college by becoming anchor and news director at our on-campus TV station. There, it was not only allowed, but expected that you come with unorthodox ideas and put them into action. 

That station was my salvation. More on that in a minute.

With each completed orbit, I find myself, more and more, craving creativity in my line of work. Journalism screams for inquisitive minds to be constantly allowed to shine. It offers a unique combination of sticking to the facts of a story while applying your own artistic flair. Those who have mastered this art are called “storytellers” and they represent some of the best our business has to offer. When that creativity or insightful curiosity, however, is either stymied or quashed, I get frustrated and it makes me strive harder to bring that artistic side to the light for all to admire.

May 2, 2020: The sunset at my family home in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.

Looking back on the last orbit around the sun, it was rough for all of us. May 2, 2020 looked rather uneventful. It was a Saturday and that’d typically fuel a libation-filled extravaganza. Instead, I stayed home - like most of our off-days these past 12 months. The one image I did capture that day shows the sunset. It’s always nice to see it happen here at the family home in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Peeking through the still-bare trees, you see tranquility and reflection. I’m sure there was a thought as I took it of “Oh, where are we going from here?”

Answering that question has encompassed nearly every day while I’ve been 45 years old. Thankfully, I’ve had my work to maintain my focus. I’ve always seemed to throw myself into my career when emotional times are tough. When my father died in 1994, that was around two weeks before I began my sophomore year of college. It was my campus TV station which became a safe and creative outlet for my internal anguish. The fall of 1994 and spring of 1995 saw me throw all my weight into that place and it helped temporarily ease the pain of losing a parent at a critical time in my life.

In a way, my current newsroom has served a similar purpose. I’ve been fortunate during the COVID-19 pandemic to A) still have a job, B) continue in a career which has defined my existence, C) be able to show myself as essential within my job, and D) still able to be at the office. The newsroom at WEAU has been my second home over the last 12 months. If I’m not passed out from exhaustion at my family home, I’m creating that exhaustion, by giving as much of myself as I can to my craft.

Nothing can be said to be certain, except death, taxes, and the next newscast. That last item has been comforting to know during my career. Growing up, my mother wondered what sort of career would her son fall into - a son, who is constantly active, always moving, and just can’t seem to ever settle down. 

Television news - PERFECT! Thanks, Mom.

Just another day at the office - confused looks, and all.

There is the old adage of “Check your ego in at the door.” Well, let’s be honest. My line of work comes with plenty of egos - mine, included. However, once I cross that threshold into the station, everything changes. Now, it’s game time and my mind is focused on the next 9½ hours, with probably about 60 seconds somewhere to collect my thoughts.

You really never stop working in this profession, even when you’re not working. As a reporter, you’re thinking of what your next story will be for that day. As a producer, you’re thinking of how to make a newscast grab a viewer’s attention. I’m sure about 46 times a day, I’m worrying over how to take the most mundane of topics and make it appealing. Some of you, I’m sure, are replacing part of that last sentence with Shinola, but this is a PG-13 column.

The other night, we wrapped up our 10 p.m. newscast - a clean show, with plenty of solid content for the viewers to digest - and then, I finally just stopped. No one else was around. Just me, standing alone in the newsroom.

“WHEW! That was a whirlwind day,” I thought.

It’s a sentence I know I’ve said many times this past year. Some whirlwinds were stronger than others, for sure. Yet, in my role of producing our station’s main money-making newscasts, I realize the care which needs to go into each show. It’s only when the night is done when I can step back and go “Yeah, that worked. Let’s do it again tomorrow.”

About a month into my existence, and I'm already mastering the art of passing out on the couch watching television.

So, now’s the time to stop and look at where I’m going. To that, I’m back to that confused look I’ve had on my face since 1975. I’d be curious to know what was truly going on in that baby’s gaze. What was I thinking during that moment of my existence? Did I have an understanding on what the next 46 years would bring? Did I realize there would be some joy and much sorrow ahead for me?

As I said, the confused look is with me today. Behind that look are many questions which have yet to find the proper answers. I’m trying to solve these dilemmas with you, through writing these TBD essays. I know I said in my first one that these wouldn’t be like the cliché of laying down on the couch in the psychiatrist’s office. However, these regular musings have been rather therapeutic.

As I start a new orbit around the sun, the journey is filled with much hope. For all of us, there’s hope that we are on the backend of the COVID-19 pandemic. States and local communities are beginning to loosen their restrictions - or, at least, schedule out those easements. Now that I’m fully vaccinated, I am excited to know that more of the world will be back available to me. Still, I’m not greedy and want everyone to have all the fun back. So, once again, get that shot in your arm.

This is the year I am working hard to make that long-desired leap back into the major arena. Five full months into 2021, so much metaphorical brick-and-mortar has been laid to house the career path I desire. Right now, I have three prime target areas in my sights - New York, Boston, and Washington, D.C. So far, the targets look rather good and I remain confident I’ll still hit one of those bull's-eyes.

May 2, 2015: My 40th birthday, at a beer festival in Fort Collins, Colorado

There’s also a hope for personal salvation. Moving into my latter-40s is not easy and there is a bit of fear over it. My 40th birthday was observed in 2015 and that celebration was perfect - a Saturday, at a beer festival in Fort Collins, Colorado. The smile on my face that day couldn’t be any larger. There was so much joy and excitement peeking through my emerging wrinkles.

Six years later, there are still smiles. I, however, hate to say they are not as often and, most times, not as wide as the one that day in 2015. In a way, there’s more reflection and calculation that goes into each day. Maybe that makes me a bit more withdrawn, but I somewhat doubt that. As I said earlier, I now realize that there’s probably less life ahead than behind. It’s one thing to be more carefree in your 20s, when the world is your oyster. Now, turning 46, I’m just making damn sure there’s a pearl in that oyster shell.

Through it all, this new 12-month journey around the flaming orb won’t be stuck on autopilot. Deviations from my desired path can still be made and I’m fine to let someone else offer a change in course. The overriding goal is to have myself in a better overall state of being on May 2, 2022 than what it is on May 2, 2021.

Let the journey begin - confused looks, and all.