Susan Tracy Anna Biography

Anna never understood her editor’s determination in making her attend these events when she could simply watch them on television and write her opinion from the comfort of her own home. It was even harder this year. Her husband David and their five-year-old daughter were vacationing at their cottage. She would have done anything to be with them now.  

She enjoyed her job reporting for the Chicago Tribune. She was usually given free rein to choose her own stories, but she never liked the political scene. Paul Gene, her editor, had bribed her to attend the convention. He had discovered quite by accident a weakness in Anna. The sweet sounds of the saxophone and the haunting ballad’s of Bruce Springsteen turned his hardened reporter to mush. It was Bruce’s fault that she had to attend the convention. 

 “Anna, how would you like to interview Bruce?” Paul had asked. 
“Bruce who?" Of course, there was a catch. There is always a catch.  

“Cover the Republican convention and I’ll give you an exclusive interview with Springsteen when he’s in town next month.” Now that her weakness for the Boss was out in the open, she was determined that no one would discover her secret love for Harrison Ford.  

At the convention, she tried to get politicians and policy makers to discuss her pet project, Health Care. She never got a satisfactory answer to what she considered a key issue,  “Why can’t the world’s greatest superpower look after the basic human health conditions of its taxpayers?” She concluded from their blanks stares and unprintable rhetoric that their policy was to maintain the status quo. It was the politics of the rich built on the backs of the taxpayers. 
 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice next to her. “Excuse me. You look familiar.”  

“Oh?” She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone and dreaded volunteering any information. 

“Yes, you look like that Tribune reporter...Anna … Anna...?” 

“Anna McBride. Yes, that’s me.” 

“I read your column all the time,” he said excitedly. 

“Thank you.”  

They all said that. They would see her picture by her column and talk as if they knew her. Most of the time she didn’t mind, but tonight, she was too tired to deal with it.  

“I started reading your column when you were reporting from Bosnia. My name is Morris Hatcher.” 

“Nice to meet you Morris.” 

“I’m sorry for taking up so much room.” 

“I’m fine,” Anna said. 

“It’s no secret that I’m too big for this seat. I would travel first class if I could afford it.” 

The comment made Anna uncomfortable. She didn’t know how to reply. She simply smiled and nodded. 

“Morris, what do you think about health care in this country?” She asked after a few moments of silence. 

“It’s a crime. Boy, I could tell you stories.” 

And he did tell her stories. About his Uncle Henry who had to claim bankruptcy after a heart attack. He also told her his cousin’s insurance was canceled after he was diagnosed with cancer. He talked nonstop until the flight landed in Chicago. Anna took enough notes to write two columns. 

Anna stepped into a cab at O’Hare airport at 11:00 P.M. She gave her address to the driver then promptly fell asleep. She awoke as the cab pulled up to her condominium on Lake Shore Drive. 
Anna dropped her purse on the table beside the door and headed to the kitchen to pour herself a drink. Flipping the switch on the answering machine, an excited young voice filled the room. 
“Mommy, its Sarah. Guess what we did today. Daddy and I went to the beach and we built Sandcastles. Then we went in a canoe then . . . then...What else did we do Daddy?” 

Anna laughed as she heard David prompt Sarah on her day. 

“And we saw turtles and fish. I miss you mommy. Here’s daddy.” 

“Hi, baby. We had an exciting day as you can tell. I hope Philadelphia went well for you. We miss you and we’re looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. I’m off to put Sarah to bed. Phone when you get in. I love you. Oh, we love you Sarah says. We really do.”  

 Anna hit the play button on the CD player and David’s favorite opera music filled the room. She always made fun of his music. She would never in a hundred years admit that she sometime played opera when he was not around. She went to the bedroom and changed into one of David’s old shirts. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the scent of his aftershave, still lingering in the material.  

It was late and she knew she should get some sleep, but she was now wide-awake. Her mind searched for something to do. It was rare that Anna had time to herself. Between her job at the paper, taking care of Sarah and trying to find time for David, she often put off things she wanted to do in favor of things she had to do. When she actually had time to herself, she often sat listlessly, too tired and indecisive to choose her next task.  

She looked around the room. The walls were an ugly light pink color which she had wanted to repaint since they moved in. With Sarah gone, this would have been a perfect night for it. She wished she had the supplies on hand but she just didn’t usually keep pails of paint under the kitchen sink. She looked at the carpet and thought about pulling it up. She had heard rumors that there was a beautiful hardwood floor underneath the old fashion brown rug. She could find out in a few minutes and have the wood waxed before morning. But, if the rumors were unfounded, she could be stuck with an even uglier floor until she found the time to finish the job. That could take years. She would just have to think on a smaller scale. She wandered the house. There was always a pile of laundry to put away or a stack of bills to go through but she just didn’t feel like that tonight. She walked back into the living room.  

An old desk with dark cherry wood and four big drawers sat in the corner of the room. The desk had a roll top with all sorts of hidden compartments and cubbyholes. She had picked it up at a yard sale back in her college days. She’d gone home and rolled pennies to buy it then begged a friend with a truck to drive 30 miles one way to pick it up on a Sunday afternoon.  

“Anna, you’re crazy, it will never fit in your dorm.” 

“Of course it will. It’s just what I need.” 

“It must be a hundred years old.” 

“That’s right.  It’s an antique. I am going to strip it and find hidden treasure within the wood.” 

It took four of them over an hour to wrestle it into the house, chipping the doorframe in the process. Anna spent weekends cleaning years of neglect and grime using paint thinner to dig down layers of paint, like an archeologist digging through time. The work had paid off. Many times, she had been offered a considerable amount of money for the desk. She always refused. It had traveled with her from college, to her first years as a rookie reporter. It was there when she got married and when she became a mother. The desk was full of history.  

 Anna ran her hand over the smooth roll top. The desk was packed full. She knew she had to open it slowly or papers would scatter to the ground. She had been meaning to clean it for the longest time, but there was always something more important that came along. She pulled the bottom drawer out and sat on the floor with it.  

The first few folders contained more tax records and expense receipts then Anna could possibly use in her lifetime. It took her about an hour to look through the mounds of paper and deciding which should be kept and which she could safely throw away. By the time, she was finished, the paper work was down to four-file folders. 

Anna carefully placed the folders in the back of the drawers and pulled out the next one. Utility bills. “How long do I have to keep these?” she wondered. Looking through them, she decided that most of the old bills could be tossed. She stopped suddenly when she came to a purple piece of construction paper. A mother’s day card Sarah had made her last year in school. She remembered the day she had picked Sarah up at the Day Care.  

“I have a present for you Mommy,” Sarah had said excitedly. 
“What is it?” 

“I can’t tell you,” Sarah told her holding her hands behind her back. “It’s for Mothers Day.” 

“Ohhhhh, please, please tell me.” Anna begged. 

“Nope.” 

Sarah had come to her that night before bed and asked “Is it Mothers Day yet?”  

“No, not yet.” 

“Well what day is it?” 

“It’s Friday.” 

“Then this is a Friday present.”  

The gift, a small clay model of an elephant had crumbed into dust within days. Anna had to clean it up and throw it away when Sarah wasn’t home. Anna had shoved the card in the desk and forgotten about it until now. On the front, Sarah’s handprint had been painted in white paint. Anna held her hand up to Sarah’s tiny hand. Opening the card, Anna smiled as she saw one of Sarah’s first attempts at writing. Scrawled in her little four-year-old print were the words: ‘I love you Mommy. Sarah.’ 

Anna’s first impulse on seeing the card was to check on Sarah. She realized with regret that her baby was not in her bed, but sleeping miles away. She knew Sarah was safe with David, but that didn’t stop her from missing them both.  

Her legs had fallen asleep and were starting to ache. Getting up from her spot on the floor, she set the card on top of the desk where Sarah would see it when she came home.  

Anna was getting tired. She wasn’t near finished, but she didn’t feel like doing anymore tonight. She opened the second drawer and searched for a worn folder she seldom had time to enjoy.  

Anna glanced at the clock. 2:00 A.M. She had been sitting on the floor for two hours. No wonder her legs ached. She laid down on the couch and opened the clasp on the folder, smiling as she started to read the collection of letters, poems and short stories David had written her over the years.  “Dear Anna,” the first one began. “I miss you so much. I remember with such clarity, the last time we were together. I can still close my eyes and feel your fingers on my back as we danced.” 

Even now, Anna remembered the dance he referred to in the letter. She had visited him during a break from college. David wanted to go dancing, but Anna had insisted she didn’t know how. So David had put a record on the stereo and patiently walked Anna through a few steps. He had to catch her as she tripped over her own two feet and they had both doubled over with laughter. She fell asleep dreaming of dancing with David.  

Anna knocked over her drink as she reached for the phone a few hours later. 

“Did I wake you?” said a voice. 

“HMM, of course you did baby,” Anna said. 

“Baby? Baby? Oh Anna I knew you would finally come to your senses!” 

“Rudy, dang it I thought you were David.” Rudy was a researcher at the Tribune. Anna had worked with him for the past ten years.  

“Oh, you can call me baby anytime you like darliiiiinn.” 

“Dang it Rudy what time is it, and why are you phoning me.” 

“Its 6:30 and Rabia Ashitar has been arrested in Kabul.” 

Anna sat up abruptly making her self dizzy. “When Rudy?” 

“It just came over the wire. I knew you would want to know.” 

“Fax it to me Rudy.” 

“Are you going to do a story on it?” 

“Not sure. I’m supposed to write something about the Republican Convention and then I’m off to the cottage.” 

“To see your baby?” 

“Rudy. I swear if you ever tell anyone I called you baby I will beat you black and blue.” 

“Oh, that sounds wonderful. When can we schedule that?” 

“Never mind.” 

“Anna.” 

“What?” 

“I am sorry about Rabia. I didn’t know whether to phone or not but I wanted you to get a jump on it just in case.” 

“Thanks. And Rudy?” 

“What?” 

“I will beat you black and blue.” 

“Promises, promises.” 

“Bye Rudy” 

As she hung up the phone, Anna’s heart sunk. She had written a series of reports on Rabia Ashitar and the life of women in Afghanistan. She had a sinking feeling that Rabia’s arrest had something to do with the stories she wrote. The Afghanistan Taliban government’s interpretation of Islam made women a subhuman component. Anna had corresponded with America Aid workers who had put the two women in touch. It was at Rabia’s urging that she had written columns on the conditions of women in that country. They soon became fast friends and conversed weekly by e-mail. She knew she had to write this story. Not to do so would be to abandon Rabia and the women of Afghanistan. The only way to change things was to make the public aware that there was a problem.  

It was 6:30 a.m., 7:30 at the cottage. It was still too early to phone. She sat down at the computer. She would finish the convention story and start on Rabia. David and Sarah would just have to understand. At just after eight, she clicked the send button and her opinions on the Republican Convention flew through cyberspace to the Tribune.  

She phoned the cottage. After three rings, she heard the answering machine. The sound of David’s prerecorded voice brought tears to her eyes. She should have called earlier. David had probably taken Sarah out for a walk after breakfast.  

“It’s me. It looks like I won’t make it. Something has come up.” Anna’s voice cracked with emotion. “I’ll be working at home if you need me.” 

She sat down at the computer again and looked at the fax Rudy had sent her. The words seemed to blur and she could not concentrate. All she could think about was how disappointed Sarah and David would be when they got the message. She remembered the look on her little girl’s face when she had left a week ago. David and Sarah had dropped her off at the airport for her trip to the Republican Convention. Anna knelt to say goodbye. “Can I sit by the window?” Sarah asked hopefully.  

“Oh, not today honey. Today, Mommy is going to work. You and daddy get to fly to the cottage in a few days and I’m sure he will let you sit by the window.”  

“You’re not going with us?” Sarah asked, her eyes filling with tears.  

Anna looked at David for help. David picked Sarah up and swung her around. “We have to go get the cottage all cleaned up.” He told her. “There is lots of work to be done. When it’s all ready, we will phone Mommy and she will come join us.” 

Sarah reached out and jumped into Anna’s waiting arms. Sarah held Anna’s face in her tiny hands and with all the seriousness the five year old could muster told her mother, “Daddy and I are going to get the cottage ready for you. When you are done working, you come and join us.” 

“It’s a deal,” Anna answered hugging her close.  

“Promise?” asked Sarah. 

“Cross my heart.” 

The memory of her promise brought tears to Anna’s eyes. She was torn between her job and her family. The reporter in her needed to write a story, the mother in her wanted hold and rock little girl. The woman in her just wanted to be held by the man whose love letters brought back such sweet memories.  

Anna picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number. 

“Tribune Research Department, how can I help you?” 

“Rudy, don’t be so formal, it’s not like you.” 

Rudy laughed. “Oh baby, I’ve been waiting for your call.” 

“Hush Rudy. This is business.” 

“Yes ma'am!” 

“What have you heard about Rabia?” 

“Nothing since the first report came through.” 

“Ok, listen, anything that comes through, fax it to me. I have important business to attend to. I’ll call you when I can and I’ll try to send ya something as soon as possible.” 

“Sure, where ya going.” 

“Family Reunion,” she answered.  

She had an hour to catch the flight. She threw some clothes into her suitcase and packed the laptop. If she were lucky, they wouldn’t get the first message until she had time to phone them again from the plane.