The best picture I never took showed fire burning across a field, moving toward a house where a little girl stood in her backyard waving a garden hose at the flames. It was a ditch fire that got too big for its britches, or ditches, when the wind came up. The Wallowa Mountains were in the background, then acres of black where the fire had burned and flames creeping toward this kid spraying the edge of her yard. Except she was playing. Wiggling the hose back and forth so the water came out like a snake, then twirling it to make spirals and pretty patterns. Meanwhile there’s fire coming toward her. I think I mentioned that part. It was just priceless. Beautiful, funny and dramatic but also very Wallowa County because she’s enjoying herself in circumstances many people would consider odd.

But it honestly wasn’t a big deal. The wind wasn’t very strong, the fire had no chance of jumping the mown lawn and it was clear her parents had given her something to do while they scurried around moving lawn furniture just in case.

The Chieftain scanner picked up that call to the fire department and I was the cub reporter at the time, so my job was to go get pictures. I did take shots of the mountains, the charred field and flames. But I didn’t want to make trouble for that little girl. My great photo would have given the wrong impression, and it wouldn’t have the impact if I zoomed out to include the parents and firefighters nearby with a tagline explaining everything was under control.

So I quit my job instead. It was temporary anyway. The Chieftain had an empty reporter chair back then and I occupied it for a couple months while they either found a real journalist or I got traction and earned my press pass. I wasn’t getting much traction. A journalist has to do things like get facts and talk to people about things they may not like. Or you get a phone call and take pages of notes detailing background information from the other perspective, but you still have to bring the hammer down and run the story about a noise complaint because the caller’s dog was barking.

That grass fire clinched it. I didn’t take that picture because … I don’t know. It made light of a serious situation and I was more intrigued by the lighter side than the serious situation. So I drove real slow back to Chieftain headquarters, explained how I just wasn’t a journalist and would instead pursue a career of picking up cans along the highway to cash in refunds.

But they let me stay on as a columnist. Thanks, Chieftain. You can write about whatever you want in a column, and it doesn’t necessarily even need to be true. The stuff that’s not news and not important, but kind of. Maybe. Perfect if you’re not really a journalist.

So imagine my surprise to find my name in the Chieftain’s Best of the Wallowas special section last week under the category of journalist. I’m really very tickled. I thought of that picture I didn’t take and the blurry line between columnist and journalist. I was also surprised to find out someone’s been reading these stories about lawn chair races, pink flamingoes and whatnot. But I can’t accept this award. I will take the money and the new car, but the gold trophy I insist must be shared by Elane, Hector, Mr. Anderson, Kathleen, Rich, Jerry and that little girl with the hose. Thanks, Wallowa County.