Past Articles

From the Other Sides
The Price of Freedom


Since starting this column my sister has been after me to write about our military. She has always been a very patriotic person but marrying into the Air Force has greatly increased her dedication to our Country. I put her suggestion on the back burner for a bit but last week really began to give it some thought in a slightly bigger spectrum.
On Monday of last week I went to work as usual and had not been there all that long when I heard the fire scanner go off. There was a fire at Bunge and everyone at City Hall rushed to the windows to see what was going on. In no time at all our fire and policemen were rushing for their trucks and heading through the sea wall to help. That is when it really hit me. There they are one evening, enjoying dinner with their family, a pager goes off and they rush out the door with little more than a quick goodbye. They arrive at the scene, throw on turn out gear in 100 degree weather, snow, rain or storm and rush into whatever situation lies ahead of them to take care of all of us and our property. And the price for being away from home and family, of hours spent in training and the serious risk they take? A very small amount per fire but ask any of them and they will tell you, they don’t do it for the money.

With the exception of not being volunteers, police officers are much the same. Day after day they go out to calls having no idea what they are going to be met with. Knowing that even the smallest or most mundane call could have the potential for serious danger…yes, even here in Caruthersville. We get angry with them when they dare to take a lunch break or when they have the audacity to pull us over and write us a ticket for breaking the law but when there is a problem at our home, we do not understand why they were not sitting in our front yard watching. For as little thought and respect we give them right here under our noses, how much less do we give to our men and women out of site overseas?

Occasionally, we come across a news report on a soldier who has been killed and we briefly think “Boy that’s sad” as we scan over the short blurb on them. But let one soldier use questionable means or do something wrong and we hear about it on every channel for months. A singer and an accused child molester known not only for his music but for dangling a baby over a balcony dies and that is the only thing you see on every news source out there, despite the fact that thirteen of our soldiers were killed during that same time. I know that the first response some people have is that each of these aforementioned groups of people knew what they were stepping into before they took the job. And I agree. Just as a teacher knows she will have to deal with children during her career, they all know that they are beginning a very risky occupation. A soldier knows that he may have to go off to war and leave his family behind. A fireman knows that one day he could walk into a house fire and not walk out. And a cop knows that there is always that chance that the alarm call may not be a false one. To me, that is part of the honor and respect that I have for them, in knowing that they chose to do this because while it may not be the best paying or most highly respected position, it is one of necessity and honor.

I would love to think that one day the whole world will join hands, encircling the earth, smiling and singing the Coke song. But I know that in the real world there is a chance that you will come home from your sing-a-long to discover the village crack head has robbed your house. I was not around to know what Pearl Harbor was like, but I distinctly recall the day of September 11th and I for one will never forget it. We live with a false confidence that it will not happen again and for that we are ignorant. We sit here in our little town thinking we are all safe and tucked away from any serious danger. That it is “just Caruthersville” and nothing of any major significance could happen here and I hope it doesn’t. But the reality of it is that once upon a time Littleton, Colorado was just Littleton, Colorado and Geneva, Alabama was no more than a little southern town until a gunman went through killing ten people. I promise you on those days there were no sighs or complaints when people saw a law enforcement official.

On October 21st, 1967, a photographer snapped a photo of a young George Harris as he stood in front of the Pentagon during an anti war demonstration sticking a Carnation into the barrel of a soldiers gun. The tag line for the photo was, “A Cry for Peace”. I do not think that there is any among us who want war. But whether you agree with the political strategy or plans or not you have to respect and honor those who go over there to do their job thus protecting us. Had I tagged the photo I would have gone with “The Ultimate Hypocrisy”. Simply because I find it amazing that they are protesting against our military forces who have fought and died to give them the freedom of speech. Go to Iraq and try shoving a flower in the end of their AK47 and see where it gets you. I can pretty much guarantee you that the picture will not be able to make the news and you will not be telling the story to your grandchildren.

I say all this not to make some big political statement or to stir fear in the community over what might be, but to remind you to take the time to remember where your rights and freedoms came from and why you still have them today. My sister recently sent me a quote “Soldiers train for their missions, but their families’ missions is to carry on. How do you train for that?" The answer is that you can’t. But there is a way that we can all help. Whether or not you support the war, support our troops. Whether or not you like our local law enforcement, support them. Do not just think about them when you see a news report flash on the screen about a bombing or tragedy that has occurred. Don’t just think about them on Veterans or Memorial Day. And don’t just think about them on the day that flags lined our streets and a hometown boy is brought home to be laid to rest. Instead remember them when you are getting ready for work and you don’t have to strap on a bullet proof vest to head into the office, while they do. Think about them when your child goes off to school and comes home with all their limbs because they did not have to worry about stepping on a land mine. Stop and say a prayer of thanks as you go over to a friend’s house for dinner because there is no curfew in effect or bombed out vehicles to drive through. Think of them and be grateful for a husband who can wrap both arms around you at night because he has not lost them to shrapnel. Think of them, pray for them, support them daily.

I can not begin to imagine what it would be like to have my house rattled by IED explosions or live in fear of raids and being taken over by terrorist because of the men and women protecting our community, our country here and overseas, past and present. So the next time you see the guys rush out on that big red truck, say a prayer for their protection and thank them not only silently but when you see them. The next time you see an officer; before you complain about them sitting down to dinner at a local restaurant in uniform remember that same mouth could have been the one breathing for a newborn last week. And before you fuss and complain about what you do not have, as you finish your home cooked meal with your family before taking a hot shower and watching TV in your recliner, in your air conditioned house. Stop and remember that somewhere out there is a soldier; homesick, dirty, tired, who has just finished up his prepackaged MRE and is settling down in the sand against a humvee tire to catch a few minutes of sleep while his buddy watches his back. All so that you can be tucked in safely at night, on your clean sheets with no worry of incoming missiles.


From The Other Sides
The Bucket List

At a recent get together with some friends the topic turned to vacations and an upcoming trip that we had planned. It surprised me to discover that so many of my close friends had never been on an airplane. To many of my friends I am known as the one who is always on the go. I love to travel, I love to see and try new things. I believe the sky is the limit and there is no way I can see all that I want to in this short lifetime by laying on the couch. There is so much to experience out there and some of the most exciting places I have encountered have been areas I have stumbled across while I was lost. Which sadly does not happen as much now thanks to my somewhat trusty pal ‘Lucy’ aka the Garmin GPS.

A few weeks ago on a Friday I was finishing up a book that made mention of a covered bridge. It dawned on me that while I had read about them and seen them in pictures and on television I had never actually seen one for myself. After a moments search on Google I discovered that there was one less than two hours from here in Bollinger County (just outside of Jackson, MO). That next morning I woke up and decided I needed to see it, so called up my friend Leslie and off we went. It was really a beautiful area. A small waterfall, an old mill, lots of trees and of course the covered bridge. Now I won’t say that it was any grand or glorious thing, just a neat piece of history that I had now experienced first hand. We spent the rest of the day just driving, literally flipping a coin at crossroads to decide which way to go if nothing caught our eye. Along the way we saw some pretty interesting things, had a lot of laughs and had a really good Italian dinner in a little hole in the wall town we found in Illinois. At the end of the day we returned home having wasted no more than a tank of gas and a few dollars for a meal that we would have eaten regardless of where we were. Some of my best times have been on these spur of the moment trips.

Last week I had the honor of going with two friends and their kids to Disney World. My daughter Micah and I had been before, but it was so much more fun for both of us to be able to share the trip with our friends and see it all for the first time again through their eyes. At the end of our trip, we stopped in Daytona because my friend Shonda and her son Dallas had never seen the ocean. I am a firm believer that no one should go through life without putting their feet in the waves and writing their name in the sand at least once. Watching their faces when they saw the waves come rolling in the first time was a priceless moment I will not ever forget. In Shonda’s words “Do you have any idea how big this is?” At the end of two days the kids were still laughing and running in the waves, mouth and swimsuits full of sand, sharing some of the happiest moments of their childhoods. Everyone laughs about giving a kid a cardboard box and watching them play for hours. Well watching kids dance in the waves, chase down crabs and wait for that perfect wave with their boogie board in hand beats a cardboard box any day.

I have always been the type to jump at most any experience I was offered. For a few years that slipped away from me and I lost myself in the typical daily rituals that life sometimes forces you into. But in the last few years I have thankfully regained that piece of myself. Over the past few years I have traveled to Destin with seventeen of my closest friends, gone to Wineries, stayed in ‘haunted’ hotels, been to see the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and numerous Broadway shows, directed a symphony orchestra, sat backstage at a concert, drove to Michigan for Greek food and done countless other things that I will never forget. I am no longer resigned to watching life pass me by. I will not put off till tomorrow what I can experience today.

A few years back a movie came out called “The Bucket List” in which two men in their final days made a list of everything that they wanted to do before they died. Skydiving, white water rafting, overseas trips and learning a new language are just a few of the things on my list. My grandmother, aka ‘Memaw’, has traveled the world and always returned with amazing pictures, gifts and stories of things so far away from our little world. As a kid I wanted to be just like her and for a long time I didn’t think that it was a possibility. Today, I have come to realize that it is, but only if you make it happen. I can sit back and wish my life away or I can put everything in motion and live it first hand. Bills, jobs and all the stresses of life will always be there, you just have to learn to work around them.

You don’t have to drive for days to encounter something new or to do things you have always dreamed of. We sit in Central United States and if you look hard enough there is always something within reach to experience. So I challenge you to spend some time making that list, then load up your friends, your family or just take some time to yourself and experience all that life has to offer. And while your there….send me a postcard!

From the Other Sides
The Death of Romance?

Dried flowers pressed between the pages of a Bible, locks of hair tucked away, black and white photographs placed in lockets and stacks of letters tied with ribbon; all items found in the bottom of trunks stored away in the attics of grandparents, written about in books and songs or props found in the latest movie release. But fifty years ago and longer they were items of great sentimental value and meant the world to their owners. They were the romantic tokens of the era. But just as time has faded the smell of the flowers and the color of the ink, it has also faded the romantic notions of the world…or has it?

The conversation came up when a group of my friends sat around one evening “airing out our grievances” which I have to admit usually seems to gravitate toward men and their many, many failures. They leave their dirty clothes on the floor, their glasses on the table, the lids up on the toilet and never realize the depth of all we do for them. Why the sheer audacity of them thinking that they woke up in the morning breathing for any other reason other than we reminded them to, amazes us all. These ungrateful creatures trudge off to work never stopping to appreciate all the things that we do to make their life worth living. They do not compliment us like they used to, bring us gifts like they used to or do all the sweet, romantic, loving things that they once did. And we all want to know WHY?

Years ago when a man was interested in you he worked to ‘woo’ you. He asked about your status by speaking to someone on your behalf. He wrote letters of your beauty, grace and charm even after spending a mere hour with you in the presence of your chaperones. Some dared to be so bold in their show of love and affection that they would creep to your window, delicately throwing pebbles to wake and serenade you. They showed up at your door with flowers in hand and poems in mind. And when the time came when he longed to claim you for his bride, he would go to your Father and request his permission to even ask you for your hand in marriage. In today’s world, you meet a guy through a mutual friend, they either pass him your number or he uses the old “Hey can I borrow your phone a second” trick to call his phone so he has your number on his caller ID. After a day or so, you get your ‘love letter’ in the form of a random text saying “I really think ur hott we should hook up” and the “wooing” process is then kicked into full gear. You meet up at a preselected location or he pulls up at your house and you dash out to the car. A couple dinners and movies later and you sit anxiously watching his Facebook account to see whether or not he has changed his status from ‘Single’ to ‘In A Relationship’ thus sealing the deal and signifying that you are no longer just “talking” but are now a couple.

My sister was fortunate enough to have one of those ‘only happens in the movies’ kind of loves. A random chance encounter, a deep connection and a long distance relationship that withstood not only distance but boot camp as well, all led to a surprise proposal on the beach complete with flowers, music and a beautiful ring. They have had their share of ups and downs during the adjustment period. She is a compulsive neat freak and he leaves his shoes out and the cabinet doors standing open. But when the time came for him to go overseas to Iraq she was overwhelmed by the little romantic and loving gestures she continues even now to receive. The bowl of her favorite candies, hand counted so that she could have one every day he was away, videos left on their computer to cheer her up when she is down, emails and little gifts sent regularly. All signs that even though he is away, his heart is with her.

As time goes on we settle in to the every day routine of marriage, kids, work and just life in general. Occasionally, as women we get irritated because we do not feel as if there is any romance in our lives anymore. While I am one of the few in the world who doesn’t like chocolates or flowers, (with the exception of the sweet, hand picked ones brought in on a random Tuesday, just because) most women long for this little piece of attention.
I sent out an email to all of my close friends asking them a few questions about romance. Most all, said that in the beginning, before marriage and kids there was more romance, but none said that the romance was gone. Simply put, it had been transformed. Years ago, times were quite different, as were the views on gender roles. Women were meant to stay at home, tending the house and the children, anxiously awaiting the return of her husband from work. Today it is more typical for both parents to work and with the distractions of bills and kids, work and social lives some things get left out for no other reason then the lack of time. So in turn the romance has adjusted to a new style. During the courting stage it is the little personal things that stand out in my mind. It is not the preprinted card or the bundle of flowers snatched in the check out line. It is more in the details. It’s the guy that shows up with one single but rare flower that he took days to track down because in a past conversation you mentioned it was the only flower you really liked. It’s taking you to a Broadway show that otherwise he would never be caught dead in, but does it because he knows you wanted to go and was content simply to be with you. It is in putting someone else before you. More impressive is the man who rents your favorite movie and orders the ham and pineapple pizza you love so much, then the one who works to needlessly impress you with generic tokens of affection.

The romance that is love shows itself in the little things in daily life. In a new addition to the house after the tornado, where a husband adds a claw foot tub for his wife who loves an evening soak, in sweet little notes jotted down by the phone, in taking the time to offer a hand with the laundry or in the nudge and smile while passing in the hallway. Most everyone who responded to my email request agreed that simply put, our generation has never been taught how to be romantic. We are in such a rush to find that seemingly perfect peg to fit into our lives that we depend on electronic dating services, speed dating or latching on to whatever passes by, that we do not really slow down to stop and look at the whole picture. To make sure that this current fascination is something that will still bring a smile to our face and a sparkle to our eye years down the road. And quite frankly if it is not worth waiting for to be sure of forever, is it really worth having? As women we sit longing for the romantic notions that Hollywood portrays but they tend to leave out the bills, the worries and the stresses of real life. I think that sometimes we also forget that in our anxiousness to prove that we are equal to men in most everyway we sometimes push them away and make them feel less “manly” by doing such things. And more over we forget that in being “equals” we are just as able to do special little things for the ones we love as they are for us. So today I challenge you to do a little extra something special for the one that makes your heart beat a little faster. For romance isn’t dead…it was simply misplaced.

From the Other Sides
The Things of Yesterday

A month or so ago I had someone drop by the office who was back in Caruthersville visiting her family. In our discussion of “the old days” she was telling me about how as a child it was so much fun for her when her dad would allow her to go into town with him on the weekends. The streets were packed with people and the storefronts held displays of all their newest items. On one such visit her dad told her to pick out whatever she would like from one of the stores as a treat for the day. She selected a little birthstone ring that she wore with pride for many years. In telling about the ring and how much it had meant to her she said, I wonder what ever happened to that.

Over the years so many of us have had special items that were invaluable to us at the time and still hold very special memories today despite them no longer being here. My mom still tells about a beautiful doll that she received from her sister one year for Christmas. I have seen the pictures of her posing with it but the doll itself disappeared through the years. As a child I was very sentimental, every scrap of paper had some major significance that I could not let go of. Every toy had feelings and knew that I was choosing one over the other. Over the years I have become less and less of a saver and keeper preferring instead to declutter and simplify my life. Most of the things from my childhood were passed along to my sister or packed up and put away to slowly disappear in the way that all things somehow do (much like the mysterious abductions of the matching sock in the dryer.) But there have been two things in my life that were held in a high enough honor to have escaped this fate. One was the doll house that my dad built for me. As a little girl I would spend hours arranging and rearranging the furniture in this three story house. Thankfully my parents had enough foresight to put it away for me and a few years ago passed it back to me. I stored it away in the basement for a while, thinking that my daughter Micah was not old enough to properly care for it. In reality I think that I really just was not ready to share my toys. I finally worked up enough courage and heart to tell her about it and now it is a lot of fun to sit and watch her as she moves the furniture from room to room in thoughtful silence just as I used to.

The other piece of my history was oddly enough one that only came out once a year. I was a big fan of Kermit the Frog back then…ok, ok maybe I still am but I am telling you there is nothing wrong with a “thirty something” year old girl having Kermit the Frog pajamas! My parents bought me a Kermit the Frog stocking holder one year and each and every year thereafter it was me and only me that was to unpack him when the season rolled around. I would gently place him on the fireplace and hang my stocking there and as Christmas came to an end I was again was in charge of putting him away. There was a routine and tradition to this that was laughed about every year. When I moved away, Mom would keep his box tucked away until I came home for the holiday and would put it out myself. I remember a year when she suggested that I take it with me to have at my house. But at the time we were moving so much that I did not want to risk anything happening to it and so left it in the safety of my “true home”. When we finally settled back in Caruthersville and bought a home I thought that I was finally ready to relocated Kermit to a new fireplace mantle. Mom had pulled out all her Christmas decorations and I had taken him in his box to my house were I was preparing our house in the spirit of the season. I had just gone downstairs for another load and came up just in time to see my little girl balancing him precariously on the edge of the fireplace. Before I could say a word Kermit slipped from her hand and broke into several pieces on the floor beneath. I was very sad by the loss of this precious piece of my history. Micah, of course felt terrible, it turns out that she thought it was for her and was in the process of hanging her stocking. Over the next few years I looked for another one but they had quit making them long before. It became a joke in our family that Micah had taken my toy and broken it and I was mad at her. And we occasionally laughed over it but it really did still leave me feeling a little sad.

In October of last year my sister came home to visit. It was her birthday and we were celebrating with dinner, cake and gifts. But right before she was to open her presents she announced that she had something for me first. I was surprised and somewhat unsure of what she was so excited about. She handed me a gift wrapped in Christmas paper, saying it was actually for Christmas but that she couldn’t wait anymore. I peeled off the paper to reveal my Kermit box. I gave her a slightly dirty, skeptical look thinking she was trying to play a joke but when I opened it a bit more realized that it was not MY Kermit box but one just like it. Sure enough inside was a Kermit the Frog stocking holder identical to the one that had been lost. She had found it on Ebay after much searching. I was so excited and immediately made it clear to Micah that this was mine. That Christmas he was the crowning jewel of my Christmas décor. He matches with absolutely nothing that I put out, but will forever sit…butt tacked to the mantle, pillow laid beneath…in my home through the holidays, more special to me than ever.

Over the years we all lose those things that once meant so much. However it happens…in moving, fires, accidents or just life in general they disappear and turn into nothing more than a memory. But in reality they are just “things” some replaceable, some not. What we should concentrate more on is the reason for them being so special. The ring I mentioned in opening was special because her Dad had thoughtfully surprised her with it on some random weekend. Mom’s doll was special in that her sister took her hard earned money and bought it for her. And Kermit was special to me because of the tradition and laughter it brought and now because of the thoughtfulness of my sister in replacing it for me. I think that sometimes these items disappear for good reason, so that we can put aside our attachment to the object itself and instead savor the memory and the feelings of the moment instead. So don’t be afraid to let go of an item should the time or need come. Because the feelings won’t change, the memories won’t fade and the stories will last for eternity.

From the Other Sides
When the Bottom Drops Out

Last week in my article about Jim Burke I made a comment in closing about how great it is to have such close friends and family around when the “bottom drops out” in life. It reminded me of the close call my family had not so long ago with my dad when he was struck with a heart attack. At that time, sitting in a hospital waiting room numb and lost in a sea of a million and one cluttered thoughts of all that you have to lose, it was my friends who pulled together and took care of the little details that I was not able to attend to. It was the good friend who text and said “Don’t worry about your dogs they are taken care of!” The continuous stream of calls, voicemails, texts and emails saying nothing more than, “We are praying for your family” or “We are here whatever you need”. At the time they were tiny little sighs of relief and pick me ups along the way that were quickly lost again in the chaos of the moment. But a week later, when things quieted down and I had the opportunity to stop and really think about all that had happened I was amazed and honored at all that had been done for us. How so many people had stopped what they were doing and given a few minutes of their time to my family.

The worst of the worst times are not the only opportunities that we have to show our friends and family what they mean to us. Being there during the good times to celebrate birthdays, advances at work or the purchase of a new home are important but that is the easy stuff. It is the tough times that really show what you are made of. It is when things like harsh words, illness, money, rocky relationships, loneliness, misunderstandings or hurtful gossip come along that give people the opportunity to step up and be there for that friend. To be surrounded by your family and friends during your lowest times is the ultimate sign of a good life in my book. A very good and wise friend once told me “Explain not, your friends don’t need it and your enemies won’t believe it anyway”. In a small town where gossip can sometimes run rampant (I know, I know, it is hard to believe such a thing could happen but it does.) it can be easy to get swept up in. To listen to others as they pass along the latest “what’s new” or click on and read the most recent garbage on out of control websites that I refuse to even name, is easy. But sadly, standing up for what is right and honorable is a bit tougher. Being a good friend means just that and more. It means being on call 24/7 ready to lend a hand, loan a shoulder or be there to shovel the ice cream…or spinach and artichoke dip. It means listening and supporting and standing up for what is right even if it is seems like you are against the masses. I once read that “Spiteful words can hurt your feelings, but silence can break your heart” and I thoroughly believe that.

I have been honored in life to not only have a fantastic and supportive family but an amazing group of friends. This wild and silly group has always been able to cheer me up. They are the ones that show up at my door when I am in my deepest slumps, ready to poke, prod, irritate and force food on me until I am back to myself again. I believe that each of them plays a role that they were specifically put in my life for. No two are the same. There is the loud and crazy one who will do or say anything to get a laugh, the outspoken member who would give you the shirt of their back without question, the soft spoken, sweet one who is always there with a kind word and a compliment, the mediator of the group who stays at the ready with an open ear to help sort things out and of course the friend who’s bags stay packed ready for the next crazy idea you come up with. Without a doubt I know that they are ready to laugh with me, cry with me or go to battle with me come what may, as I am for them. From the best to the worst, it is nice to know that there is someone you can pick up the phone and call and have there in an instant. As girls we all have our share of fusses and disagreements and like sisters we can argue amongst ourselves but pity the fool outside the group who tries to cross one!

Like many of the great things in our lives sometimes we become so accustom to them being there that we forget to take the time to appreciate what we have. In all my years I have yet to have a problem that I could not pick up the phone and call my mom, sister or one of my close friends about and feel at least some sort of relief before I hung up the phone. I believe that everyone needs those people in life. I sure do. For all that they have done and all that I am without doubt that they will continue to do for me through the coming years, I know that there is no way that I can ever repay them. But part of the beauty of a good friendship is in giving without expectation of getting back. It is giving from the heart.

Whether you have one close friend or family member that is always there for you or fifteen I want to remind you not to take them for granted. Sometimes the most uplifting thing that we can have is a compliment from a friend, a reminder that you mean something special to them. Quite frankly it would not hurt to pass on an encouraging word to anyone who crosses your path. You never know what is going on behind what you see in public. And you never know the difference you can make to someone who is going through a rough time just by a few words of encouragement. If we could only put down our armor long enough to admit that we have been through rough times and share our experiences with others who may possibly be going through the same thing, instead of pretending that all is well and perfect. Our world is sadly full of a lot of hurt and misery. I have yet to see anyone who is without occasional sadness. There is much to continue to pull them down but I challenge you to do your part to pick them back up.


From the Other Sides
Burke Benefit

On February 24th of this year I was on my way to lunch when I received a phone call from my good friend Amanda Irvin. Anyone who knows Amanda knows that she is one of the most amazing women you could ever meet. Determined, smart, strong willed, hard working, always there to lend a hand and without a doubt one of the biggest hearted people I have ever met. But all of that was about to be put to the test. Her Dad, Jim Burke, was being taken to The Med in Memphis after being brutally attacked.

That morning a man (and I use that word very lightly) came into his shop with the sole intention of robbing him. The moment Jim’s back was turned, he punched him from behind knocking him out instantly. For those of you who know Jim, you realize what a small guy he is. At 5’2” and barely 115 pounds he is far from being a menace to anyone. Despite that, this man continued to beat Jim until he was near death. Fortunately, a good friend of Jim’s happened into the store for a morning chat and realized something was wrong and went for help. Jim was rushed to The Med in Memphis with bleeding on the brain, a crushed eye socket and two skull fractures. Throughout the community, prayers went up and after surgery to make repairs and a week in the hospital, he was sent home. But his journey through hell was still not over. Because of the severity of his injuries he was hospitalized three more times. He contracted a severe blood infection. He had to relearn how to walk and get up and down on his own. The dizziness from his brain injury caused nausea and extreme sickness that kept him from eating or moving around. In one month he lost thirty one pounds knocking him down to a mere 84 pounds and putting him on the verge of starvation. All of this, I remind you, for a few trinkets and a little cash.

The Doctor told them that it was a point where he would have to start improving or he would not make it. That’s when Jim found his ‘spunk’. With his family and friends constantly rallied at his side and prayers continuously pouring out throughout the area he slowly began to recover. He started getting around a little better, began putting on a little weight and the amazing man that is always quick with a joke returned with more spirit and determination than ever. Today he continues to improve every day, thanks to God, his fantastic family, his good friends and our supportive community.

Jim has been a part of the area since 1971, when he began his career at Stanfield’s Jewelry Store in Caruthersville and then went on to open his own shop in Hayti in 1981. He is a friend to everyone, quick to help out anyone in need, an amazing artist and most importantly the Daddy and Pappa of a very close knit family.

I will never understand why such bad things happen to good people. But I do realize that it is the moments when the bottom falls out that you realize what you really have. That the small town life, with everyone in your business can sometimes be a real blessing. That in an area like this your neighbors are your friends and will be there through it all. Whether it be to clean up after a storm, offer advice, lend a shoulder to cry on or cook a hot meal. I think Amanda put in best in a letter that she wrote :

“So here we are, 5 months from the date this all happened and I’m pleased to say that my dad is getting better. And even though he’s still a ‘little fella’, he’s the strongest man that I know.
I’ve learned a lot during this experience. About my daddy, my family, and me. I think that the biggest thing that I learned is that you matter to your community! The overwhelming response and concern we received from so many was so reassuring. The Hayti Police Department said they had never received more calls on any other case than my dad’s.
I’ll never forget sitting in the hospital room in Memphis with my daddy and having a discussion with him about how great it is to have people that care about you, the prayers, well wishes and just thoughts. My dad looked over at me and said, “I feel like I’m being hugged.” Fighting back the tears, I said, “You are!”

So thank you for hugging my daddy!”


This week our friends and neighbors are once again showing the greatness of our community by throwing a special “Helping A Neighbor Benefit” for Jim. This will be a night of good clean family fun at a ‘Christ Inspired Concert’. Saturday, August the 8th from 6:00-8:00 at the Hayti Community Center. Dennis Gurley & The Gurley Show, Buddy Godair, Mark Brantley, Royal Harvest, Tina Sadler, Mike Barnett, Lesa Jerrolds, The Good News Singers, Joe Tate & Al Jordan, Keith Flowers and many more will be in attendance to sing that evening. They are asking for a minimal donation of $10.00 at the door to help with the medical expenses that Jim has incurred. I urge everyone to come out for this event. Whether you know Jim or not he is your neighbor. None of us know when the bottom will drop out of our lives. We can only hope that we will be blessed with family and friends who will circle the wagons and be there when it does. I hope to see you all there.