‘tis the season to celebrate
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Graduations, weddings, and family get-togethers have always marked spring and summer but this year all of those special events seem to demand greater celebration than in the past.
The reason for that is quite simple — COVID-19.
While restrictions, postponements, and cancellations were a common theme in 2020, 2021 has turned into a year of catch-up for Christy and I.
Our youngest daughter’s graduation last year was a bit anticlimactic. Yes, we celebrated, but it was limited in scope. No family other than immediate, no real party.
I still feel bad Allison was shorted her high school year, at least the second half. Almost everything a high-schooler comes to expect her senior year did not take place: no prom, no cadet teaching at the elementary school, no senior community cleanup day, no senior skip day. On top of that, classes moved online so the senior class of 2020 didn’t even get to enjoy the camaraderie and excitement that final semester brings for many other graduating classes.
That is one reason Christy and I made attending our nephew’s graduation a priority. We wanted to celebrate his milestone with him because we knew how disappointed Allison was when she didn’t get to celebrate in the traditional manner.
Our 2020 calendar also included the marriage of a young woman we have known for decades. We met her parents in the 1980s in college and soon found us all — our friends, their two daughters, Christy and I and my son and oldest daughter — spending weekends together, camping with each other, even vacationing together.
That wedding didn’t happen last year, though. Instead Tyonna and her fiancé, Daniel, postponed their marriage to this June because of COVID-19. Last year, had Tyonna held the wedding, I’m not certain Christy and I would have been able to attend but with vaccines behind us we felt our duty to attend her upcoming wedding, meet her fiancé, and catch up with her and the rest of her family.
Right now Christy and I have another wedding to attend in August. And, each time we visit our youngest daughters in Springfield, Mo., which we’ve done quite frequently lately, we make sure to spend time with our folks as well as our other adult children and grandparents.
Summer is upon us and this year Christy and I are celebrating it as often as we can.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Graduations, weddings, and family get-togethers have always marked spring and summer but this year all of those special events seem to demand greater celebration than in the past.
The reason for that is quite simple — COVID-19.
While restrictions, postponements, and cancellations were a common theme in 2020, 2021 has turned into a year of catch-up for Christy and I.
Our youngest daughter’s graduation last year was a bit anticlimactic. Yes, we celebrated, but it was limited in scope. No family other than immediate, no real party.
I still feel bad Allison was shorted her high school year, at least the second half. Almost everything a high-schooler comes to expect her senior year did not take place: no prom, no cadet teaching at the elementary school, no senior community cleanup day, no senior skip day. On top of that, classes moved online so the senior class of 2020 didn’t even get to enjoy the camaraderie and excitement that final semester brings for many other graduating classes.
That is one reason Christy and I made attending our nephew’s graduation a priority. We wanted to celebrate his milestone with him because we knew how disappointed Allison was when she didn’t get to celebrate in the traditional manner.
Our 2020 calendar also included the marriage of a young woman we have known for decades. We met her parents in the 1980s in college and soon found us all — our friends, their two daughters, Christy and I and my son and oldest daughter — spending weekends together, camping with each other, even vacationing together.
That wedding didn’t happen last year, though. Instead Tyonna and her fiancé, Daniel, postponed their marriage to this June because of COVID-19. Last year, had Tyonna held the wedding, I’m not certain Christy and I would have been able to attend but with vaccines behind us we felt our duty to attend her upcoming wedding, meet her fiancé, and catch up with her and the rest of her family.
Right now Christy and I have another wedding to attend in August. And, each time we visit our youngest daughters in Springfield, Mo., which we’ve done quite frequently lately, we make sure to spend time with our folks as well as our other adult children and grandparents.
Summer is upon us and this year Christy and I are celebrating it as often as we can.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Going 0-3 at bats isn’t good
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
I’m 0-3 at bats.
Well, technically I’m 1-1 for one bat and 0-3 on the second one.
You see, back around Christmas break when our youngest was home, I discovered two bats gliding around the basement one evening when I went downstairs. Since it was relatively warm then, I turned on the lights, opened up the basement door leading outside, picked up a broom, and tried to shoo them outside. After a bit of waving my arms at them and ducking each time they flapped by my face, I put down the broom, left the door open, and went upstairs to get Christy to help with my bat rustling.
By the time Christy and I returned downstairs, there was no sign of the bats. Great, I thought, the bats have left.
Of course that wasn’t the case but I wouldn’t discover that until a few weeks later after our youngest had returned to college. One semi-warm evening when I ventured downstairs a black-winged creature greeted me face to face at the top of the stairs. I flipped on the lights, opened the back door as I had the first time, and went to shooing. But, strike two on this one. He found a space in the basement and scurried into hiding.
Now we get a bat in our home every couple of years or so but usually I’ll find one in the attic. And usually with a blanket and a little help I’m able to corral the little thing and release it outside. If I’m lucky, I’ll find an offender during the day just literally hanging out where I can scoop him off a wall into a box. In fact when our youngest was in elementary school, she came home one afternoon, looked up on a wall in our dining room, and asked me “Is that real bat?” It was and it was the simplest catch and release ever.
Anyway a week or so ago bat No. 2 appeared again, brushing across my head and the back of my hand as I reached into a darkened room to flip on a light. Again I tried my familiar technique for bat removal but without success. After sweeping back and forth a few times he landed on a wall and crawled back into a space in the cinder blocks above a door.
Strike three.
I guess I’m not as good at bats as I used to be but eventually bat No. 2 will make another appearance and hopefully I’ll be successful. If not, maybe hunger and warmer weather will work in my favor and he’ll just leave unnoticed.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
I’m 0-3 at bats.
Well, technically I’m 1-1 for one bat and 0-3 on the second one.
You see, back around Christmas break when our youngest was home, I discovered two bats gliding around the basement one evening when I went downstairs. Since it was relatively warm then, I turned on the lights, opened up the basement door leading outside, picked up a broom, and tried to shoo them outside. After a bit of waving my arms at them and ducking each time they flapped by my face, I put down the broom, left the door open, and went upstairs to get Christy to help with my bat rustling.
By the time Christy and I returned downstairs, there was no sign of the bats. Great, I thought, the bats have left.
Of course that wasn’t the case but I wouldn’t discover that until a few weeks later after our youngest had returned to college. One semi-warm evening when I ventured downstairs a black-winged creature greeted me face to face at the top of the stairs. I flipped on the lights, opened the back door as I had the first time, and went to shooing. But, strike two on this one. He found a space in the basement and scurried into hiding.
Now we get a bat in our home every couple of years or so but usually I’ll find one in the attic. And usually with a blanket and a little help I’m able to corral the little thing and release it outside. If I’m lucky, I’ll find an offender during the day just literally hanging out where I can scoop him off a wall into a box. In fact when our youngest was in elementary school, she came home one afternoon, looked up on a wall in our dining room, and asked me “Is that real bat?” It was and it was the simplest catch and release ever.
Anyway a week or so ago bat No. 2 appeared again, brushing across my head and the back of my hand as I reached into a darkened room to flip on a light. Again I tried my familiar technique for bat removal but without success. After sweeping back and forth a few times he landed on a wall and crawled back into a space in the cinder blocks above a door.
Strike three.
I guess I’m not as good at bats as I used to be but eventually bat No. 2 will make another appearance and hopefully I’ll be successful. If not, maybe hunger and warmer weather will work in my favor and he’ll just leave unnoticed.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Jazz brings solace
to the year of corona
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
If 2020 brought me anything it brought me a greater appreciation of jazz.
I’ve been a fan of jazz for decades. John Coltrane, especially, but also the likes of Charlie Parker, Dave Brubeck, Miles Davis, and Thelonious Monk as well as female singers such as Bessie Smith (yes we can debate whether she is more blues than jazz), Sarah Vaughn, Nina Simone, and contemporaries like Amy Winehouse and Rachael Price.
And, for some reason, my longtime favorites as well as a few new ones helped me survive the year of COVID-19.
Jazz became my solace for one simple and identifiable reason: I felt we — Christy, our youngest daughter Allison, and I — needed a winter break. So, back in February when our then high school daughter’s activities would get a brief break, I booked us a room at motel in Liberty, Mo., for the weekend, found us a couple of live music events to attend, found a dog sitter, and just left town for a few days.
Little did we know that just weeks later daily life was going to change because of COVID-19. It was like it was our last normal mini-vacation ever. And I’m glad we took the break when we did.
Anyway we left town on a Friday after Allison got out of school and as we headed to our motel I told Christy and Allison we were going to pick up a free show at the American Jazz Museum in Kansas City, then grab a bite to eat, and see what other nightlife was available in the city.
You should have heard the response to the word “jazz.”
Fortunately, we weren’t disappointed when we heard Misha Roberts for the first time. A talented vocalist and Texas native, Roberts now claims Kansas City as her home and we are glad of that. We weren’t disappointed.
Roberts has a great voice and knows how to get the most out of phrasing. Although she covers a few familiar tunes, she is more of contemporary jazz singer and I’m glad we got to see her before live performances came to a standstill. We enjoyed her so much, in fact, we came home with her EP “Exposed” and a t-shirt for our youngest and probably dropped more money in her tip jar than if had actually paid upfront to see her. I didn’t know much about her before but she has since performed for the American Jazz Walk Of Fame so you can find out more about her with an internet search.
After a bit of jazz, we took our youngest to The Record Bar, one of our favorite KC spots for live music, and picked up a set of They Promised Us Jet Packs, a young Scottish band more in tune with Allison’s preference. They Promised Us Jet Packs were worth seeing but the opening band was one-dimensional and literally forgettable (I honestly can’t even remember the band that opened).
Then, as we all remember, social distancing, masks, and traveling became concerns so what did I do? Grow nostalgic of our visits to New Orleans when Christy and I lived in Mississippi.
The food I could somewhat emulate but what I really missed were the Crescent City’s streets — the hucksters trying to lure you into a restaurant, bar, or shop, the smells, the different languages and, most of all the street performances. All of which introduced me to two new to me New Orleans bands: Bon Bon Vivant and Tuba Skinny.
Although Bon Bon Vivant and Tuba Skinny play similar styles of music, Bon Bon Vivant is a more polished, studio band that plays originals while Tuba Skinny is largely a street band that covers traditional New Orleans-style jazz.
I ordered Bon Bon Vivant’s album “Paint & Pageantry” while the group was in quarantine on the West Coast. After waiting weeks for my album (yes, I ordered a vinyl LP with digital download) I finally shot the band an email. They let me know they had been under quarantine and unable to check their messages. They were generous and sent not just the LP but a t-shirt, stickers, and a personal note apologizing for the delay. A quick Internet search will tell you more about them than I can.
The same is true with Tuba Skinny, another group I came across on the Internet. Tuba Skinny captures the jazz of the ‘20s and ‘30s. While the tunes are fabulous, what really caught my eye was unofficial bandleader Shaye Cohn. Just watching her join in with the band on her coronet and then giving each of her bandmates a chance to solo is simply amazing. Toss in singer Erika Lewis’s soulful voice to something a bit bawdy like “Poppa’s Got Your Bathwater On” and you know you’ve found a good thing.
Truth is, I’ve been playing Tuba Skinny almost constantly since hearing them and ordering their album “Some Kind-a-Shake.” I even insisted we listen to one of their YouTube mixes while we put up Christmas decorations.
So 2020 left me wanting both something new and something familiar. Christy and I want to travel again, to see live performances again, to dance again.
Dr. Fauci says all that may return this coming fall. I hope he’s right. We could all use a bit more of what we really miss.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
to the year of corona
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
If 2020 brought me anything it brought me a greater appreciation of jazz.
I’ve been a fan of jazz for decades. John Coltrane, especially, but also the likes of Charlie Parker, Dave Brubeck, Miles Davis, and Thelonious Monk as well as female singers such as Bessie Smith (yes we can debate whether she is more blues than jazz), Sarah Vaughn, Nina Simone, and contemporaries like Amy Winehouse and Rachael Price.
And, for some reason, my longtime favorites as well as a few new ones helped me survive the year of COVID-19.
Jazz became my solace for one simple and identifiable reason: I felt we — Christy, our youngest daughter Allison, and I — needed a winter break. So, back in February when our then high school daughter’s activities would get a brief break, I booked us a room at motel in Liberty, Mo., for the weekend, found us a couple of live music events to attend, found a dog sitter, and just left town for a few days.
Little did we know that just weeks later daily life was going to change because of COVID-19. It was like it was our last normal mini-vacation ever. And I’m glad we took the break when we did.
Anyway we left town on a Friday after Allison got out of school and as we headed to our motel I told Christy and Allison we were going to pick up a free show at the American Jazz Museum in Kansas City, then grab a bite to eat, and see what other nightlife was available in the city.
You should have heard the response to the word “jazz.”
Fortunately, we weren’t disappointed when we heard Misha Roberts for the first time. A talented vocalist and Texas native, Roberts now claims Kansas City as her home and we are glad of that. We weren’t disappointed.
Roberts has a great voice and knows how to get the most out of phrasing. Although she covers a few familiar tunes, she is more of contemporary jazz singer and I’m glad we got to see her before live performances came to a standstill. We enjoyed her so much, in fact, we came home with her EP “Exposed” and a t-shirt for our youngest and probably dropped more money in her tip jar than if had actually paid upfront to see her. I didn’t know much about her before but she has since performed for the American Jazz Walk Of Fame so you can find out more about her with an internet search.
After a bit of jazz, we took our youngest to The Record Bar, one of our favorite KC spots for live music, and picked up a set of They Promised Us Jet Packs, a young Scottish band more in tune with Allison’s preference. They Promised Us Jet Packs were worth seeing but the opening band was one-dimensional and literally forgettable (I honestly can’t even remember the band that opened).
Then, as we all remember, social distancing, masks, and traveling became concerns so what did I do? Grow nostalgic of our visits to New Orleans when Christy and I lived in Mississippi.
The food I could somewhat emulate but what I really missed were the Crescent City’s streets — the hucksters trying to lure you into a restaurant, bar, or shop, the smells, the different languages and, most of all the street performances. All of which introduced me to two new to me New Orleans bands: Bon Bon Vivant and Tuba Skinny.
Although Bon Bon Vivant and Tuba Skinny play similar styles of music, Bon Bon Vivant is a more polished, studio band that plays originals while Tuba Skinny is largely a street band that covers traditional New Orleans-style jazz.
I ordered Bon Bon Vivant’s album “Paint & Pageantry” while the group was in quarantine on the West Coast. After waiting weeks for my album (yes, I ordered a vinyl LP with digital download) I finally shot the band an email. They let me know they had been under quarantine and unable to check their messages. They were generous and sent not just the LP but a t-shirt, stickers, and a personal note apologizing for the delay. A quick Internet search will tell you more about them than I can.
The same is true with Tuba Skinny, another group I came across on the Internet. Tuba Skinny captures the jazz of the ‘20s and ‘30s. While the tunes are fabulous, what really caught my eye was unofficial bandleader Shaye Cohn. Just watching her join in with the band on her coronet and then giving each of her bandmates a chance to solo is simply amazing. Toss in singer Erika Lewis’s soulful voice to something a bit bawdy like “Poppa’s Got Your Bathwater On” and you know you’ve found a good thing.
Truth is, I’ve been playing Tuba Skinny almost constantly since hearing them and ordering their album “Some Kind-a-Shake.” I even insisted we listen to one of their YouTube mixes while we put up Christmas decorations.
So 2020 left me wanting both something new and something familiar. Christy and I want to travel again, to see live performances again, to dance again.
Dr. Fauci says all that may return this coming fall. I hope he’s right. We could all use a bit more of what we really miss.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
There’s no vaccine
for fear and hate
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
We realized something Jan. 6, 2021, that some of us have tried to ignore: We are fighting two pandemics, a true pandemic that’s left more than 385,000 people dead and another fueled by fear and hate that threatens to destroy our republic.
That hatred, that fear came to a head last week when those attending a Trump rally near the U.S. Capitol Building headed to the Capitol in what many are calling an attempted coup.
The violence was incited after Trump told the crowd “"And after this, we're going to walk down there, and I'll be there with you, we're going to walk down ... to the Capitol and we are going to cheer on our brave senators and congressmen and women. And we're probably not going to be cheering so much for some of them. Because you'll never take back our country with weakness. You have to show strength and you have to be strong."
What followed were historic firsts for our nation.
It was the first time since British troops set the U.S. Capitol Building ablaze during the War of 1812 the Capitol was assaulted.
It was the first time a Confederate flag had been flown inside the U.S. Capitol.
It was the first time a U.S. flag flying at the Capitol was taken down a replaced by a Trump flag.
These were not the actions of patriots. These were the actions of terrorists.
And now, just days away from a new administration taking over the White House, we’re seeing another first: The first United States president to be impeached not once but twice.
The Trump train has derailed itself and what that administration’s legacy becomes is still yet to be seen. I suspect more violence across the nation as we put an end to this embarrassing chapter of our history.
What saddens me is that even after Trump has gone that all the fear and hate will remain and many will continue to believe the baseless claims by Trump and some of his political supporters that the 2020 election was stolen.
The divisiveness of our nation has been there a long time, at least the since Civil War, but it has finally been brought out into the open for all of us, and all the world, to see. And, I fear, and the all hatred and violence boiling up this time isn’t going away any time soon — it’s only going to get worse.
Trump, through his lies and propaganda, emboldened a part of our populace that has felt marginalized for years. For four years they had someone who they believed cared about them and their concerns. But Trump’s words and actions are not solely the blame for last week’s violence.
The news media, in part, are to blame. They should have called BS sooner on Trump’s lies, should have pushed back sooner when metropolitan newspapers and network television were demonized and called “fake news” by the president they were covering.
Social media, too, are to blame. Facebook, Twitter, and other social platforms had the opportunity to stop the spread of misinformation earlier but instead they stood by silently and allowed the misinformation to proliferate.
Social media make it too easy for us all to live within our own bubbles, allowing us to hear only what we want and reinforcing our beliefs regardless of whether there is any accuracy or factual evidence in what we are told. Social media is an echo chamber and only those who are willing to look outside it to challenge their own beliefs can escape it.
But, most disheartening, our congressmen and political leaders who helped fan the flame of Trumpism instead of standing up to him are the biggest blame. Congressmen like Ted Cruz, who Trump called a liar, said his wife was ugly, and suggested Cruz’s father had links to John. F. Kennedy’s assassin. Instead of standing up to Trump, Cruz became one of Trump’s biggest supporters.
On Jan. 7, 2021, I called my congressmen, Sen. Roy Blunt and Rep. Sam Graves, to let them know my disgust in their complicity with what happened at the Capitol the day before. I reminded them they swore on oath to defend our Constitution “against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”
We came together as nation when foreign enemies attacked us on Sept. 11, 2001. But when domestic enemies attacked us on Jan. 6, 2021, not all of us are rallying to defend the Constitution. Many of us appear to want to tear it down.
Sept. 11, 2001, didn’t bring me — nor should it you — near as much concern as Jan. 6, 2021, does. And while we have vaccines for COVID-19 I’m afraid we have no cure for our pandemic fueled by fear and hate.
But we might be able to lessen it a bit if we can bring decorum, empathy, and bi-partisanship back into national politics.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
for fear and hate
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
We realized something Jan. 6, 2021, that some of us have tried to ignore: We are fighting two pandemics, a true pandemic that’s left more than 385,000 people dead and another fueled by fear and hate that threatens to destroy our republic.
That hatred, that fear came to a head last week when those attending a Trump rally near the U.S. Capitol Building headed to the Capitol in what many are calling an attempted coup.
The violence was incited after Trump told the crowd “"And after this, we're going to walk down there, and I'll be there with you, we're going to walk down ... to the Capitol and we are going to cheer on our brave senators and congressmen and women. And we're probably not going to be cheering so much for some of them. Because you'll never take back our country with weakness. You have to show strength and you have to be strong."
What followed were historic firsts for our nation.
It was the first time since British troops set the U.S. Capitol Building ablaze during the War of 1812 the Capitol was assaulted.
It was the first time a Confederate flag had been flown inside the U.S. Capitol.
It was the first time a U.S. flag flying at the Capitol was taken down a replaced by a Trump flag.
These were not the actions of patriots. These were the actions of terrorists.
And now, just days away from a new administration taking over the White House, we’re seeing another first: The first United States president to be impeached not once but twice.
The Trump train has derailed itself and what that administration’s legacy becomes is still yet to be seen. I suspect more violence across the nation as we put an end to this embarrassing chapter of our history.
What saddens me is that even after Trump has gone that all the fear and hate will remain and many will continue to believe the baseless claims by Trump and some of his political supporters that the 2020 election was stolen.
The divisiveness of our nation has been there a long time, at least the since Civil War, but it has finally been brought out into the open for all of us, and all the world, to see. And, I fear, and the all hatred and violence boiling up this time isn’t going away any time soon — it’s only going to get worse.
Trump, through his lies and propaganda, emboldened a part of our populace that has felt marginalized for years. For four years they had someone who they believed cared about them and their concerns. But Trump’s words and actions are not solely the blame for last week’s violence.
The news media, in part, are to blame. They should have called BS sooner on Trump’s lies, should have pushed back sooner when metropolitan newspapers and network television were demonized and called “fake news” by the president they were covering.
Social media, too, are to blame. Facebook, Twitter, and other social platforms had the opportunity to stop the spread of misinformation earlier but instead they stood by silently and allowed the misinformation to proliferate.
Social media make it too easy for us all to live within our own bubbles, allowing us to hear only what we want and reinforcing our beliefs regardless of whether there is any accuracy or factual evidence in what we are told. Social media is an echo chamber and only those who are willing to look outside it to challenge their own beliefs can escape it.
But, most disheartening, our congressmen and political leaders who helped fan the flame of Trumpism instead of standing up to him are the biggest blame. Congressmen like Ted Cruz, who Trump called a liar, said his wife was ugly, and suggested Cruz’s father had links to John. F. Kennedy’s assassin. Instead of standing up to Trump, Cruz became one of Trump’s biggest supporters.
On Jan. 7, 2021, I called my congressmen, Sen. Roy Blunt and Rep. Sam Graves, to let them know my disgust in their complicity with what happened at the Capitol the day before. I reminded them they swore on oath to defend our Constitution “against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”
We came together as nation when foreign enemies attacked us on Sept. 11, 2001. But when domestic enemies attacked us on Jan. 6, 2021, not all of us are rallying to defend the Constitution. Many of us appear to want to tear it down.
Sept. 11, 2001, didn’t bring me — nor should it you — near as much concern as Jan. 6, 2021, does. And while we have vaccines for COVID-19 I’m afraid we have no cure for our pandemic fueled by fear and hate.
But we might be able to lessen it a bit if we can bring decorum, empathy, and bi-partisanship back into national politics.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Give thanks despite concerns
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
This holiday season is, to say the least, a bit different than ones in past years.
Christy and I are still planning a traditional turkey dinner for Thanksgiving but we won’t be traveling to Southwest Missouri to share meals with parents and siblings.
Mom told us a few weeks ago she was not going to host our annual family Thanksgiving meal. Soon after, Christy’s parents told us the same.
Instead our two youngest will be traveling home from college during Thanksgiving break. We are both excited and a bit apprehensive — excited to share time with our daughters again yet apprehensive about their trip.
We’re always a bit apprehensive when the girls come home. We worry about their safety as they travel the typically crowded highways. But this year we’re a bit apprehensive about their visit because of what is in the forefront of many people’s minds: COVID-19.
The Mayo Clinic said Nov. 20 Missouri was seeing 4,614 new cases a day or 75 per 1,000 people. Iowa was seeing 3,477 new cases a day or 110 per 1,000 people. And on Nov. 22, Adams County has seen 152 total confirmed cases and a 14-day positivity rating of 17.9 percent.
A report from Harvard University said Nov. 20 in the Kansas City Star that Missouri has reached a “tipping point” in the pandemic with all but one of Missouri’s 114 counties in the red zone for risk levels. Only one county, McDonald, was in the orange zone for risk levels.
Our daughters will be traveling through the red zone as they make their way home. We have no idea if they are already contracted the virus or if they might be exposed to it stopping for gas or grabbing a bite to eat as they travel. Worse yet, what if we are positive and send it back to Springfield with our children?
Being exposed to the coronavirus and not realizing you’ve contracted is a concern. The Centers for Disease Control say most coronavirus cases — more than 50 percent — are spread by people who show no symptoms. A person could be exposed, test negative initially, and, thinking he’s in clear, become contagious a few days later. Thinking he’s negative, that person can easily spread the virus to dozens of people before becoming symptomatic.
COVID-19 has an up to 14-day incubation period, which is why when someone is exposed he’s asked to self-quarantine for 14 days to stop the spread. But then if you don’t show symptoms or don’t know you’ve been exposed, you’ve no idea you need to self-quarantine.
Canada celebrated its Thanksgiving on Oct. 12 and two weeks after the holiday the seven day average of positive tests rose from 2,376 to 2,823. By Nov. 10, those numbers soared to 4,401 despite preventive measures.
I hate to say it but I suspect we will see a similar increase here in the U.S. as dorm rooms close on campus and families get together now through the new year. And I fear Missouri, which unlike Iowa has no mask mandate, will have even greater numbers.
Despite these concerns we will be sharing thanks with our daughters this Thursday. We just pray they arrive safely and return to college safely and that soon our greatest concern for them when traveling is simply highway traffic.
I hope everyone has a safe and happy Thanksgiving in whatever form it takes this year.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
This holiday season is, to say the least, a bit different than ones in past years.
Christy and I are still planning a traditional turkey dinner for Thanksgiving but we won’t be traveling to Southwest Missouri to share meals with parents and siblings.
Mom told us a few weeks ago she was not going to host our annual family Thanksgiving meal. Soon after, Christy’s parents told us the same.
Instead our two youngest will be traveling home from college during Thanksgiving break. We are both excited and a bit apprehensive — excited to share time with our daughters again yet apprehensive about their trip.
We’re always a bit apprehensive when the girls come home. We worry about their safety as they travel the typically crowded highways. But this year we’re a bit apprehensive about their visit because of what is in the forefront of many people’s minds: COVID-19.
The Mayo Clinic said Nov. 20 Missouri was seeing 4,614 new cases a day or 75 per 1,000 people. Iowa was seeing 3,477 new cases a day or 110 per 1,000 people. And on Nov. 22, Adams County has seen 152 total confirmed cases and a 14-day positivity rating of 17.9 percent.
A report from Harvard University said Nov. 20 in the Kansas City Star that Missouri has reached a “tipping point” in the pandemic with all but one of Missouri’s 114 counties in the red zone for risk levels. Only one county, McDonald, was in the orange zone for risk levels.
Our daughters will be traveling through the red zone as they make their way home. We have no idea if they are already contracted the virus or if they might be exposed to it stopping for gas or grabbing a bite to eat as they travel. Worse yet, what if we are positive and send it back to Springfield with our children?
Being exposed to the coronavirus and not realizing you’ve contracted is a concern. The Centers for Disease Control say most coronavirus cases — more than 50 percent — are spread by people who show no symptoms. A person could be exposed, test negative initially, and, thinking he’s in clear, become contagious a few days later. Thinking he’s negative, that person can easily spread the virus to dozens of people before becoming symptomatic.
COVID-19 has an up to 14-day incubation period, which is why when someone is exposed he’s asked to self-quarantine for 14 days to stop the spread. But then if you don’t show symptoms or don’t know you’ve been exposed, you’ve no idea you need to self-quarantine.
Canada celebrated its Thanksgiving on Oct. 12 and two weeks after the holiday the seven day average of positive tests rose from 2,376 to 2,823. By Nov. 10, those numbers soared to 4,401 despite preventive measures.
I hate to say it but I suspect we will see a similar increase here in the U.S. as dorm rooms close on campus and families get together now through the new year. And I fear Missouri, which unlike Iowa has no mask mandate, will have even greater numbers.
Despite these concerns we will be sharing thanks with our daughters this Thursday. We just pray they arrive safely and return to college safely and that soon our greatest concern for them when traveling is simply highway traffic.
I hope everyone has a safe and happy Thanksgiving in whatever form it takes this year.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Contingency plans form
in case of quarantine
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
On Monday we got an update from Adams/Taylor County Public Health that Adams County had received seven new COVID-19 cases for 13.3 percent 14-day positivity rating, bringing the total confirmed cases for the county to 103.
That number is more than double in neighboring Taylor County, which has a 14-day positivity rating of 27 percent with 332 confirmed cases.
And on Tuesday, Iowa Gov. Kim Reynolds signed a new proclamation continuing the Public Health Disaster Emergency for another 30 days.
The proclamation, the increased numbers, the news that our niece and her boyfriend in Kansas City contract the virus, concerns from our parents about gathering as a family over the holidays, and a few other related incidents had Christy and I discussing a more detailed plan on how to publish the Free Press should we test positive or need to quarantine for 14 days.
Our main issue isn’t so much as putting together the Free Press remotely. We’ve basically been doing that soon after the pandemic became a bigger concern in this part of the county, limiting our visits to Adams County to Wednesdays when we deliver the paper to post office and around town and deal with things we can’t take care of from home.
Our greater concern is how we can get the Free Press to our subscribers — especially the ones who pick up the paper at the office — should Christy, Carie, and I all have to go into quarantine and close the office to the public.
The plan is to find an alternate delivery person to get the Free Press from Creston to Corning, drop it off at the post office (we’ve still got to figure out how to get paperwork and payment to the post office), and find a site where our counter sales customers can pick up the paper, and let everyone know via our Facebook page where they can find the Free Press.
That is, of course, if Facebook cooperates. On Tuesday when I went to our business page there, FB directed me to a business advertising campaign that took several tries and a lot of swearing just to even get to our post page.
I’m not a big fan of social media for sharing information about our business but these are unusual times. Hopefully our contingency plans will never be needed, Adams County numbers drop, and that Pfizer and/or other drug manufacturers create a safe, successful vaccine soon.
Until then, wear a mask, wash your hands, social distance, and stay safe.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
in case of quarantine
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
On Monday we got an update from Adams/Taylor County Public Health that Adams County had received seven new COVID-19 cases for 13.3 percent 14-day positivity rating, bringing the total confirmed cases for the county to 103.
That number is more than double in neighboring Taylor County, which has a 14-day positivity rating of 27 percent with 332 confirmed cases.
And on Tuesday, Iowa Gov. Kim Reynolds signed a new proclamation continuing the Public Health Disaster Emergency for another 30 days.
The proclamation, the increased numbers, the news that our niece and her boyfriend in Kansas City contract the virus, concerns from our parents about gathering as a family over the holidays, and a few other related incidents had Christy and I discussing a more detailed plan on how to publish the Free Press should we test positive or need to quarantine for 14 days.
Our main issue isn’t so much as putting together the Free Press remotely. We’ve basically been doing that soon after the pandemic became a bigger concern in this part of the county, limiting our visits to Adams County to Wednesdays when we deliver the paper to post office and around town and deal with things we can’t take care of from home.
Our greater concern is how we can get the Free Press to our subscribers — especially the ones who pick up the paper at the office — should Christy, Carie, and I all have to go into quarantine and close the office to the public.
The plan is to find an alternate delivery person to get the Free Press from Creston to Corning, drop it off at the post office (we’ve still got to figure out how to get paperwork and payment to the post office), and find a site where our counter sales customers can pick up the paper, and let everyone know via our Facebook page where they can find the Free Press.
That is, of course, if Facebook cooperates. On Tuesday when I went to our business page there, FB directed me to a business advertising campaign that took several tries and a lot of swearing just to even get to our post page.
I’m not a big fan of social media for sharing information about our business but these are unusual times. Hopefully our contingency plans will never be needed, Adams County numbers drop, and that Pfizer and/or other drug manufacturers create a safe, successful vaccine soon.
Until then, wear a mask, wash your hands, social distance, and stay safe.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Gone phishing
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
About seven years ago, after sharing with friends via social media some of my the most preposterous emails I received, I began collecting those emails in a document I named “Gone Phishing.”
Almost all of those emails claim to have come from various countries — Ivory Coast, Nigeria, Sudan, Thailand, Russia, England, Malaysia, etc. — but all included an heir, a caregiver, a government bureaucrat, a managing director, a deposed royal in exile, or someone with money willing to share with me if I would only reply to their email with just a bit of additional personal information.
I don’t pretend to be an expert on the subject but phishing and identity theft have become more sophisticated than it did when I began gathering emails from Nigerian princes asking me to help them move money from out of their country and into my bank account. Recently we’ve been overrun by spoofed email so we’ve had to be extra cautious when checking email. The following are a few things we look at when we receive questionable email.
Does it seem legitimate?
Some of the emails we received were dated as far back as 2013 and others were about events that had already taken place. That alone is suspicious.
Can you trust the sender?
Although all of the email we received appeared to be from well-known contacts, closer scrutiny of email address of the “contact” were easily distinguishable as junk mail. Instead of a familiar email such as [email protected] most of them came from overseas servers, the user name didn’t match, and the domain was suspicious. A few examples: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], and [email protected].
Were you expecting an email from this person?
More than a few of the emails we received at first glance appeared to have come from people who hadn’t held positions for years and were easily identified as illegitimate.
Is there an attachment?
Most of the attachments we received appeared up on first glance legitimate. They appeared in a format we have used in the past and they were given a document name similar to what we have received in the past. We did, however, receive a couple of zipped attachments. Those we mark as “junk” and delete upon receiving 99 percent of the time.
• • •
Jesse Higgins, a Southwest Valley junior, is now spending a few hours with us each week. Jesse is interested in broadcast journalism so we are working with him to help him learn print journalism skills that will be beneficial to broadcast journalism.
Christy and I met Jesse on Oct. 14, spoke with him about his goals and interests, and then took him out on Main Street and basically just give him a few pointers along the way. Jesse spent about an hour with us but by the time he headed back to the classroom he had shot three sets of photos for this week’s Free Press and got his first taste of conducting short interviews.
• • •
We are happy to see so many letters to the editor submitted recently. As Election Day nears, we’re comforted by thoughtful discourse from Free Press readers.
With that in mind, we want to remind our readers about our editorial policy regarding political letters/endorsements prior to an election which states: “In the last issue before an election, only letters expressing support for candidates will be accepted. Letters that would require a response from a candidate will not be used in the last issue before an election.”
Also please be sure to sign your letters to the editor and include contact information for verification.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
About seven years ago, after sharing with friends via social media some of my the most preposterous emails I received, I began collecting those emails in a document I named “Gone Phishing.”
Almost all of those emails claim to have come from various countries — Ivory Coast, Nigeria, Sudan, Thailand, Russia, England, Malaysia, etc. — but all included an heir, a caregiver, a government bureaucrat, a managing director, a deposed royal in exile, or someone with money willing to share with me if I would only reply to their email with just a bit of additional personal information.
I don’t pretend to be an expert on the subject but phishing and identity theft have become more sophisticated than it did when I began gathering emails from Nigerian princes asking me to help them move money from out of their country and into my bank account. Recently we’ve been overrun by spoofed email so we’ve had to be extra cautious when checking email. The following are a few things we look at when we receive questionable email.
Does it seem legitimate?
Some of the emails we received were dated as far back as 2013 and others were about events that had already taken place. That alone is suspicious.
Can you trust the sender?
Although all of the email we received appeared to be from well-known contacts, closer scrutiny of email address of the “contact” were easily distinguishable as junk mail. Instead of a familiar email such as [email protected] most of them came from overseas servers, the user name didn’t match, and the domain was suspicious. A few examples: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], and [email protected].
Were you expecting an email from this person?
More than a few of the emails we received at first glance appeared to have come from people who hadn’t held positions for years and were easily identified as illegitimate.
Is there an attachment?
Most of the attachments we received appeared up on first glance legitimate. They appeared in a format we have used in the past and they were given a document name similar to what we have received in the past. We did, however, receive a couple of zipped attachments. Those we mark as “junk” and delete upon receiving 99 percent of the time.
• • •
Jesse Higgins, a Southwest Valley junior, is now spending a few hours with us each week. Jesse is interested in broadcast journalism so we are working with him to help him learn print journalism skills that will be beneficial to broadcast journalism.
Christy and I met Jesse on Oct. 14, spoke with him about his goals and interests, and then took him out on Main Street and basically just give him a few pointers along the way. Jesse spent about an hour with us but by the time he headed back to the classroom he had shot three sets of photos for this week’s Free Press and got his first taste of conducting short interviews.
• • •
We are happy to see so many letters to the editor submitted recently. As Election Day nears, we’re comforted by thoughtful discourse from Free Press readers.
With that in mind, we want to remind our readers about our editorial policy regarding political letters/endorsements prior to an election which states: “In the last issue before an election, only letters expressing support for candidates will be accepted. Letters that would require a response from a candidate will not be used in the last issue before an election.”
Also please be sure to sign your letters to the editor and include contact information for verification.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Cooking for two
requires adjustments
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It began when I got a whiff of what I thought was another dead mouse in our cupboard just off of the kitchen.
I was looking for a can of southwestern black beans with cumin to heat up with the chicken fajitas I was prepping so I could use up a red bell pepper and some bits of onions that were starting to go bad. I had to settle on a can of refried beans because we had used up all the black beans but the odor from the cupboard was distinct: something had gone bad.
It turned out the odor was coming from a five-pound bag of potatoes that was well on its way to rotten. Just a few days earlier I had salvaged a couple of Vidalia onions that had grown nasty because we — I — have been cooking less since the youngest has gone off to college and Christy and I are adjusting to just cooking for two again.
Along with how quiet the house has grown and how much easier it is to keep tidied up, meal time for two instead of two and an ever-hungry teen has been a noticeable change since the youngest headed off to college. Before, meal preparation was seemingly ongoing. What and when to cook were dictated by our daughter’s schedule. It took a bit of planning.
Now it seems meal planning has gone out the window in our household. Now, maybe once a week, we make ourselves a full meal once we decided we have a craving for something. The rest of the time we pick up a sandwich or order something from a restaurant.
Our diminished cooking means fewer leftovers. But it also means more of our food goes to waste as we readjust to a two-person household again. In the few days after I discovered the rotten potatoes I had to toss out a loaf of moldy bread, four squishy cucumbers, and about three-fourths of a gallon milk that expired almost a month ago. I’m not a fan of wasting food but I know we’re still in the transition stage.
We’re getting there though. We’re buying fewer fresh vegetables and fruit, adjusting our grocery shopping so that we use what we buy before it goes bad. And that, of course, has cut down drastically on our grocery bill.
But saving a few dollars on groceries is only one of the advantages of just cooking for two. Now, since I’m the only in the household who still eats ice cream, I don’t have to be surprised to find we’re out of it when I get a craving.
•••
Weather can seem simple but it rarely is. A recent night on the lake is a good example.
Christy and I had planned to take a couple of Kansas City area friends with us out on the boat over Labor Day so we looked at wind predictions, temperature, and rain percentages. With a brief overnight forecast for rain, we expected a few showers Friday night before we met up with friends the next day.
Went to bed after too many cocktails with our lake family that night and went to bed on the boat, leaving the hatch open to catch the cool night breeze but about 2 a.m. it started to rain a bit. I turned on a weather app, saw a thin thunderstorm with heavy precipitation, told Christy it looked like the rain would pass us soon, and went back to sleep.
In hindsight I should have looked at the storm’s path instead of its size.
The thunderstorm didn’t pass us by. It hovered over us from the northwest to the southeast for nearly six hours, dumping six inches of rain onto us and raising the lake level noticeably by Saturday afternoon.
The good news is we found a few more new leaks to deal with. And, by 10 a.m. when we told our friends we would meet them, the rain had passed and the sun was out.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
requires adjustments
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It began when I got a whiff of what I thought was another dead mouse in our cupboard just off of the kitchen.
I was looking for a can of southwestern black beans with cumin to heat up with the chicken fajitas I was prepping so I could use up a red bell pepper and some bits of onions that were starting to go bad. I had to settle on a can of refried beans because we had used up all the black beans but the odor from the cupboard was distinct: something had gone bad.
It turned out the odor was coming from a five-pound bag of potatoes that was well on its way to rotten. Just a few days earlier I had salvaged a couple of Vidalia onions that had grown nasty because we — I — have been cooking less since the youngest has gone off to college and Christy and I are adjusting to just cooking for two again.
Along with how quiet the house has grown and how much easier it is to keep tidied up, meal time for two instead of two and an ever-hungry teen has been a noticeable change since the youngest headed off to college. Before, meal preparation was seemingly ongoing. What and when to cook were dictated by our daughter’s schedule. It took a bit of planning.
Now it seems meal planning has gone out the window in our household. Now, maybe once a week, we make ourselves a full meal once we decided we have a craving for something. The rest of the time we pick up a sandwich or order something from a restaurant.
Our diminished cooking means fewer leftovers. But it also means more of our food goes to waste as we readjust to a two-person household again. In the few days after I discovered the rotten potatoes I had to toss out a loaf of moldy bread, four squishy cucumbers, and about three-fourths of a gallon milk that expired almost a month ago. I’m not a fan of wasting food but I know we’re still in the transition stage.
We’re getting there though. We’re buying fewer fresh vegetables and fruit, adjusting our grocery shopping so that we use what we buy before it goes bad. And that, of course, has cut down drastically on our grocery bill.
But saving a few dollars on groceries is only one of the advantages of just cooking for two. Now, since I’m the only in the household who still eats ice cream, I don’t have to be surprised to find we’re out of it when I get a craving.
•••
Weather can seem simple but it rarely is. A recent night on the lake is a good example.
Christy and I had planned to take a couple of Kansas City area friends with us out on the boat over Labor Day so we looked at wind predictions, temperature, and rain percentages. With a brief overnight forecast for rain, we expected a few showers Friday night before we met up with friends the next day.
Went to bed after too many cocktails with our lake family that night and went to bed on the boat, leaving the hatch open to catch the cool night breeze but about 2 a.m. it started to rain a bit. I turned on a weather app, saw a thin thunderstorm with heavy precipitation, told Christy it looked like the rain would pass us soon, and went back to sleep.
In hindsight I should have looked at the storm’s path instead of its size.
The thunderstorm didn’t pass us by. It hovered over us from the northwest to the southeast for nearly six hours, dumping six inches of rain onto us and raising the lake level noticeably by Saturday afternoon.
The good news is we found a few more new leaks to deal with. And, by 10 a.m. when we told our friends we would meet them, the rain had passed and the sun was out.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
College begins post-COVID-19
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
By the time you read this Christy and I will be empty nesters.
This week we took our youngest daughter Allison to Missouri State University in Springfield where she will be attending college with her sister as well as a few high school classmates.
Though the change sounds straight forward, the transition has been anything but simple, especially the last few months when what should have been a typical senior year for our recent high school graduate was upended by COVID-19. The excitement of visiting college campuses, meeting and mingling with others anxious to begin their college educations, and orientation at a new school have happened with social distancing and mask wearing concerns.
Even moving into a dorm room was unlike any we’ve experienced. We were given a time to move in and an hour to do it so that there was little chance of spreading a virus to our daughter’s suitemates and their parents on moving day.
We’re not sure what college life is going to mean for Allison. She finished high school by distance learning from home, buying a dress she didn’t get to wear to senior prom, and receiving her diploma in a graduation ceremony that was weeks after it was originally scheduled. Her senior year ended in a way never imagined, far different from what she thought of in elementary school, middle school, and high school.
Now that Allison has moved on to the next chapter in her life, I’m sure MSU is also going to be different than she imagined. But with all the COVID-19 screenings, the wearing of masks on campus, and contingency plans for isolation/quarantine, I only hope she gets to experience a bit of what “normal college life” is like as we pack her belongings, head 260 miles south, drop her off in her dorm, and wish her well.
For the last 18 years of her life Allison has been preparing for this new adventure. She’s been overcoming setbacks and challenges since day one. Christy and I are confident in her success no matter what college brings.
• • •
And FYI — Those of you who use social media to contact the Free Press need to be aware that since late May or early June we have been unable to access our Facebook page.
I can reach the admin page but am unable to advance beyond it. That means that until the issue is resolved we can no longer update the Facebook page, check messages, or use Facebook to communicate in any way.
So, if you need to reach us at the Free Press, don’t rely on social media. Shoot us an email or give us a call instead. And if you have sent messages via Facebook we are not ignoring you. We just unable to respond at this time.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
By the time you read this Christy and I will be empty nesters.
This week we took our youngest daughter Allison to Missouri State University in Springfield where she will be attending college with her sister as well as a few high school classmates.
Though the change sounds straight forward, the transition has been anything but simple, especially the last few months when what should have been a typical senior year for our recent high school graduate was upended by COVID-19. The excitement of visiting college campuses, meeting and mingling with others anxious to begin their college educations, and orientation at a new school have happened with social distancing and mask wearing concerns.
Even moving into a dorm room was unlike any we’ve experienced. We were given a time to move in and an hour to do it so that there was little chance of spreading a virus to our daughter’s suitemates and their parents on moving day.
We’re not sure what college life is going to mean for Allison. She finished high school by distance learning from home, buying a dress she didn’t get to wear to senior prom, and receiving her diploma in a graduation ceremony that was weeks after it was originally scheduled. Her senior year ended in a way never imagined, far different from what she thought of in elementary school, middle school, and high school.
Now that Allison has moved on to the next chapter in her life, I’m sure MSU is also going to be different than she imagined. But with all the COVID-19 screenings, the wearing of masks on campus, and contingency plans for isolation/quarantine, I only hope she gets to experience a bit of what “normal college life” is like as we pack her belongings, head 260 miles south, drop her off in her dorm, and wish her well.
For the last 18 years of her life Allison has been preparing for this new adventure. She’s been overcoming setbacks and challenges since day one. Christy and I are confident in her success no matter what college brings.
• • •
And FYI — Those of you who use social media to contact the Free Press need to be aware that since late May or early June we have been unable to access our Facebook page.
I can reach the admin page but am unable to advance beyond it. That means that until the issue is resolved we can no longer update the Facebook page, check messages, or use Facebook to communicate in any way.
So, if you need to reach us at the Free Press, don’t rely on social media. Shoot us an email or give us a call instead. And if you have sent messages via Facebook we are not ignoring you. We just unable to respond at this time.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].

High school comes
to non-traditional end
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Our youngest, Allison, has officially entered early adulthood.
On June 21 she and 24 fellow classmates donned caps and gowns, walked into a stuffy gymnasium to the tune of “Pomp and Circumstance,” and crossed a stage to receive their high school diplomas.
The ceremony, as you might imagine, was the oddest graduation I have ever attended. There was no need to arrive early to save enough seats for family, no jostling through the crowd as we entered the gym, no performance by the high school band. Instead there was plenty of parking at the high school, most of those attending remained at a respectful distance, and digital music was played over the public address system.
Instead of a gym packed shoulder to shoulder with family, friends, recent graduates, community members, and teachers, each graduate was given a designated table with seating for eight. There were no student greeters handing out commencement programs at the door, and hugs and handshakes were limited.
Sure, commencement included speeches from the salutatorian and valedictorian, a featured speaker, recognition of scholarship recipients, and the presentation of diplomas on the stage but the ceremony ended with only a couple of caps tossed in celebration.
The excitement graduation typically brings was modest. There were still tears, applause, and congratulations but it was as if after waiting a month for the school year to end officially for the seniors, the graduates were more ready to just get it over with than celebrate.
The parties, too, were different, especially for us. Instead of trying to find beds for a dozen or more family members and preparing food days in advance, we smoked a single chicken and made a pot of chili verde for Allison and her older sister Hannah, the only family member who attended graduation with us.
As with almost everything this year, graduation ended far differently than any of us expected. Regardless, Allison was all thumbs-up with smiles, laughter, and jokes before, during, and after commencement. Our plans are to celebrate her graduation with family later this summer when she joins her sister Hannah at Missouri State University in Springfield, Mo.
In the meantime, Allison will spend summer at the pool as a lifeguard and visit Washington, D.C., with one of her friends before heading back to studies this fall.
Right now we have no idea what college for her will look like but are hoping it’s more traditional than her graduation.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
to non-traditional end
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Our youngest, Allison, has officially entered early adulthood.
On June 21 she and 24 fellow classmates donned caps and gowns, walked into a stuffy gymnasium to the tune of “Pomp and Circumstance,” and crossed a stage to receive their high school diplomas.
The ceremony, as you might imagine, was the oddest graduation I have ever attended. There was no need to arrive early to save enough seats for family, no jostling through the crowd as we entered the gym, no performance by the high school band. Instead there was plenty of parking at the high school, most of those attending remained at a respectful distance, and digital music was played over the public address system.
Instead of a gym packed shoulder to shoulder with family, friends, recent graduates, community members, and teachers, each graduate was given a designated table with seating for eight. There were no student greeters handing out commencement programs at the door, and hugs and handshakes were limited.
Sure, commencement included speeches from the salutatorian and valedictorian, a featured speaker, recognition of scholarship recipients, and the presentation of diplomas on the stage but the ceremony ended with only a couple of caps tossed in celebration.
The excitement graduation typically brings was modest. There were still tears, applause, and congratulations but it was as if after waiting a month for the school year to end officially for the seniors, the graduates were more ready to just get it over with than celebrate.
The parties, too, were different, especially for us. Instead of trying to find beds for a dozen or more family members and preparing food days in advance, we smoked a single chicken and made a pot of chili verde for Allison and her older sister Hannah, the only family member who attended graduation with us.
As with almost everything this year, graduation ended far differently than any of us expected. Regardless, Allison was all thumbs-up with smiles, laughter, and jokes before, during, and after commencement. Our plans are to celebrate her graduation with family later this summer when she joins her sister Hannah at Missouri State University in Springfield, Mo.
In the meantime, Allison will spend summer at the pool as a lifeguard and visit Washington, D.C., with one of her friends before heading back to studies this fall.
Right now we have no idea what college for her will look like but are hoping it’s more traditional than her graduation.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Congratulations
and good luck seniors
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Friday would have been our youngest daughter Allison’s high school graduation.
Instead it was a parade with just over a dozen cars and trucks led by our county sheriff in his patrol car and a fire truck on a route four times as long as our town’s typical graduation parade for the smallest crowd I had ever seen.
High school and college graduations this spring will be talked about for decades because of their departure from the norm.
Of course expectations are rarely as imagined, just ask the class of 2020. I doubt any of high school senior expected to miss spring sports and prom, finish up the last semester of classwork from home, or be awarded a diploma anywhere other than inside a stuffy gymnasium.
And yet that is where we are right now, adapting to a post COVID-19 world and still hoping to celebrate traditional milestones such as graduation. Salutatorians, valedictorians, and graduation speakers everywhere won’t have to look far to find a topic for their speeches.
As unique as graduation 2020 seems, seniors can take what the pandemic has taught us and use it as they complete high school and move on to the next stage of their life. The COVID-19 guidelines we’ve received over the last few weeks are applicable far beyond limiting the spread of a virus.
Wash your hands, for instance, is something all parents tell their children form a young age. Washing your hands is primarily for health but, when done properly following the 20-second rule, it can also reminds us to slow down, focus for a few seconds, and take care of the little things in life. After all, life is mostly about taking care of the little things, which are quite often the big things.
Stay close to your family and friends, but not too close. Social distancing and six feet are the new norms but a bit of space and time away from the familiar allows you to try new things, discover new interests, enjoy time alone, and possibly meet new friends with different backgrounds, ideas, and beliefs — even at a distance of six feet.
Get outside. Go for a walk. In fact, walk everywhere you can. I’ve seen more and more people walking since COVID-19 restrictions have gone into place but the benefits of walking — physical, mental, and spiritual — have been in place long before any restrictions. Plus, if you’re a dog owner, you’re making yourself and your pet happier and healthier by taking a walk.
Eat your vegetables. OK, this isn’t really a COVID-19 guideline but dining out has changed, at least for the immediate future, but it’s also a good time to try something new. Go ahead and enjoy your comfort foods but sample things you’re curious about. Bake a pie, start your own sourdough, try that decadent recipe someone posted on Facebook. Being open to new things may lead to discovering a new favorite.
Graduation is the opportunity to learn and try new things. For the past few weeks COVID-19 has given us the same opportunity as we limit our contact, work from home, and reconnect in different ways.
Southwest Valley seniors will receive their diplomas May 16 during a graduation ceremony at the Timberwolves’ football field. Only graduates, parents, stepparents, or guardians will be allowed at the ceremony. Social distancing and other health precautions will be in place.
While the class of 2020’s graduation will be far from normal I hope seniors everywhere will realize normal takes place throughout most of our lives, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Graduation is something extraordinary, though, even more so this year.
The details of our daughter Allison’s graduation, which has been scheduled for June 21, are still forming but however it unfolds she, like SWV’s class of 2020, will remember the ceremony more distinctly than other graduating classes.
Our high school seniors have been thrown one of life’s curveballs. I hope they use this experience to better cope with and understand the many more curveballs they will experience.
Congratulations and good luck to graduates everywhere, however you celebrate.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
and good luck seniors
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Friday would have been our youngest daughter Allison’s high school graduation.
Instead it was a parade with just over a dozen cars and trucks led by our county sheriff in his patrol car and a fire truck on a route four times as long as our town’s typical graduation parade for the smallest crowd I had ever seen.
High school and college graduations this spring will be talked about for decades because of their departure from the norm.
Of course expectations are rarely as imagined, just ask the class of 2020. I doubt any of high school senior expected to miss spring sports and prom, finish up the last semester of classwork from home, or be awarded a diploma anywhere other than inside a stuffy gymnasium.
And yet that is where we are right now, adapting to a post COVID-19 world and still hoping to celebrate traditional milestones such as graduation. Salutatorians, valedictorians, and graduation speakers everywhere won’t have to look far to find a topic for their speeches.
As unique as graduation 2020 seems, seniors can take what the pandemic has taught us and use it as they complete high school and move on to the next stage of their life. The COVID-19 guidelines we’ve received over the last few weeks are applicable far beyond limiting the spread of a virus.
Wash your hands, for instance, is something all parents tell their children form a young age. Washing your hands is primarily for health but, when done properly following the 20-second rule, it can also reminds us to slow down, focus for a few seconds, and take care of the little things in life. After all, life is mostly about taking care of the little things, which are quite often the big things.
Stay close to your family and friends, but not too close. Social distancing and six feet are the new norms but a bit of space and time away from the familiar allows you to try new things, discover new interests, enjoy time alone, and possibly meet new friends with different backgrounds, ideas, and beliefs — even at a distance of six feet.
Get outside. Go for a walk. In fact, walk everywhere you can. I’ve seen more and more people walking since COVID-19 restrictions have gone into place but the benefits of walking — physical, mental, and spiritual — have been in place long before any restrictions. Plus, if you’re a dog owner, you’re making yourself and your pet happier and healthier by taking a walk.
Eat your vegetables. OK, this isn’t really a COVID-19 guideline but dining out has changed, at least for the immediate future, but it’s also a good time to try something new. Go ahead and enjoy your comfort foods but sample things you’re curious about. Bake a pie, start your own sourdough, try that decadent recipe someone posted on Facebook. Being open to new things may lead to discovering a new favorite.
Graduation is the opportunity to learn and try new things. For the past few weeks COVID-19 has given us the same opportunity as we limit our contact, work from home, and reconnect in different ways.
Southwest Valley seniors will receive their diplomas May 16 during a graduation ceremony at the Timberwolves’ football field. Only graduates, parents, stepparents, or guardians will be allowed at the ceremony. Social distancing and other health precautions will be in place.
While the class of 2020’s graduation will be far from normal I hope seniors everywhere will realize normal takes place throughout most of our lives, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Graduation is something extraordinary, though, even more so this year.
The details of our daughter Allison’s graduation, which has been scheduled for June 21, are still forming but however it unfolds she, like SWV’s class of 2020, will remember the ceremony more distinctly than other graduating classes.
Our high school seniors have been thrown one of life’s curveballs. I hope they use this experience to better cope with and understand the many more curveballs they will experience.
Congratulations and good luck to graduates everywhere, however you celebrate.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Consider what’s truly important
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
To say this year’s Mother’s Day is going to be different than those in the past is an understatement.
The last month and a half has been different from what nearly all of us have experienced.
I imagine many mothers will not receive Mother’s Day visits from their children and grandchildren because COVID-19 concerns, turning instead to social media during a time of social distancing.
It’s the social distancing aspect of this pandemic that I believe is raising levels of anxiety for many. We’re struck with uncertainty, about what’s safe, wondering if that stranger who just brushed past us in the grocery store is a possible COVID-19 carrier.
So much of what we’ve long turned to for comfort have been restricted. The handshakes, the hugs, the human contact that bring so much happiness have become — for the least — not recommended. But those things are also the hallmarks of humanity.
Our routines have been altered unlike most of us have ever experienced. Coffee breaks with friends, worship with church family, recess with classmates — all radically changed by a virus that is making its way around the world.
Our lives have become limited by something we can’t see and can’t control by something few of us have imagined. And yet outside our windows, as winter turns to spring and summer slowly approaches, we see so many familiar things that we also can’t control — grass growing, flowers blooming, birds returning, things that comfort us.
With all the disruptions COVID-19 has brought us it has also given us time to reflect on ourselves, our nation, our world. When it is over, we need to shore up the shortcomings the virus has exposed — our health care system, our food supply chain, our economy.
When this is all over, I hope we use it as an opportunity to improve our world. In the meantime, we can use it to consider what’s truly important to us.
Our youngest, whose high school senior year has been turned upside down, reminds Christy and I a person needs 12 hugs a day for healthy growth. I’ll admit we’re not meeting the 12-per-day requirement but we are more aware of it and hugs have been on the rise in our household.
There will be fewer hugs this Mother’s Day, at least on May 10, 2020. Later on, after social distancing returns to personal preference instead of a health guideline, I suspect we’ll see a greater appreciation of hugs.
Hug your mother if you can this Sunday. And if you can’t, hug those you love who you can. Then wish Mom a happy Mother’s Day — on her doorstep, by phone, by Facetime — in any way you can.
Happy Mother’s Day.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
To say this year’s Mother’s Day is going to be different than those in the past is an understatement.
The last month and a half has been different from what nearly all of us have experienced.
I imagine many mothers will not receive Mother’s Day visits from their children and grandchildren because COVID-19 concerns, turning instead to social media during a time of social distancing.
It’s the social distancing aspect of this pandemic that I believe is raising levels of anxiety for many. We’re struck with uncertainty, about what’s safe, wondering if that stranger who just brushed past us in the grocery store is a possible COVID-19 carrier.
So much of what we’ve long turned to for comfort have been restricted. The handshakes, the hugs, the human contact that bring so much happiness have become — for the least — not recommended. But those things are also the hallmarks of humanity.
Our routines have been altered unlike most of us have ever experienced. Coffee breaks with friends, worship with church family, recess with classmates — all radically changed by a virus that is making its way around the world.
Our lives have become limited by something we can’t see and can’t control by something few of us have imagined. And yet outside our windows, as winter turns to spring and summer slowly approaches, we see so many familiar things that we also can’t control — grass growing, flowers blooming, birds returning, things that comfort us.
With all the disruptions COVID-19 has brought us it has also given us time to reflect on ourselves, our nation, our world. When it is over, we need to shore up the shortcomings the virus has exposed — our health care system, our food supply chain, our economy.
When this is all over, I hope we use it as an opportunity to improve our world. In the meantime, we can use it to consider what’s truly important to us.
Our youngest, whose high school senior year has been turned upside down, reminds Christy and I a person needs 12 hugs a day for healthy growth. I’ll admit we’re not meeting the 12-per-day requirement but we are more aware of it and hugs have been on the rise in our household.
There will be fewer hugs this Mother’s Day, at least on May 10, 2020. Later on, after social distancing returns to personal preference instead of a health guideline, I suspect we’ll see a greater appreciation of hugs.
Hug your mother if you can this Sunday. And if you can’t, hug those you love who you can. Then wish Mom a happy Mother’s Day — on her doorstep, by phone, by Facetime — in any way you can.
Happy Mother’s Day.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Celebrate the class of 2020
Christy's Corner
Christy Groves
Senior year is a special time marked by many last moments.
The last game, the last homecoming, the last prom — all-leading up to the grande, finale graduation.
All that change in the middle of March when COVID-19 made it necessary to close schools and cancel many of these final moments. Due to the virus, this year’s seniors will in all likelihood be the class of lost boys and girls.
As the parent of a senior I too have been uncertain of how to proceed. Do I try to take back the perfect prom dress, the one that even came with pockets, the one that was to be the pinnacle of all prom dresses or do I let it remain in the closet hanging as a constant reminder of final moments that may never come? Do I cancel the venue for the graduation party or do I hold out hope? To send or not to send the graduation invitations, that is now the question.
The school has done what it can to make these final moments as special as possible. In our town they have put signs in all the seniors’ yards and had poster-sized cap-and-gown photos made of all the grads but despite their best efforts it will never be the same.
Here in Corning graduation will proceed on May 16 but with significant changes. It will be held at the football field and only seniors’ immediate families can attend and they will have to have their temperature checked before entering. Somehow the cap, gown, and mask ceremony just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
One tradition that can remain the same is the Free Press’s graduation section. We urge any seniors who haven’t done so already to get their senior pictures and biographies into the Free Press. We will be sending out emails on Thursday to local businesses with a list of this year’s seniors who are looking for sponsors. It is a small thing but every bit of normal we can bring to a senior year that has been anything but normal is a step in the right direction.
In the years to come I am sure this will be a story our seniors will regale to their children and grandchildren, a story about the senior year that wasn’t, but for now I think we just do what small communities always do in times of trouble — we band together, we do what we can for our students, and make the best of a situation that no one has any control over.
Christy Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Christy's Corner
Christy Groves
Senior year is a special time marked by many last moments.
The last game, the last homecoming, the last prom — all-leading up to the grande, finale graduation.
All that change in the middle of March when COVID-19 made it necessary to close schools and cancel many of these final moments. Due to the virus, this year’s seniors will in all likelihood be the class of lost boys and girls.
As the parent of a senior I too have been uncertain of how to proceed. Do I try to take back the perfect prom dress, the one that even came with pockets, the one that was to be the pinnacle of all prom dresses or do I let it remain in the closet hanging as a constant reminder of final moments that may never come? Do I cancel the venue for the graduation party or do I hold out hope? To send or not to send the graduation invitations, that is now the question.
The school has done what it can to make these final moments as special as possible. In our town they have put signs in all the seniors’ yards and had poster-sized cap-and-gown photos made of all the grads but despite their best efforts it will never be the same.
Here in Corning graduation will proceed on May 16 but with significant changes. It will be held at the football field and only seniors’ immediate families can attend and they will have to have their temperature checked before entering. Somehow the cap, gown, and mask ceremony just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
One tradition that can remain the same is the Free Press’s graduation section. We urge any seniors who haven’t done so already to get their senior pictures and biographies into the Free Press. We will be sending out emails on Thursday to local businesses with a list of this year’s seniors who are looking for sponsors. It is a small thing but every bit of normal we can bring to a senior year that has been anything but normal is a step in the right direction.
In the years to come I am sure this will be a story our seniors will regale to their children and grandchildren, a story about the senior year that wasn’t, but for now I think we just do what small communities always do in times of trouble — we band together, we do what we can for our students, and make the best of a situation that no one has any control over.
Christy Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
We are all in flux
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
March 17 was one of the more unusual days I’ve experienced since becoming a reporter in 1989.
I knew that news about COVID-19 was in a constant flux so over the March 14-15 weekend I prepped for the March 19 Free Press as I normally did but waited until deadline day to tackle front page news items.
On that Sunday, Gov. Kim Reynolds recommended that Iowa schools close for four weeks. Soon after, Southwest Valley announced the closing of all campuses.
My plan March 17 was to take the COVID-19 info I had and update it as press time neared. Little did I realize how difficult trying to keep with new information would be. I had almost finished with a story about the school and limited access to the Adams County Courthouse when Reynolds issued a State of Public Health Disaster Emergency, limiting public gatherings to 10 people or fewer and limiting restaurants, bars, and similar businesses to carry-out and delivery only.
Then, after we had already gone to press, the Board of Supervisors sent out updated information announcing the closing of the courthouse to the public and business being conducted via phone or email.
The number of reported COVID-19 cases in Iowa has nearly doubled from March 17’s 23 to 124 at the time of this writing on March 24. Our neighbor to the north of Adams County, Adair County, has one reported case.
Since last week I’ve talked to our local restaurant owners to find out about what they’re doing under COVID-19. That too was more difficult than I imagined due to concerns and changing reaction to the virus and what they mean for the community.
About the only certainty of this pandemic is that even self-isolated we are all in flux. Every day brings new information, new cases, new concerns. Staying at home isn’t difficult but uncertainty can be.
Precautions here at the Free Press have been relatively straight forward. Our desks are situated about twice the recommended 6-foot safe personal space recommended by the Centers for Disease Control and disinfectant is now a part of our public space.
We plan to keep track of how many visitors we get over the next few days and may consider limiting our hours/days open. Except for delivery day, Wednesday, we can conduct almost all of our business remotely but we don’t want to inconvenience our customers.
In the meantime, we will work to keep you posted about COVID-19, precautions, and community information.
For now, hang in there and stay well. We will get through this.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
March 17 was one of the more unusual days I’ve experienced since becoming a reporter in 1989.
I knew that news about COVID-19 was in a constant flux so over the March 14-15 weekend I prepped for the March 19 Free Press as I normally did but waited until deadline day to tackle front page news items.
On that Sunday, Gov. Kim Reynolds recommended that Iowa schools close for four weeks. Soon after, Southwest Valley announced the closing of all campuses.
My plan March 17 was to take the COVID-19 info I had and update it as press time neared. Little did I realize how difficult trying to keep with new information would be. I had almost finished with a story about the school and limited access to the Adams County Courthouse when Reynolds issued a State of Public Health Disaster Emergency, limiting public gatherings to 10 people or fewer and limiting restaurants, bars, and similar businesses to carry-out and delivery only.
Then, after we had already gone to press, the Board of Supervisors sent out updated information announcing the closing of the courthouse to the public and business being conducted via phone or email.
The number of reported COVID-19 cases in Iowa has nearly doubled from March 17’s 23 to 124 at the time of this writing on March 24. Our neighbor to the north of Adams County, Adair County, has one reported case.
Since last week I’ve talked to our local restaurant owners to find out about what they’re doing under COVID-19. That too was more difficult than I imagined due to concerns and changing reaction to the virus and what they mean for the community.
About the only certainty of this pandemic is that even self-isolated we are all in flux. Every day brings new information, new cases, new concerns. Staying at home isn’t difficult but uncertainty can be.
Precautions here at the Free Press have been relatively straight forward. Our desks are situated about twice the recommended 6-foot safe personal space recommended by the Centers for Disease Control and disinfectant is now a part of our public space.
We plan to keep track of how many visitors we get over the next few days and may consider limiting our hours/days open. Except for delivery day, Wednesday, we can conduct almost all of our business remotely but we don’t want to inconvenience our customers.
In the meantime, we will work to keep you posted about COVID-19, precautions, and community information.
For now, hang in there and stay well. We will get through this.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Spring, for the most part, is here
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Although spring is still about a week away on the calendar and the turkey vultures have yet to return to my backyard spring, as far as I’m concerned has officially arrived.
My new method of determining a season’s change involves socks. If I can do without wool socks and switch back to cotton, I consider it spring. When I can do without socks altogether — or shoes, for that matter — then I consider it summer. When it’s time to don cotton socks again, it’s fall. And if I have to pull out the wool socks and maybe even liner socks as well, it’s winter.
I’m happy to say I can now comfortably switch from wool socks to cotton socks. Yes, there might be a day or two coming up when wool socks may be required again (most notably Saturday when there’s a chance of snow in the forecast) but I’m happy to briefly revert to wool again.
I say spring has arrived. After all, the narcissuses poking through the ground are a good sign, even if they’re likely to be covered briefly by snow before Easter.
And while we’re on the topic of spring, can we just stop springing forward? I mean really, who are we trying to fool by arbitrarily changing the hands of a clock?
My sleep cycle has worked fine these last several months. My internal alarm clock wakes me daily to within minutes of 6 a.m. Now that Daylight Saving Time is here, I wake up an hour late at 7 a.m. instead of what I’m been accustomed.
Sunday morning, following the so-called “time change,” I wasn’t really sure what time it was when I awoke. My cell phone said 7 a.m. and the old-fashioned clock radio said 6 a.m.
And the dogs, well they were still on Central Standard Time and they were there at the bed to let me know it was 6 a.m. to them even though my cell phone read 7 a.m.
Dogs don’t care about Daylight Saving Time and neither do I.
• • •
The last few days brought a couple of last times to Christy’s and my life as parents.
On Sunday we saw out youngest daughter’s final high school theater production and then on Monday we attended our final high school parent/teacher conference.
Allison turns 18 this Thursday and graduates high school only eight weeks and a day later. And then three months later Christy and I will drop her off at college and return home to an empty house, something we haven’t experienced in a long time.
It’s going to be odd but we’re excited — both for the next stage in Allison’s life and for what the change will bring for us.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Although spring is still about a week away on the calendar and the turkey vultures have yet to return to my backyard spring, as far as I’m concerned has officially arrived.
My new method of determining a season’s change involves socks. If I can do without wool socks and switch back to cotton, I consider it spring. When I can do without socks altogether — or shoes, for that matter — then I consider it summer. When it’s time to don cotton socks again, it’s fall. And if I have to pull out the wool socks and maybe even liner socks as well, it’s winter.
I’m happy to say I can now comfortably switch from wool socks to cotton socks. Yes, there might be a day or two coming up when wool socks may be required again (most notably Saturday when there’s a chance of snow in the forecast) but I’m happy to briefly revert to wool again.
I say spring has arrived. After all, the narcissuses poking through the ground are a good sign, even if they’re likely to be covered briefly by snow before Easter.
And while we’re on the topic of spring, can we just stop springing forward? I mean really, who are we trying to fool by arbitrarily changing the hands of a clock?
My sleep cycle has worked fine these last several months. My internal alarm clock wakes me daily to within minutes of 6 a.m. Now that Daylight Saving Time is here, I wake up an hour late at 7 a.m. instead of what I’m been accustomed.
Sunday morning, following the so-called “time change,” I wasn’t really sure what time it was when I awoke. My cell phone said 7 a.m. and the old-fashioned clock radio said 6 a.m.
And the dogs, well they were still on Central Standard Time and they were there at the bed to let me know it was 6 a.m. to them even though my cell phone read 7 a.m.
Dogs don’t care about Daylight Saving Time and neither do I.
• • •
The last few days brought a couple of last times to Christy’s and my life as parents.
On Sunday we saw out youngest daughter’s final high school theater production and then on Monday we attended our final high school parent/teacher conference.
Allison turns 18 this Thursday and graduates high school only eight weeks and a day later. And then three months later Christy and I will drop her off at college and return home to an empty house, something we haven’t experienced in a long time.
It’s going to be odd but we’re excited — both for the next stage in Allison’s life and for what the change will bring for us.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Groceries aren’t what
they used to be
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Grocery shopping is one of life’s love/hate responsibilities.
Some seem to enjoy grocery shopping, the search for bargains, the coupon clipping, and all else it entails.
Others seem to do whatever they can to avoid the grocery store, putting off the shopping until the only things left in the house are cat food and a well-squeezed tube of toothpaste.
Me, I’m right in the middle. Sometimes I enjoy grocery shopping and other times I hate it.
Lately I’ve been enjoying it, mainly because our youngest daughter still has us on a weekly meal plan and I usually go to the store with her. Allison uses some app on her phone to pick out six meals and then we’re off to the store to buy what we need for the week.
As I said in an earlier column, most of the meals are tasty although a few of them are duds. We all agreed tilapia is one thing we can do without (I don’t even consider it fish, even though it claims to be).
The meal planning makes for healthier eating, at least for that one meal a day, and it also gives the appearance of saving money because we’re buying only what we need at the store. Unless, of course, I go along.
Like Allison, when I shop for groceries I use a list. But I also keep my eye open for bargains — 50 cent eggs, two for one butter, 10 cents Fuel Saver with a half-gallon of orange juice. Just the other day I found some spicy Thai chips for 50 cents and half off Valentine’s Day chocolate in the bargain bin. My daughter didn’t want me to get them but I got them anyway.
My fondness for bargain shopping at the grocery store dates back to Christy’s and my struggling student days. As grad students in Hattiesburg, Miss., Saturdays where typically grocery shopping days. And Saturdays usually meant our weekly one free meal, if you wanted to call it a meal.
Being a college town, Hattiesburg had a variety of grocery stories and Christy and I used that to full advantage by making the rounds on Saturday when the aisles were filled with employees handing out food samples. A stop at a store or three, depending on what samples were available, and we had one meal out of the week taken care of at nearly no cost.
Nowadays free food samples seem few and far between and a trip to the store means not a free meal but a $100 or so grocery bill.
And, if I go to the store with my daughter, she tries to keep me away from any free samples I might find.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected]
they used to be
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Grocery shopping is one of life’s love/hate responsibilities.
Some seem to enjoy grocery shopping, the search for bargains, the coupon clipping, and all else it entails.
Others seem to do whatever they can to avoid the grocery store, putting off the shopping until the only things left in the house are cat food and a well-squeezed tube of toothpaste.
Me, I’m right in the middle. Sometimes I enjoy grocery shopping and other times I hate it.
Lately I’ve been enjoying it, mainly because our youngest daughter still has us on a weekly meal plan and I usually go to the store with her. Allison uses some app on her phone to pick out six meals and then we’re off to the store to buy what we need for the week.
As I said in an earlier column, most of the meals are tasty although a few of them are duds. We all agreed tilapia is one thing we can do without (I don’t even consider it fish, even though it claims to be).
The meal planning makes for healthier eating, at least for that one meal a day, and it also gives the appearance of saving money because we’re buying only what we need at the store. Unless, of course, I go along.
Like Allison, when I shop for groceries I use a list. But I also keep my eye open for bargains — 50 cent eggs, two for one butter, 10 cents Fuel Saver with a half-gallon of orange juice. Just the other day I found some spicy Thai chips for 50 cents and half off Valentine’s Day chocolate in the bargain bin. My daughter didn’t want me to get them but I got them anyway.
My fondness for bargain shopping at the grocery store dates back to Christy’s and my struggling student days. As grad students in Hattiesburg, Miss., Saturdays where typically grocery shopping days. And Saturdays usually meant our weekly one free meal, if you wanted to call it a meal.
Being a college town, Hattiesburg had a variety of grocery stories and Christy and I used that to full advantage by making the rounds on Saturday when the aisles were filled with employees handing out food samples. A stop at a store or three, depending on what samples were available, and we had one meal out of the week taken care of at nearly no cost.
Nowadays free food samples seem few and far between and a trip to the store means not a free meal but a $100 or so grocery bill.
And, if I go to the store with my daughter, she tries to keep me away from any free samples I might find.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected]
Health kick creates hidden pleasure
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
We have to hide our drinking from our youngest daughter now.
It started on New Year’s Day when Allison called us all into the living and announced she was holding a family meeting.
Little did we know it was more of an intervention.
What our daughter had in mind was that we — as a family — start the new year off with a pledge to begin a healthier diet. I thought, OK, I could stand to get back on track with fewer hamburgers and less time in the cookie jar. Besides, the list of meals Allison shared even had several that sounded down-right tasty.
But then she let Christy and I know that her joint resolution to healthier lifestyle also included giving up our drinking: We would no longer drink soda.
I protested when Allison said we should all give up soda. I reminded her I drank one soda a day, tops, if that but she was insistent so I agreed to give up soda.
Giving up soda was not difficult, at least at home under the watchful eyes of our youngest daughter, but when it became lunch time here in Corning I discovered kicking the soda habit was a bit more challenging. Soda — Coke or Dr. Pepper to be more precise — was my mid-day pick me up and after just a few days of doing without I missed my meal-time boost.
Christy and I became co-conspirators, sneaking sodas while in Corning and vowing not to let our daughter know about our drinking habit. We joked about our daughter the health Nazi and how she had forced us to leave town if we wanted a soda or something not Allison approved. And we did so without guilt.
So far the healthier eating continues at our house and to tell the truth I feel better and more energetic but every few days I crave something sweet. Sunday, for example, I was craving not soda but instead pie and ice cream and when Allison got home from work that afternoon she reprimanded me for baking a pie (I didn’t tell her about the ice cream). She complained but I noticed a couple more slices gone from the pie.
Soda, it seems, is something I can leave or take but I still have a sweet tooth. That’s why for breakfast Monday, after Christy and Allison had left for a doctor’s appointment, I brewed a fresh pot of coffee, cut a slice of cherry pie and topped it with a couple of scoops of vanilla ice cream.
I didn’t let Allison know about it but I didn’t feel guilty about it either.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
We have to hide our drinking from our youngest daughter now.
It started on New Year’s Day when Allison called us all into the living and announced she was holding a family meeting.
Little did we know it was more of an intervention.
What our daughter had in mind was that we — as a family — start the new year off with a pledge to begin a healthier diet. I thought, OK, I could stand to get back on track with fewer hamburgers and less time in the cookie jar. Besides, the list of meals Allison shared even had several that sounded down-right tasty.
But then she let Christy and I know that her joint resolution to healthier lifestyle also included giving up our drinking: We would no longer drink soda.
I protested when Allison said we should all give up soda. I reminded her I drank one soda a day, tops, if that but she was insistent so I agreed to give up soda.
Giving up soda was not difficult, at least at home under the watchful eyes of our youngest daughter, but when it became lunch time here in Corning I discovered kicking the soda habit was a bit more challenging. Soda — Coke or Dr. Pepper to be more precise — was my mid-day pick me up and after just a few days of doing without I missed my meal-time boost.
Christy and I became co-conspirators, sneaking sodas while in Corning and vowing not to let our daughter know about our drinking habit. We joked about our daughter the health Nazi and how she had forced us to leave town if we wanted a soda or something not Allison approved. And we did so without guilt.
So far the healthier eating continues at our house and to tell the truth I feel better and more energetic but every few days I crave something sweet. Sunday, for example, I was craving not soda but instead pie and ice cream and when Allison got home from work that afternoon she reprimanded me for baking a pie (I didn’t tell her about the ice cream). She complained but I noticed a couple more slices gone from the pie.
Soda, it seems, is something I can leave or take but I still have a sweet tooth. That’s why for breakfast Monday, after Christy and Allison had left for a doctor’s appointment, I brewed a fresh pot of coffee, cut a slice of cherry pie and topped it with a couple of scoops of vanilla ice cream.
I didn’t let Allison know about it but I didn’t feel guilty about it either.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
2019 ends with dog days
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
And just like that, Christmas and 2019 were over.
Christmas ended for us officially Sunday when Christy and I wish our daughter Hannah, her boyfriend, and their less than house-trained dog safe travels back to Springfield, Mo. Then, about an hour later Allison, our youngest, headed off to work and the house went quiet again.
It had been a bit chaotic since the Monday before when our college-aged daughter arrived to spend a week of Christmas break with us. It was good to have her back with us again, even though caring for her dog Scout was more of challenge than we expected.
My attempts to get Scout to do as a house-trained dog should met with less than 50 percent success. By day two I was yelling at my daughter she had another mess to clean up. Again.
By the third day I’d given up trying to get Scout to take care of business outside when I took our own two dogs out. Instead I left Hannah in full control, although I did take Scout outside with the rest of the pack.
The dog issues all but disappeared after I relinquished control. I’ve got a feeling Scout is still less than fully house-trained, but that’s something Hannah will have to deal with.
So 2019 and Christmas ended for us with dog days, but not those sweltering dog days of summer. I’m not sure what 2020 will bring but I hopes it brings us more family time together. It’s good to break up peace and quiet with a bit of chaos time together brings, even if it means a bit more work.
The new year will also bring the high school graduation of our youngest and truly empty nest. And 2020 also brings my 40-year high school reunion. That alone is probably more mind boggling than the last few years have brought.
Happy New Year’s to you all.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
And just like that, Christmas and 2019 were over.
Christmas ended for us officially Sunday when Christy and I wish our daughter Hannah, her boyfriend, and their less than house-trained dog safe travels back to Springfield, Mo. Then, about an hour later Allison, our youngest, headed off to work and the house went quiet again.
It had been a bit chaotic since the Monday before when our college-aged daughter arrived to spend a week of Christmas break with us. It was good to have her back with us again, even though caring for her dog Scout was more of challenge than we expected.
My attempts to get Scout to do as a house-trained dog should met with less than 50 percent success. By day two I was yelling at my daughter she had another mess to clean up. Again.
By the third day I’d given up trying to get Scout to take care of business outside when I took our own two dogs out. Instead I left Hannah in full control, although I did take Scout outside with the rest of the pack.
The dog issues all but disappeared after I relinquished control. I’ve got a feeling Scout is still less than fully house-trained, but that’s something Hannah will have to deal with.
So 2019 and Christmas ended for us with dog days, but not those sweltering dog days of summer. I’m not sure what 2020 will bring but I hopes it brings us more family time together. It’s good to break up peace and quiet with a bit of chaos time together brings, even if it means a bit more work.
The new year will also bring the high school graduation of our youngest and truly empty nest. And 2020 also brings my 40-year high school reunion. That alone is probably more mind boggling than the last few years have brought.
Happy New Year’s to you all.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Share the winter excitement
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
The snow is still falling and my toes cold following a trip with the dogs to recycle.
Winter, though technically yet to arrive on the calendar, is not as enjoyable as it was when I was younger.
Maybe it’s poor blood circulation that’s come on since I’ve aged or perhaps it’s the dread that this afternoon will be the first of many spent shoveling snow over the next few months.
Or, possibly, winter is less welcome because our children have grown older and the excitement snow used to bring to our household — the bundling in warm clothes, the sledding and snowmen, the hot cocoa that warms hands and red faces following winter play outside — has given way to more adult responsibilities. Our youngest will be going to work at Hy-Vee in a couple of hours instead of gathering sleds and gloves and stocking caps as she did when she was younger.
The grandkids live too far away to just meet up with them for an afternoon of winter play and maybe bake cookies to warm up afterward. Instead I’ll just drink coffee, put on another pair of socks, and get ready for the snow shovel.
It’s December and what’s falling outside my window is to be expected. Christmas is just a week away and over the weekend my wife and our families will share the excitement winter — and especially Christmas — brings.
Four generations will celebrate at my folks’ house and three generations at Christy’s parents. From 3 years old and up we’ll count our blessings yet again, share jokes and laughter and memories, and enjoy that time of winter when we can reflect, relax, and be grateful.
I hope you all have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
The snow is still falling and my toes cold following a trip with the dogs to recycle.
Winter, though technically yet to arrive on the calendar, is not as enjoyable as it was when I was younger.
Maybe it’s poor blood circulation that’s come on since I’ve aged or perhaps it’s the dread that this afternoon will be the first of many spent shoveling snow over the next few months.
Or, possibly, winter is less welcome because our children have grown older and the excitement snow used to bring to our household — the bundling in warm clothes, the sledding and snowmen, the hot cocoa that warms hands and red faces following winter play outside — has given way to more adult responsibilities. Our youngest will be going to work at Hy-Vee in a couple of hours instead of gathering sleds and gloves and stocking caps as she did when she was younger.
The grandkids live too far away to just meet up with them for an afternoon of winter play and maybe bake cookies to warm up afterward. Instead I’ll just drink coffee, put on another pair of socks, and get ready for the snow shovel.
It’s December and what’s falling outside my window is to be expected. Christmas is just a week away and over the weekend my wife and our families will share the excitement winter — and especially Christmas — brings.
Four generations will celebrate at my folks’ house and three generations at Christy’s parents. From 3 years old and up we’ll count our blessings yet again, share jokes and laughter and memories, and enjoy that time of winter when we can reflect, relax, and be grateful.
I hope you all have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Even moving can bring gratitude
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
November has brought us plenty of road time.
I’m not talking about our 150-mile round trip from Albany, Mo., to Corning to put out the Free Press each week. I’m talking about 300-mile trips one way.
Our most recent trip was to Bella Vista, Ark. My in-laws decided it was time to downsize and find a home that didn’t require as much yard maintenance. I can’t say that I blame them as I spend another weekend putting off mowing the lawn one last time now that most of the leaves have fallen but that’s just my procrastination and another topic entirely.
Anyway my wife’s parents asked us for help in moving their household items from Bella Vista about 70 miles northeast to Monett, Mo., so about a week ago we headed south to load a U-Haul and about a half dozen other vehicles to make the move.
Amazingly, the move went smoothly. No broken items, nothing left behind, even the weather was enjoyable. I can confidently say it was the easiest move I have ever done. Why? Because my in-laws had everything boxed up and ready to go. All my brother-in-law and I had to do was make it all fit in the back of the moving truck. And, since my two nephews helping us are high school football players, I didn’t even have to lift anything heavy if I didn’t want to.
Moving my in-laws was far different than most moves I’ve helped. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve offered my help (more accurately, being volun-told to help because I own a truck), being assured everything was packed and all I had to do was help load it only to discover a room or two full of loose items and not enough packing boxes. Not fun.
That, however, is behind us now and this week we’ll make another 300-mile one-way trip, this time for a turkey dinner at my folks’ house with all my kids, grandkids, brother, sister, niece, and nephews. And we won’t have to move anything this trip.
But that won’t be the case in the coming weeks when we once again head south, this time to move our college-age daughter from one apartment to a new one in Springfield, Mo.
Somehow I doubt our daughter will be as organized are her grandparents were in packing for her move but I guess we’ll deal with what we get. The good news is she’s only lived in her old apartment about a year so there will be fewer items to pack and she’s only moving a few miles away.
It will be OK. I’m grateful I can help but even more so I’m grateful my family wants my help.
Have a safe and happy Thanksgiving.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
November has brought us plenty of road time.
I’m not talking about our 150-mile round trip from Albany, Mo., to Corning to put out the Free Press each week. I’m talking about 300-mile trips one way.
Our most recent trip was to Bella Vista, Ark. My in-laws decided it was time to downsize and find a home that didn’t require as much yard maintenance. I can’t say that I blame them as I spend another weekend putting off mowing the lawn one last time now that most of the leaves have fallen but that’s just my procrastination and another topic entirely.
Anyway my wife’s parents asked us for help in moving their household items from Bella Vista about 70 miles northeast to Monett, Mo., so about a week ago we headed south to load a U-Haul and about a half dozen other vehicles to make the move.
Amazingly, the move went smoothly. No broken items, nothing left behind, even the weather was enjoyable. I can confidently say it was the easiest move I have ever done. Why? Because my in-laws had everything boxed up and ready to go. All my brother-in-law and I had to do was make it all fit in the back of the moving truck. And, since my two nephews helping us are high school football players, I didn’t even have to lift anything heavy if I didn’t want to.
Moving my in-laws was far different than most moves I’ve helped. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve offered my help (more accurately, being volun-told to help because I own a truck), being assured everything was packed and all I had to do was help load it only to discover a room or two full of loose items and not enough packing boxes. Not fun.
That, however, is behind us now and this week we’ll make another 300-mile one-way trip, this time for a turkey dinner at my folks’ house with all my kids, grandkids, brother, sister, niece, and nephews. And we won’t have to move anything this trip.
But that won’t be the case in the coming weeks when we once again head south, this time to move our college-age daughter from one apartment to a new one in Springfield, Mo.
Somehow I doubt our daughter will be as organized are her grandparents were in packing for her move but I guess we’ll deal with what we get. The good news is she’s only lived in her old apartment about a year so there will be fewer items to pack and she’s only moving a few miles away.
It will be OK. I’m grateful I can help but even more so I’m grateful my family wants my help.
Have a safe and happy Thanksgiving.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Homecoming means
hometown pride
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It’s hard to believe homecoming is this week but here it is.
And, as with each year, there are a variety of events to show your home town spirit, whatever your age.
For some, like Southwest Valley’s younger students, this may be the first homecoming they’re part of homecoming royalty or the first homecoming game as part of the high school team. This week they’ll bond with classmates during the pep rally, parade, coronation, and Friday’s game with Clarinda. It can be an exciting time, one that can create memories that can last a lifetime.
For others, like those who graduated high school recently or decades ago, homecoming has a different meaning. It’s more of a time to reconnect, a time to share their hometown pride, reminisce about their alma mater, and let the younger ones know that school spirit never ends.
Living some 300 miles away from my old high school, it’s been years since I’ve attended a homecoming there. And with all but one of our children out on their own and living in different school districts, keeping up with Forsyth Panthers sports is another thing I really haven’t done.
I still stay in touch with many of my high school classmates, though, and have even gotten together with some of them from time to time. All of them have changed, at least physically, but when we have gotten together the laughter and the memories are still strong.
In just a couple of weeks following Southwest Valley’s homecoming our youngest, now a senior, will take part in her final high school homecoming as she and her classmates work on a skit, build a float for the homecoming parade, and share in the excitement homecoming week brings. I’m sure when the time gets here there will be a lot of mixed emotions from senior parents, this one included.
I’m sure there will be plenty of the same going on this week at Southwest Valley. Students, parents, and graduates of all ages will be sharing a part of their lives and their hometown pride in a way that is common and yet unique in communities all over the United States.
Go Timberwolves!
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
hometown pride
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It’s hard to believe homecoming is this week but here it is.
And, as with each year, there are a variety of events to show your home town spirit, whatever your age.
For some, like Southwest Valley’s younger students, this may be the first homecoming they’re part of homecoming royalty or the first homecoming game as part of the high school team. This week they’ll bond with classmates during the pep rally, parade, coronation, and Friday’s game with Clarinda. It can be an exciting time, one that can create memories that can last a lifetime.
For others, like those who graduated high school recently or decades ago, homecoming has a different meaning. It’s more of a time to reconnect, a time to share their hometown pride, reminisce about their alma mater, and let the younger ones know that school spirit never ends.
Living some 300 miles away from my old high school, it’s been years since I’ve attended a homecoming there. And with all but one of our children out on their own and living in different school districts, keeping up with Forsyth Panthers sports is another thing I really haven’t done.
I still stay in touch with many of my high school classmates, though, and have even gotten together with some of them from time to time. All of them have changed, at least physically, but when we have gotten together the laughter and the memories are still strong.
In just a couple of weeks following Southwest Valley’s homecoming our youngest, now a senior, will take part in her final high school homecoming as she and her classmates work on a skit, build a float for the homecoming parade, and share in the excitement homecoming week brings. I’m sure when the time gets here there will be a lot of mixed emotions from senior parents, this one included.
I’m sure there will be plenty of the same going on this week at Southwest Valley. Students, parents, and graduates of all ages will be sharing a part of their lives and their hometown pride in a way that is common and yet unique in communities all over the United States.
Go Timberwolves!
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Boating improves patience
and the nautical vocabulary
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Owning a sailboat is great way to practice patience.
It’s also a good way to understand where the old saying “swear like a sailor” comes from.
I know all this from experience. More than 25 years ago I bought my first sailboat, a little Sunfish about 13 feet long that could hold two at the most. It weighed just a little over 100 pounds, including the mast, boom, rudder, tiller, and sail. It was fast and a lot of fun in any sort of wind.
The Sunfish was a good boat to learn to sail but it wasn’t much for teaching patience. You could have it rigged and on the water in 15 minutes or less. And, if the wind died down, it was light enough to let you get back to shore with little problem. So, no long after buying the Sunfish, Christy and I upgraded (Add, I should say. We held onto the Sunfish for a while.) bought a Venture 222, a trailerable boat with a cabin and pop top that slept four if two of those were toddlers or younger.
The Venture taught me a lot of patience and a growing nautical vocabulary. I quickly learned why it’s important to wait for a favorable weather forecast. I learned all about stepping a mast and attaching a boom, about stays, shrouds, and spreaders. I learned that launching a 22-foot boat takes much longer than a 13-foot boat and if that launch involves two toddlers the launch can seem interminable. And I learned all the sailors’ favorite words as well as coming up with a few of my own when operating a fussy outboard.
We sold that boat about 15 years ago, just before we moved to Albany, Mo. But earlier this summer, perhaps because I felt I needed to practice my patience or explore my nautical vocabulary, Christy and I bought another sailboat. I won’t bore you with the details about it but I have been learning patience and testing my nautical vocabulary (swearing like a sailor must be muscle memory because after jerking on an outboard starter rope for an hour or so I remembered every word I knew in every combination imaginable) as well as learning a few new lessons.
One of those lessons is that a boat hook can pay for itself with its first use, as we found out when we used it to untangle lines that were wrapped around the mast before we even launched. A boat hook has many other uses aboard such as fending off other vessels when the outboard quits and the wind is pushing you were you don’t want to go. And of course if you drop the boat hook overboard you’ll wish you had a spare hook to retrieve the one that just went overboard.
There are other lessons we continue to learn along the way. It’s best to idle the outboard early when coming into a dock or mooring. Avoid the big orange buoys and small boats when the sailing club is racing. Shorten sail early, before you find yourself being beaten up by an oversized jib on the foredeck. And despite how pleasant the evening is, head back to port before those dark clouds on the horizon become 30-knot gusts and cold, pelting rain.
Patience is just one of life’s lessons sailing can teach you. As they say, patience is a virtue. Swearing like a sailor is another lesson, though not so much a virtue.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
and the nautical vocabulary
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Owning a sailboat is great way to practice patience.
It’s also a good way to understand where the old saying “swear like a sailor” comes from.
I know all this from experience. More than 25 years ago I bought my first sailboat, a little Sunfish about 13 feet long that could hold two at the most. It weighed just a little over 100 pounds, including the mast, boom, rudder, tiller, and sail. It was fast and a lot of fun in any sort of wind.
The Sunfish was a good boat to learn to sail but it wasn’t much for teaching patience. You could have it rigged and on the water in 15 minutes or less. And, if the wind died down, it was light enough to let you get back to shore with little problem. So, no long after buying the Sunfish, Christy and I upgraded (Add, I should say. We held onto the Sunfish for a while.) bought a Venture 222, a trailerable boat with a cabin and pop top that slept four if two of those were toddlers or younger.
The Venture taught me a lot of patience and a growing nautical vocabulary. I quickly learned why it’s important to wait for a favorable weather forecast. I learned all about stepping a mast and attaching a boom, about stays, shrouds, and spreaders. I learned that launching a 22-foot boat takes much longer than a 13-foot boat and if that launch involves two toddlers the launch can seem interminable. And I learned all the sailors’ favorite words as well as coming up with a few of my own when operating a fussy outboard.
We sold that boat about 15 years ago, just before we moved to Albany, Mo. But earlier this summer, perhaps because I felt I needed to practice my patience or explore my nautical vocabulary, Christy and I bought another sailboat. I won’t bore you with the details about it but I have been learning patience and testing my nautical vocabulary (swearing like a sailor must be muscle memory because after jerking on an outboard starter rope for an hour or so I remembered every word I knew in every combination imaginable) as well as learning a few new lessons.
One of those lessons is that a boat hook can pay for itself with its first use, as we found out when we used it to untangle lines that were wrapped around the mast before we even launched. A boat hook has many other uses aboard such as fending off other vessels when the outboard quits and the wind is pushing you were you don’t want to go. And of course if you drop the boat hook overboard you’ll wish you had a spare hook to retrieve the one that just went overboard.
There are other lessons we continue to learn along the way. It’s best to idle the outboard early when coming into a dock or mooring. Avoid the big orange buoys and small boats when the sailing club is racing. Shorten sail early, before you find yourself being beaten up by an oversized jib on the foredeck. And despite how pleasant the evening is, head back to port before those dark clouds on the horizon become 30-knot gusts and cold, pelting rain.
Patience is just one of life’s lessons sailing can teach you. As they say, patience is a virtue. Swearing like a sailor is another lesson, though not so much a virtue.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
School routine is far from routine
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It’s been quite a while since I’ve written a column.
And, of course, there are a number of reasons for that as well as a few excuses.
I used to write a column nearly every week but, after doing so for almost 30 years, I’m not sure I have anything new to say. Plus it’s been summer and I’ve used that as an excuse for a lot of procrastination.
Summer is all but now behind us, though. School is under way, teachers and students are back in the classrooms, and parents like me are moving back into routines that seem to go helter-skelter when school is not in session.
For my wife and I that routine is going to be short lived. We’ll still have the same school activities and events other parents will have such as conferences, awards ceremonies, ball games, fundraisers, and everything else that goes into educating our children but this will be our final school-year routine. Your see our youngest daughter, Allison, is a high school senior.
As the last sibling still living at home with Mom and Dad, Allison already has one foot out the door. If it was up to her, she would forgo her senior year, take her diploma now, and leave the nest. In fact she considered trying to graduate early but we convinced her she would be better served remaining with her classmates, taking the dual credit courses available to her, and enjoying her senior year.
I’m not sure she’s totally convinced about enjoying her senior year, though. Independence beckons and she’s ready to embark on adulthood. She’s ready for new experiences and is showing her independence as much as she can. Instead of softball, she’s joined the golf team (Allison, who is left handed and has never golfed before, is learning with right handed clubs). Instead of marching band, she switched her class schedule at the last minute so that she can squeeze in one more advanced placement course.
The switch from softball to golf and the dropping of marching band (she will still be a part of concert band, which she prefers) means our family routine for our final high school senior is far from routine. This year we won’t be spending long hours in all kinds of weather at softball fields near and far. This year we won’t be cautiously watching for deer as we leave at daybreak for parade and field competitions at college campuses hours from home.
Those are just a couple of the changes Christy and I know we’re going to see this year as classes get under way for our senior. We know there will be many more as we move toward graduation and far, far more once graduation is over.
To teachers, staff, parents, and students of all ages in school districts everywhere, I wish you a safe and successful year.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It’s been quite a while since I’ve written a column.
And, of course, there are a number of reasons for that as well as a few excuses.
I used to write a column nearly every week but, after doing so for almost 30 years, I’m not sure I have anything new to say. Plus it’s been summer and I’ve used that as an excuse for a lot of procrastination.
Summer is all but now behind us, though. School is under way, teachers and students are back in the classrooms, and parents like me are moving back into routines that seem to go helter-skelter when school is not in session.
For my wife and I that routine is going to be short lived. We’ll still have the same school activities and events other parents will have such as conferences, awards ceremonies, ball games, fundraisers, and everything else that goes into educating our children but this will be our final school-year routine. Your see our youngest daughter, Allison, is a high school senior.
As the last sibling still living at home with Mom and Dad, Allison already has one foot out the door. If it was up to her, she would forgo her senior year, take her diploma now, and leave the nest. In fact she considered trying to graduate early but we convinced her she would be better served remaining with her classmates, taking the dual credit courses available to her, and enjoying her senior year.
I’m not sure she’s totally convinced about enjoying her senior year, though. Independence beckons and she’s ready to embark on adulthood. She’s ready for new experiences and is showing her independence as much as she can. Instead of softball, she’s joined the golf team (Allison, who is left handed and has never golfed before, is learning with right handed clubs). Instead of marching band, she switched her class schedule at the last minute so that she can squeeze in one more advanced placement course.
The switch from softball to golf and the dropping of marching band (she will still be a part of concert band, which she prefers) means our family routine for our final high school senior is far from routine. This year we won’t be spending long hours in all kinds of weather at softball fields near and far. This year we won’t be cautiously watching for deer as we leave at daybreak for parade and field competitions at college campuses hours from home.
Those are just a couple of the changes Christy and I know we’re going to see this year as classes get under way for our senior. We know there will be many more as we move toward graduation and far, far more once graduation is over.
To teachers, staff, parents, and students of all ages in school districts everywhere, I wish you a safe and successful year.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
What creates hatred?
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
What creates hatred?
I’m not talking about dislike, a spat with a neighbor who refuses to maintain a next-door property, a grudge held against someone for some long ago slight.
I understand disliking, at least temporary, someone you know or have met who’s caused resentment for some action or inaction but what I’m unable to understand is outright hatred.
How can anyone hate so strongly they’re willing to kill others because they’re of a different religion or ethnicity?
That unanswered question surfaces from my subconscious from time to time. Most recently it was jarred loose when a terrorist killed 50 people and wounded 50 more at two mosques in New Zealand.
It resurfaced again following Easter Sunday bombings at three churches in Sri Lanka, killing more than 250 and injuring another 500.
And it happened again Saturday when a gunman walked into a California synagogue, killing one and injuring three during a Passover service.
I think what’s most troubling for me this time around is that within weeks of each other the worshippers of three Abrahamic religions became targets of terrorism yet again. Christians, Muslims, and Jews all look to the patriarch Abraham in their beliefs and yet for a few extremists that commonality brings not kinship but hatred.
In New Zealand, the shooter was described as a white supremacist. In California, the shooter is alleged to have been inspired by the New Zealand shooter. And in between the two, in Sri Lanka, the terrorist organization ISIS claimed responsibility. All three with extreme beliefs expressed through hatred and death.
Hatred is hardly something new. After all we’ve been killing one another for various reasons since we first learned to fashion weapons. But religious and ethnic intolerance is on the rise. The FBI reports a 23 percent increase in religion-based hate crime in the U.S. from 2017 to 2018.
Intolerance of those with different beliefs, different ideas, different cultural backgrounds, or different faiths puzzles me. Why should we expect — or even want — everyone to think, act, dress, and believe as we do?
We have far more to gain by attempting to learn about the unfamiliar than we do by shunning it because we don’t understand, especially when it comes to a different religion or ethnicity. We have far more in common with one another on this planet than we have differences and yet we still have much to learn from one another unless, of course, we are too certain of our self.
But a certainty such as that, I would argue, is where hatred is born.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
What creates hatred?
I’m not talking about dislike, a spat with a neighbor who refuses to maintain a next-door property, a grudge held against someone for some long ago slight.
I understand disliking, at least temporary, someone you know or have met who’s caused resentment for some action or inaction but what I’m unable to understand is outright hatred.
How can anyone hate so strongly they’re willing to kill others because they’re of a different religion or ethnicity?
That unanswered question surfaces from my subconscious from time to time. Most recently it was jarred loose when a terrorist killed 50 people and wounded 50 more at two mosques in New Zealand.
It resurfaced again following Easter Sunday bombings at three churches in Sri Lanka, killing more than 250 and injuring another 500.
And it happened again Saturday when a gunman walked into a California synagogue, killing one and injuring three during a Passover service.
I think what’s most troubling for me this time around is that within weeks of each other the worshippers of three Abrahamic religions became targets of terrorism yet again. Christians, Muslims, and Jews all look to the patriarch Abraham in their beliefs and yet for a few extremists that commonality brings not kinship but hatred.
In New Zealand, the shooter was described as a white supremacist. In California, the shooter is alleged to have been inspired by the New Zealand shooter. And in between the two, in Sri Lanka, the terrorist organization ISIS claimed responsibility. All three with extreme beliefs expressed through hatred and death.
Hatred is hardly something new. After all we’ve been killing one another for various reasons since we first learned to fashion weapons. But religious and ethnic intolerance is on the rise. The FBI reports a 23 percent increase in religion-based hate crime in the U.S. from 2017 to 2018.
Intolerance of those with different beliefs, different ideas, different cultural backgrounds, or different faiths puzzles me. Why should we expect — or even want — everyone to think, act, dress, and believe as we do?
We have far more to gain by attempting to learn about the unfamiliar than we do by shunning it because we don’t understand, especially when it comes to a different religion or ethnicity. We have far more in common with one another on this planet than we have differences and yet we still have much to learn from one another unless, of course, we are too certain of our self.
But a certainty such as that, I would argue, is where hatred is born.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Buzzards best bet for spring’s arrival
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
For many, spring arrives marked by Easter, songbirds, and daffodils, the greening of grass, calves in fields, and buds on the trees.
I count all those, too, as confirmation spring is upon us. Along with that Christy and I determine the change from winter to spring by the March birthdays of family (our youngest, my parents, two nieces, and a nephew as well as my brother and sister-in-law’s anniversary), our daughter’s high school band concerts and competitions (we’ve attended in the last 14 days), and, of course, prom.
Prom could be the focus of a column all its own but as parents of a high school junior at T-minus four and counting for prom here in Albany, I’ll wait until I’m sure Christy and I survive before writing about that. I would hate to jinx us with the end in sight.
With that said, though, spring is often fickle in its arrival so calendars are rarely accurate measurements of nature, especially following our latest long, wet winter. Instead of the month of March and what it brings, I look elsewhere for confirmation of spring, a place far more accurate than events and activities scheduled by man.
For me, the first true signal of spring’s arrival comes overhead in two forms: first, the sight of strings of snow geese honking as they migrate back to their summer homes and, second, the silent circling of buzzards replacing the eagles that have wintered here in the region.
Few things are quite as grand and awe inspiring as wave upon wave of snow geese passing in what seems to stretch for an eternity. The more common Canadas always bring a smile whenever I see or hear them but they pale in comparison to the warmth brought to my heart by mile upon mile of snow geese in formation.
Few, I would guess, feel the same sense of grandeur from the gliding of buzzards, or rather turkey vultures. Hardly attractive, these dark connoisseurs of carrion are more commonly harbingers of death than the promise of spring. For me, though, buzzards are the surest sign of spring.
I put my snow shovel away a couple of weeks ago when the turkey vultures began returning to the region. And not even a week later my decision was validated when more than three dozen buzzards chose the trees in our neighbor’s and our backyard to roost.
Already the backyard buzzards have found roosts elsewhere. Daffodils are blooming, the songbirds are busy, and it looks like I’ll be mowing my lawn again next week at the latest.
Spring, it seems, has finally arrived.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
For many, spring arrives marked by Easter, songbirds, and daffodils, the greening of grass, calves in fields, and buds on the trees.
I count all those, too, as confirmation spring is upon us. Along with that Christy and I determine the change from winter to spring by the March birthdays of family (our youngest, my parents, two nieces, and a nephew as well as my brother and sister-in-law’s anniversary), our daughter’s high school band concerts and competitions (we’ve attended in the last 14 days), and, of course, prom.
Prom could be the focus of a column all its own but as parents of a high school junior at T-minus four and counting for prom here in Albany, I’ll wait until I’m sure Christy and I survive before writing about that. I would hate to jinx us with the end in sight.
With that said, though, spring is often fickle in its arrival so calendars are rarely accurate measurements of nature, especially following our latest long, wet winter. Instead of the month of March and what it brings, I look elsewhere for confirmation of spring, a place far more accurate than events and activities scheduled by man.
For me, the first true signal of spring’s arrival comes overhead in two forms: first, the sight of strings of snow geese honking as they migrate back to their summer homes and, second, the silent circling of buzzards replacing the eagles that have wintered here in the region.
Few things are quite as grand and awe inspiring as wave upon wave of snow geese passing in what seems to stretch for an eternity. The more common Canadas always bring a smile whenever I see or hear them but they pale in comparison to the warmth brought to my heart by mile upon mile of snow geese in formation.
Few, I would guess, feel the same sense of grandeur from the gliding of buzzards, or rather turkey vultures. Hardly attractive, these dark connoisseurs of carrion are more commonly harbingers of death than the promise of spring. For me, though, buzzards are the surest sign of spring.
I put my snow shovel away a couple of weeks ago when the turkey vultures began returning to the region. And not even a week later my decision was validated when more than three dozen buzzards chose the trees in our neighbor’s and our backyard to roost.
Already the backyard buzzards have found roosts elsewhere. Daffodils are blooming, the songbirds are busy, and it looks like I’ll be mowing my lawn again next week at the latest.
Spring, it seems, has finally arrived.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Enough with the snow already
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
You know you’ve had enough snow when you find yourself repairing not one but two snow shovels two days in a row.
That’s where I found myself last Wednesday after we’d received yet more snow. After picking up papers in Creston and traveling over mostly clear roads to get the Free Press out in Corning, I dedicated the morning to once again clearing snow.
Thanks to whoever clears snow from the sidewalk on Davis Avenue, it took little time to touch up outside the front door of the Free Press. Behind the office, where we park, there was bit more work to do, though.
Fortunately we had a semi-cleared area where the alley had been plowed. That just left creating a walking path to the backdoor and clearing out around the parking area so that walking through knee-deep snow wasn’t a problem. But no longer did I start digging out from the office to the car I discovered one of the three screws attaching the shovel’s blade to its handle had fallen out and the two remaining screws were loose.
Of course in Iowa it isn’t a bad idea to have a spare snow shovel handy. We just happen to have two at the Free Press — one for the front of the office and one for the rear of the office. With one shovel needing repairs I just switched to our second shovel, finished the job, and visited the hardware store for replacement screws, nuts, and washers.
All was well again, at least until I decided to do a bit more snow removal in the afternoon. Without thinking, I grabbed the snow shovel I hadn’t repaired, went out back the office to extend and widen our path, and discovered a nut had dropped out of the handle the second shovel.
After a second trip to the hardware store (all of my repairs require at least two trips to the hardware store, parts store, lumberyard, etc.) we were back in business with two snow shovels at a cost of under a couple of bucks and minor inconvenience.
Fortunately my snow shovel at home hasn’t required repairs this winter, at least not yet, but it has been a bit overworked these last few weeks. As I write this now I see from my desk the foot of snow I’ve shoveled from our driveway the last month or so.
The snow is melting, though, and the first day of spring is less than a month away now. Weather forecasts show temperatures slowing rising and I’m hoping I’m finished with snow shovels this winter but I’m not holding my breath. If I remember correctly, just last Easter we left sunny days in the 60s after visiting family to be greeted by winds, ice, and snow covered roads as we headed home north.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
You know you’ve had enough snow when you find yourself repairing not one but two snow shovels two days in a row.
That’s where I found myself last Wednesday after we’d received yet more snow. After picking up papers in Creston and traveling over mostly clear roads to get the Free Press out in Corning, I dedicated the morning to once again clearing snow.
Thanks to whoever clears snow from the sidewalk on Davis Avenue, it took little time to touch up outside the front door of the Free Press. Behind the office, where we park, there was bit more work to do, though.
Fortunately we had a semi-cleared area where the alley had been plowed. That just left creating a walking path to the backdoor and clearing out around the parking area so that walking through knee-deep snow wasn’t a problem. But no longer did I start digging out from the office to the car I discovered one of the three screws attaching the shovel’s blade to its handle had fallen out and the two remaining screws were loose.
Of course in Iowa it isn’t a bad idea to have a spare snow shovel handy. We just happen to have two at the Free Press — one for the front of the office and one for the rear of the office. With one shovel needing repairs I just switched to our second shovel, finished the job, and visited the hardware store for replacement screws, nuts, and washers.
All was well again, at least until I decided to do a bit more snow removal in the afternoon. Without thinking, I grabbed the snow shovel I hadn’t repaired, went out back the office to extend and widen our path, and discovered a nut had dropped out of the handle the second shovel.
After a second trip to the hardware store (all of my repairs require at least two trips to the hardware store, parts store, lumberyard, etc.) we were back in business with two snow shovels at a cost of under a couple of bucks and minor inconvenience.
Fortunately my snow shovel at home hasn’t required repairs this winter, at least not yet, but it has been a bit overworked these last few weeks. As I write this now I see from my desk the foot of snow I’ve shoveled from our driveway the last month or so.
The snow is melting, though, and the first day of spring is less than a month away now. Weather forecasts show temperatures slowing rising and I’m hoping I’m finished with snow shovels this winter but I’m not holding my breath. If I remember correctly, just last Easter we left sunny days in the 60s after visiting family to be greeted by winds, ice, and snow covered roads as we headed home north.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Stay curious
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“That’s what you get when you teach your kids to be curious.”
Our 19-year-old told us that over Christmas break when I chastised her for trying to pick up a glass she had been drinking from with the tongs we had used to serve spaghetti noodles at the kitchen table.
Of course our 19-year-old said that to me after I told her how I’d told her younger sister not to use tongs to pick up a glass of root beer only a few weeks earlier. That time I had to jump up from the kitchen table with a lap full of root beer.
And, of course, our 19-year-old had to try the stunt too but this time nothing was spilled.
Curiosity has led to many experiments by our two youngest. There’s the diapers in the bathtub incident when, as a toddler, our youngest began tossing diapers into the bathtub as her older sister was bathing.
And then there’s the time when the youngest was a little older and decided to make her own pizza in a toaster and not a toaster oven. She might have succeed if she’d had the forethought to lay the toaster on its side before putting the toppings on top of the bread instead of thinking all the ingredients would stay on the bread while upright in the toaster.
We got a toaster oven to replace the toaster after that experiment.
For a while her older sister was into making slime. For whatever reason I couldn’t actually figured it out, for a few months it seemed like I was always out of shaving cream.
There have been a litany of experiments because of curiosity that have gone wrong at varying costs. I’ve had to replace everything from tape measures to point and shoot cameras, from hydrometers to laptops.
And yet despite the costs and incredulity, I am glad all of our children have been curious. It has helped them in their lives. It has paid off for them in their education, in their jobs, and in their struggles. That curiosity has helped give them problem solving skills and tenacity to overcome challenges and succeed.
Curiosity, a sense of wonder, is a trait we should never outgrow. True, curiosity has brought on a few unexpected expenditures but it’s also created family tales, laughs, and an ongoing inquisitiveness and it makes me happy my children realize I had a role in creating that.
• • •
When a drive that normally takes a little over an hour looks like it could take two or three times that long, it’s often better to stay at home.
Some of you may have noticed that was what we did this Tuesday — decide to finish up this week’s Free Press from the warmth and safety of our home instead of spending more time on the road than we likely would have in the office.
Rather than shovel the driveway and warm up the car, I sat down with another cup of coffee and added a few paragraphs to this column.
Yes, we know not opening the office was an inconvenience for some of you but we thought it was more prudent than risking the possibility of an automobile accident, which could in the least delay publication of this week’s Free Press.
Typically when Christy and I know we can’t make it to Corning we arrange to have Carie fill in for us. And when we can’t arrange that, we will post closures on our Facebook page, remind everyone emailing [email protected] or [email protected] is a good way to reach us, and keep telling ourselves we’re one day closer to spring.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“That’s what you get when you teach your kids to be curious.”
Our 19-year-old told us that over Christmas break when I chastised her for trying to pick up a glass she had been drinking from with the tongs we had used to serve spaghetti noodles at the kitchen table.
Of course our 19-year-old said that to me after I told her how I’d told her younger sister not to use tongs to pick up a glass of root beer only a few weeks earlier. That time I had to jump up from the kitchen table with a lap full of root beer.
And, of course, our 19-year-old had to try the stunt too but this time nothing was spilled.
Curiosity has led to many experiments by our two youngest. There’s the diapers in the bathtub incident when, as a toddler, our youngest began tossing diapers into the bathtub as her older sister was bathing.
And then there’s the time when the youngest was a little older and decided to make her own pizza in a toaster and not a toaster oven. She might have succeed if she’d had the forethought to lay the toaster on its side before putting the toppings on top of the bread instead of thinking all the ingredients would stay on the bread while upright in the toaster.
We got a toaster oven to replace the toaster after that experiment.
For a while her older sister was into making slime. For whatever reason I couldn’t actually figured it out, for a few months it seemed like I was always out of shaving cream.
There have been a litany of experiments because of curiosity that have gone wrong at varying costs. I’ve had to replace everything from tape measures to point and shoot cameras, from hydrometers to laptops.
And yet despite the costs and incredulity, I am glad all of our children have been curious. It has helped them in their lives. It has paid off for them in their education, in their jobs, and in their struggles. That curiosity has helped give them problem solving skills and tenacity to overcome challenges and succeed.
Curiosity, a sense of wonder, is a trait we should never outgrow. True, curiosity has brought on a few unexpected expenditures but it’s also created family tales, laughs, and an ongoing inquisitiveness and it makes me happy my children realize I had a role in creating that.
• • •
When a drive that normally takes a little over an hour looks like it could take two or three times that long, it’s often better to stay at home.
Some of you may have noticed that was what we did this Tuesday — decide to finish up this week’s Free Press from the warmth and safety of our home instead of spending more time on the road than we likely would have in the office.
Rather than shovel the driveway and warm up the car, I sat down with another cup of coffee and added a few paragraphs to this column.
Yes, we know not opening the office was an inconvenience for some of you but we thought it was more prudent than risking the possibility of an automobile accident, which could in the least delay publication of this week’s Free Press.
Typically when Christy and I know we can’t make it to Corning we arrange to have Carie fill in for us. And when we can’t arrange that, we will post closures on our Facebook page, remind everyone emailing [email protected] or [email protected] is a good way to reach us, and keep telling ourselves we’re one day closer to spring.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Resolution begins small
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
A survey in a daily metro newspaper I receive told me Jan. 1 only 14 percent of its respondents plan to make New Year’s resolutions.
That leaves me as one of the other 86 percent who don’t plan to make New Year’s resolutions.
I have nothing against those who do make resolutions when a fresh, unblemished new year appears on a calendar. If you decide Jan. 1 is the best day of the year to start exercising, lose weight, stop drinking, be kinder to others, or work to improve your life and the lives of those around you wish you all the success in the world.
Taking responsibility for bettering yourself is always a good thing. It’s good to have goals, small or large, but remember as Lao Tzu said: “The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.”
If you have chosen a New Year’s resolution, then you have already taken that first step. Now put that resolution into action with your next step. Lace up your walking shoes and start moving. Get rid of all those holiday goodies that have been tempting you since Thanksgiving. Turn off the TV. Smile more often.
Keep in mind that making a resolution means resolving to doing something different. Habits, good or bad, don’t happen overnight. They require consistency and, if you’re wanting to change a habit for the better, effort. Find a way to be successful with consistent effort such as teaming with someone with a similar goal who can provide support and help move you forward.
Remember, too, the definition of resolution isn’t just a decision to do or not to do something. When we speak of resolution here at the Free Press we’re more often talking about the quality of a photograph, how detailed the photo is and how well it will reproduce in the newspaper.
A low resolution photo, such as one taken with a cell phone, often looks fine when shared with friends or posted on social media but it often isn’t detailed enough for quality reproduction on newsprint. You see a high resolution photo is made up of several small, tiny dots that make it appear on the page as a sharp, well-defined image.
It’s because there are so many more small dots in a high resolution photo than in a low resolution photo that the high resolution photo works better for newsprint. Your New Year’s resolution is no different: If you want to succeed, stay focused on the small, almost imperceptible changes and over time those small changes will become the big picture you first imagined on Jan. 1.
And if at first you should slip, backslide, not fully meet your goal, don’t sweat it. Although a new year only comes on Jan. 1 a new day begins each morning when we get out of bed.
The opportunity to improve is always right there within your grasp, regardless of what the calendar says.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
A survey in a daily metro newspaper I receive told me Jan. 1 only 14 percent of its respondents plan to make New Year’s resolutions.
That leaves me as one of the other 86 percent who don’t plan to make New Year’s resolutions.
I have nothing against those who do make resolutions when a fresh, unblemished new year appears on a calendar. If you decide Jan. 1 is the best day of the year to start exercising, lose weight, stop drinking, be kinder to others, or work to improve your life and the lives of those around you wish you all the success in the world.
Taking responsibility for bettering yourself is always a good thing. It’s good to have goals, small or large, but remember as Lao Tzu said: “The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.”
If you have chosen a New Year’s resolution, then you have already taken that first step. Now put that resolution into action with your next step. Lace up your walking shoes and start moving. Get rid of all those holiday goodies that have been tempting you since Thanksgiving. Turn off the TV. Smile more often.
Keep in mind that making a resolution means resolving to doing something different. Habits, good or bad, don’t happen overnight. They require consistency and, if you’re wanting to change a habit for the better, effort. Find a way to be successful with consistent effort such as teaming with someone with a similar goal who can provide support and help move you forward.
Remember, too, the definition of resolution isn’t just a decision to do or not to do something. When we speak of resolution here at the Free Press we’re more often talking about the quality of a photograph, how detailed the photo is and how well it will reproduce in the newspaper.
A low resolution photo, such as one taken with a cell phone, often looks fine when shared with friends or posted on social media but it often isn’t detailed enough for quality reproduction on newsprint. You see a high resolution photo is made up of several small, tiny dots that make it appear on the page as a sharp, well-defined image.
It’s because there are so many more small dots in a high resolution photo than in a low resolution photo that the high resolution photo works better for newsprint. Your New Year’s resolution is no different: If you want to succeed, stay focused on the small, almost imperceptible changes and over time those small changes will become the big picture you first imagined on Jan. 1.
And if at first you should slip, backslide, not fully meet your goal, don’t sweat it. Although a new year only comes on Jan. 1 a new day begins each morning when we get out of bed.
The opportunity to improve is always right there within your grasp, regardless of what the calendar says.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Christmas comes early
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Christmas came early for me this year. After months of nonuse my old Onkyo CP 1012F is spinning vinyl again thanks to a $12 preamp.
I had been without a turntable for a while. Well, technically I has been without a stereo receiver because my old JVC system flickered on and off for months before finally switching off for good (unless of course I find a store that repairs audio equipment).
I’d had the JVC since the early ‘90s when I bought the receiver and a automatic five-CD changer. The system traveled from Ozark, Mo., to Wiggins, Miss., from Chariton, Iowa, to Rogers, Ark., finally arriving at its resting place in 2005 in Albany, Mo. With that many miles on it, I feel I’ve gotten my money’s worth.
The CD changer started giving me problems after we moved to Albany in 2005. The CD tray would refuse to open from time to time and I had to remove the back to get it functioning again.
It was about this time a Michelle Shocked CD disappeared even though I still had its case. For a year or two I blamed Christy for leaving the CD in the drawer of a newsroom desk in Arkansas. I would end up apologizing after I discovered the CD had fallen beneath CD changer, which was why the player would sometime refuse to open.
The CD changer bit the dust before the stereo receiver, which sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t. After months of frustration my son Jon gave me a Yamaha receiver he no longer used and the JVC was moved to a closet. The Yamaha worked well but it’s set up for surround sound for TVs and video gaming systems, not a turntable. It has no built-in preamp and was never designed for turntable use.
The Yamaha worked fine for playing my collection of CDs off of my iTunes or listened to streaming radio stations but I had no way of playing LPs. But even though I was unable to play LPs for several months I never stopped collecting them. A friend moved to Lawrence, Kan., and gifted me with a couple of tubs full of CDs, cassettes, and LPs. Others in the community, who know I collect vinyl, brought my bags and boxes full of dusty old records they couldn’t bear to throw away on their own (I disposed of the ones too damaged to play). And, along the way, I continued to pick up LPs at yard sales and flea markets and elsewhere.
Finally my desire to play vinyl again overcame my cheapness and I splurged on a $12 preamp. The day it arrived I began digging through my LP collection, spinning albums I had forgotten about or had never even played before. I found myself trying to remember where I had bought a J. Geils album, why I had never heard of Lene Lovich before, how I found a Peter, Paul and Mary record, and thanking myself I had found a copy of Lucky Millinder’s Orchestra with Sister Rosetta Tharpe.
Right now I’m listening to Thin Lizzy as I finish writing this but there’s a lot of catching up to do. There’s The Ventures, Sarah Vaughn, Conway Twitty, Ernest Tubb, Pete Seger, Marty Robbins, Bobbie Gentry, The Platters, Stevie Wonder — and these are just the ones people gave me or I picked up when I was unable to use my turntable.
The New Year looks promising, at least when it comes to music.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Christmas came early for me this year. After months of nonuse my old Onkyo CP 1012F is spinning vinyl again thanks to a $12 preamp.
I had been without a turntable for a while. Well, technically I has been without a stereo receiver because my old JVC system flickered on and off for months before finally switching off for good (unless of course I find a store that repairs audio equipment).
I’d had the JVC since the early ‘90s when I bought the receiver and a automatic five-CD changer. The system traveled from Ozark, Mo., to Wiggins, Miss., from Chariton, Iowa, to Rogers, Ark., finally arriving at its resting place in 2005 in Albany, Mo. With that many miles on it, I feel I’ve gotten my money’s worth.
The CD changer started giving me problems after we moved to Albany in 2005. The CD tray would refuse to open from time to time and I had to remove the back to get it functioning again.
It was about this time a Michelle Shocked CD disappeared even though I still had its case. For a year or two I blamed Christy for leaving the CD in the drawer of a newsroom desk in Arkansas. I would end up apologizing after I discovered the CD had fallen beneath CD changer, which was why the player would sometime refuse to open.
The CD changer bit the dust before the stereo receiver, which sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t. After months of frustration my son Jon gave me a Yamaha receiver he no longer used and the JVC was moved to a closet. The Yamaha worked well but it’s set up for surround sound for TVs and video gaming systems, not a turntable. It has no built-in preamp and was never designed for turntable use.
The Yamaha worked fine for playing my collection of CDs off of my iTunes or listened to streaming radio stations but I had no way of playing LPs. But even though I was unable to play LPs for several months I never stopped collecting them. A friend moved to Lawrence, Kan., and gifted me with a couple of tubs full of CDs, cassettes, and LPs. Others in the community, who know I collect vinyl, brought my bags and boxes full of dusty old records they couldn’t bear to throw away on their own (I disposed of the ones too damaged to play). And, along the way, I continued to pick up LPs at yard sales and flea markets and elsewhere.
Finally my desire to play vinyl again overcame my cheapness and I splurged on a $12 preamp. The day it arrived I began digging through my LP collection, spinning albums I had forgotten about or had never even played before. I found myself trying to remember where I had bought a J. Geils album, why I had never heard of Lene Lovich before, how I found a Peter, Paul and Mary record, and thanking myself I had found a copy of Lucky Millinder’s Orchestra with Sister Rosetta Tharpe.
Right now I’m listening to Thin Lizzy as I finish writing this but there’s a lot of catching up to do. There’s The Ventures, Sarah Vaughn, Conway Twitty, Ernest Tubb, Pete Seger, Marty Robbins, Bobbie Gentry, The Platters, Stevie Wonder — and these are just the ones people gave me or I picked up when I was unable to use my turntable.
The New Year looks promising, at least when it comes to music.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Anonymity not an option
in letters to editor
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
When I saw there was no return address on the envelope I knew that whatever was addressed “ATTN: EDITOR” would soon likely be chucked into the trashcan.
And after I opened it and read the first sentence about how the author could not sign the letter that’s pretty much where the package landed.
Our policy states “letters must be signed and include the writer’s address and phone number.” The reason for our policy for letters to be signed is that so we can verify the author is indeed who he or she claims to be. I can’t say I’ve ever received a letter to the editor sent by someone posing as the author but there is always that possibility.
Another reason we ask that letters be signed and include contact information is that we believe that if someone feels strong enough about an issue that individual should also have the courage to express his or her conviction and let fellow readers and the community decide its merit.
Anonymity allows the spread of rumors and opens the door to personal arguments without repercussion. Consider the Internet trolls, click bait, and misinformation made so rampant by the anonymity of social media. People there can say and post anything and too often what they say or post is misleading or sometimes even downright dangerous.
It’s far too easy these days to take a belief, present it as fact, and see it poison all civil discourse, especially behind the cloak of anonymity. The rumor mill runs rampant when speculation begins with “well I heard” instead of verification.
Opinion and commentary have their place in the Free Press, in fact we welcome them. We just ask that letters to the editor be signed. We agree with David Burton with the Southwest Region News Service with the University of Missouri Extension: “If it’s worth saying or putting in writing, it’s worth signing. Otherwise, it’s worth nothing.”
Don Groves can be contacted a [email protected].
in letters to editor
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
When I saw there was no return address on the envelope I knew that whatever was addressed “ATTN: EDITOR” would soon likely be chucked into the trashcan.
And after I opened it and read the first sentence about how the author could not sign the letter that’s pretty much where the package landed.
Our policy states “letters must be signed and include the writer’s address and phone number.” The reason for our policy for letters to be signed is that so we can verify the author is indeed who he or she claims to be. I can’t say I’ve ever received a letter to the editor sent by someone posing as the author but there is always that possibility.
Another reason we ask that letters be signed and include contact information is that we believe that if someone feels strong enough about an issue that individual should also have the courage to express his or her conviction and let fellow readers and the community decide its merit.
Anonymity allows the spread of rumors and opens the door to personal arguments without repercussion. Consider the Internet trolls, click bait, and misinformation made so rampant by the anonymity of social media. People there can say and post anything and too often what they say or post is misleading or sometimes even downright dangerous.
It’s far too easy these days to take a belief, present it as fact, and see it poison all civil discourse, especially behind the cloak of anonymity. The rumor mill runs rampant when speculation begins with “well I heard” instead of verification.
Opinion and commentary have their place in the Free Press, in fact we welcome them. We just ask that letters to the editor be signed. We agree with David Burton with the Southwest Region News Service with the University of Missouri Extension: “If it’s worth saying or putting in writing, it’s worth signing. Otherwise, it’s worth nothing.”
Don Groves can be contacted a [email protected].
When the road beckons, be thankful
Don’s Draft
Don Groves
Thanksgiving will be different for us this year.
Yes, we’ll still trek down south toward Forsyth, Mo., for a meal with my folks then on down to Bella Vista, Ark., for a meal with Christy’s folks and then head back home over the weekend in a more than 700-mile roundtrip.
The difference this year, though, is we’ll be down a daughter on our journey.
Hannah, our now 19-year-old, has been gone to college since August so instead of her filling in as a driver we will meet her in Springfield, Mo., as she tags along for our holiday feasts (the good news is we no long have to listen to her choice of music when she takes the wheel).
Our road trips without her have already been a bit different, although our travels without Hannah have been more frequent over the years. The same has been happening with Allison, our youngest, too, and it won’t be much longer before it will just be Christy and I swapping out as drivers on our road trips.
I’m going to miss family road trips, despite the fact that some of our trips have been a bit of a challenge — wrong turns and wrong exits in major cities, restroom stops that seem to need to be made every 20 minutes, sister fights (with my older two it was brother/sister fights), everyone wanting to stop to eat but no agreement about where or what, close calls on the roadway, flat tires, icy roads, even a couple of tornadoes.
The challenges of the road make for good stories once you get home and can look back on them but what I’m going to miss are the jokes, the conversations shared whenever we traveled. It’s like sitting down for a family dinner at 60 mph for a few hundred miles. You get the opportunity to catch up with one another, discuss things you might not otherwise despite sharing the same home.
Going to Grandma’s house is part of our holiday tradition and for that I’m thankful. But I’m also thankful the time I’ve got to spend with my children — all four of them — on our travels together not just to Grandma’s home but during family vacations, weekend hikes, trips to the zoo, or just going out for a Sunday drive.
I’m sure many of you will also be going to Grandma’s house or some other relative’s or friend’s home for Thanksgiving. Whether your road trip is just down the block, to the next county over, or several states away, I wish you all save travels and happy Thanksgiving.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Draft
Don Groves
Thanksgiving will be different for us this year.
Yes, we’ll still trek down south toward Forsyth, Mo., for a meal with my folks then on down to Bella Vista, Ark., for a meal with Christy’s folks and then head back home over the weekend in a more than 700-mile roundtrip.
The difference this year, though, is we’ll be down a daughter on our journey.
Hannah, our now 19-year-old, has been gone to college since August so instead of her filling in as a driver we will meet her in Springfield, Mo., as she tags along for our holiday feasts (the good news is we no long have to listen to her choice of music when she takes the wheel).
Our road trips without her have already been a bit different, although our travels without Hannah have been more frequent over the years. The same has been happening with Allison, our youngest, too, and it won’t be much longer before it will just be Christy and I swapping out as drivers on our road trips.
I’m going to miss family road trips, despite the fact that some of our trips have been a bit of a challenge — wrong turns and wrong exits in major cities, restroom stops that seem to need to be made every 20 minutes, sister fights (with my older two it was brother/sister fights), everyone wanting to stop to eat but no agreement about where or what, close calls on the roadway, flat tires, icy roads, even a couple of tornadoes.
The challenges of the road make for good stories once you get home and can look back on them but what I’m going to miss are the jokes, the conversations shared whenever we traveled. It’s like sitting down for a family dinner at 60 mph for a few hundred miles. You get the opportunity to catch up with one another, discuss things you might not otherwise despite sharing the same home.
Going to Grandma’s house is part of our holiday tradition and for that I’m thankful. But I’m also thankful the time I’ve got to spend with my children — all four of them — on our travels together not just to Grandma’s home but during family vacations, weekend hikes, trips to the zoo, or just going out for a Sunday drive.
I’m sure many of you will also be going to Grandma’s house or some other relative’s or friend’s home for Thanksgiving. Whether your road trip is just down the block, to the next county over, or several states away, I wish you all save travels and happy Thanksgiving.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
The quest for the perfect coffeemaker continues
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
There's persistence and then there’s stubbornness and sometimes I’m not sure which fits me best.
I tried my hand at both over the weekend. Well, technically I began trying my hand earlier in the week after my electric coffeemaker blew out its bottom and flooded the kitchen counter with vinegar when I tried to clean it. Fortunately, I was at my desk in the next room when I heard the sudden poof of the bottom breaking and the ensuing gurgle of vinegar and was able to stop it quickly with a towel.
The Hamilton Beach died about 10 months into its life on my countertop. I know it only lasted 10 months because when I replaced my Mr. Coffee back in January 2018 I jotted down the day I replaced it in the Hamilton Beach’s operators manual. I noted the purchase date mainly because I’ve yet to find a coffeemaker at the price I’m willing to pay to last longer than 12 or so months.
Now I can’t say I’m a big coffee drinker but I am a regular coffee drinker. A couple of cups to a half a pot is part of my morning routine. I like to wake up with a cup of joe, the morning paper, and a few minutes of TV news before sitting down for the day’s work.
The electric coffeemakers, at least the programable ones that you can preset so the coffee’s ready the next morning, are convenient. The last few I’ve had have been like that. They’re great for when you have to wake up early to be somewhere or to have coffee ready for houseguests who are early risers.
Unfortunately, though, those electric coffeemakers also seem to break down at the most inconvenient time, like when you have houseguests who are early risers and you’re trying to have coffee ready for them for when they awake. One of the last things you want to find first thing in the morning in the kitchen is a guest apologizing for coffee spewed across the countertop and trying to stop the flood with a couple of dishtowels.
So following the death of my most recent electric coffeemaker (and several weeks of ongoing research), I had Christy pick up a moka pot I discovered on a recent trip to St. Joseph. A moka pot, if you don’t know, is similar to an old-style percolator. You fill the bottom with water, put coffee grounds in a little metal basket, and coffee comes out in a chamber on top. No electricity, nothing to break, easy to clean, and a simple appliance to take camping. Sounds perfect, right?
You would think something as simple as a moka pot would be convenient and easy to use but it’s a lot more difficult than you think. My first try at making coffee with the moka resulted in a drinkable few cups of coffee. It wasn’t quite as a strong as I typically like but it was passable.
My next few brews came out on every level of the taste spectrum. Too strong, too bitter, too weak — there had to be more to using a moka the I knew about so I turned to YouTube. There, online, I found videos of people making the perfect cup of coffee using a moka. Greatly inspired, I bought some coffee beans, ground them myself, and tried to emulate the online baristas who made it all look so simple and tasty.
The freshly ground coffee beans helped but I convinced myself part of my problem with perfect moka coffee was the fact that I was limited to using an electric range. Since the YouTubers were cooking with gas, I thought I would give it a shot using a propane camp stove that had been gathering dust in the garage for a couple of years.
For about 45 minutes I disassembled and reassembled the various parts of the propane stove after I couldn’t get the gas to flow to the burners before chucking it in a trash can. Then, with thoughts of tasty moka-made coffee still on my mind, I dug out my old reliable liquid-fueled Coleman camp stove and stood in the garage waiting for my perfect coffee to finish.
The Coleman did give better results but nothing near as close as I imagined or saw on the Internet. I won’t say the moka pot experiment has failed — yet — and even if later attempts are still nowhere near perfect I won’t be totally disappointed. At a cost of about $10 my moka is still cheaper than a couple of cups of coffee from a certain well-known urban coffee chain and it’s already proven its worth on my camp stove.
Yes, because of persistence I’ll continue my hand with the moka pot, at least for a while. And if that doesn’t work I may break down and buy another electric coffeemaker or — out of stubbornness — start drinking tea instead.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
There's persistence and then there’s stubbornness and sometimes I’m not sure which fits me best.
I tried my hand at both over the weekend. Well, technically I began trying my hand earlier in the week after my electric coffeemaker blew out its bottom and flooded the kitchen counter with vinegar when I tried to clean it. Fortunately, I was at my desk in the next room when I heard the sudden poof of the bottom breaking and the ensuing gurgle of vinegar and was able to stop it quickly with a towel.
The Hamilton Beach died about 10 months into its life on my countertop. I know it only lasted 10 months because when I replaced my Mr. Coffee back in January 2018 I jotted down the day I replaced it in the Hamilton Beach’s operators manual. I noted the purchase date mainly because I’ve yet to find a coffeemaker at the price I’m willing to pay to last longer than 12 or so months.
Now I can’t say I’m a big coffee drinker but I am a regular coffee drinker. A couple of cups to a half a pot is part of my morning routine. I like to wake up with a cup of joe, the morning paper, and a few minutes of TV news before sitting down for the day’s work.
The electric coffeemakers, at least the programable ones that you can preset so the coffee’s ready the next morning, are convenient. The last few I’ve had have been like that. They’re great for when you have to wake up early to be somewhere or to have coffee ready for houseguests who are early risers.
Unfortunately, though, those electric coffeemakers also seem to break down at the most inconvenient time, like when you have houseguests who are early risers and you’re trying to have coffee ready for them for when they awake. One of the last things you want to find first thing in the morning in the kitchen is a guest apologizing for coffee spewed across the countertop and trying to stop the flood with a couple of dishtowels.
So following the death of my most recent electric coffeemaker (and several weeks of ongoing research), I had Christy pick up a moka pot I discovered on a recent trip to St. Joseph. A moka pot, if you don’t know, is similar to an old-style percolator. You fill the bottom with water, put coffee grounds in a little metal basket, and coffee comes out in a chamber on top. No electricity, nothing to break, easy to clean, and a simple appliance to take camping. Sounds perfect, right?
You would think something as simple as a moka pot would be convenient and easy to use but it’s a lot more difficult than you think. My first try at making coffee with the moka resulted in a drinkable few cups of coffee. It wasn’t quite as a strong as I typically like but it was passable.
My next few brews came out on every level of the taste spectrum. Too strong, too bitter, too weak — there had to be more to using a moka the I knew about so I turned to YouTube. There, online, I found videos of people making the perfect cup of coffee using a moka. Greatly inspired, I bought some coffee beans, ground them myself, and tried to emulate the online baristas who made it all look so simple and tasty.
The freshly ground coffee beans helped but I convinced myself part of my problem with perfect moka coffee was the fact that I was limited to using an electric range. Since the YouTubers were cooking with gas, I thought I would give it a shot using a propane camp stove that had been gathering dust in the garage for a couple of years.
For about 45 minutes I disassembled and reassembled the various parts of the propane stove after I couldn’t get the gas to flow to the burners before chucking it in a trash can. Then, with thoughts of tasty moka-made coffee still on my mind, I dug out my old reliable liquid-fueled Coleman camp stove and stood in the garage waiting for my perfect coffee to finish.
The Coleman did give better results but nothing near as close as I imagined or saw on the Internet. I won’t say the moka pot experiment has failed — yet — and even if later attempts are still nowhere near perfect I won’t be totally disappointed. At a cost of about $10 my moka is still cheaper than a couple of cups of coffee from a certain well-known urban coffee chain and it’s already proven its worth on my camp stove.
Yes, because of persistence I’ll continue my hand with the moka pot, at least for a while. And if that doesn’t work I may break down and buy another electric coffeemaker or — out of stubbornness — start drinking tea instead.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Decade brings quiet celebration
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Ten years.
A decade doesn’t seem like as long as it used to once you clear the half-century mark.
And yet it was 10 years ago we bought the Free Press.
At the time we had a 9-year-old daughter and a 6-year-old daughter and we were busy each week putting out The Albany Ledger. So what made me believe we needed to take on another challenge? An even more puzzling question is how did I convince Christy we should buy another newspaper? How did I sweet talk her into taking on more responsibility, more debt, one more liability?
If I remember correctly I told her that the Free Press would be no problem, that we had gained enough experience operating newspapers of various sizes for other people that adding just one more paper would be a piece of cake.
Of course added responsibility and liability is never easy as simple math. There was the distance between Albany and Corning, for one thing. There were also additional employees, a new community to learn about, different state business laws, and, well, you get the idea.
On top of all that, though, there was a little blip that was just beginning to ripple through the national economy. The subprime mortgage crisis hit. Before it was finished we learned about bailouts, too big to fail, and international economic ramifications.
In the fall of 2008 and into the winter of 2009 doom and gloom was broadcast to Christy and I over our car radio as we drove from Albany to Corning to get a grip on our newest business acquisition. There was more than one time on our way up Christy would ask if we were going to be all right as we listened to the news on the radio.
I can’t say it was all smooth sailing, in fact it still isn’t, but we have done more than persevere. On more than one occasion we have made decisions we wished we wouldn’t have had to make but that should be expected with any challenge.
Today, 10 years to the month after buying the Free Press, we have a 19-year-old in college and a 16-year-old junior in high school, another daughter and son-in-law with a son of their own and a son and daughter-in-law with three daughters. We no longer own The Albany Ledger and instead spend more time in Adams County focusing on the Free Press.
What will the next 10 years bring? Who knows but I’ll bet they’ll be gone before I realize it.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Ten years.
A decade doesn’t seem like as long as it used to once you clear the half-century mark.
And yet it was 10 years ago we bought the Free Press.
At the time we had a 9-year-old daughter and a 6-year-old daughter and we were busy each week putting out The Albany Ledger. So what made me believe we needed to take on another challenge? An even more puzzling question is how did I convince Christy we should buy another newspaper? How did I sweet talk her into taking on more responsibility, more debt, one more liability?
If I remember correctly I told her that the Free Press would be no problem, that we had gained enough experience operating newspapers of various sizes for other people that adding just one more paper would be a piece of cake.
Of course added responsibility and liability is never easy as simple math. There was the distance between Albany and Corning, for one thing. There were also additional employees, a new community to learn about, different state business laws, and, well, you get the idea.
On top of all that, though, there was a little blip that was just beginning to ripple through the national economy. The subprime mortgage crisis hit. Before it was finished we learned about bailouts, too big to fail, and international economic ramifications.
In the fall of 2008 and into the winter of 2009 doom and gloom was broadcast to Christy and I over our car radio as we drove from Albany to Corning to get a grip on our newest business acquisition. There was more than one time on our way up Christy would ask if we were going to be all right as we listened to the news on the radio.
I can’t say it was all smooth sailing, in fact it still isn’t, but we have done more than persevere. On more than one occasion we have made decisions we wished we wouldn’t have had to make but that should be expected with any challenge.
Today, 10 years to the month after buying the Free Press, we have a 19-year-old in college and a 16-year-old junior in high school, another daughter and son-in-law with a son of their own and a son and daughter-in-law with three daughters. We no longer own The Albany Ledger and instead spend more time in Adams County focusing on the Free Press.
What will the next 10 years bring? Who knows but I’ll bet they’ll be gone before I realize it.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’t miss candidates’ forum Oct. 16
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It seem like there is never a perfect time for doing things.
I say this after Southwest Valley’s homecoming followed by our youngest daughter’s homecoming in Albany. Let’s just say it’s been a tiring few weeks.
In between homecomings I realized I needed to set up a forum where the public can speak to local candidates and learn more about the hotel-motel tax on the Nov. 6 ballot. Sounds simple, right? Find a free day, reserve the Community Center, and let everyone know about it. How difficult can it be?
I checked my calendar, or should I say calendars. Back in my early days in the newspaper business I kept my schedule on a monthly desk calendar that I could fill out with pen times and dates of upcoming events. Now, some 30 years later, everything is shared, backed up, and updated with family and employees on multiple devices via the cloud. Or so it should be.
My laptop calendar includes a Corning category (for work), a family category (for doctors’ appointments, etc.), a family sports/school category (for games, parent/teacher conferences, etc.), and a birthday category (which is set up to remind far enough in advance to buy cards and gifts but even with it I still need additional reminders). The calendars aren’t infallible but they help, at least most of the time when they’re updated properly.
Anyway, I checked my calendars for a free time for a forum far enough in advance of the Nov. 6 election and between Columbus Day and Halloween I found a few opening days. One of them, I thought, was Oct. 16, after our daughter wrapped up district softball (our high school doesn’t have volleyball and instead plays softball in the fall).
What I failed to check, though, was Southwest Valley’s junior high football and high school volleyball schedules. Scheduled Oct. 16, the same day I selected as a candidates’ forum, are a junior high football game at Red Oak and regional volleyball playoffs here in Corning.
Such is life, at least my life. I could bore you a bit more with trying to schedule our daughter’s doctors’ appointments around school and sports or the challenges holiday get-togethers bring with a dozen or so family members on Christy’s side and nearly 20 on my side trying to find free time for a family meal but you get the idea.
I apologize to those who might miss the forum because of a conflict and remind the candidates I invited — Scott Akin, Tony Mullen, Doug Birt, Marty Olive, Leland Shipley, Nancy Barnes, Jamie Stargell, and Andrew Knuth — about the forum. Candidates, you should have received an email or letter from me inviting you to the forum. If I haven’t heard from you by the time this is published you will likely receive a phone call from me.
And voters, now’s your chance to question the candidates and find out more about the hotel-motel tax on the Nov. 6 ballot. I hope you can make it to the forum at 7 p.m. Oct. 16 at the Corning Community Center.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It seem like there is never a perfect time for doing things.
I say this after Southwest Valley’s homecoming followed by our youngest daughter’s homecoming in Albany. Let’s just say it’s been a tiring few weeks.
In between homecomings I realized I needed to set up a forum where the public can speak to local candidates and learn more about the hotel-motel tax on the Nov. 6 ballot. Sounds simple, right? Find a free day, reserve the Community Center, and let everyone know about it. How difficult can it be?
I checked my calendar, or should I say calendars. Back in my early days in the newspaper business I kept my schedule on a monthly desk calendar that I could fill out with pen times and dates of upcoming events. Now, some 30 years later, everything is shared, backed up, and updated with family and employees on multiple devices via the cloud. Or so it should be.
My laptop calendar includes a Corning category (for work), a family category (for doctors’ appointments, etc.), a family sports/school category (for games, parent/teacher conferences, etc.), and a birthday category (which is set up to remind far enough in advance to buy cards and gifts but even with it I still need additional reminders). The calendars aren’t infallible but they help, at least most of the time when they’re updated properly.
Anyway, I checked my calendars for a free time for a forum far enough in advance of the Nov. 6 election and between Columbus Day and Halloween I found a few opening days. One of them, I thought, was Oct. 16, after our daughter wrapped up district softball (our high school doesn’t have volleyball and instead plays softball in the fall).
What I failed to check, though, was Southwest Valley’s junior high football and high school volleyball schedules. Scheduled Oct. 16, the same day I selected as a candidates’ forum, are a junior high football game at Red Oak and regional volleyball playoffs here in Corning.
Such is life, at least my life. I could bore you a bit more with trying to schedule our daughter’s doctors’ appointments around school and sports or the challenges holiday get-togethers bring with a dozen or so family members on Christy’s side and nearly 20 on my side trying to find free time for a family meal but you get the idea.
I apologize to those who might miss the forum because of a conflict and remind the candidates I invited — Scott Akin, Tony Mullen, Doug Birt, Marty Olive, Leland Shipley, Nancy Barnes, Jamie Stargell, and Andrew Knuth — about the forum. Candidates, you should have received an email or letter from me inviting you to the forum. If I haven’t heard from you by the time this is published you will likely receive a phone call from me.
And voters, now’s your chance to question the candidates and find out more about the hotel-motel tax on the Nov. 6 ballot. I hope you can make it to the forum at 7 p.m. Oct. 16 at the Corning Community Center.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Celebrate intellectual freedom
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Long before I could even read I enjoyed books. I know this because my parents have told me about reading to me as a child. “Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” “Little Red Riding Hood” and “The Three Little Pigs” were, I’m told, favorites of mine and those worn, stained, well-read books from childhood became part of my home library after my mom sent them home with me on one of our visits.
After I learned to read there was rarely a time I didn’t have a book in my hands. I read everything. Biographies, comic books, classics — even the backs of cereal boxes were worthwhile to me. But there’s one book from my childhood that stands out as a favorite, one that I have read more times than any other. That book was Mark Twain’s “Huckleberry Finn.”
My grandfather turned me on to Mark Twain when I was very young, about the second grade if I remember right. He gave me an old worn copy of “Huckleberry Finn.” To me, it was just and adventure story about a boy and his friend as they made their way down the Mississippi River. It wasn’t until years later I discovered not everyone was as enamored by the book as I was.
In college I signed up for a course titled Banned Books. My classmates and I read “Huckleberry Finn.” We also read “The Catcher in the Rye,” “To Kill a Mockingbird,” “1984,” “Of Mice and Men,” “Catch-22,” “A Brave New World” and a host of other books that over the years I have read and reread several times. Those books, now classics and included in many high school and college literature courses, were all at one time or another the targets of individuals or groups who wanted them banned.
I took that class about 30 years ago. At the time I and some of my classmates thought it ludicrous someone could feel so challenged or sure enough of himself to want to limit someone’s right of free expression by wanting to ban a book he disagreed with. Today, 30 years later, I still feel the same.
Next week, Sept. 23-29, is Banned Books Week and, believe it or not, books by Steinbeck, Salinger, Orwell, and Huxley are still targets of those who want to censor them. Unfortunately, those authors are no longer alone. They have been joined by other writers like J.K. Rowling and Annette Curtis Klause, the authors of the Harry Potter books and “Blood and Chocolate.”
I’ve never read any of the Harry Potter books, and have only seen sections of the Potter movies. I also haven’t read “Blood and Chocolate” and probably never will. I’ve learned enough about them to decide they’re not the kind of books I’m interested in reading. But even though I have no interest in those authors or their books I also realize there are others who do enjoy them and they should be allowed to read them. A free society cannot infringe upon the ideas or beliefs of others.
And that is the goal of Banned Books Week: celebrating the freedom to choose or the freedom to express one’s opinion. Banned Books Week is a week to remind people that we are a people with a wide variety of different opinions, ideas and beliefs — some of which are unpopular or unorthodox — and that no individual has the right to infringe upon those opinions, ideas or beliefs. That’s why freedom of speech and freedom of religion are so closely related in the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.
So take the time during Banned Books Week to celebrate your intellectual freedom by reading a book. If you need suggestions, there’s a couple of dystopian novels from a few years back that are being re-read again today: Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale” and George Orwell’s “1984.”
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Long before I could even read I enjoyed books. I know this because my parents have told me about reading to me as a child. “Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” “Little Red Riding Hood” and “The Three Little Pigs” were, I’m told, favorites of mine and those worn, stained, well-read books from childhood became part of my home library after my mom sent them home with me on one of our visits.
After I learned to read there was rarely a time I didn’t have a book in my hands. I read everything. Biographies, comic books, classics — even the backs of cereal boxes were worthwhile to me. But there’s one book from my childhood that stands out as a favorite, one that I have read more times than any other. That book was Mark Twain’s “Huckleberry Finn.”
My grandfather turned me on to Mark Twain when I was very young, about the second grade if I remember right. He gave me an old worn copy of “Huckleberry Finn.” To me, it was just and adventure story about a boy and his friend as they made their way down the Mississippi River. It wasn’t until years later I discovered not everyone was as enamored by the book as I was.
In college I signed up for a course titled Banned Books. My classmates and I read “Huckleberry Finn.” We also read “The Catcher in the Rye,” “To Kill a Mockingbird,” “1984,” “Of Mice and Men,” “Catch-22,” “A Brave New World” and a host of other books that over the years I have read and reread several times. Those books, now classics and included in many high school and college literature courses, were all at one time or another the targets of individuals or groups who wanted them banned.
I took that class about 30 years ago. At the time I and some of my classmates thought it ludicrous someone could feel so challenged or sure enough of himself to want to limit someone’s right of free expression by wanting to ban a book he disagreed with. Today, 30 years later, I still feel the same.
Next week, Sept. 23-29, is Banned Books Week and, believe it or not, books by Steinbeck, Salinger, Orwell, and Huxley are still targets of those who want to censor them. Unfortunately, those authors are no longer alone. They have been joined by other writers like J.K. Rowling and Annette Curtis Klause, the authors of the Harry Potter books and “Blood and Chocolate.”
I’ve never read any of the Harry Potter books, and have only seen sections of the Potter movies. I also haven’t read “Blood and Chocolate” and probably never will. I’ve learned enough about them to decide they’re not the kind of books I’m interested in reading. But even though I have no interest in those authors or their books I also realize there are others who do enjoy them and they should be allowed to read them. A free society cannot infringe upon the ideas or beliefs of others.
And that is the goal of Banned Books Week: celebrating the freedom to choose or the freedom to express one’s opinion. Banned Books Week is a week to remind people that we are a people with a wide variety of different opinions, ideas and beliefs — some of which are unpopular or unorthodox — and that no individual has the right to infringe upon those opinions, ideas or beliefs. That’s why freedom of speech and freedom of religion are so closely related in the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.
So take the time during Banned Books Week to celebrate your intellectual freedom by reading a book. If you need suggestions, there’s a couple of dystopian novels from a few years back that are being re-read again today: Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale” and George Orwell’s “1984.”
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Homecoming is upon us
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It’s hard to believe homecoming is already upon us.
I was reminded about it last Wednesday, Sept. 5, when city workers were putting up new banners.
When I first saw the banners going up I thought I should take a photo but then I got distracted by phone calls and other things. Finally, I walked up Davis Avenue and snapped a couple of shots for this week’s Free Press.
Homecoming, of course, also means class reunions. I went to my first high school reunion in 2010, 30 years after Forsyth (Mo.) High School issued me a diploma and now, eight years later, it still seems to me that reunion took place just a couple of years ago.
The class of 1980 had held reunions before 2010 but for one reason or another I never attended. I know I missed the 10-year reunion because we were in Mississippi at the time but I missed later reunions for other reasons — work, parental responsibilities, scheduling conflicts, apathy. Finally, 30 years after high school, I reconnected with many of my old friends.
I would say they hadn’t changed much but that wouldn’t be the truth. We had all changed, at least physically. As we sat in the Pizza Cellar in Rockaway Beach drinking beer, eating pizza, and telling stories, our numbers grew as we watched classmates walk in to join us, sometimes asking one another “Who is that again?”
We had a good time reminiscing and reconnecting, catching up on marriages, divorces, births, deaths, accomplishments, and myriad other life events that take place over 30 years. Many of us now stay connected, keeping up with one another on Facebook and other social media, with the old standby, the telephone (although now we talk using cellphones instead of stretching a phone cord around the house), or — even better — meeting in person for a meal or spending an afternoon together.
In just a few days Adams County residents will have the opportunity to do the same with homecoming and the All Graduate Banquet. This year’s homecoming theme is Back to the Future.
Yes, it’s hard to believe homecoming is already upon us but life passes quickly once the school year begins — and it passes even more quickly after your high school education ends.
• • •
With one child off to college and one still at home, Christy and I decided it was time to get rid of some of our overabundance of junk and sign up for the citywide yard sales in Albany.
For the last couple of weeks we’ve been cleaning out closets, sorting clothes we no longer wear, gathering items we no longer use, and wondering why have so many things.
We’ve filled a dozen or more trash bags full of clothes, toys, and other items that at one time seemed necessary to us. Furniture, appliances, and boxes full of who knows what have been moved from the house into the garage. In fact I even had to park my truck outside the garage to have room for it all.
On top of that we’ve been swapping bedrooms, moving our bed and dressers downstairs to Hannah’s old room, moving her stuff into Allison’s old room, and moving Allison’s stuff down to the basement.
We’ve been in full-on purging and home improvement mode, painting, sorting, and downsizing. We’ve painted the porch, moved beds up, down, and around the house, reorganized the pantry. We’ve cleaned out eight closets, the basement, most of the kitchen, and the attic, trying to take control of the clutter we call home.
Sadly, though, after all that, it’s hard to tell we’ve really gotten rid of anything.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It’s hard to believe homecoming is already upon us.
I was reminded about it last Wednesday, Sept. 5, when city workers were putting up new banners.
When I first saw the banners going up I thought I should take a photo but then I got distracted by phone calls and other things. Finally, I walked up Davis Avenue and snapped a couple of shots for this week’s Free Press.
Homecoming, of course, also means class reunions. I went to my first high school reunion in 2010, 30 years after Forsyth (Mo.) High School issued me a diploma and now, eight years later, it still seems to me that reunion took place just a couple of years ago.
The class of 1980 had held reunions before 2010 but for one reason or another I never attended. I know I missed the 10-year reunion because we were in Mississippi at the time but I missed later reunions for other reasons — work, parental responsibilities, scheduling conflicts, apathy. Finally, 30 years after high school, I reconnected with many of my old friends.
I would say they hadn’t changed much but that wouldn’t be the truth. We had all changed, at least physically. As we sat in the Pizza Cellar in Rockaway Beach drinking beer, eating pizza, and telling stories, our numbers grew as we watched classmates walk in to join us, sometimes asking one another “Who is that again?”
We had a good time reminiscing and reconnecting, catching up on marriages, divorces, births, deaths, accomplishments, and myriad other life events that take place over 30 years. Many of us now stay connected, keeping up with one another on Facebook and other social media, with the old standby, the telephone (although now we talk using cellphones instead of stretching a phone cord around the house), or — even better — meeting in person for a meal or spending an afternoon together.
In just a few days Adams County residents will have the opportunity to do the same with homecoming and the All Graduate Banquet. This year’s homecoming theme is Back to the Future.
Yes, it’s hard to believe homecoming is already upon us but life passes quickly once the school year begins — and it passes even more quickly after your high school education ends.
• • •
With one child off to college and one still at home, Christy and I decided it was time to get rid of some of our overabundance of junk and sign up for the citywide yard sales in Albany.
For the last couple of weeks we’ve been cleaning out closets, sorting clothes we no longer wear, gathering items we no longer use, and wondering why have so many things.
We’ve filled a dozen or more trash bags full of clothes, toys, and other items that at one time seemed necessary to us. Furniture, appliances, and boxes full of who knows what have been moved from the house into the garage. In fact I even had to park my truck outside the garage to have room for it all.
On top of that we’ve been swapping bedrooms, moving our bed and dressers downstairs to Hannah’s old room, moving her stuff into Allison’s old room, and moving Allison’s stuff down to the basement.
We’ve been in full-on purging and home improvement mode, painting, sorting, and downsizing. We’ve painted the porch, moved beds up, down, and around the house, reorganized the pantry. We’ve cleaned out eight closets, the basement, most of the kitchen, and the attic, trying to take control of the clutter we call home.
Sadly, though, after all that, it’s hard to tell we’ve really gotten rid of anything.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Despite difficulties, college adjustment goes well
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Dropping a child off at college isn’t always easy but often the difficulties come from what isn’t expected.
Most parents expect to shed a few tears but that wasn’t an issue in our case. Instead our difficulties came because of our daughter’s dorm room, which happens to be on the eighth floor of her dorm.
The plan was to arrive the day before move-in day, visit my oldest daughter and her family, watch granddaughter Callee play softball, spend the night with son Jon and his family, and be at Missouri State University bright and early to help Hannah settle into college and head back home after she let us know she was comfortable with her new home.
Bright and early are always relative when I deal with my wife and daughters but this time we arrived at the college not much later than we had anticipated. What we didn’t anticipate, though, was finding a place to park our car while we got Hannah’s car unloaded. I wound up leaving our car three or four blocks away on the second level of parking garage and catching a shuttle back to the dorm just as light rain began.
Fortunately the rain was limited to just a few sprinkles so Hannah’s stack of stuff was safe and dry on the sidewalk. Also fortunate was the help upperclassmen gave us in toting boxes and bags to an upstairs dorm room. What wasn’t as fortunate, though, was that only one of two elevators in the dorm was in operation that day, leaving us with the choice of waiting for an elevator ride or humping everything up eight flights of stairs.
After seeing how long the line to the elevator was and the fact that with the extra help we could carry everything in one trip we opted for the stairs. Although I was a bit winded by about the fifth or sixth floor I’m happy to say I made it up all eight flights with my load, even smoking one college kid and leaving him behind on the third floor as he sat down his boxes and began clutching his knee Peter Griffith style (Family Guy fans will remember it from season two episode 20 or you can just Google it on YouTube if you don’t know what I’m talking about).
That was my first of four trips up those flights of stairs. The second time came after a trip to pick up more dorm room items, the third time after visiting the bookstore, and the fourth time after carrying a TV to the tech department for help getting Internet passwords (thankfully the young technician carried the TV back up the stairs for us). The day also include two more trips to the parking garage and back to the dorm, pushing our estimated departure time from noon to just after 5 p.m.
But even leaving Springfield had its difficulties. A guy on a moped taking a shortcut through a burger joint parking lot t-boned a vehicle a few cars ahead of us, blocking traffic, and Christy left her eyeglasses at our son’s house so we had to backtrack 30 or so miles before finally heading north again.
We finally rolled back home about 10 p.m. and spent Saturday and Sunday rediscovering muscles long forgotten but exercised again during Hannah’s move. It’s a bit quieter around the house without her now and the dogs seem needier now that she’s gone but we’re happy to say our latest college student is enjoying her freedom and adjusting well.
And it turns out that despite the difficulties experienced during moving-in day we are also adjusting well, even Mom, who at first was uncertain what our latest life change would bring.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Dropping a child off at college isn’t always easy but often the difficulties come from what isn’t expected.
Most parents expect to shed a few tears but that wasn’t an issue in our case. Instead our difficulties came because of our daughter’s dorm room, which happens to be on the eighth floor of her dorm.
The plan was to arrive the day before move-in day, visit my oldest daughter and her family, watch granddaughter Callee play softball, spend the night with son Jon and his family, and be at Missouri State University bright and early to help Hannah settle into college and head back home after she let us know she was comfortable with her new home.
Bright and early are always relative when I deal with my wife and daughters but this time we arrived at the college not much later than we had anticipated. What we didn’t anticipate, though, was finding a place to park our car while we got Hannah’s car unloaded. I wound up leaving our car three or four blocks away on the second level of parking garage and catching a shuttle back to the dorm just as light rain began.
Fortunately the rain was limited to just a few sprinkles so Hannah’s stack of stuff was safe and dry on the sidewalk. Also fortunate was the help upperclassmen gave us in toting boxes and bags to an upstairs dorm room. What wasn’t as fortunate, though, was that only one of two elevators in the dorm was in operation that day, leaving us with the choice of waiting for an elevator ride or humping everything up eight flights of stairs.
After seeing how long the line to the elevator was and the fact that with the extra help we could carry everything in one trip we opted for the stairs. Although I was a bit winded by about the fifth or sixth floor I’m happy to say I made it up all eight flights with my load, even smoking one college kid and leaving him behind on the third floor as he sat down his boxes and began clutching his knee Peter Griffith style (Family Guy fans will remember it from season two episode 20 or you can just Google it on YouTube if you don’t know what I’m talking about).
That was my first of four trips up those flights of stairs. The second time came after a trip to pick up more dorm room items, the third time after visiting the bookstore, and the fourth time after carrying a TV to the tech department for help getting Internet passwords (thankfully the young technician carried the TV back up the stairs for us). The day also include two more trips to the parking garage and back to the dorm, pushing our estimated departure time from noon to just after 5 p.m.
But even leaving Springfield had its difficulties. A guy on a moped taking a shortcut through a burger joint parking lot t-boned a vehicle a few cars ahead of us, blocking traffic, and Christy left her eyeglasses at our son’s house so we had to backtrack 30 or so miles before finally heading north again.
We finally rolled back home about 10 p.m. and spent Saturday and Sunday rediscovering muscles long forgotten but exercised again during Hannah’s move. It’s a bit quieter around the house without her now and the dogs seem needier now that she’s gone but we’re happy to say our latest college student is enjoying her freedom and adjusting well.
And it turns out that despite the difficulties experienced during moving-in day we are also adjusting well, even Mom, who at first was uncertain what our latest life change would bring.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
The keys to happiness
are knowing where they are
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It takes so little anymore to throw me off balance.
Take, for example, Aug. 8 when I came to Corning to do my weekly paper delivery.
I had been off balance the entire week, mainly because the granddaughters had arrived that Sunday for what has now become known as “Granny Camp.” The girls come each summer, usually about a week just before school starts, to spend a few days with us at the pool, bake cupcakes, do crafts, and just spend time with us to give their mom time to focus on getting her classroom ready again for school.
Sunday and Monday with the granddaughters went as expected but Tuesday interrupted our schedules a bit. Since our youngest was off work that day we left the granddaughters with her and Christy and I put together the week’s paper in Corning. That evening we took the granddaughters to the football field for hotdogs where they could watch our youngest and her friends be introduced with the band, softball team, and other fall high school activities.
The introduction of students, coaches, and teachers takes place right before school starts and almost always includes a motivational speaker. This year’s speaker must have thought we needed a lot more motivation that in the past. Instead of the usual 15- to 3-minute speech students, staff, parents, grandparents, and grandchildren were seated in the football stands to just over an hour. Count the hour we spent eating hotdogs and meeting the students and it ended up being a long night — not just for granddaughters but for this grandpa as well.
I’m happy to say I was out of bed and ready to go far earlier than I expected. Even after waiting in traffic for road repairs on Highway 25, I still made it to the Free Press shortly after 9 a.m. And that was when I was really thrown off balance.
As I parked behind the building I noticed the week’s bundles of papers had already been delivered and were outside the back door and thought to myself I’d get an early start. Well, I did get any early start but not as early as I should have. Somewhere between unlocking front door and carrying in bundles of papers I misplaced me keys.
After 20 minutes of searching every desk, stack of newspapers, and the restroom a dozen or so times, I remembered I had brought my lunch. There, in the refrigerator next to a Hy-Vee bag with a couple of cold slices of pizza and a soda, were my keys.
Of course those keys were relatively easy to find because I was the one who had misplaced them. But when the keys to my truck, which I always leave in the ignition, were lost it took several days to find them. That happened Thursday and it wasn’t until Monday those keys reappeared.
You see our youngest has been driving my truck while I wait for some brake parts to arrive so I can repair her car. I don’t mind sharing my truck with her but I do mind that she never rolls up the windows, leaves it full of clothes and fast food wrappers, and invariably leaves my keys in places no one would look.
After nearly four days of denial from our daughter the keys to my truck appeared where I had sworn up and down I had left them — inside the truck. It seems our youngest pulled my keys from the ignition, tossed them onto the front seat, covered them with a stack of clothes and trash, and forgot all about them until after she had cleaned and vacuumed the truck and Christy decided to search one last time. The keys had fallen between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat.
So there you have it. I don’t have the key to happiness but I am happy when I know where my keys are.
Don Groves can be contacted a [email protected].
are knowing where they are
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It takes so little anymore to throw me off balance.
Take, for example, Aug. 8 when I came to Corning to do my weekly paper delivery.
I had been off balance the entire week, mainly because the granddaughters had arrived that Sunday for what has now become known as “Granny Camp.” The girls come each summer, usually about a week just before school starts, to spend a few days with us at the pool, bake cupcakes, do crafts, and just spend time with us to give their mom time to focus on getting her classroom ready again for school.
Sunday and Monday with the granddaughters went as expected but Tuesday interrupted our schedules a bit. Since our youngest was off work that day we left the granddaughters with her and Christy and I put together the week’s paper in Corning. That evening we took the granddaughters to the football field for hotdogs where they could watch our youngest and her friends be introduced with the band, softball team, and other fall high school activities.
The introduction of students, coaches, and teachers takes place right before school starts and almost always includes a motivational speaker. This year’s speaker must have thought we needed a lot more motivation that in the past. Instead of the usual 15- to 3-minute speech students, staff, parents, grandparents, and grandchildren were seated in the football stands to just over an hour. Count the hour we spent eating hotdogs and meeting the students and it ended up being a long night — not just for granddaughters but for this grandpa as well.
I’m happy to say I was out of bed and ready to go far earlier than I expected. Even after waiting in traffic for road repairs on Highway 25, I still made it to the Free Press shortly after 9 a.m. And that was when I was really thrown off balance.
As I parked behind the building I noticed the week’s bundles of papers had already been delivered and were outside the back door and thought to myself I’d get an early start. Well, I did get any early start but not as early as I should have. Somewhere between unlocking front door and carrying in bundles of papers I misplaced me keys.
After 20 minutes of searching every desk, stack of newspapers, and the restroom a dozen or so times, I remembered I had brought my lunch. There, in the refrigerator next to a Hy-Vee bag with a couple of cold slices of pizza and a soda, were my keys.
Of course those keys were relatively easy to find because I was the one who had misplaced them. But when the keys to my truck, which I always leave in the ignition, were lost it took several days to find them. That happened Thursday and it wasn’t until Monday those keys reappeared.
You see our youngest has been driving my truck while I wait for some brake parts to arrive so I can repair her car. I don’t mind sharing my truck with her but I do mind that she never rolls up the windows, leaves it full of clothes and fast food wrappers, and invariably leaves my keys in places no one would look.
After nearly four days of denial from our daughter the keys to my truck appeared where I had sworn up and down I had left them — inside the truck. It seems our youngest pulled my keys from the ignition, tossed them onto the front seat, covered them with a stack of clothes and trash, and forgot all about them until after she had cleaned and vacuumed the truck and Christy decided to search one last time. The keys had fallen between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat.
So there you have it. I don’t have the key to happiness but I am happy when I know where my keys are.
Don Groves can be contacted a [email protected].
Local allegations eclipse
larger tragedies
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
I noticed on the way home from Corning the afternoon of July 19 the dark clouds off to the east of Adams County.
My hope was the apparent rain would somehow find a way to my house where then nothing but weeds has grown in my yard for about the last month. Little did I know those dark clouds off in the distance would spawn tornadoes that would damage Marshalltown, Pella, Bondurant, and elsewhere, damaging businesses and homes and injuring dozens of people.
That news was eclipsed later after I arrived home to learn early that evening a Ride the Ducks boat had sank on Table Rock Lake near Branson, Mo., not far from where I lived from the time I entered kindergarten until soon after I graduated collage.
I followed updates of the lake disaster on social media as my grade school and high school classmates and family members shared information on the number missing and the rescue effort.
Yet despite the tragedies, the deaths and injuries north and south of me, what I found most heart wrenching when I read the next morning’s daily paper was something that is alleged to have happened just a few blocks west of where we live: the arrest of Albany couple who are now facing at least 64 felony counts for the abuse of an 11-year-old girl that has taken place for nearly a year.
Charges of kidnapping, child endangerment, armed criminal action, domestic assault, and child abuse came July 15 after the Gentry County Sheriff’s Office found a girl who had endured confinement and physical abuse for a year.
Investigators say the couple hit the child with their fists, their feet, and a belt. The couple kept the girl handcuffed to a cage most of the time for the last eight months, feeding her one protein shake a day. At one point, according to the investigation, the girl was taken to Kansas City in an attempt to scare her into remaining silent by threatening to pimp her out.
Much about this case bothers me — the allegations, the child’s age, the fact that it is said to have taken place just a few short blocks from where we live. Worst of all, though, is that I’m familiar with this couple and have more than likely had the victim in class while substitute teaching in Albany.
I can’t say I expected the charges against this couple to be so horrendous but I’m not surprised to find them facing felonies. And that, perhaps, is the real tragedy.
Don Groves can be contacted a [email protected].
larger tragedies
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
I noticed on the way home from Corning the afternoon of July 19 the dark clouds off to the east of Adams County.
My hope was the apparent rain would somehow find a way to my house where then nothing but weeds has grown in my yard for about the last month. Little did I know those dark clouds off in the distance would spawn tornadoes that would damage Marshalltown, Pella, Bondurant, and elsewhere, damaging businesses and homes and injuring dozens of people.
That news was eclipsed later after I arrived home to learn early that evening a Ride the Ducks boat had sank on Table Rock Lake near Branson, Mo., not far from where I lived from the time I entered kindergarten until soon after I graduated collage.
I followed updates of the lake disaster on social media as my grade school and high school classmates and family members shared information on the number missing and the rescue effort.
Yet despite the tragedies, the deaths and injuries north and south of me, what I found most heart wrenching when I read the next morning’s daily paper was something that is alleged to have happened just a few blocks west of where we live: the arrest of Albany couple who are now facing at least 64 felony counts for the abuse of an 11-year-old girl that has taken place for nearly a year.
Charges of kidnapping, child endangerment, armed criminal action, domestic assault, and child abuse came July 15 after the Gentry County Sheriff’s Office found a girl who had endured confinement and physical abuse for a year.
Investigators say the couple hit the child with their fists, their feet, and a belt. The couple kept the girl handcuffed to a cage most of the time for the last eight months, feeding her one protein shake a day. At one point, according to the investigation, the girl was taken to Kansas City in an attempt to scare her into remaining silent by threatening to pimp her out.
Much about this case bothers me — the allegations, the child’s age, the fact that it is said to have taken place just a few short blocks from where we live. Worst of all, though, is that I’m familiar with this couple and have more than likely had the victim in class while substitute teaching in Albany.
I can’t say I expected the charges against this couple to be so horrendous but I’m not surprised to find them facing felonies. And that, perhaps, is the real tragedy.
Don Groves can be contacted a [email protected].
Show a little respect
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
R-E-S-P-E-C-T, the song made popular several years ago by Otis Redding in 1965 but became more popular in 1967 by the Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin, came to mind a few weeks ago when I was travelling on a county road in Northwest Iowa.
The situation at hand occurred as I was travelling north and came upon a vehicle leading a long stream of cars and had came to a stop in order to stop oncoming traffic. Being the first in line approaching the vehicles I of course stopped, soon realizing this was a funeral procession and it was family members who had gotten out to stop oncoming traffic. I am glad I was first in line to stop because I am not sure how many vehicles would have just kept on driving but I stopped to pay my respects. I did not know who the decedent was, but it was about respect and how I would want my family to be treated. I have seen several times in my years of driving that some people do not have the decency to pull over and stop when either meeting an ambulance or other law enforcement vehicle — or in this case a funeral procession — and it is the law to yield to those vehicles. This is just food for thought the next time you encounter such an event.
One final thought on respect: I was hired at The Adams County Free Press to be a reporter and photographer, not to design the paper. While I do have input into what should or should not be included in the paper, Don has the final say on what goes in every week. For this I ask for your respect as a reader and subscriber for the job of which I was hired.
A couple of weeks ago I was able to witness a memorial for one of our soldiers lost at war. I highlighted the event a few weeks ago regarding the service for Capt. Edwin Northup. Ray Dupere, the gentlemen who led the service, reached out to me several weeks ago about his plan to hold the memorial service. I appreciate the time he took to contact me as well as the time he devoted to remembering his former classmates around the country. It was awesome to see that many show up to be there for his family and those who knew Capt. Northup from his younger days. It was also a pleasure to meet Dupere as well as members of Capt. Northup’s family.
The Adams County Fair is once again in the books for the year. It was scheduled earlier this year and might have caught some people off guard. Congratulations to all the exhibitors for a job well done. Despite the heat it was a fun fair as well. You may not have gotten that elusive purple ribbon but take pride in your projects no matter how you finished.
In case you missed it, yes, I did the pedal pull. I had brought Luke and Olivia over to enjoy the Kids Day activities and wound up at the pedal pull where the kids twisted my arm just hard enough to take part in the adult division. I had not done such a thing before but always enjoyed watching the youngsters do this, as when I was growing up my dad and uncle would take me to the big loud tractor pulls at the Iowa State Fair. Well, I got third, beating out Chris Nelson but getting beat by two younger men. I was not ashamed as they were in much better shape. But like Olivia I got a medal. Unfortunately, Luke did not place but as he told me afterward that it was OK because you do it for fun. It’s nice to win a trophy or medal but if you don’t you just have to work harder next time around. Luke received a medal last year for his efforts and has learned the lesson already that you can’t always win the big prize. He is such a wise young man at 6.
Looking at the calendar, July is flying by as has the summer, I have noticed a few stores starting to stock up on back to school things and soon fall sports will be starting with practices and games to follow as well as the first day of school — but we can talk about that next time around.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
R-E-S-P-E-C-T, the song made popular several years ago by Otis Redding in 1965 but became more popular in 1967 by the Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin, came to mind a few weeks ago when I was travelling on a county road in Northwest Iowa.
The situation at hand occurred as I was travelling north and came upon a vehicle leading a long stream of cars and had came to a stop in order to stop oncoming traffic. Being the first in line approaching the vehicles I of course stopped, soon realizing this was a funeral procession and it was family members who had gotten out to stop oncoming traffic. I am glad I was first in line to stop because I am not sure how many vehicles would have just kept on driving but I stopped to pay my respects. I did not know who the decedent was, but it was about respect and how I would want my family to be treated. I have seen several times in my years of driving that some people do not have the decency to pull over and stop when either meeting an ambulance or other law enforcement vehicle — or in this case a funeral procession — and it is the law to yield to those vehicles. This is just food for thought the next time you encounter such an event.
One final thought on respect: I was hired at The Adams County Free Press to be a reporter and photographer, not to design the paper. While I do have input into what should or should not be included in the paper, Don has the final say on what goes in every week. For this I ask for your respect as a reader and subscriber for the job of which I was hired.
A couple of weeks ago I was able to witness a memorial for one of our soldiers lost at war. I highlighted the event a few weeks ago regarding the service for Capt. Edwin Northup. Ray Dupere, the gentlemen who led the service, reached out to me several weeks ago about his plan to hold the memorial service. I appreciate the time he took to contact me as well as the time he devoted to remembering his former classmates around the country. It was awesome to see that many show up to be there for his family and those who knew Capt. Northup from his younger days. It was also a pleasure to meet Dupere as well as members of Capt. Northup’s family.
The Adams County Fair is once again in the books for the year. It was scheduled earlier this year and might have caught some people off guard. Congratulations to all the exhibitors for a job well done. Despite the heat it was a fun fair as well. You may not have gotten that elusive purple ribbon but take pride in your projects no matter how you finished.
In case you missed it, yes, I did the pedal pull. I had brought Luke and Olivia over to enjoy the Kids Day activities and wound up at the pedal pull where the kids twisted my arm just hard enough to take part in the adult division. I had not done such a thing before but always enjoyed watching the youngsters do this, as when I was growing up my dad and uncle would take me to the big loud tractor pulls at the Iowa State Fair. Well, I got third, beating out Chris Nelson but getting beat by two younger men. I was not ashamed as they were in much better shape. But like Olivia I got a medal. Unfortunately, Luke did not place but as he told me afterward that it was OK because you do it for fun. It’s nice to win a trophy or medal but if you don’t you just have to work harder next time around. Luke received a medal last year for his efforts and has learned the lesson already that you can’t always win the big prize. He is such a wise young man at 6.
Looking at the calendar, July is flying by as has the summer, I have noticed a few stores starting to stock up on back to school things and soon fall sports will be starting with practices and games to follow as well as the first day of school — but we can talk about that next time around.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Summer celebrations in full swing
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
If there had been any doubt, the recent excessive heat warnings, the sound and smell of fireworks, and activities at the Adams County Fairgrounds should let everyone know summer is in full swing.
The heat I could do without but the weekend rain was welcome, at least in our part of the country. It looks like we might get a few tomatoes this season after all.
As far as fireworks go, they’ve been unusually quiet this year in our neighborhood. I’m not sure if it’s the heat, the fact that youngsters nowadays are busy with summer activities like vacation, traveling sports teams, or something I’m totally unaware off, but the typical non-stop barrage of black powder artillery is almost non-existent this Independence Day.
True, as I write this it is just July 2, a bit early for the actual July 4 holiday, but usually the weekend before is one of the noisiest and smokiest time leading up to Independence Day. Don’t get me wrong, though, I’m not complaining about not hearing fireworks or having to pick up charred paper wrappers, exploded bits of plastic, and bottle rocket sticks fallen from the sky. In fact I welcome the quiet, as does our older dog Daisy.
Daisy is a protector. Let a cat, squirrel, rabbit, or person on or anywhere near our property and she will sound the alarm, whether we want her to or not. Let that same brave little dog hear fireworks, thunder, or anything that even faintly sounds similar and she disappears for hours beneath a bed, in a closet, or even in the bathtub. We’re not sure what first frightened her of loud booms but it’s something she’s yet to overcome.
Fortunately, Daisy hasn’t gone into hiding too often yet this July 4 although that might change over the next couple of days. We’ll see what happens but until then we’ll take the quiet as a long as it lasts.
• • •
With Iowa’s legalization of consumer-grade fireworks last year I’m curious too hear more from Adams County residents about the use of fireworks. How has it worked out? Have you been pleased with the change in legislation? Has it added to your Independence Day celebrations? Shoot us a letter to the editor and let us know.
• • •
And as a reminder of how quickly summer is passing we segue right from July 4 directly into the Adams County Fair, which begins July 5. This is a big one, too, the 160th. If that isn’t reason enough to celebrate, Adams County Extension and 4-H are marking their 100th year. There’s a list of activities and schedule of fair events in this week’s Free Press to help you keep up with the celebration.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
If there had been any doubt, the recent excessive heat warnings, the sound and smell of fireworks, and activities at the Adams County Fairgrounds should let everyone know summer is in full swing.
The heat I could do without but the weekend rain was welcome, at least in our part of the country. It looks like we might get a few tomatoes this season after all.
As far as fireworks go, they’ve been unusually quiet this year in our neighborhood. I’m not sure if it’s the heat, the fact that youngsters nowadays are busy with summer activities like vacation, traveling sports teams, or something I’m totally unaware off, but the typical non-stop barrage of black powder artillery is almost non-existent this Independence Day.
True, as I write this it is just July 2, a bit early for the actual July 4 holiday, but usually the weekend before is one of the noisiest and smokiest time leading up to Independence Day. Don’t get me wrong, though, I’m not complaining about not hearing fireworks or having to pick up charred paper wrappers, exploded bits of plastic, and bottle rocket sticks fallen from the sky. In fact I welcome the quiet, as does our older dog Daisy.
Daisy is a protector. Let a cat, squirrel, rabbit, or person on or anywhere near our property and she will sound the alarm, whether we want her to or not. Let that same brave little dog hear fireworks, thunder, or anything that even faintly sounds similar and she disappears for hours beneath a bed, in a closet, or even in the bathtub. We’re not sure what first frightened her of loud booms but it’s something she’s yet to overcome.
Fortunately, Daisy hasn’t gone into hiding too often yet this July 4 although that might change over the next couple of days. We’ll see what happens but until then we’ll take the quiet as a long as it lasts.
• • •
With Iowa’s legalization of consumer-grade fireworks last year I’m curious too hear more from Adams County residents about the use of fireworks. How has it worked out? Have you been pleased with the change in legislation? Has it added to your Independence Day celebrations? Shoot us a letter to the editor and let us know.
• • •
And as a reminder of how quickly summer is passing we segue right from July 4 directly into the Adams County Fair, which begins July 5. This is a big one, too, the 160th. If that isn’t reason enough to celebrate, Adams County Extension and 4-H are marking their 100th year. There’s a list of activities and schedule of fair events in this week’s Free Press to help you keep up with the celebration.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Meal-time affliction
tough to overcome
Don’s drafts
Don Groves
For years I’ve known I’ve been challenged by an affliction that, outside of my immediate family, few people know about. My wife was the first to notice, probably because she doesn’t suffer from it.
Thanks to her help, though, for the most part I’m pretty good at overcoming my affliction. She’s there to keep me steady in challenging times. She’s always willing to help me in my battle against indecisivitis.
Yes, you heard right. I suffer from indecisivitis and it finally feels good to admit it in public. You see, when it comes to making a decision I sometimes have a hard time doing so.
I’m not afflicted with full-blown indecisivitis. It doesn’t affect my work, for example. I have no problem whatsoever making decisions at the office, probably because my job is so deadline oriented and if I put off decisions there I wouldn’t have a job for long. No, indecisivitis hits me in a less recognizable, more subtle way. When it comes to food, I can’t make a decision.
I know a lot of you are thinking that being indecisive about what to eat is something we all go through at one time or another. All of us have stood in the kitchen with the refrigerator door wide open, thinking that a snack would be nice but just not sure what to choose. Usually we stare inside for a while, root around through the apples and the cheese and last night’s spaghetti, and then finally find something to eat.
Finding a snack in the ’frig is a minor decision, though, and one that happens infrequently. My indecisivitis is nonstop and has had at times my wife threatening divorce, particularly when we are going out to eat. It’s gotten to the point now that my wife either makes all the meal decisions or she begins quizzing me while we eat about what I would like for our next meal.
Going to restaurants is probably the toughest. Often I just let my wife decide because she usually has a clear idea about what she would like to eat. Sometimes, though, the decision falls to me and more than once I’ve driven us round and round a half dozen restaurants, unable to decide what I would like best. Other times my wife will make a half dozen suggestions while I shoot them all down. It’s almost become a game where I tell her to tell me where we should eat so I can ask her for other suggestions. It’s easy to decide what I don’t want than it is to decide what I do.
You may think that once we do decide on a restaurant my indecisivitis ends. You couldn’t be more mistaken. The menu options overwhelm me and I have a tough time choosing just one meal. I usually don’t decide until my kids have eaten all the crackers or free bread sticks that the restaurants has to offer and the waitress has asked yet again if we still need a little more time.
I think the reason I have indecisivitis is because there have been too many times when I’ve had a strong hankering for something only to be disappointed by finding out a restaurant is out of what I’m craving. It happens all too often to me. Once, in a mall in Mississippi, I tried to get a corn dog at Corn Dog Heaven only to find out their machine was on the fritz and they were serving only lemonade until the machine was repaired. When it comes to food, disappointment smacks me right in the face almost every time.
So you see, it’s sometimes better to suffer through a little malady than to get your hopes up too high only to be brought down by disappointment. I have learned to adapt by coming up with coping mechanisms. I let my wife, or sometimes our daughters, decide whenever possible but only after they have run through a short list of suggestions and I’ve been unable to decide.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
tough to overcome
Don’s drafts
Don Groves
For years I’ve known I’ve been challenged by an affliction that, outside of my immediate family, few people know about. My wife was the first to notice, probably because she doesn’t suffer from it.
Thanks to her help, though, for the most part I’m pretty good at overcoming my affliction. She’s there to keep me steady in challenging times. She’s always willing to help me in my battle against indecisivitis.
Yes, you heard right. I suffer from indecisivitis and it finally feels good to admit it in public. You see, when it comes to making a decision I sometimes have a hard time doing so.
I’m not afflicted with full-blown indecisivitis. It doesn’t affect my work, for example. I have no problem whatsoever making decisions at the office, probably because my job is so deadline oriented and if I put off decisions there I wouldn’t have a job for long. No, indecisivitis hits me in a less recognizable, more subtle way. When it comes to food, I can’t make a decision.
I know a lot of you are thinking that being indecisive about what to eat is something we all go through at one time or another. All of us have stood in the kitchen with the refrigerator door wide open, thinking that a snack would be nice but just not sure what to choose. Usually we stare inside for a while, root around through the apples and the cheese and last night’s spaghetti, and then finally find something to eat.
Finding a snack in the ’frig is a minor decision, though, and one that happens infrequently. My indecisivitis is nonstop and has had at times my wife threatening divorce, particularly when we are going out to eat. It’s gotten to the point now that my wife either makes all the meal decisions or she begins quizzing me while we eat about what I would like for our next meal.
Going to restaurants is probably the toughest. Often I just let my wife decide because she usually has a clear idea about what she would like to eat. Sometimes, though, the decision falls to me and more than once I’ve driven us round and round a half dozen restaurants, unable to decide what I would like best. Other times my wife will make a half dozen suggestions while I shoot them all down. It’s almost become a game where I tell her to tell me where we should eat so I can ask her for other suggestions. It’s easy to decide what I don’t want than it is to decide what I do.
You may think that once we do decide on a restaurant my indecisivitis ends. You couldn’t be more mistaken. The menu options overwhelm me and I have a tough time choosing just one meal. I usually don’t decide until my kids have eaten all the crackers or free bread sticks that the restaurants has to offer and the waitress has asked yet again if we still need a little more time.
I think the reason I have indecisivitis is because there have been too many times when I’ve had a strong hankering for something only to be disappointed by finding out a restaurant is out of what I’m craving. It happens all too often to me. Once, in a mall in Mississippi, I tried to get a corn dog at Corn Dog Heaven only to find out their machine was on the fritz and they were serving only lemonade until the machine was repaired. When it comes to food, disappointment smacks me right in the face almost every time.
So you see, it’s sometimes better to suffer through a little malady than to get your hopes up too high only to be brought down by disappointment. I have learned to adapt by coming up with coping mechanisms. I let my wife, or sometimes our daughters, decide whenever possible but only after they have run through a short list of suggestions and I’ve been unable to decide.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
It’s all about family
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
Family is a word has come up more than once lately involving a few area high school coaches, administrators, and others who are taking positions to be closer to theirs.
No, this is not my farewell column in The Adams County Free Press. I like it here as its family. When I returned to Southwest Iowa after being in West Central Iowa for a time, I knew what I was missing but I didn’t know what it was I was going to do. As most of you know my kids and I live in Creston and I make the daily commute of 21 miles each morning and afternoon. The drive is a chance for me to get ready for the days events like ribbon cuttings, meetings, or the unexpected car accident or house fire but I never know what the day is going to bring as I pass by the many farm houses and the exits for Clearfield, Lenox, and Prescott and finally Corning.
I love it here and I love the fact that I have employers who understand the meaning of the word family. There have been several times in the last year that I have had to be gone or leave early for medical situations involving my family and thanks to Christy and Don I have been able to be there for whichever family member is in crisis. I have also had the opportunity to bring my kids along to work with me and that is also a bonus in that a lot of employers shy away from because they never know how much trouble those youngsters will bring. When my kids come over they get really excited if it’s a Tuesday, Thursday, or Friday because they know there is a chance that Christy or Don or both will be here because they enjoy their company and I think Christy and Don like having them around too. While the kids are here at work with Dad they find time to color pictures for my refrigerator at home or on my corkboard at work or just play on their electronic gadgets that today’s kids have. They try to teach Dad how to play the latest craze of Roblox or whatever game they have on. I never had such things to play with back in the ’70s and ’80s when I was a kid. Family it’s what life is all about.
A lot has happened since I last wrote. A couple of new businesses have opened on Davis Avenue, including Primrose and the Sunset Boutique. I have taken advantage of Primrose’s to-go opportunity and last week ordered a mushroom burger. Well, I got back to the office and sat down and enjoyed my classic burger and fries only to be called by the waitress who took my order who told me they gave me the wrong burger. I guess it was so good I didn’t realize I did not receive the burger I ordered. I told her it was no problem as I had just finished the last bite. Mistakes like these happen and if she hadn’t called me I probably wouldn’t have thought anything about it. But it was a good burger, none the less. Apology accpeted and yes I will order a to-go entree from them again.
High school and college graduations have wrapped up, as has the primary election, so now comes November. We know what our choices will be and there is always that write-in spot if your favorite candidate did not make it through the primary race. Thanks to the candidates for helping me tell their stories in filling out the primary election questionnaire each candidate received. The questionnaire is not intended to play favorites. When I developed the questionnaires all candidates received the same questions and have the opportunity to answer those questions or touch on a specific topic I have not addressed in my questions. I want the residents of Adams County to go to the polls as informed voters.
Spring and summer also means the arrival of farmers markets. Oh how I love the fresh fruits and vegetables and baked goods that you bring to Central Park every week. Softball and baseball have started and are in full swing and the Aquatic Center is open almost every day, weather permitting, with young and old alike enjoying a dip into the pool. Looking at the calendar it looks like the Adams County Fair is rapidly approaching as are Lazy Days, En Plein Air, and the Doctors Dash among other events.
Happy Father’s Day to all you celebrating this weekend.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
Family is a word has come up more than once lately involving a few area high school coaches, administrators, and others who are taking positions to be closer to theirs.
No, this is not my farewell column in The Adams County Free Press. I like it here as its family. When I returned to Southwest Iowa after being in West Central Iowa for a time, I knew what I was missing but I didn’t know what it was I was going to do. As most of you know my kids and I live in Creston and I make the daily commute of 21 miles each morning and afternoon. The drive is a chance for me to get ready for the days events like ribbon cuttings, meetings, or the unexpected car accident or house fire but I never know what the day is going to bring as I pass by the many farm houses and the exits for Clearfield, Lenox, and Prescott and finally Corning.
I love it here and I love the fact that I have employers who understand the meaning of the word family. There have been several times in the last year that I have had to be gone or leave early for medical situations involving my family and thanks to Christy and Don I have been able to be there for whichever family member is in crisis. I have also had the opportunity to bring my kids along to work with me and that is also a bonus in that a lot of employers shy away from because they never know how much trouble those youngsters will bring. When my kids come over they get really excited if it’s a Tuesday, Thursday, or Friday because they know there is a chance that Christy or Don or both will be here because they enjoy their company and I think Christy and Don like having them around too. While the kids are here at work with Dad they find time to color pictures for my refrigerator at home or on my corkboard at work or just play on their electronic gadgets that today’s kids have. They try to teach Dad how to play the latest craze of Roblox or whatever game they have on. I never had such things to play with back in the ’70s and ’80s when I was a kid. Family it’s what life is all about.
A lot has happened since I last wrote. A couple of new businesses have opened on Davis Avenue, including Primrose and the Sunset Boutique. I have taken advantage of Primrose’s to-go opportunity and last week ordered a mushroom burger. Well, I got back to the office and sat down and enjoyed my classic burger and fries only to be called by the waitress who took my order who told me they gave me the wrong burger. I guess it was so good I didn’t realize I did not receive the burger I ordered. I told her it was no problem as I had just finished the last bite. Mistakes like these happen and if she hadn’t called me I probably wouldn’t have thought anything about it. But it was a good burger, none the less. Apology accpeted and yes I will order a to-go entree from them again.
High school and college graduations have wrapped up, as has the primary election, so now comes November. We know what our choices will be and there is always that write-in spot if your favorite candidate did not make it through the primary race. Thanks to the candidates for helping me tell their stories in filling out the primary election questionnaire each candidate received. The questionnaire is not intended to play favorites. When I developed the questionnaires all candidates received the same questions and have the opportunity to answer those questions or touch on a specific topic I have not addressed in my questions. I want the residents of Adams County to go to the polls as informed voters.
Spring and summer also means the arrival of farmers markets. Oh how I love the fresh fruits and vegetables and baked goods that you bring to Central Park every week. Softball and baseball have started and are in full swing and the Aquatic Center is open almost every day, weather permitting, with young and old alike enjoying a dip into the pool. Looking at the calendar it looks like the Adams County Fair is rapidly approaching as are Lazy Days, En Plein Air, and the Doctors Dash among other events.
Happy Father’s Day to all you celebrating this weekend.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
One man’s junk
is another man’s treasure
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
About the only true benefit of having a yard sale is that once the sale is over there’s at least a little bit more room around the house. Oh sure, sometimes there’s some extra income from a yard sale but most of the time that money has already been earmarked before the sale even begins.
I take the “no offer refused” approach to holding a yard sale. If anyone even just glances at an item for sale I tell him to make me an offer. In fact I’ve even unloaded a few things on people that weren’t for sale. Stuff at a yard sale is worthless junk or we would be holding onto it instead of selling it.
My wife Christy, on the other hand, has some kind of fair market value belief in pricing the junk we’re trying to unload. She doesn’t feel any guilt about pricing items well above what we paid for them. She doesn’t even feel guilty about seeking big bucks for things we’ve acquired for free. And, scoff as I may, more than once I’ve seen people pay her asking price for junk I wanted to toss in the garbage.
I guess it all comes down to the “one man’s trash” thing. Somebody somewhere is willing to pay you top dollar for that pile of what’s-its you’re ready to haul off to the dump. If you have the patience to wait for that somebody, holding a yard sale can be worthwhile.
My problem is I’m not patient when it comes to yard sales. Mark things low, sell them fast, and when you’ve made enough money to pay for a cheap family meal it’s time to end the sale. Yard sales are a hassle. First you have to gather everything you want to get rid of, then you have to price it all and then, on yard sale day, you have to battle the weather and all the vultures who swoop down on your junk an hour and half before you’re ready to begin the sale.
Despite the downsides to yard sales they still give you a close look at humanity. The variety of people who visit yard sales is fascinating and would make a good topic for an anthropological thesis. Let’s look at some of the more common types of yard-salers.
First there are those who come to yard sales looking only for specific items. “Do you have any left-handed screwdrivers for sale?” they’ll ask. These people can be interesting to talk to because most of the time they are collectors and are highly knowledgeable about such things as left-handed screwdrivers. And if you too happen to be interested in left-handed screwdrivers, the two of you can form a club and quickly begin writing up bylaws for the Society of Left-Handed Screwdriver Collectors.
Then there are the women who show up at every yard sale in pairs, often a mother and daughter team, who tear through every neatly stacked pile of clothing, put some of the clothes back in the pile but toss most of them on the ground while they haggle with you over a 10-cent shirt. Usually at least one of the women has a cigarette dangling from her lips while she digs a $100 bill from her purse and asks you to make change for her 10-cent purchase.
At the opposite end of the spectrum are those nice, polite people who apparently feel obligated to buy something just for stopping at your yard sale. These are the people who give you a nickel for the broken knick-knack you had sitting in a box you were going to toss into the trash can. It’s enjoyable to have nice people like this visit your yard sale but you have to wonder why they’re giving you money for something you were going to throw away.
No yard sale is complete without at least one visit from the professional yard-saler, the ones who arrive an hour before your posted opening date while you’re still stumbling around with a cup of coffee and trying to wake up. They’re the kinds who make a bulk offer on a dozen or so items. I like the professionals. “Sure thing,” I always tell them. “Back your truck up and we’ll load everything you want. I’ll even throw in a set of stained tea towels and half-dozen slightly chipped coffee mugs.” Although you can make big bucks quickly off of a professional the drawback is that after his visit you’ve got nothing left except those items nobody else wants and your yard sale looks kind of pathetic.
Which brings us to those who have to stop at every yard sale. We should be thankful for these people. If they even look remotely interested in something I’ll usually start offering it to them for about half the asking price. Toward the end of a long day — or even about halfway through a hot one — I’ve been known to pay someone to haul off the rest of our unsold items if my wife happens to be out of earshot.
I know, if Christy realized I was paying someone to take stuff she had hoped to make money off of I would catch trouble to no end. But like I said, we have different ideas about a successful yard sale. To me a successful yard sale is ending with the fewest number of items, not the greatest amount of money. In fact the most successful yard sale we ever held was nearly 15 years ago when we were getting ready to move to Mississippi. Somehow we had inherited a couch from her brother that was heavily stained and stinky from cat use.
It was late in the afternoon and about all we had left was the couch and a few other items I was getting ready to box up and throw in the garbage can. A man pulled up in a truck, got out and started looking at what we had for sale. I quickly started telling him how badly he needed a couch. He looked at it in disgust, said something about us having a hard time even giving the couch to the Salvation Army and started to walk off.
Within minutes I was handing him $5 and helping him load the couch into his truck. It was money well spent.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
is another man’s treasure
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
About the only true benefit of having a yard sale is that once the sale is over there’s at least a little bit more room around the house. Oh sure, sometimes there’s some extra income from a yard sale but most of the time that money has already been earmarked before the sale even begins.
I take the “no offer refused” approach to holding a yard sale. If anyone even just glances at an item for sale I tell him to make me an offer. In fact I’ve even unloaded a few things on people that weren’t for sale. Stuff at a yard sale is worthless junk or we would be holding onto it instead of selling it.
My wife Christy, on the other hand, has some kind of fair market value belief in pricing the junk we’re trying to unload. She doesn’t feel any guilt about pricing items well above what we paid for them. She doesn’t even feel guilty about seeking big bucks for things we’ve acquired for free. And, scoff as I may, more than once I’ve seen people pay her asking price for junk I wanted to toss in the garbage.
I guess it all comes down to the “one man’s trash” thing. Somebody somewhere is willing to pay you top dollar for that pile of what’s-its you’re ready to haul off to the dump. If you have the patience to wait for that somebody, holding a yard sale can be worthwhile.
My problem is I’m not patient when it comes to yard sales. Mark things low, sell them fast, and when you’ve made enough money to pay for a cheap family meal it’s time to end the sale. Yard sales are a hassle. First you have to gather everything you want to get rid of, then you have to price it all and then, on yard sale day, you have to battle the weather and all the vultures who swoop down on your junk an hour and half before you’re ready to begin the sale.
Despite the downsides to yard sales they still give you a close look at humanity. The variety of people who visit yard sales is fascinating and would make a good topic for an anthropological thesis. Let’s look at some of the more common types of yard-salers.
First there are those who come to yard sales looking only for specific items. “Do you have any left-handed screwdrivers for sale?” they’ll ask. These people can be interesting to talk to because most of the time they are collectors and are highly knowledgeable about such things as left-handed screwdrivers. And if you too happen to be interested in left-handed screwdrivers, the two of you can form a club and quickly begin writing up bylaws for the Society of Left-Handed Screwdriver Collectors.
Then there are the women who show up at every yard sale in pairs, often a mother and daughter team, who tear through every neatly stacked pile of clothing, put some of the clothes back in the pile but toss most of them on the ground while they haggle with you over a 10-cent shirt. Usually at least one of the women has a cigarette dangling from her lips while she digs a $100 bill from her purse and asks you to make change for her 10-cent purchase.
At the opposite end of the spectrum are those nice, polite people who apparently feel obligated to buy something just for stopping at your yard sale. These are the people who give you a nickel for the broken knick-knack you had sitting in a box you were going to toss into the trash can. It’s enjoyable to have nice people like this visit your yard sale but you have to wonder why they’re giving you money for something you were going to throw away.
No yard sale is complete without at least one visit from the professional yard-saler, the ones who arrive an hour before your posted opening date while you’re still stumbling around with a cup of coffee and trying to wake up. They’re the kinds who make a bulk offer on a dozen or so items. I like the professionals. “Sure thing,” I always tell them. “Back your truck up and we’ll load everything you want. I’ll even throw in a set of stained tea towels and half-dozen slightly chipped coffee mugs.” Although you can make big bucks quickly off of a professional the drawback is that after his visit you’ve got nothing left except those items nobody else wants and your yard sale looks kind of pathetic.
Which brings us to those who have to stop at every yard sale. We should be thankful for these people. If they even look remotely interested in something I’ll usually start offering it to them for about half the asking price. Toward the end of a long day — or even about halfway through a hot one — I’ve been known to pay someone to haul off the rest of our unsold items if my wife happens to be out of earshot.
I know, if Christy realized I was paying someone to take stuff she had hoped to make money off of I would catch trouble to no end. But like I said, we have different ideas about a successful yard sale. To me a successful yard sale is ending with the fewest number of items, not the greatest amount of money. In fact the most successful yard sale we ever held was nearly 15 years ago when we were getting ready to move to Mississippi. Somehow we had inherited a couch from her brother that was heavily stained and stinky from cat use.
It was late in the afternoon and about all we had left was the couch and a few other items I was getting ready to box up and throw in the garbage can. A man pulled up in a truck, got out and started looking at what we had for sale. I quickly started telling him how badly he needed a couch. He looked at it in disgust, said something about us having a hard time even giving the couch to the Salvation Army and started to walk off.
Within minutes I was handing him $5 and helping him load the couch into his truck. It was money well spent.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Civil discourse
is quickly disappearing
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Who would have thought a few comments about people creating cairns in a national forest would bring such heated and ugly comments?
On Monday evening I visited Facebook to see what friends and family had been up to an individual on one of the public groups I used to belong to, Love My Ozarks, has posted some photos of some cairns that someone had put up in Hercules Glade Wilderness, a section of the Mark Twain National Forest.
Now these weren’t small stacks of rock along a creek. Many looked to be four to six feet high. And there wasn’t only one or two. There were photos of seven different cairns. Posted with them were the comments “found these at the creek … how cool are these?”
I made the mistake of being one of the first to comment by saying “Not at all. People should leave nature as they find so that all can enjoy it.”
The responses came quick, most of them attacks on my belief that a public area, especially a national forest, is best left undisturbed. Nearly all the responses were so asinine I realized there would be no discussion so I turned my attention elsewhere.
Soon after, though, more messages started arriving, so many so quickly that the administrator of the site turned off commenting on the post but before that happened several shared thoughts similar to mine. Some, who were more patient than I and who had work in such things as national parks or fisheries, gave more detailed reasons for why the cairns should not be left in a wilderness area.
The fact that people agreed or disagreed with the original post and photos or what I said isn’t what prompted this column. Instead it was the attacks on other’s comments and the lack of discussion that led to this column and my leaving the Facebook group.
I’ve seen more savage attacks, usually in other Facebook posts, that eventually sink down to outright name calling. The sad part is many of the mean and vicious comments come from people I’ve got to college or high school with. It’s gotten out of hand.
Unfortunately it’s not limited to social media. It’s become part of our culture. When a White House aide can say John McCain’s opinion “doesn’t matter, he’s dying anyway,” we’ve hit a low point.
Civil discourse is quickly disappearing but I would like to think we can still disagree yet discuss the issues instead attacking one another.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
is quickly disappearing
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Who would have thought a few comments about people creating cairns in a national forest would bring such heated and ugly comments?
On Monday evening I visited Facebook to see what friends and family had been up to an individual on one of the public groups I used to belong to, Love My Ozarks, has posted some photos of some cairns that someone had put up in Hercules Glade Wilderness, a section of the Mark Twain National Forest.
Now these weren’t small stacks of rock along a creek. Many looked to be four to six feet high. And there wasn’t only one or two. There were photos of seven different cairns. Posted with them were the comments “found these at the creek … how cool are these?”
I made the mistake of being one of the first to comment by saying “Not at all. People should leave nature as they find so that all can enjoy it.”
The responses came quick, most of them attacks on my belief that a public area, especially a national forest, is best left undisturbed. Nearly all the responses were so asinine I realized there would be no discussion so I turned my attention elsewhere.
Soon after, though, more messages started arriving, so many so quickly that the administrator of the site turned off commenting on the post but before that happened several shared thoughts similar to mine. Some, who were more patient than I and who had work in such things as national parks or fisheries, gave more detailed reasons for why the cairns should not be left in a wilderness area.
The fact that people agreed or disagreed with the original post and photos or what I said isn’t what prompted this column. Instead it was the attacks on other’s comments and the lack of discussion that led to this column and my leaving the Facebook group.
I’ve seen more savage attacks, usually in other Facebook posts, that eventually sink down to outright name calling. The sad part is many of the mean and vicious comments come from people I’ve got to college or high school with. It’s gotten out of hand.
Unfortunately it’s not limited to social media. It’s become part of our culture. When a White House aide can say John McCain’s opinion “doesn’t matter, he’s dying anyway,” we’ve hit a low point.
Civil discourse is quickly disappearing but I would like to think we can still disagree yet discuss the issues instead attacking one another.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
‘Your life is now’
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“… in this undiscovered moment
lift your head up above the crowd
we could shake this world
if you would only show us how
your life is now …” John Mellencamp, “Your Life Is Now”
With our daughter Hannah’s graduation behind us and Southwest Valley High School’s graduation fast approaching (2 p.m. May 20), my thoughts have been on what this life-changing event means.
For Hannah — and graduates everywhere — it means the culmination of years of hard work, freedom, adulthood, and opportunities waiting to be discovered. It means new challenges, new adventures, and new friends.
While I’ve offered advice to my daughters (all my children, actually) over the years, lately my advice to them has been “be careful, be safe, have fun.” But as Hannah and others embark on a new life, I wanted to again share my advice to new graduates that, I hope, can be applied to everyone in every stage of life.
Enjoy your friends and keep in touch with them even though it’s likely to become difficult as you each go separate ways. You’ve share a lot, good and bad, and your friends have had a large influence on the person you’ve become today.
Make new friends, especially with people you think with which you have little in common. People with different, thoughts, ideas, and backgrounds often touch you more than those who share your views.
Never believe there is only one way of doing something.
Walk everywhere you can, not just to class but in the park, on the beach, in the woods, in the city, around your neighborhood, in the rain, and in the snow. Walk with no predetermined destination. Walk by yourself and with someone you care about, either way you’ll find yourself healthier physically, mentally, and spiritually.
Don’t forget your comfort foods — peanut butter banana sandwiches, Mom’s meatloaf, or your favorite pie — but try one new food at least once a week. You never know when you’re going to discover your next comfort food.
Surround yourself with positive people. Complainers not only wear you down they also wear off on you.
Laugh often, especially when things are most difficult.
Never doubt your abilities in work, school, or life. Graduation should serve as a life-long reminder of your accomplishments and as a stepping stone to life filled with many more.
Be punctual. Being late is inconsiderate to others.
Remain curious throughout your life. Take that elective in folk art appreciation, introduction to Mandarin, or basket weaving. You’ll gain a better understanding of yourself and the world around you.
Enjoy your success and learn from your setbacks.
Visit and call your family often. Share with them the good and the bad. Although you’re striking out on your own as an adult your family’s love and experience will continue to help you throughout your life.
Don’t forget to stop by and say hello when you’re back in town, even if for a second or two. I’m sure many people feel about Southwest Valley High School’s class of 2018 the same way I do about our daughter Hannah — hard to believe they’re seniors.
And congratulations and good luck with whatever you decide to do with your high school degrees. As John Mellencamp sings, “your life is now.”
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“… in this undiscovered moment
lift your head up above the crowd
we could shake this world
if you would only show us how
your life is now …” John Mellencamp, “Your Life Is Now”
With our daughter Hannah’s graduation behind us and Southwest Valley High School’s graduation fast approaching (2 p.m. May 20), my thoughts have been on what this life-changing event means.
For Hannah — and graduates everywhere — it means the culmination of years of hard work, freedom, adulthood, and opportunities waiting to be discovered. It means new challenges, new adventures, and new friends.
While I’ve offered advice to my daughters (all my children, actually) over the years, lately my advice to them has been “be careful, be safe, have fun.” But as Hannah and others embark on a new life, I wanted to again share my advice to new graduates that, I hope, can be applied to everyone in every stage of life.
Enjoy your friends and keep in touch with them even though it’s likely to become difficult as you each go separate ways. You’ve share a lot, good and bad, and your friends have had a large influence on the person you’ve become today.
Make new friends, especially with people you think with which you have little in common. People with different, thoughts, ideas, and backgrounds often touch you more than those who share your views.
Never believe there is only one way of doing something.
Walk everywhere you can, not just to class but in the park, on the beach, in the woods, in the city, around your neighborhood, in the rain, and in the snow. Walk with no predetermined destination. Walk by yourself and with someone you care about, either way you’ll find yourself healthier physically, mentally, and spiritually.
Don’t forget your comfort foods — peanut butter banana sandwiches, Mom’s meatloaf, or your favorite pie — but try one new food at least once a week. You never know when you’re going to discover your next comfort food.
Surround yourself with positive people. Complainers not only wear you down they also wear off on you.
Laugh often, especially when things are most difficult.
Never doubt your abilities in work, school, or life. Graduation should serve as a life-long reminder of your accomplishments and as a stepping stone to life filled with many more.
Be punctual. Being late is inconsiderate to others.
Remain curious throughout your life. Take that elective in folk art appreciation, introduction to Mandarin, or basket weaving. You’ll gain a better understanding of yourself and the world around you.
Enjoy your success and learn from your setbacks.
Visit and call your family often. Share with them the good and the bad. Although you’re striking out on your own as an adult your family’s love and experience will continue to help you throughout your life.
Don’t forget to stop by and say hello when you’re back in town, even if for a second or two. I’m sure many people feel about Southwest Valley High School’s class of 2018 the same way I do about our daughter Hannah — hard to believe they’re seniors.
And congratulations and good luck with whatever you decide to do with your high school degrees. As John Mellencamp sings, “your life is now.”
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
School year is winding down
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
Wow, where does time go? I thought we just started the new school year, but its already time to start thinking about Mother’s Day, graduation, state track meets, Memorial Day, softball, baseball, county fairs, and everything else that goes on in the late spring early summer.
Well, I think Mother Nature is to blame because she really can’t figure out what kind of weather she wants to deliver. I’m hoping she decides soon or maybe she realizes I have not come up with a plan for vacation yet so she is giving me some extra time to get it figured out before school is out for the summer.
Mother’s Day is also rapidly approaching so you best get that present or those flowers bought for mom. It’s going to be a special Mother’s Day for my mom as she has had gone through some health issues in the past few weeks but it looks like the light is finally at the end of the tunnel for us. Without going into too much detail she will be recuperating at a facility in Des Moines that will be able to better handle her health issues in a speedier fashion and give her the care she needs. Happy Mother’s Day Mom! She has a subscription so I know she will see this in case her card gets lost in the mail — again!
With great sadness it was reported earlier that Jason Wetzel was leaving the helm of head wrestling coach and athletic director at Southwest Valley. My connection with Jason goes back several years as I had worked with his younger brother Nick while working in Creston and met Jason through him. Jason was a tireless coach and always worked hard to make sure we in the media were taken care of. Athletic directors serve as host when their home school has an event at their location. He also took the time to answer any and all crazy questions I had regarding being a newspaper reporter/photographer as in where I could stand to take pictures and not be in the way of the action or the participants. In wrestling, I never witnessed his practices but I am sure he made the team work just as hard as he did in getting them prepared for their next dual. Good luck Jason and I am sure to see you around town.
A couple of other losses from SWV include art teacher Bryce Giesman. If you have been at any high school event you have no doubt seen a very tall, dark haired gentleman with a camera — that was Mr. Giesman. Bryce helped us out at the Free Press several times with some unforgettable photos like the one when the Timberwolves clinched the district championship with the last second victory over Council Bluffs Lewis Central. He also had a photo of Morgan Shuey as she scored her 1,000th career point for the Timberwolf girls basketball team. I wish you good luck Bryce and thanks for all your contributions to the Adams County Free Press and the impressive artwork done by your students.
Another loss that will be felt throughout the district will be Superintendent Willie Stone. Willie, thank you for all your contributions to the communities of both Villisca and Corning. I am sure it was appreciated by many and I also thank you for taking the time to answer the several calls or emails I made or sent your way to get information out to the public regarding the school. Willie, I wish you and your family the best of luck in your next adventure as superintendent of schools at Washington, Iowa, in Southeast Iowa because they got a good one.
Speaking of the Wetzels, Nick’s car wash Wolf Wash is coming along nicely after the lot located at the corner of Quincy and Sixth Street was cleared of trees. The concrete has been poured, the hoses have been run, the vacuums have been installed, and all the electronics will soon get installed allowing for it to open in the next few weeks.
As the calendar turns toward June, county supervisors are busily trying to find a replacement for longtime county engineer Eldon Rike. I recently did some research about Eldon and found out he came to Adams County and Corning in January 1979 to replace Ralph Morrow. He also worked with the Iowa Conservation Commission, which is now the Department of Natural Resources, and also worked for an engineering firm in Des Moines. Congratulations are in order for Eldon on his long career working for Adams County comes to a culmination with his retirement.
After being here a full 12 months I am now starting to get a feel of what is going on and when things happen so I sometimes contact people before their event actually happens, but that’s a good thing. A quick reminder that if you know of something going on give me call or send me an email and I will see what I can do to let others know what is going on as well. Thanks to all who have done so in the last 12-1/2 months as it makes my job as a reporter that much more exciting when I can write a story or take a picture so the community is aware of what’s happening in their neighborhood.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
Wow, where does time go? I thought we just started the new school year, but its already time to start thinking about Mother’s Day, graduation, state track meets, Memorial Day, softball, baseball, county fairs, and everything else that goes on in the late spring early summer.
Well, I think Mother Nature is to blame because she really can’t figure out what kind of weather she wants to deliver. I’m hoping she decides soon or maybe she realizes I have not come up with a plan for vacation yet so she is giving me some extra time to get it figured out before school is out for the summer.
Mother’s Day is also rapidly approaching so you best get that present or those flowers bought for mom. It’s going to be a special Mother’s Day for my mom as she has had gone through some health issues in the past few weeks but it looks like the light is finally at the end of the tunnel for us. Without going into too much detail she will be recuperating at a facility in Des Moines that will be able to better handle her health issues in a speedier fashion and give her the care she needs. Happy Mother’s Day Mom! She has a subscription so I know she will see this in case her card gets lost in the mail — again!
With great sadness it was reported earlier that Jason Wetzel was leaving the helm of head wrestling coach and athletic director at Southwest Valley. My connection with Jason goes back several years as I had worked with his younger brother Nick while working in Creston and met Jason through him. Jason was a tireless coach and always worked hard to make sure we in the media were taken care of. Athletic directors serve as host when their home school has an event at their location. He also took the time to answer any and all crazy questions I had regarding being a newspaper reporter/photographer as in where I could stand to take pictures and not be in the way of the action or the participants. In wrestling, I never witnessed his practices but I am sure he made the team work just as hard as he did in getting them prepared for their next dual. Good luck Jason and I am sure to see you around town.
A couple of other losses from SWV include art teacher Bryce Giesman. If you have been at any high school event you have no doubt seen a very tall, dark haired gentleman with a camera — that was Mr. Giesman. Bryce helped us out at the Free Press several times with some unforgettable photos like the one when the Timberwolves clinched the district championship with the last second victory over Council Bluffs Lewis Central. He also had a photo of Morgan Shuey as she scored her 1,000th career point for the Timberwolf girls basketball team. I wish you good luck Bryce and thanks for all your contributions to the Adams County Free Press and the impressive artwork done by your students.
Another loss that will be felt throughout the district will be Superintendent Willie Stone. Willie, thank you for all your contributions to the communities of both Villisca and Corning. I am sure it was appreciated by many and I also thank you for taking the time to answer the several calls or emails I made or sent your way to get information out to the public regarding the school. Willie, I wish you and your family the best of luck in your next adventure as superintendent of schools at Washington, Iowa, in Southeast Iowa because they got a good one.
Speaking of the Wetzels, Nick’s car wash Wolf Wash is coming along nicely after the lot located at the corner of Quincy and Sixth Street was cleared of trees. The concrete has been poured, the hoses have been run, the vacuums have been installed, and all the electronics will soon get installed allowing for it to open in the next few weeks.
As the calendar turns toward June, county supervisors are busily trying to find a replacement for longtime county engineer Eldon Rike. I recently did some research about Eldon and found out he came to Adams County and Corning in January 1979 to replace Ralph Morrow. He also worked with the Iowa Conservation Commission, which is now the Department of Natural Resources, and also worked for an engineering firm in Des Moines. Congratulations are in order for Eldon on his long career working for Adams County comes to a culmination with his retirement.
After being here a full 12 months I am now starting to get a feel of what is going on and when things happen so I sometimes contact people before their event actually happens, but that’s a good thing. A quick reminder that if you know of something going on give me call or send me an email and I will see what I can do to let others know what is going on as well. Thanks to all who have done so in the last 12-1/2 months as it makes my job as a reporter that much more exciting when I can write a story or take a picture so the community is aware of what’s happening in their neighborhood.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Take back democracy
Fluff and Stuff
Christy Groves
One of the most honored concepts of this country was founded on the idea of one person, one vote and that every vote counts. That, however, simply may no longer be true.
Gerrymandering may well be the single biggest threat to democracy that this country has ever experienced.
Gerrymandering is the act of achieving an election result by manipulating the boundaries of an electoral constituency or drawing voter district lines to favor one party over another. While it is true that gerrymandering has been practiced nearly as long as people have been voting, and that neither side of the political coin is innocent in its use, what is a more recent issue is the precision in which it can be achieved. New technologies have now made it possible to draw voting district lines with such accuracy that the outcome of an election may well be determined before voters even enter the polls.
You might have asked yourself why some voter district lines look as if they have been drawn by a 3-year-old with very poor motor skills. Well the answer is very likely to be gerrymandering. These lines have been drawn in such a way to group voters of the ruling party and to disburse voters of the opposing side. The result is often that the person who is elected does not really represent the views and the ideas of the majority of people they were elected to serve and representative don’t really have to care because there is no real risk of losing a general election. There is also no incentive to compromise because they only have to really concern themselves with a small portion of their overall voter pool. Over time, this causes sane people to pursue insane pandering and extreme positions. It is a key, but often overlooked, source of contemporary gridlock and endless bickering. Moreover, gerrymandering also disempowers and distorts citizen votes — which leads to decreased turnout and a sense of powerlessness among Americans.
The solution is a simple one. We make gerrymandering illegal and turn to a grid and population based formula to draw voter district lines. The political leanings of voters would no longer be a factor in the drawing of these lines. The up side to this approach is that elected officials would have to concern themselves with all the members of their district, not just the like-minded ones, if they want to remain in office. It would also pave the way for more bipartisan politicians and hopefully more bipartisan policies, policies and legislation that will address the needs and concerns of all American no matter whether their party of choice was in office or not. We are at our best in this country when we are united so should we be in the creation of the policies and laws we are all adhering to.
This is not a problem for just red or blue states; it is a red, white and blue problem because it affects all of us. Our vote, our one tool for making our need and issues heard is being highjacked. So, regardless of one’s political leanings we need to band together as Americans and let politician know that we have no intention of electing anyone who supports or allows the practice of gerrymandering.
Only by taking back democracy can we begin to address all the other issues that face our country.
Christy Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Fluff and Stuff
Christy Groves
One of the most honored concepts of this country was founded on the idea of one person, one vote and that every vote counts. That, however, simply may no longer be true.
Gerrymandering may well be the single biggest threat to democracy that this country has ever experienced.
Gerrymandering is the act of achieving an election result by manipulating the boundaries of an electoral constituency or drawing voter district lines to favor one party over another. While it is true that gerrymandering has been practiced nearly as long as people have been voting, and that neither side of the political coin is innocent in its use, what is a more recent issue is the precision in which it can be achieved. New technologies have now made it possible to draw voting district lines with such accuracy that the outcome of an election may well be determined before voters even enter the polls.
You might have asked yourself why some voter district lines look as if they have been drawn by a 3-year-old with very poor motor skills. Well the answer is very likely to be gerrymandering. These lines have been drawn in such a way to group voters of the ruling party and to disburse voters of the opposing side. The result is often that the person who is elected does not really represent the views and the ideas of the majority of people they were elected to serve and representative don’t really have to care because there is no real risk of losing a general election. There is also no incentive to compromise because they only have to really concern themselves with a small portion of their overall voter pool. Over time, this causes sane people to pursue insane pandering and extreme positions. It is a key, but often overlooked, source of contemporary gridlock and endless bickering. Moreover, gerrymandering also disempowers and distorts citizen votes — which leads to decreased turnout and a sense of powerlessness among Americans.
The solution is a simple one. We make gerrymandering illegal and turn to a grid and population based formula to draw voter district lines. The political leanings of voters would no longer be a factor in the drawing of these lines. The up side to this approach is that elected officials would have to concern themselves with all the members of their district, not just the like-minded ones, if they want to remain in office. It would also pave the way for more bipartisan politicians and hopefully more bipartisan policies, policies and legislation that will address the needs and concerns of all American no matter whether their party of choice was in office or not. We are at our best in this country when we are united so should we be in the creation of the policies and laws we are all adhering to.
This is not a problem for just red or blue states; it is a red, white and blue problem because it affects all of us. Our vote, our one tool for making our need and issues heard is being highjacked. So, regardless of one’s political leanings we need to band together as Americans and let politician know that we have no intention of electing anyone who supports or allows the practice of gerrymandering.
Only by taking back democracy can we begin to address all the other issues that face our country.
Christy Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Maybe spring is finally here
Don’t Drafts
Don Groves
The first spring mow is the worst.
You never know if you’ll be facing hypothermia, suffering from heat stroke, trying to mow through overgrown grass and muddy spots in the yard, battling early mosquitoes, or swatting at pesky flies emboldened by sunny, warm temperatures.
I decided early Saturday to tackle our yard because the grass was getting a bit tall where the dogs don’t regularly visit and those same high spots had attracted the dogs as if they had been spring calves. I – we – had all grown tired of the dogs’ distractions instead of getting down to business when we took them out.
But before I could even get out the mower I had to first pick up all the downed tree branches that had fallen and trash that had blown into the yard over all those days that had been too cold, too windy, or just too overcast to keep me from wanting to be outside.
Of course while prepping I decided I should go ahead and rake the leaves from the flowerbeds so I could mow the leaves and add them to my nearly depleted compost pile. The raking took far longer than I expected and did little to help my already painful back. By the time I was done raking I decided I was overdressed in sweatpants and sweatshirt so I shucked my sweat clothes and tried shorts and a t-shirt.
That didn’t last long.
Sweat in cotton clothes in cooler temperatures means chills when you stop sweating so there was some wardrobe adjustment needed. The sweatshirt went back on but I decided I could make do in shorts.
The next challenge turned out to be getting to the mower from behind all the lumber and plywood I had thrown into the shed after tearing down our henhouse. I had intended to sort the wood and stack it up in the rafters to organize the shed but, like much of this spring, weather led me to other projects.
With the mower out and a back already sore, I dreaded trying to start it. Each fall I tell myself I’m going to get the mower ready for winter but I always keep thinking I should get in one final mow before it gets too cold. I never do — get in one final mow or winterize the mower.
Of course after several painful pulls and some heavy breathing the mower wouldn’t start. My next concern was a trip to the parts store for an air filter, sparkplug, or something more expensive needed to attack the grass.
Fortunately, after cleaning the air filter and shooting a bit of starting fluid into the carburetor, the mower started in just a couple of pulls. There was one final concern, though. I wasn’t sure I had enough gas to finish the job and prevent a trip to the gas station.
I finished the backyard first knowing it would require the most gas, stopped for a water break, and added the remaining gas I had on hand to the mower, which amounted to about half a tank.
I’m happy to say it was enough to finish the job and by Sunday morning in church I realized the first spring mow would not require a trip to the chiropractor. And, by Sunday afternoon, the dogs and I were able to enjoy the front porch where — for the first time in 2018 — I enjoyed writing a column.
Maybe spring is finally here.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’t Drafts
Don Groves
The first spring mow is the worst.
You never know if you’ll be facing hypothermia, suffering from heat stroke, trying to mow through overgrown grass and muddy spots in the yard, battling early mosquitoes, or swatting at pesky flies emboldened by sunny, warm temperatures.
I decided early Saturday to tackle our yard because the grass was getting a bit tall where the dogs don’t regularly visit and those same high spots had attracted the dogs as if they had been spring calves. I – we – had all grown tired of the dogs’ distractions instead of getting down to business when we took them out.
But before I could even get out the mower I had to first pick up all the downed tree branches that had fallen and trash that had blown into the yard over all those days that had been too cold, too windy, or just too overcast to keep me from wanting to be outside.
Of course while prepping I decided I should go ahead and rake the leaves from the flowerbeds so I could mow the leaves and add them to my nearly depleted compost pile. The raking took far longer than I expected and did little to help my already painful back. By the time I was done raking I decided I was overdressed in sweatpants and sweatshirt so I shucked my sweat clothes and tried shorts and a t-shirt.
That didn’t last long.
Sweat in cotton clothes in cooler temperatures means chills when you stop sweating so there was some wardrobe adjustment needed. The sweatshirt went back on but I decided I could make do in shorts.
The next challenge turned out to be getting to the mower from behind all the lumber and plywood I had thrown into the shed after tearing down our henhouse. I had intended to sort the wood and stack it up in the rafters to organize the shed but, like much of this spring, weather led me to other projects.
With the mower out and a back already sore, I dreaded trying to start it. Each fall I tell myself I’m going to get the mower ready for winter but I always keep thinking I should get in one final mow before it gets too cold. I never do — get in one final mow or winterize the mower.
Of course after several painful pulls and some heavy breathing the mower wouldn’t start. My next concern was a trip to the parts store for an air filter, sparkplug, or something more expensive needed to attack the grass.
Fortunately, after cleaning the air filter and shooting a bit of starting fluid into the carburetor, the mower started in just a couple of pulls. There was one final concern, though. I wasn’t sure I had enough gas to finish the job and prevent a trip to the gas station.
I finished the backyard first knowing it would require the most gas, stopped for a water break, and added the remaining gas I had on hand to the mower, which amounted to about half a tank.
I’m happy to say it was enough to finish the job and by Sunday morning in church I realized the first spring mow would not require a trip to the chiropractor. And, by Sunday afternoon, the dogs and I were able to enjoy the front porch where — for the first time in 2018 — I enjoyed writing a column.
Maybe spring is finally here.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
It’s been an interesting year
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
Well, here we are one year, 366 days ago!
On April 18, 2017, I walked into the office at The Adams County Free Press as a print journalist. Quite a change from the microphone I was used to carrying. But change is good for the soul, as they say, not sure who said that but someone did.
Anyway, it has been an interesting year. Being an amateur photographer at best, I am getting pretty good at this picture taking thing. I have gotten several comments about the photos taken and thanks for being patient with me when I am out and about taking them as it usually takes me awhile to figure out where I am going. And in group shots, thanks for sticking around and telling me who you are. And many thanks to the coaches, teachers, and staff members at Southwest Valley Schools for helping me identify the kids as I have not been here long enough to know exactly who everyone is.
On the other side of things is the writing of stories. I thank everyone who I work with in getting stories and help me make sure I have names right or just make sure I have the right name with the comments that are made. Writing for newspaper is a little bit different than radio because I usually can get a picture to go with my story so it’s better to see what happened at an accident or a house fire or a water tower coming down. Also, another difference is I was used to talking to a person in the know and using their voice to tell the story. Now, I need to listen a bit closer to what is being said and use a tape recorder to make sure I can attribute a quote to the right person. So, after my first year of being a print journalist, I think has been a success with a few growing pains but they are gradually subsiding thanks to my Diet Dew.
It’s been a crazy last few weeks as it does appear winter has disappeared for a few months and now we can get on with springtime activities. Track, golf, soccer, and tennis have begun for area high schools and it looks like the Adams County Speedway will finally be able to start racing at the Adams County Fairgrounds most Saturday nights this summer. Good luck to all the competitors in your given sport of choice.
Major league baseball has begun as well and the Cubs …. well, it’s too early to say, “Wait till next year.” I won’t give up on them until November when I know the outcome of the 2018 season. Also, the NFL draft is upcoming and it looks as if there will be a few players taken from both Iowa and Iowa State as well as a few natives who played collegiately elsewhere.
So now that spring has sprung let’s hope we have a great spring and an even better summer, as that time of year will be upon soon as will the primary election. Local and state candidates spent most of their late winter and early spring fanning the state looking for signatures to appear on the ballot this June. The primary election will be an opportunity to vote for the person who best represents the party’s political platforms on the issues. Locally, it looks as though there might be a race this June. Look for interviews with the local candidates as the primary approaches on June 5.
Spring is also a time as they say for spring cleaning. I have several boxes in which I have stored numerous papers, notes, and trinkets over the years and I guess it’s probably time to just be done with some of it and toss it into the trash can or send it through the paper shredder. It’s a hard thing to do but needs to be done so I can have some room in my house for other things — or more room to stash more current things which will get tossed in the next 10 years or so. For the larger items it’s probably time for a garage sale, which that time of year is also rapidly approaching.
That’s all until next month.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
Well, here we are one year, 366 days ago!
On April 18, 2017, I walked into the office at The Adams County Free Press as a print journalist. Quite a change from the microphone I was used to carrying. But change is good for the soul, as they say, not sure who said that but someone did.
Anyway, it has been an interesting year. Being an amateur photographer at best, I am getting pretty good at this picture taking thing. I have gotten several comments about the photos taken and thanks for being patient with me when I am out and about taking them as it usually takes me awhile to figure out where I am going. And in group shots, thanks for sticking around and telling me who you are. And many thanks to the coaches, teachers, and staff members at Southwest Valley Schools for helping me identify the kids as I have not been here long enough to know exactly who everyone is.
On the other side of things is the writing of stories. I thank everyone who I work with in getting stories and help me make sure I have names right or just make sure I have the right name with the comments that are made. Writing for newspaper is a little bit different than radio because I usually can get a picture to go with my story so it’s better to see what happened at an accident or a house fire or a water tower coming down. Also, another difference is I was used to talking to a person in the know and using their voice to tell the story. Now, I need to listen a bit closer to what is being said and use a tape recorder to make sure I can attribute a quote to the right person. So, after my first year of being a print journalist, I think has been a success with a few growing pains but they are gradually subsiding thanks to my Diet Dew.
It’s been a crazy last few weeks as it does appear winter has disappeared for a few months and now we can get on with springtime activities. Track, golf, soccer, and tennis have begun for area high schools and it looks like the Adams County Speedway will finally be able to start racing at the Adams County Fairgrounds most Saturday nights this summer. Good luck to all the competitors in your given sport of choice.
Major league baseball has begun as well and the Cubs …. well, it’s too early to say, “Wait till next year.” I won’t give up on them until November when I know the outcome of the 2018 season. Also, the NFL draft is upcoming and it looks as if there will be a few players taken from both Iowa and Iowa State as well as a few natives who played collegiately elsewhere.
So now that spring has sprung let’s hope we have a great spring and an even better summer, as that time of year will be upon soon as will the primary election. Local and state candidates spent most of their late winter and early spring fanning the state looking for signatures to appear on the ballot this June. The primary election will be an opportunity to vote for the person who best represents the party’s political platforms on the issues. Locally, it looks as though there might be a race this June. Look for interviews with the local candidates as the primary approaches on June 5.
Spring is also a time as they say for spring cleaning. I have several boxes in which I have stored numerous papers, notes, and trinkets over the years and I guess it’s probably time to just be done with some of it and toss it into the trash can or send it through the paper shredder. It’s a hard thing to do but needs to be done so I can have some room in my house for other things — or more room to stash more current things which will get tossed in the next 10 years or so. For the larger items it’s probably time for a garage sale, which that time of year is also rapidly approaching.
That’s all until next month.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Nostalgia takes hold
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
You never know how fortunate a life you’ve had until you’ve taken a bit of time to reflect.
And with a high school senior this year, you get almost non-stop chances to reflect. Nostalgia has taken a strong hold in our house as we put together a video of photographs of Hannah for her graduation.
I’ll admit, more than a few of those photos have made me a bit weepy.
From when Hannah was a toddler kissing worms in our vegetable garden, through hiking and swimming, t-ball and soccer, chasing greased pigs and competing in peddle pull, her first bicycle and her first car, her kindergarten friends and teenage boyfriends, up to her 18th birthday and her final high school milestones, there have been a lot of laughs and smiles.
I can’t say fatherhood has always been easy — in fact it still isn’t easy. In many ways it’s becoming more difficult. The challenges are greater, more costly in many ways, but there’s more confidence those challenges can be overcome.
The same is true for our youngest, Allison. As I’ve gone through the old photos for Hannah’s senior video I’ve thought about putting photos of Allison aside so I’ll be prepared for her senior year.
But I haven’t. I want to take time to reflect again on Allison’s life with us in a couple of years when she graduates and embrace nostalgia all over again.
I think Hannah, too, is growing nostalgic herself as she realizes how soon her high school career will end. In between her homework and tests, her social life and work, I can tell she’s been reflecting too.
We shared the photos we pulled for Hannah with her as we walked down memory lane. It brought a lot of memories back to her, some she had almost forgotten. And as we went through the photos Hannah would laugh or tell us about a photo of her and her friends and then share a copy with the others in the photo via Snapchat or Instagram.
Hannah is showing other signs of nostalgia as well.
Allison was recently accepted to Missouri Scholars Academy, a three-week summer school for sophomore high school students at the University of Missouri, just as her older sister had two years earlier.
Hannah, who told us before supper had planned to meet up with her friends after we ate, instead dug out all of her notes, letters, and writings from her time at the academy. Instead of meeting her friends, she spent the next hour or so sharing with her sister all she had experienced in Columbia, Mo., in 2016.
Yes, there’s been a lot of reflection going on lately, so much so that I’ve noticed it’s become the focus of most of my columns. If I’ve taken it a bit far for some of you I apologize. I’ve just been embracing nostalgia and realizing my fortune.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
You never know how fortunate a life you’ve had until you’ve taken a bit of time to reflect.
And with a high school senior this year, you get almost non-stop chances to reflect. Nostalgia has taken a strong hold in our house as we put together a video of photographs of Hannah for her graduation.
I’ll admit, more than a few of those photos have made me a bit weepy.
From when Hannah was a toddler kissing worms in our vegetable garden, through hiking and swimming, t-ball and soccer, chasing greased pigs and competing in peddle pull, her first bicycle and her first car, her kindergarten friends and teenage boyfriends, up to her 18th birthday and her final high school milestones, there have been a lot of laughs and smiles.
I can’t say fatherhood has always been easy — in fact it still isn’t easy. In many ways it’s becoming more difficult. The challenges are greater, more costly in many ways, but there’s more confidence those challenges can be overcome.
The same is true for our youngest, Allison. As I’ve gone through the old photos for Hannah’s senior video I’ve thought about putting photos of Allison aside so I’ll be prepared for her senior year.
But I haven’t. I want to take time to reflect again on Allison’s life with us in a couple of years when she graduates and embrace nostalgia all over again.
I think Hannah, too, is growing nostalgic herself as she realizes how soon her high school career will end. In between her homework and tests, her social life and work, I can tell she’s been reflecting too.
We shared the photos we pulled for Hannah with her as we walked down memory lane. It brought a lot of memories back to her, some she had almost forgotten. And as we went through the photos Hannah would laugh or tell us about a photo of her and her friends and then share a copy with the others in the photo via Snapchat or Instagram.
Hannah is showing other signs of nostalgia as well.
Allison was recently accepted to Missouri Scholars Academy, a three-week summer school for sophomore high school students at the University of Missouri, just as her older sister had two years earlier.
Hannah, who told us before supper had planned to meet up with her friends after we ate, instead dug out all of her notes, letters, and writings from her time at the academy. Instead of meeting her friends, she spent the next hour or so sharing with her sister all she had experienced in Columbia, Mo., in 2016.
Yes, there’s been a lot of reflection going on lately, so much so that I’ve noticed it’s become the focus of most of my columns. If I’ve taken it a bit far for some of you I apologize. I’ve just been embracing nostalgia and realizing my fortune.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Proud to live in the No. 1 state
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
So … Iowa is the No. 1 state. That’s according to U.S. News and World Report.
The publication ranked states in some eight categories and Iowa was tops in infrastructure and in the top 10 in education, quality of life, and health care plus providing opportunities for success.
I have lived in Iowa for 50 of my 51 years — the one-year absence was in what was then called extreme Northwest Iowa in Sioux Falls, S.D. At the time I lived there the city had just been named the best city to live in. Well, I am not sure if it was or not as that was several years ago and I was a lot younger back then. But I chose to return to rural Iowa and I am glad I did. Living in Sioux Falls was an experience of a lifetime, allowing me to be in a big city with something to do every night of the week, when I wasn’t working of course. But I longed for the quietness of rural Iowa and I enjoy being able to wave at someone and usually get a wave back and we say hi whether we know you or not. They say that’s called Iowa Nice.
So, I am glad I came back for many reasons, one of which is family as at the time I was a bachelor living like there was nothing to worry about except getting up the next day to go to work. But life has changed a lot in those years: the loss of a close friend, marriage, kids, divorce, losing a job but getting a new one, and just plain getting older. Some friends I have are from other states and continually ask why are you still in Iowa? I guess its because its home! Yes, Iowa is my home and I am glad it is as we have so much to be proud of.
I also am glad to call Corning my home away from home at this time. Yes, someday I will make the move here and hang out my shingle and say yes, Corning is my home. I am not sure when that day will come but I most definitely will be asking for some assistance at that time to haul my many, many boxes of my belongings. So yes, I am now proud to say I live in the No. 1 state … according to U.S. News and World Report that is.
A lot has occurred since we last visited: new state high school basketball champions have been crowned, the snow has disappeared … finally, the men’s and women’s NCAA basketball tournaments are in full swing, playgrounds are full again with kids chasing each other around, trees are starting to bud, and the grass is GREEN! I am sure if it hasn’t already the countdown will begin on how many days of school are left and the days until graduation for the high school seniors anxious to begin their next step in their journey of life. It’s almost time for me to reflect on my first year as a reporter at The Adams County Free Press, which I will be doing in the next few weeks.
Spring training has also begun for major league baseball. Will this be the year the Cubs do it again? I really am hoping so. We need to prove 2016 was not a fluke as we are a good team needing to get back to the World Series and take the Crown of World Champions back again to Wrigley Field.
Also, it’s getting time for college football teams to have their spring games. I had planned on taking the kids to Iowa City where, as Luke says “where the Hawkeyes live,” to their spring game which normally held on a Saturday toward the end of April. But as luck would have it instead it is being held on a Friday night so now to come up with plan B. I understand this is the second time they have had it on a Friday night. Shows how long it’s been since I have been to Iowa City for a football game. I do want to get there so Luke and Olivia can see where our beloved Hawkeyes live. We will make it there someday … I promise.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
So … Iowa is the No. 1 state. That’s according to U.S. News and World Report.
The publication ranked states in some eight categories and Iowa was tops in infrastructure and in the top 10 in education, quality of life, and health care plus providing opportunities for success.
I have lived in Iowa for 50 of my 51 years — the one-year absence was in what was then called extreme Northwest Iowa in Sioux Falls, S.D. At the time I lived there the city had just been named the best city to live in. Well, I am not sure if it was or not as that was several years ago and I was a lot younger back then. But I chose to return to rural Iowa and I am glad I did. Living in Sioux Falls was an experience of a lifetime, allowing me to be in a big city with something to do every night of the week, when I wasn’t working of course. But I longed for the quietness of rural Iowa and I enjoy being able to wave at someone and usually get a wave back and we say hi whether we know you or not. They say that’s called Iowa Nice.
So, I am glad I came back for many reasons, one of which is family as at the time I was a bachelor living like there was nothing to worry about except getting up the next day to go to work. But life has changed a lot in those years: the loss of a close friend, marriage, kids, divorce, losing a job but getting a new one, and just plain getting older. Some friends I have are from other states and continually ask why are you still in Iowa? I guess its because its home! Yes, Iowa is my home and I am glad it is as we have so much to be proud of.
I also am glad to call Corning my home away from home at this time. Yes, someday I will make the move here and hang out my shingle and say yes, Corning is my home. I am not sure when that day will come but I most definitely will be asking for some assistance at that time to haul my many, many boxes of my belongings. So yes, I am now proud to say I live in the No. 1 state … according to U.S. News and World Report that is.
A lot has occurred since we last visited: new state high school basketball champions have been crowned, the snow has disappeared … finally, the men’s and women’s NCAA basketball tournaments are in full swing, playgrounds are full again with kids chasing each other around, trees are starting to bud, and the grass is GREEN! I am sure if it hasn’t already the countdown will begin on how many days of school are left and the days until graduation for the high school seniors anxious to begin their next step in their journey of life. It’s almost time for me to reflect on my first year as a reporter at The Adams County Free Press, which I will be doing in the next few weeks.
Spring training has also begun for major league baseball. Will this be the year the Cubs do it again? I really am hoping so. We need to prove 2016 was not a fluke as we are a good team needing to get back to the World Series and take the Crown of World Champions back again to Wrigley Field.
Also, it’s getting time for college football teams to have their spring games. I had planned on taking the kids to Iowa City where, as Luke says “where the Hawkeyes live,” to their spring game which normally held on a Saturday toward the end of April. But as luck would have it instead it is being held on a Friday night so now to come up with plan B. I understand this is the second time they have had it on a Friday night. Shows how long it’s been since I have been to Iowa City for a football game. I do want to get there so Luke and Olivia can see where our beloved Hawkeyes live. We will make it there someday … I promise.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Emptier doesn’t mean quieter
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Our household nest is becoming emptier more often.
Christy and I knew it would happen one day but now that high school basketball is over and neither of our daughters competing in track and field this spring my wife and I are beginning to see less of our teenagers.
You would think that with our daughters involved in few activities this spring we would see them more often instead of less often but that isn’t the case. As an 18-year-old senior and soon to be 16-year-old sophomore the two dive head first into social life, work and academics.
Hannah, our senior, started working weekends at Shopko months ago. Now, with her final basketball season behind her, she’s begun working weeknights after school as well and that means we see her for a few minutes before she leaves for school, a few minutes when she gets home from work and, if we’re fortunate, for a family meal a couple of times a week.
Allison, our soon to be 16-year-old, is beginning to enjoy the freedom licensed teenage drivers have. In a week or two she will take her driver’s license test and I expect there to be a battle of control over her sister’s car (although Allison is hoping to drive my truck instead — we’ll see).
I suspect that like Hannah Allison will try to find a part-time job. This summer Allison will likely work at the pool again so I doubt the job search begins until next fall, maybe even later. Still, she’s already bought a membership at the community center so she can work out with her friends, which she’s been doing daily since getting the membership. Even as I write this I watch her take off on my bicycle for the community center.
With our daughters beginning to truly spread their wings you might think there would be a decrease in the need for household chores such as laundry, housework, dishes, and such. Again you would be wrong. We have teenage girls so when it comes time for laundry we end up one basket of clean clothes for Christy and I and at least one full basket each, sometimes more, for our daughters.
Take towels, for example. Rarely a day goes by that we don’t discover a wet towel left on the floor or bed in one of our daughter’s rooms. And just try to get a warm shower. When the girls are home we’re almost always out of hot water because they’ve been in the shower longer than they should.
Fewer family meals should also mean fewer dishes but what it really means is more individual plates, dishes, glasses, and silverware scattered in bedrooms, bathrooms, living room, and everywhere else except in the kitchen.
Scheduling something as simple as a tooth cleaning with dentist becomes a nightmare with teens rarely home. Christy has tried to reschedule a cleaning for months after it was originally canceled in 2017. With luck and barring any surprises those cleanings will finally take place in May.
Yes, our household is becoming emptier but it certainly isn’t any quieter. It seems like the less we see of our daughters the more they need from us.
But that’s OK. Now that they’ve matured into young adults the time we do get to spend together is that much more enjoyable.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Our household nest is becoming emptier more often.
Christy and I knew it would happen one day but now that high school basketball is over and neither of our daughters competing in track and field this spring my wife and I are beginning to see less of our teenagers.
You would think that with our daughters involved in few activities this spring we would see them more often instead of less often but that isn’t the case. As an 18-year-old senior and soon to be 16-year-old sophomore the two dive head first into social life, work and academics.
Hannah, our senior, started working weekends at Shopko months ago. Now, with her final basketball season behind her, she’s begun working weeknights after school as well and that means we see her for a few minutes before she leaves for school, a few minutes when she gets home from work and, if we’re fortunate, for a family meal a couple of times a week.
Allison, our soon to be 16-year-old, is beginning to enjoy the freedom licensed teenage drivers have. In a week or two she will take her driver’s license test and I expect there to be a battle of control over her sister’s car (although Allison is hoping to drive my truck instead — we’ll see).
I suspect that like Hannah Allison will try to find a part-time job. This summer Allison will likely work at the pool again so I doubt the job search begins until next fall, maybe even later. Still, she’s already bought a membership at the community center so she can work out with her friends, which she’s been doing daily since getting the membership. Even as I write this I watch her take off on my bicycle for the community center.
With our daughters beginning to truly spread their wings you might think there would be a decrease in the need for household chores such as laundry, housework, dishes, and such. Again you would be wrong. We have teenage girls so when it comes time for laundry we end up one basket of clean clothes for Christy and I and at least one full basket each, sometimes more, for our daughters.
Take towels, for example. Rarely a day goes by that we don’t discover a wet towel left on the floor or bed in one of our daughter’s rooms. And just try to get a warm shower. When the girls are home we’re almost always out of hot water because they’ve been in the shower longer than they should.
Fewer family meals should also mean fewer dishes but what it really means is more individual plates, dishes, glasses, and silverware scattered in bedrooms, bathrooms, living room, and everywhere else except in the kitchen.
Scheduling something as simple as a tooth cleaning with dentist becomes a nightmare with teens rarely home. Christy has tried to reschedule a cleaning for months after it was originally canceled in 2017. With luck and barring any surprises those cleanings will finally take place in May.
Yes, our household is becoming emptier but it certainly isn’t any quieter. It seems like the less we see of our daughters the more they need from us.
But that’s OK. Now that they’ve matured into young adults the time we do get to spend together is that much more enjoyable.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Seasons change
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
Whew! What a busy last few weeks it has been with Southwest Valley’s basketball and wrestling teams wrapping up their seasons up.
Congratulations to the Timberwolf girls basketball team for an outstanding tournament run which concluded with a 57-48 loss to Mount Ayr. Kudos to Morgan Shuey who also surpassed 1,000 points in her career just before the regular season concluded. I can’t imagine scoring that many points but good job Morgan!
Congratulations to Teagan Lundquist as he made it Wells Fargo for the State Wrestling Tournament for the second year in a row at 126 pounds. Lundquist finished his season as the seventh best state wrestler in Class 1A. Speaking of wrestling hats off to Coach Jason Wetzel and the Timberwolf wrestling team as they also made it to regional team duals after being runner up finishers at the regional tournament at Oakland Riverside.
The Timberwolf boys basketball team concluded its season last Tuesday with a 54-45 loss to Bedford. One more sports note: Congratulations goes to Addison Bull who signed a national letter of intent to play football at Peru State College in Peru Nebraska. Good luck Addison! Congratulations to all our winter sports teams for a great showing now to get ready for golf and track. Let’s also not forget the students are also getting ready for their musical, which is just around the corner.
Numbers, numbers, numbers, it’s all in the numbers. Both Corning City Council and the Adams County Board of Supervisors have put the finishing touches on their respective fiscal year 2019 budgets. Public hearings have been set for residents to come learn more about how the budget compares to last year and if taxes will go up or go down or stay the same. The public hearings are held for you the public to learn more about that entities’ budgets and how your taxes will fare in the new fiscal year. I don’t envy the supervisors or the city council members, as it’s a daunting task dealing with all those dollars to make sure everything balances out in the end.
The weather also made highlights with dumping more than 8 inches of snow in Corning a couple weeks ago. After the storm had passed and we were in need of a photograph, I decided to go on a dump truck chasing expedition. After asking around I was not able to find where they were dumping the snow removed from the streets so I luckily was able to spot a truck hauling snow and went on the mission of following him to find out where he was dumping and found myself at the city tree dump in the south part of town. Well, at least I know where that’s at if I need to utilize that location for dumping purposes. It was just a case of inquiring minds want to know what happens to the snow that they take off city streets and where does it melt.
I see looking across the street on Davis Avenue and on Facebook Corning’s newest restaurant, Primrose, is starting to take shape. I had the opportunity to see what was all going on in there a few weeks ago when Gov. Kim Reynolds made her stop in town to visit with them. I look forward to them opening soon and tasting their cuisine, which sounds like a winner. Stay tuned for further details on their opening and other associated opening activities.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
Whew! What a busy last few weeks it has been with Southwest Valley’s basketball and wrestling teams wrapping up their seasons up.
Congratulations to the Timberwolf girls basketball team for an outstanding tournament run which concluded with a 57-48 loss to Mount Ayr. Kudos to Morgan Shuey who also surpassed 1,000 points in her career just before the regular season concluded. I can’t imagine scoring that many points but good job Morgan!
Congratulations to Teagan Lundquist as he made it Wells Fargo for the State Wrestling Tournament for the second year in a row at 126 pounds. Lundquist finished his season as the seventh best state wrestler in Class 1A. Speaking of wrestling hats off to Coach Jason Wetzel and the Timberwolf wrestling team as they also made it to regional team duals after being runner up finishers at the regional tournament at Oakland Riverside.
The Timberwolf boys basketball team concluded its season last Tuesday with a 54-45 loss to Bedford. One more sports note: Congratulations goes to Addison Bull who signed a national letter of intent to play football at Peru State College in Peru Nebraska. Good luck Addison! Congratulations to all our winter sports teams for a great showing now to get ready for golf and track. Let’s also not forget the students are also getting ready for their musical, which is just around the corner.
Numbers, numbers, numbers, it’s all in the numbers. Both Corning City Council and the Adams County Board of Supervisors have put the finishing touches on their respective fiscal year 2019 budgets. Public hearings have been set for residents to come learn more about how the budget compares to last year and if taxes will go up or go down or stay the same. The public hearings are held for you the public to learn more about that entities’ budgets and how your taxes will fare in the new fiscal year. I don’t envy the supervisors or the city council members, as it’s a daunting task dealing with all those dollars to make sure everything balances out in the end.
The weather also made highlights with dumping more than 8 inches of snow in Corning a couple weeks ago. After the storm had passed and we were in need of a photograph, I decided to go on a dump truck chasing expedition. After asking around I was not able to find where they were dumping the snow removed from the streets so I luckily was able to spot a truck hauling snow and went on the mission of following him to find out where he was dumping and found myself at the city tree dump in the south part of town. Well, at least I know where that’s at if I need to utilize that location for dumping purposes. It was just a case of inquiring minds want to know what happens to the snow that they take off city streets and where does it melt.
I see looking across the street on Davis Avenue and on Facebook Corning’s newest restaurant, Primrose, is starting to take shape. I had the opportunity to see what was all going on in there a few weeks ago when Gov. Kim Reynolds made her stop in town to visit with them. I look forward to them opening soon and tasting their cuisine, which sounds like a winner. Stay tuned for further details on their opening and other associated opening activities.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Be your own first defense
against addiction
Point Taken
Christy Groves
The opioid epidemic in America conjures up dark images of desperate addicts shooting up heroin. However, in truth for many the addiction begins with an injury or surgery.
The opioid crisis has spiraled out of control and is now responsible for more deaths in America than terrorist attacks. From 1995 to 2017 approximately 3,400 Americans lost their lives in the U.S. to terrorists. In comparison, more than 150 people per day will die in this country from a drug overdose. It makes one begin to wonder what we really should be afraid of in this country.
There is no one reason why addiction has become such a problem but you have to think that our “we have a pill for that mentality” is at the least part of the problem. Many of us expect that a trip the to doctor’s office will automatically include a prescription. After all, we went there to be fixed, to have the problem resolved. This becomes an ever-increasing problem for those in the medical field when trying to treat patients responsible. This is especially troubling when it comes to the treatment of pain.
Pain can be debilitating, wearing out patients physically and mentally. It can become such a factor in a patient’s outlook that death can be seen as a welcome relief when compared to the thought of living in unrelenting pain. It is no wonder medical professionals can easily fall into the role of drug dealers.
The question then becomes are there any suitable options available? Luckily, the answer is yes. Alternative methods of pain relief range from non-opioid medications to non-medicinal therapies. Though you may not know it, your doctors have many options at their disposal.
Acetaminophen, the active ingredient in Tylenol, is one common and effective pain reliever.
Steroids, which can inhibit injured nerves, can also provide pain relief, but they to have drawbacks, which can include accelerated joint destruction and immune system suppression, gastrointestinal issues and psychiatric effects.
Anti-depressants can also be useful for treating nerve, muscle and skeletal pain. They too can offer help without the side effects of opioids.
Physical therapy can be helpful but requires more work from the patient. Yet it is often essential to improving physical healing and for relieving pain long-term.
Massage, acupuncture and chiropractic care have been reported to be very effective. Plus, they are safe and free of side effects.
Lastly, there is exercise. Most doctors recommend exercise to patients; research has shown that it is especially important for those with chronic pain. Low-impact exercise helps improve mobility and functionality. Studies have shown that chronic back pain, joint pain, arthritis, and fibromyalgia can all be improved with yoga and tai chi.
There are no easy solutions, just as there is no one answer to why we are faced with this crisis in America. It does seem that the solutions are as varied as the reasons as to why people become addicted in the first place, but educating ourselves is the first step. Only education will help in the prevention of more deaths. So, arm yourself with the facts and be your own first defense against addiction.
Christy Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
against addiction
Point Taken
Christy Groves
The opioid epidemic in America conjures up dark images of desperate addicts shooting up heroin. However, in truth for many the addiction begins with an injury or surgery.
The opioid crisis has spiraled out of control and is now responsible for more deaths in America than terrorist attacks. From 1995 to 2017 approximately 3,400 Americans lost their lives in the U.S. to terrorists. In comparison, more than 150 people per day will die in this country from a drug overdose. It makes one begin to wonder what we really should be afraid of in this country.
There is no one reason why addiction has become such a problem but you have to think that our “we have a pill for that mentality” is at the least part of the problem. Many of us expect that a trip the to doctor’s office will automatically include a prescription. After all, we went there to be fixed, to have the problem resolved. This becomes an ever-increasing problem for those in the medical field when trying to treat patients responsible. This is especially troubling when it comes to the treatment of pain.
Pain can be debilitating, wearing out patients physically and mentally. It can become such a factor in a patient’s outlook that death can be seen as a welcome relief when compared to the thought of living in unrelenting pain. It is no wonder medical professionals can easily fall into the role of drug dealers.
The question then becomes are there any suitable options available? Luckily, the answer is yes. Alternative methods of pain relief range from non-opioid medications to non-medicinal therapies. Though you may not know it, your doctors have many options at their disposal.
Acetaminophen, the active ingredient in Tylenol, is one common and effective pain reliever.
Steroids, which can inhibit injured nerves, can also provide pain relief, but they to have drawbacks, which can include accelerated joint destruction and immune system suppression, gastrointestinal issues and psychiatric effects.
Anti-depressants can also be useful for treating nerve, muscle and skeletal pain. They too can offer help without the side effects of opioids.
Physical therapy can be helpful but requires more work from the patient. Yet it is often essential to improving physical healing and for relieving pain long-term.
Massage, acupuncture and chiropractic care have been reported to be very effective. Plus, they are safe and free of side effects.
Lastly, there is exercise. Most doctors recommend exercise to patients; research has shown that it is especially important for those with chronic pain. Low-impact exercise helps improve mobility and functionality. Studies have shown that chronic back pain, joint pain, arthritis, and fibromyalgia can all be improved with yoga and tai chi.
There are no easy solutions, just as there is no one answer to why we are faced with this crisis in America. It does seem that the solutions are as varied as the reasons as to why people become addicted in the first place, but educating ourselves is the first step. Only education will help in the prevention of more deaths. So, arm yourself with the facts and be your own first defense against addiction.
Christy Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Valentine’s Day plans
not exactly romantic
Fluff and Stuff
Christy Groves
For most of our readers it will be Valentine’s Day or possible even the day after by the time you see this.
At this point Don and I have no romantic plans. We do, however, have lots of things planned. Tuesday will be an away basketball game, which will require us to get the paper completed and sent pretty quickly if we are to make the game in time. This means that the bulk of the paper will have to be put together before we even show up in Corning on Tuesday to complete the finishing touches. So that is what most of Monday will be spent doing.
Monday we will also be when we mail off Valentine’s Day cards to our granddaughters and grandson because we didn’t make it to the post office in time on Saturday. Wednesday, or the actual day of Valentine’s, will be spent finishing end of month reports, working on the basement, and getting the Valentine gifts we have for our girls finished and up to the school in time to be handed out before the end of the day. Thursday will be another away game and next week district basketball will begin — hectic but not very romantic.
Of our two kids who still live at home, Hannah will be headed off to college this year and Allison will do the same just two short years after that, which leads me to wonder will there be romance in my future when it is just Don and myself?
Since this is a second marriage for Don we have never in the whole of our history together been just a couple. We have in fact been a family almost since the very beginning of our relationship. So up until this point romance has always been a back burner kind of thing and to be perfectly clear Don has never really been a romance kind of guy. There have occasionally been flowers and even some great jewelry mixed in there but movie romance you won’t find that here.
What you will find is a guy who does the laundry just because it needs to be done. A man who makes sure the garbage is taken out each Thursday, who is willing to make trip after trip to the school to deliver forgotten items and who drove clear to another town to pick up French bread for a daughter’s National Honor Society supper because our local store was out.
This is the guy who makes me laugh when all I want to do is cry and who puts up with my crazy in all its shapes and forms. This is the guy I married. The man who still can catch me off guard every now and then even though I have known him more than 30 years.
My guess that our future after our children are gone will be filled with fewer things that have to be done and more things that we want to do. My hope is that it will include a continuation of what we have always had — mutual respect, love and friendship and laughs, lots and lots laughs.
Christy Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
not exactly romantic
Fluff and Stuff
Christy Groves
For most of our readers it will be Valentine’s Day or possible even the day after by the time you see this.
At this point Don and I have no romantic plans. We do, however, have lots of things planned. Tuesday will be an away basketball game, which will require us to get the paper completed and sent pretty quickly if we are to make the game in time. This means that the bulk of the paper will have to be put together before we even show up in Corning on Tuesday to complete the finishing touches. So that is what most of Monday will be spent doing.
Monday we will also be when we mail off Valentine’s Day cards to our granddaughters and grandson because we didn’t make it to the post office in time on Saturday. Wednesday, or the actual day of Valentine’s, will be spent finishing end of month reports, working on the basement, and getting the Valentine gifts we have for our girls finished and up to the school in time to be handed out before the end of the day. Thursday will be another away game and next week district basketball will begin — hectic but not very romantic.
Of our two kids who still live at home, Hannah will be headed off to college this year and Allison will do the same just two short years after that, which leads me to wonder will there be romance in my future when it is just Don and myself?
Since this is a second marriage for Don we have never in the whole of our history together been just a couple. We have in fact been a family almost since the very beginning of our relationship. So up until this point romance has always been a back burner kind of thing and to be perfectly clear Don has never really been a romance kind of guy. There have occasionally been flowers and even some great jewelry mixed in there but movie romance you won’t find that here.
What you will find is a guy who does the laundry just because it needs to be done. A man who makes sure the garbage is taken out each Thursday, who is willing to make trip after trip to the school to deliver forgotten items and who drove clear to another town to pick up French bread for a daughter’s National Honor Society supper because our local store was out.
This is the guy who makes me laugh when all I want to do is cry and who puts up with my crazy in all its shapes and forms. This is the guy I married. The man who still can catch me off guard every now and then even though I have known him more than 30 years.
My guess that our future after our children are gone will be filled with fewer things that have to be done and more things that we want to do. My hope is that it will include a continuation of what we have always had — mutual respect, love and friendship and laughs, lots and lots laughs.
Christy Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Skol Vikings, let’s go!
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
Skol!
Well, the Vikings came close to doing it. For the first time since Super Bowl XI when I was a mere 10 years old they could have headed to the Super Bowl at home. I have been a Viking fan for as long as I can remember as I remember vividly the days of the Metropolitan Stadium and Fran Tarkington as quarterback.
The Vikings, like the Cubs and Hawkeyes, have always been my team and finally gave me a reason to watch NFL football again and hope. Even though they lost they will remain my team just as the Hawks and Cubs have. I am NOT a fair-weather fan, as I will stick by them. By the way if you are curious about SKOL … from Wikipedia, it was introduced around the time the team was founded in 1961. The words and music are attributed to James “Red” McLeod from Minnesota as it’s the team’s fight song:
Skol Vikings, let’s win this game,
Skol Vikings, honor your name,
Go get that first down,
Then get a touchdown.
Rock ‘em … Sock ‘em
Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!
Go Vikings; run up the score.
You’ll hear us yell for more …
V-I-K-I-N-G-S
Skol Vikings, let’s go!
The true meaning of the word also comes from Wikipedia:
Skol written “skål” in Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish and “skál” in Faroese and Icelandic or “skaal” in transliteration of any of those languages is the Danish; Norwegian, Swedish word for “cheers,” or “good health,” a salute or a toast as to an admired person or group.
So SKOL Vikings!
Congrats to you Eagle fans as they defeated the Patriots, at least the NFC won!
With the close of NFL its time to turn attention to high school sports as the Southwest Valley wrestlers were in action last week here in Corning for sectionals. Congrats to those wrestlers who were one of the top two place finishers and advanced on to district competition to be held this Saturday at Oakland Riverside. Congratulations and best of luck to Teagan Lundquist at 126 pounds, Dylan Dalton at 160 pounds, Merik Gaule at 170 pounds, and Tallen Myers at 220 pounds and then the top two place winners going on to the State Wrestling Tournament at the Wells Fargo Arena in Des Moines later this month.
Also, not to be forgotten, boys and girls basketball tournaments also get under way soon with the girls to take on Clarinda on Feb. 10 at Clarinda and the boys to play Diagonal at Nodaway Valley at 6:30 on Feb. 15. Having played basketball in high school, I never had the thrill of playing in the “Barn” as in Veterans Auditorium when I was younger but it was always a dream of mine. I did, however, have cousins who made my dream a reality and enjoyed watching them play there. I even had a chance to take a 3-point shot on the famed floor during state championship warmups one year. For the record it was an air ball but at least I can say I attempted a shot at Vets Auditorium even though I wasn’t in uniform. Good Luck to all three sports teams as they enter tournament action and do SWV proud by doing the best you can. Win or lose, your fans and family will not leave you.
A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to go the Adams Community Chamber of Commerce banquet. It was a fun time had by all and once again hats off to all the winners. I am glad I wasn’t in charge of picking a winner, as you all are very deserving of the honor you were nominated for. Foundation grants were also awarded at the banquet, which I am sure was also another difficult decision to make as to who wins those awards. Again, glad I am not the judge.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
Skol!
Well, the Vikings came close to doing it. For the first time since Super Bowl XI when I was a mere 10 years old they could have headed to the Super Bowl at home. I have been a Viking fan for as long as I can remember as I remember vividly the days of the Metropolitan Stadium and Fran Tarkington as quarterback.
The Vikings, like the Cubs and Hawkeyes, have always been my team and finally gave me a reason to watch NFL football again and hope. Even though they lost they will remain my team just as the Hawks and Cubs have. I am NOT a fair-weather fan, as I will stick by them. By the way if you are curious about SKOL … from Wikipedia, it was introduced around the time the team was founded in 1961. The words and music are attributed to James “Red” McLeod from Minnesota as it’s the team’s fight song:
Skol Vikings, let’s win this game,
Skol Vikings, honor your name,
Go get that first down,
Then get a touchdown.
Rock ‘em … Sock ‘em
Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!
Go Vikings; run up the score.
You’ll hear us yell for more …
V-I-K-I-N-G-S
Skol Vikings, let’s go!
The true meaning of the word also comes from Wikipedia:
Skol written “skål” in Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish and “skál” in Faroese and Icelandic or “skaal” in transliteration of any of those languages is the Danish; Norwegian, Swedish word for “cheers,” or “good health,” a salute or a toast as to an admired person or group.
So SKOL Vikings!
Congrats to you Eagle fans as they defeated the Patriots, at least the NFC won!
With the close of NFL its time to turn attention to high school sports as the Southwest Valley wrestlers were in action last week here in Corning for sectionals. Congrats to those wrestlers who were one of the top two place finishers and advanced on to district competition to be held this Saturday at Oakland Riverside. Congratulations and best of luck to Teagan Lundquist at 126 pounds, Dylan Dalton at 160 pounds, Merik Gaule at 170 pounds, and Tallen Myers at 220 pounds and then the top two place winners going on to the State Wrestling Tournament at the Wells Fargo Arena in Des Moines later this month.
Also, not to be forgotten, boys and girls basketball tournaments also get under way soon with the girls to take on Clarinda on Feb. 10 at Clarinda and the boys to play Diagonal at Nodaway Valley at 6:30 on Feb. 15. Having played basketball in high school, I never had the thrill of playing in the “Barn” as in Veterans Auditorium when I was younger but it was always a dream of mine. I did, however, have cousins who made my dream a reality and enjoyed watching them play there. I even had a chance to take a 3-point shot on the famed floor during state championship warmups one year. For the record it was an air ball but at least I can say I attempted a shot at Vets Auditorium even though I wasn’t in uniform. Good Luck to all three sports teams as they enter tournament action and do SWV proud by doing the best you can. Win or lose, your fans and family will not leave you.
A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to go the Adams Community Chamber of Commerce banquet. It was a fun time had by all and once again hats off to all the winners. I am glad I wasn’t in charge of picking a winner, as you all are very deserving of the honor you were nominated for. Foundation grants were also awarded at the banquet, which I am sure was also another difficult decision to make as to who wins those awards. Again, glad I am not the judge.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’t become a flu statistic
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It began with a tickle in the throat.
Christy told me about the tickle she’d been having Jan. 20. I told her every time I got a tickle in my throat I knew a cold was coming on and would prepare for a runny nose and stuffy head.
It turned out I was wrong. The day after — Sunday — Christy told me about the tickle she was coughing with aches, chills, and fever. It was worse than a cold. It was the flu.
The next day, Monday, Christy and daughter Hannah visited the doctor. Only Hannah tested positive for the H3N2 virus but by a couple of days later we all had it. Christy and Hannah were too late for anything but over-the-counter treatment for symptoms but daughter Allison and I were able to attack the flu using Tamiflu.
The difference Tamiflu had on Allison and me when compared to how much Christy and Hannah suffered without it was astonishing. Allison and I began treatment last Wednesday. After that about the only symptoms I experienced were a sore throat, tiredness, and an occasional cough.
Christy, on the other hand, coughed almost non-stop and stayed at home, unable to get out of the bed for most of the week. Finally, on Saturday, she said she finally felt she was returning to normal, nearly a week after she first reported a tickle in her throat.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says this year’s flu season is one of the worst and is now widespread in every state except Hawaii. This year we didn’t get flu vaccinations despite more than on opportunity. That won’t be the case next time.
If you haven’t gotten the flu vaccine it isn’t too late. In fact, the CDC recommends anyone 6 months or older to be vaccinated because viruses are expected to continue for weeks.
If you’ve already gotten the vaccination, the CDC says you should take preventive actions such as avoiding contact with sick people, washing your hands often, avoiding touching your eyes, nose, and mouth, and cleaning and disinfecting surfaces and objects.
If you get the flu or have flu symptoms, get proper treatment, avoid spreading it, stay hydrated, and get plenty of rest. According to the Iowa Department of Public Health, the flu was widespread in the state for the week ending Jan. 20 (the most up-to-date information on its website at the time of this writing). There have been more than 6,700 influenza-associated hospitalizations and more than 40 school districts closed due to illness in Iowa.
Stay healthy, and don’t become a statistic.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It began with a tickle in the throat.
Christy told me about the tickle she’d been having Jan. 20. I told her every time I got a tickle in my throat I knew a cold was coming on and would prepare for a runny nose and stuffy head.
It turned out I was wrong. The day after — Sunday — Christy told me about the tickle she was coughing with aches, chills, and fever. It was worse than a cold. It was the flu.
The next day, Monday, Christy and daughter Hannah visited the doctor. Only Hannah tested positive for the H3N2 virus but by a couple of days later we all had it. Christy and Hannah were too late for anything but over-the-counter treatment for symptoms but daughter Allison and I were able to attack the flu using Tamiflu.
The difference Tamiflu had on Allison and me when compared to how much Christy and Hannah suffered without it was astonishing. Allison and I began treatment last Wednesday. After that about the only symptoms I experienced were a sore throat, tiredness, and an occasional cough.
Christy, on the other hand, coughed almost non-stop and stayed at home, unable to get out of the bed for most of the week. Finally, on Saturday, she said she finally felt she was returning to normal, nearly a week after she first reported a tickle in her throat.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says this year’s flu season is one of the worst and is now widespread in every state except Hawaii. This year we didn’t get flu vaccinations despite more than on opportunity. That won’t be the case next time.
If you haven’t gotten the flu vaccine it isn’t too late. In fact, the CDC recommends anyone 6 months or older to be vaccinated because viruses are expected to continue for weeks.
If you’ve already gotten the vaccination, the CDC says you should take preventive actions such as avoiding contact with sick people, washing your hands often, avoiding touching your eyes, nose, and mouth, and cleaning and disinfecting surfaces and objects.
If you get the flu or have flu symptoms, get proper treatment, avoid spreading it, stay hydrated, and get plenty of rest. According to the Iowa Department of Public Health, the flu was widespread in the state for the week ending Jan. 20 (the most up-to-date information on its website at the time of this writing). There have been more than 6,700 influenza-associated hospitalizations and more than 40 school districts closed due to illness in Iowa.
Stay healthy, and don’t become a statistic.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Winter is upon us
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
Well, here we go, 2018 has arrived and got a very chilly reception. The negative temperatures finally gave way to positive numbers but they were still in the single digits.
Growing up on a farm in Northwest Iowa where there are not too many hills it seems the wind blows every day. In days like what we have just experienced I remember getting the five-gallon buckets filled with hot water out of the bathtub to take to the barn to make sure the 4-H calves had water to drink. It was usually cold and almost ice by the time the buckets made it to the barn. I really do not understand how animals can withstand the cold weather conditions with so little covering their hides. But I never recall losing any animals because of the cold weather; even the kittens knew enough to stay close to their momma to make sure they would not get cold if they decided to roam around the haymow amongst the bales of hay and straw. I remember many a cold winters day over Christmas holidays cleaning out the cattle pens getting them ready for the cattle to arrive after weigh in every December. Brrrrrr, makes me shiver just thinking about it!
The topic of New Year’s resolutions has come up and well, I really do not set them any longer because sooner or later I end up breaking them. I have tried to lose weight, eat healthier, become more organized, and so many more other things I just can’t seem to get the habit of holding on to those resolutions I set forth on Jan. 1. Maybe one of these years I will figure out how to keep resolutions.
Over the holidays I was able to sit back and watch a little college football and enjoy watching both Iowa and Iowa State defeat their opponents in their respective bowl games and the national championship. Since its inception of the Division I college football playoffs I have never been a fan of just four teams being able to become the overall champion. In my un-expert opinion on college football Division I needs to follow along the lines of what the other divisions do for their football playoff system. It’s not perfect but it works. Of course that would also mean the end of the traditional bowl games that start in early December and conclude in January about a month after they started. If they would go to that type of playoff system, I know somewhere some fan would be jilted because their team did not make the playoffs. It’s kind of a shame that the only undefeated Division I football team will not get the chance to be called No. 1 because they do not belong to one of the power conferences. Well, enough on that soapbox of college football.
With the end of college football, we move on to professional football if you are still following football. But if you like the college variety of sports, wrestling and basketball take center stage until late March or early April. Also, high school athletes are still being found in gymnasiums throughout the area. A quick reminder — coming up on Jan 19 and Jan. 20 the 63rd Annual John J. Harris Wrestling Tournament with 23 schools will take place in Corning with athletes battling in one of the greatest and largest high school wrestling tournaments in Iowa.
Meanwhile, stay warm if you can and stay safe.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Markin’ Time
Mark Saylor
Well, here we go, 2018 has arrived and got a very chilly reception. The negative temperatures finally gave way to positive numbers but they were still in the single digits.
Growing up on a farm in Northwest Iowa where there are not too many hills it seems the wind blows every day. In days like what we have just experienced I remember getting the five-gallon buckets filled with hot water out of the bathtub to take to the barn to make sure the 4-H calves had water to drink. It was usually cold and almost ice by the time the buckets made it to the barn. I really do not understand how animals can withstand the cold weather conditions with so little covering their hides. But I never recall losing any animals because of the cold weather; even the kittens knew enough to stay close to their momma to make sure they would not get cold if they decided to roam around the haymow amongst the bales of hay and straw. I remember many a cold winters day over Christmas holidays cleaning out the cattle pens getting them ready for the cattle to arrive after weigh in every December. Brrrrrr, makes me shiver just thinking about it!
The topic of New Year’s resolutions has come up and well, I really do not set them any longer because sooner or later I end up breaking them. I have tried to lose weight, eat healthier, become more organized, and so many more other things I just can’t seem to get the habit of holding on to those resolutions I set forth on Jan. 1. Maybe one of these years I will figure out how to keep resolutions.
Over the holidays I was able to sit back and watch a little college football and enjoy watching both Iowa and Iowa State defeat their opponents in their respective bowl games and the national championship. Since its inception of the Division I college football playoffs I have never been a fan of just four teams being able to become the overall champion. In my un-expert opinion on college football Division I needs to follow along the lines of what the other divisions do for their football playoff system. It’s not perfect but it works. Of course that would also mean the end of the traditional bowl games that start in early December and conclude in January about a month after they started. If they would go to that type of playoff system, I know somewhere some fan would be jilted because their team did not make the playoffs. It’s kind of a shame that the only undefeated Division I football team will not get the chance to be called No. 1 because they do not belong to one of the power conferences. Well, enough on that soapbox of college football.
With the end of college football, we move on to professional football if you are still following football. But if you like the college variety of sports, wrestling and basketball take center stage until late March or early April. Also, high school athletes are still being found in gymnasiums throughout the area. A quick reminder — coming up on Jan 19 and Jan. 20 the 63rd Annual John J. Harris Wrestling Tournament with 23 schools will take place in Corning with athletes battling in one of the greatest and largest high school wrestling tournaments in Iowa.
Meanwhile, stay warm if you can and stay safe.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Try to warm up to winter weather
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
If you were wishing for a white Christmas I’m glad you got what you wanted.
I’ll admit that I wasn’t disappointed in the timing of our winter weather or in the amount. We got just enough to cover the ground for the holiday and allow us a nice, sunny Christmas Eve walk in the snow covered woods with the dogs.
With that being said, though, after waking up to a minus 15 degree New Year with a wind chill of 31 below, the sun can come out, the temps can go up, and all that snow can go away until Christmas 2018 as far as I’m concerned. Even though Santa brought me a down jacket, wool socks, and the warmest pair of slippers I’ve ever owned, we can skip right through the rest of the winter and straight to spring.
There was a time when I actually enjoyed winter but that hasn’t been the case these last few years. I don’t like cold toes, high heating bills, and wondering if my truck will start. Like Chris Nelson who writes about winter weather in this week’s Agriculture It’s On My Mind column, I’ve been visiting weather websites too.
There’s a difference, however, in what Chris and I are looking for on the Internet. While Chris is looking through historical weather data, searching through highs and lows and averages, I’ve been looking at monthly forecasts. But as Chris writes in his column and I’ve discovered in the weather forecasts, it looks like these frigid days will soon begin to warm.
Chris says Jan. 7 looks to be the turn-around date for warmer weather and the forecasts I’ve seen call for a return to daytime highs mostly in the 30s. Let’s hope we’re both right.
• • •
I’ve never been fond of New Year’s resolutions. If someone truly wants to change, he can do so anytime of year. But I also know that for many the symbolic out with the old and in with new can be the needed impetus to tackle a new project or commit to a lifestyle change.
There are many New Year’s resolutions, but some of the most common are lose weight, eat better, exercise more, reduce stress, quit smoking/drinking and enjoy life more. All those can be accomplished with one resolution — becoming more fit.
According to the Mayo Clinic, proper diet and exercise have several benefits including reducing depression and anxiety, combating chronic diseases, managing weight, strengthening the heart and lungs, promoting better sleep — and, exercise can be fun, especially if you involve the entire family.
But to fully realize these benefits, one must committed to regular exercise, even if it’s something as simple as walking a half hour or so a day. Unfortunately, those best intentions made as New Year’s resolutions start off strong but are too often lost to old habits after a few weeks or days into the New Year.
There are, however, many means of inspiration in starting off a healthier year. The Iowa Department of Natural Resources encourages people to start the New Year outdoors with its Jan. 1 First Day Hikes. Of course when the DNR cancels all of its First Day Hikes due to frigid temperatures some find challenges to their resolutions on Day 1.
Don’t let a little setback stop you, though. If you’ve made a New Year’s resolution I wish you luck whatever that resolution may be.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
If you were wishing for a white Christmas I’m glad you got what you wanted.
I’ll admit that I wasn’t disappointed in the timing of our winter weather or in the amount. We got just enough to cover the ground for the holiday and allow us a nice, sunny Christmas Eve walk in the snow covered woods with the dogs.
With that being said, though, after waking up to a minus 15 degree New Year with a wind chill of 31 below, the sun can come out, the temps can go up, and all that snow can go away until Christmas 2018 as far as I’m concerned. Even though Santa brought me a down jacket, wool socks, and the warmest pair of slippers I’ve ever owned, we can skip right through the rest of the winter and straight to spring.
There was a time when I actually enjoyed winter but that hasn’t been the case these last few years. I don’t like cold toes, high heating bills, and wondering if my truck will start. Like Chris Nelson who writes about winter weather in this week’s Agriculture It’s On My Mind column, I’ve been visiting weather websites too.
There’s a difference, however, in what Chris and I are looking for on the Internet. While Chris is looking through historical weather data, searching through highs and lows and averages, I’ve been looking at monthly forecasts. But as Chris writes in his column and I’ve discovered in the weather forecasts, it looks like these frigid days will soon begin to warm.
Chris says Jan. 7 looks to be the turn-around date for warmer weather and the forecasts I’ve seen call for a return to daytime highs mostly in the 30s. Let’s hope we’re both right.
• • •
I’ve never been fond of New Year’s resolutions. If someone truly wants to change, he can do so anytime of year. But I also know that for many the symbolic out with the old and in with new can be the needed impetus to tackle a new project or commit to a lifestyle change.
There are many New Year’s resolutions, but some of the most common are lose weight, eat better, exercise more, reduce stress, quit smoking/drinking and enjoy life more. All those can be accomplished with one resolution — becoming more fit.
According to the Mayo Clinic, proper diet and exercise have several benefits including reducing depression and anxiety, combating chronic diseases, managing weight, strengthening the heart and lungs, promoting better sleep — and, exercise can be fun, especially if you involve the entire family.
But to fully realize these benefits, one must committed to regular exercise, even if it’s something as simple as walking a half hour or so a day. Unfortunately, those best intentions made as New Year’s resolutions start off strong but are too often lost to old habits after a few weeks or days into the New Year.
There are, however, many means of inspiration in starting off a healthier year. The Iowa Department of Natural Resources encourages people to start the New Year outdoors with its Jan. 1 First Day Hikes. Of course when the DNR cancels all of its First Day Hikes due to frigid temperatures some find challenges to their resolutions on Day 1.
Don’t let a little setback stop you, though. If you’ve made a New Year’s resolution I wish you luck whatever that resolution may be.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Appreciate the true gifts of Christmas
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
After a quick Christmas celebration with my parents, children, grandchildren, and my brother and sister and their families over the weekend, we have little more than a Christmas Eve service at church before Christy, the girls, and I spend a quiet holiday at home.
Our big celebration — more than 20 family members all crowded into my folks’ house — was one of the best gifts anyone could receive. Sure, we spent more than 10 hours round trip on the road for a little more than 30 hours with family but the long drive, the early meal preparation, and the extra pressure of putting out two sections for the Dec. 21 Free Press were worthwhile.
We left town right after our daughter’s basketball game Friday night and rolled into my parents’ house just after midnight. Saturday we were up at 6:30 to make an a 8 a.m. basketball game for our youngest granddaughter in Ozark, headed back to my folks’ house for family, food, and fun, then back to Ozark for another basketball game for our oldest granddaughter at 6 p.m. By about 9 a.m. Sunday, we were back on the road typing up letters to Santa on my laptop as we returned home to start work on this week’s paper.
It was a mad rush, but not the kind of mad rush that sometimes diminishes Christmas joy. We rushed to spend time with family, not to find the newest, biggest, most expensive gifts that we really don’t need.
Sometimes it seems Christmas starts way too early, at least it comes to major retailers. Christmas trees, gifts, and candy seem to go up in stores before the clearance Halloween candy has all been sold. Black Friday can sometimes takes over Thanksgiving and there are times I find myself weary of Christmas carols a full month before the holiday itself.
Television, too, can turn a person into a Scrooge with all its talking M&Ms and BMWs driving along snow-covered roads. The images ring hollow — too much Madison Avenue. Like fake snow sprayed from a paint can, the images only dust the surface, never coming close to the essence of Christmas.
Christmas shouldn’t be measured by whether or not we receive this year’s hottest gift. I doubt few of us can say our fondest Christmas memories are focused on a fancy gift we received. I know that my best memories involve family snowball fights, sledding, live chipmunks climbing up Christmas trees, Christmas Day baseball games played in my parents’ backyard, and card games played around the kitchen table after the holiday meals had been put away.
This year the greatest gifts I received were playing with my grandson outside, helping him down a slide, exploring my parents’ backyard.
My best gifts were joking with my three granddaughters, watching basketball games, watching them play with each other and their cousins.
My best gifts were my son and daughter-in-law’s story of discovering a snakeskin in a mouse nest in their Christmas tree when they unboxed it, and jokes with my brother, sister, and parents.
This weekend for Christmas I’ll receive a few more gifts but the one’s I’m looking forward to aren’t the ones wrapped in paper beneath the tree. I’m looking forward to time with my wife and our two youngest daughters at home sharing a few simple favorite foods, maybe going for an afternoon walk or playing a card game at the table.
Take the time to appreciate the true gifts of Christmas. Batteries run down, toys wear out, but memories last forever. Have a merry Christmas.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
After a quick Christmas celebration with my parents, children, grandchildren, and my brother and sister and their families over the weekend, we have little more than a Christmas Eve service at church before Christy, the girls, and I spend a quiet holiday at home.
Our big celebration — more than 20 family members all crowded into my folks’ house — was one of the best gifts anyone could receive. Sure, we spent more than 10 hours round trip on the road for a little more than 30 hours with family but the long drive, the early meal preparation, and the extra pressure of putting out two sections for the Dec. 21 Free Press were worthwhile.
We left town right after our daughter’s basketball game Friday night and rolled into my parents’ house just after midnight. Saturday we were up at 6:30 to make an a 8 a.m. basketball game for our youngest granddaughter in Ozark, headed back to my folks’ house for family, food, and fun, then back to Ozark for another basketball game for our oldest granddaughter at 6 p.m. By about 9 a.m. Sunday, we were back on the road typing up letters to Santa on my laptop as we returned home to start work on this week’s paper.
It was a mad rush, but not the kind of mad rush that sometimes diminishes Christmas joy. We rushed to spend time with family, not to find the newest, biggest, most expensive gifts that we really don’t need.
Sometimes it seems Christmas starts way too early, at least it comes to major retailers. Christmas trees, gifts, and candy seem to go up in stores before the clearance Halloween candy has all been sold. Black Friday can sometimes takes over Thanksgiving and there are times I find myself weary of Christmas carols a full month before the holiday itself.
Television, too, can turn a person into a Scrooge with all its talking M&Ms and BMWs driving along snow-covered roads. The images ring hollow — too much Madison Avenue. Like fake snow sprayed from a paint can, the images only dust the surface, never coming close to the essence of Christmas.
Christmas shouldn’t be measured by whether or not we receive this year’s hottest gift. I doubt few of us can say our fondest Christmas memories are focused on a fancy gift we received. I know that my best memories involve family snowball fights, sledding, live chipmunks climbing up Christmas trees, Christmas Day baseball games played in my parents’ backyard, and card games played around the kitchen table after the holiday meals had been put away.
This year the greatest gifts I received were playing with my grandson outside, helping him down a slide, exploring my parents’ backyard.
My best gifts were joking with my three granddaughters, watching basketball games, watching them play with each other and their cousins.
My best gifts were my son and daughter-in-law’s story of discovering a snakeskin in a mouse nest in their Christmas tree when they unboxed it, and jokes with my brother, sister, and parents.
This weekend for Christmas I’ll receive a few more gifts but the one’s I’m looking forward to aren’t the ones wrapped in paper beneath the tree. I’m looking forward to time with my wife and our two youngest daughters at home sharing a few simple favorite foods, maybe going for an afternoon walk or playing a card game at the table.
Take the time to appreciate the true gifts of Christmas. Batteries run down, toys wear out, but memories last forever. Have a merry Christmas.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
It’s the most wonderful time of the year
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
Well, here it is almost Christmas and while the weather has gotten colder there is no snow on the ground for Santa along with Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer to land gracefully in our lawns so we might have some ruts to worry about next spring.
The winter sports are under way and are being successful. The Southwest Valley dance team, who recently participated in the Iowa State Dance and Drill Competition held in Des Moines late last month, made the Distinguished All Academic Team and just missed a division one rating by .125 point. Congrats to all participants. Within the last month or so I was also able to attend the SWV football banquet, which was enjoyable after following the Timberwolves on their memorable season. It was a great conclusion to a successful campaign and I am sure Coach Donahoo and the rest of the team and coaches are anxiously looking forward to next fall to build on this year’s success.
With Christmas approaching I guess I need to go shopping, something that has never been on my priority list as I usually go to the stores the week before and go in and out as I have an agenda and know what I want to buy and I just want to get home and get it wrapped as soon as I can. The kids have been good at telling me all the things they want, which is mostly from the latest toy catalog we have received from the local big box stores. I try to buy something they want and something they need, which always presents a challenge for them to decide between things they want or need. I remember all too well being that age and trying to think of the most obscure toy and asking for it because I didn’t think any of my friends would get it. More times then not Santa brought me mostly the same gifts as everyone else with a few exceptions.
Very few grasp the true meaning of the holiday as its birth of Christ. I am not trying to turn this into a religious soapbox but there are a few out there who just see Christmas as a time to receive presents. But as they say it’s always better to give than receive. I therefore give to you my gift of hoping to provide the most accurate information as I can in the stories that I write and take the best possible picture as I am still learning the ins and outs of those Nikon things. I thank the many of you who have taken the time to stop in, call, or send me a note of gratitude in the stories I write. Some days it’s just difficult to come up with unique story ideas to highlight residents of Adams County. Even though we are one of the smaller counties in Iowa, there are several great stories out there I just need to discover them either on my own or with your guidance. Thanks to all of you who have helped me find those stories and pointing me in the right direction to find the person or persons I need to talk to get more information. If you have a story idea, send me a note or give me a call and I will do my due diligence and try to make the idea become a reality. Thanks also to those of you I have interviewed either on the phone or at your desk to make those stories come alive. It’s because of you it makes the paper fun to read about friends and neighbors.
Take time this holiday season to attend a religious service of your choosing. Who knows, you may like it and continue to attend and might make it a New Year’s resolution to go more often in 2018. Speaking of resolutions, I should probably start to list mine and hopefully keep them next year.
December is also a time for reflection. I feel I have done a pretty good job of keeping you informed of the happenings in and around Adams County from water tower destruction to destructive house fires. It’s been an adventuresome year since I arrived here on April 17. I am sure next year will bring more of the same but I will be a year older and wiser to my job and it will become easier as I gather more experience with this medium.
I also think I told you a couple of months ago I would have my birthday and/or Christmas list prepared for you. Well I have and here it is: to have each and everyone of you continue your subscription to the paper and if you like what you see and read tell your friends and neighbors to subscribe so you don’t need to keep giving them your copy to read. Oh, and I probably will need a notebook too to keep taking notes during those meetings and interviews so I keep my facts straight plus a pen or two probably. Other than that I have my family and my health plus a great job, which is all I really need along with spell check, which is a reporter’s best friend. In closing let me be the first to wish each of you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year to one and all.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
Well, here it is almost Christmas and while the weather has gotten colder there is no snow on the ground for Santa along with Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer to land gracefully in our lawns so we might have some ruts to worry about next spring.
The winter sports are under way and are being successful. The Southwest Valley dance team, who recently participated in the Iowa State Dance and Drill Competition held in Des Moines late last month, made the Distinguished All Academic Team and just missed a division one rating by .125 point. Congrats to all participants. Within the last month or so I was also able to attend the SWV football banquet, which was enjoyable after following the Timberwolves on their memorable season. It was a great conclusion to a successful campaign and I am sure Coach Donahoo and the rest of the team and coaches are anxiously looking forward to next fall to build on this year’s success.
With Christmas approaching I guess I need to go shopping, something that has never been on my priority list as I usually go to the stores the week before and go in and out as I have an agenda and know what I want to buy and I just want to get home and get it wrapped as soon as I can. The kids have been good at telling me all the things they want, which is mostly from the latest toy catalog we have received from the local big box stores. I try to buy something they want and something they need, which always presents a challenge for them to decide between things they want or need. I remember all too well being that age and trying to think of the most obscure toy and asking for it because I didn’t think any of my friends would get it. More times then not Santa brought me mostly the same gifts as everyone else with a few exceptions.
Very few grasp the true meaning of the holiday as its birth of Christ. I am not trying to turn this into a religious soapbox but there are a few out there who just see Christmas as a time to receive presents. But as they say it’s always better to give than receive. I therefore give to you my gift of hoping to provide the most accurate information as I can in the stories that I write and take the best possible picture as I am still learning the ins and outs of those Nikon things. I thank the many of you who have taken the time to stop in, call, or send me a note of gratitude in the stories I write. Some days it’s just difficult to come up with unique story ideas to highlight residents of Adams County. Even though we are one of the smaller counties in Iowa, there are several great stories out there I just need to discover them either on my own or with your guidance. Thanks to all of you who have helped me find those stories and pointing me in the right direction to find the person or persons I need to talk to get more information. If you have a story idea, send me a note or give me a call and I will do my due diligence and try to make the idea become a reality. Thanks also to those of you I have interviewed either on the phone or at your desk to make those stories come alive. It’s because of you it makes the paper fun to read about friends and neighbors.
Take time this holiday season to attend a religious service of your choosing. Who knows, you may like it and continue to attend and might make it a New Year’s resolution to go more often in 2018. Speaking of resolutions, I should probably start to list mine and hopefully keep them next year.
December is also a time for reflection. I feel I have done a pretty good job of keeping you informed of the happenings in and around Adams County from water tower destruction to destructive house fires. It’s been an adventuresome year since I arrived here on April 17. I am sure next year will bring more of the same but I will be a year older and wiser to my job and it will become easier as I gather more experience with this medium.
I also think I told you a couple of months ago I would have my birthday and/or Christmas list prepared for you. Well I have and here it is: to have each and everyone of you continue your subscription to the paper and if you like what you see and read tell your friends and neighbors to subscribe so you don’t need to keep giving them your copy to read. Oh, and I probably will need a notebook too to keep taking notes during those meetings and interviews so I keep my facts straight plus a pen or two probably. Other than that I have my family and my health plus a great job, which is all I really need along with spell check, which is a reporter’s best friend. In closing let me be the first to wish each of you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year to one and all.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Weather doesn’t help Christmas spirit
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Highs in 60s in December? Maybe that’s why it just doesn’t seem like the holidays to me yet.
I’ve been reminded since sometime in October that Christmas was just around the corner. Those reminders came from premature Christmas displays going up in some of the retail stores I visited and, believe it or not, a couple of high school students playing Christmas music on their smartphones just before Halloween.
Despite those early reminders I’m having trouble finding the motivation to get Christmas gifts. Sure, I helped Christy find gifts for the grandkids and she’s already done the shopping for our kids but I have no idea what to get my wife for Christmas.
Sometimes knowing what to gift to get for Christy is simple. Last year she got living room furniture, which she and I picked out together before the holiday. That was an easy decision made largely by the fact her parents and her brother and his family were coming to celebrate Christmas at our house. We needed to replace a sofa anyway so extra seating was just a bonus.
In other years I’ve gotten earrings, clothes, and even gift certificates for things like massages for my wife for Christmas. This year, though, I’m drawing a blank. I have no idea whatsoever to get for Christy and even worse no desire to visit the stores to search for ideas.
Part of my problem is I don’t have the patience or attention span to brave holiday shopping crowds at retail stores. It’s as if it’s some sort of competition with everyone battling it out over everything from parking spots to sale items. I don’t particularly enjoy shopping. Add the fact I’m not even sure what I’m looking for and my eyes glaze over just thinking about visiting a store.
I have, in the past, bought an item or two for Christy online but again that was only after I had an idea about what to get her. This year I’ve found no items bookmarked on her computer, no hints as to what she might want, and no answers from her as to what she needs. True, there are a couple of traditional stocking stuffers that will come as no surprise to her but I’ve drawn a complete blank when it comes a main gift.
I guess I still have time to come up with an idea but that time is quickly growing short. Next weekend we’ll be visiting my parents for an early Christmas so it’s not going to happen then and I sure don’t want to venture out Christmas weekend so I guess that narrows it down to this week.
All I need is a little inspiration, a good idea, and a bit more Christmas spirit, which I expect to arrive sometime soon. I just took the dogs outside and noticed the wind shifting to the west and the air growing cooler. While the warm weather has been nice and I hate to see it go, the return to a more normal December may be just what I need to get in the holiday mood.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Highs in 60s in December? Maybe that’s why it just doesn’t seem like the holidays to me yet.
I’ve been reminded since sometime in October that Christmas was just around the corner. Those reminders came from premature Christmas displays going up in some of the retail stores I visited and, believe it or not, a couple of high school students playing Christmas music on their smartphones just before Halloween.
Despite those early reminders I’m having trouble finding the motivation to get Christmas gifts. Sure, I helped Christy find gifts for the grandkids and she’s already done the shopping for our kids but I have no idea what to get my wife for Christmas.
Sometimes knowing what to gift to get for Christy is simple. Last year she got living room furniture, which she and I picked out together before the holiday. That was an easy decision made largely by the fact her parents and her brother and his family were coming to celebrate Christmas at our house. We needed to replace a sofa anyway so extra seating was just a bonus.
In other years I’ve gotten earrings, clothes, and even gift certificates for things like massages for my wife for Christmas. This year, though, I’m drawing a blank. I have no idea whatsoever to get for Christy and even worse no desire to visit the stores to search for ideas.
Part of my problem is I don’t have the patience or attention span to brave holiday shopping crowds at retail stores. It’s as if it’s some sort of competition with everyone battling it out over everything from parking spots to sale items. I don’t particularly enjoy shopping. Add the fact I’m not even sure what I’m looking for and my eyes glaze over just thinking about visiting a store.
I have, in the past, bought an item or two for Christy online but again that was only after I had an idea about what to get her. This year I’ve found no items bookmarked on her computer, no hints as to what she might want, and no answers from her as to what she needs. True, there are a couple of traditional stocking stuffers that will come as no surprise to her but I’ve drawn a complete blank when it comes a main gift.
I guess I still have time to come up with an idea but that time is quickly growing short. Next weekend we’ll be visiting my parents for an early Christmas so it’s not going to happen then and I sure don’t want to venture out Christmas weekend so I guess that narrows it down to this week.
All I need is a little inspiration, a good idea, and a bit more Christmas spirit, which I expect to arrive sometime soon. I just took the dogs outside and noticed the wind shifting to the west and the air growing cooler. While the warm weather has been nice and I hate to see it go, the return to a more normal December may be just what I need to get in the holiday mood.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Give thanks for simple things
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Sunday was about as gorgeous as you could ask for in November.
Clear skies and calm winds, a high near 50 degrees — saying it was enjoyable would be an understatement. We couldn’t ask for a better start to Thanksgiving week.
I’m grateful for weather like that. In fact I’m grateful for the entire week’s weather forecast because we like many others will be traveling to visit family and friends for the holiday.
Good weather is something we can all appreciate, especially those who work outside year-round. Farmers, of course, come to mind immediately as do construction workers, mail carriers, firefighters, those in the military and law enforcement, department of transportation workers, truck drivers, pilots, and others who know that less than ideal weather can be more than an inconvenience.
And yet there are some who take good weather for granted, who deal with the temperature by simply turning the thermostat up or down. But there are also many others who can’t afford to heat their homes in winter or find themselves forced to choose between buying food or paying their utility bill.
The holidays aren’t the same for everyone. While many families will share home-cooked feasts of turkey, dressing, and pie for Thanksgiving, others will be eating alone or going hungry. While many will begin their Christmas shopping with Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, or Cyber Monday, others will be hoping they have enough left from their paycheck to put gas in the car to get to work.
My family and I are fortunate. We are blessed in so many ways that we don’t always appreciate what we have. Just last week I had to have a starter put in our daughter’s car. While I grumbled about having to put on my overalls and stocking cap and crawling on the cold ground to hook up a tow chain to pull the car home, I thought of how others could face more than just an inconvenience because a car wouldn’t start.
I could afford to buy a new starter for the car but many others have no room in their budgets for car repairs. With no money for car repairs there is no way to get to work and without work there is no paycheck.
Yes, I am grateful for clear skies and a warm sun but I have many more reasons to give thanks this week. Family, friends, good health, clean water, food to eat, warm shelter, a safe place to live — we have so much a day of sunshine seems like we’ve been blessed with too much.
With Thanksgiving here and Christmas fast approaching, I hope everyone can share the warmth and blessings this season brings to help brighten the spirits of those less fortunate. Sometimes something as simple as a smile or kind word can make a difference.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Sunday was about as gorgeous as you could ask for in November.
Clear skies and calm winds, a high near 50 degrees — saying it was enjoyable would be an understatement. We couldn’t ask for a better start to Thanksgiving week.
I’m grateful for weather like that. In fact I’m grateful for the entire week’s weather forecast because we like many others will be traveling to visit family and friends for the holiday.
Good weather is something we can all appreciate, especially those who work outside year-round. Farmers, of course, come to mind immediately as do construction workers, mail carriers, firefighters, those in the military and law enforcement, department of transportation workers, truck drivers, pilots, and others who know that less than ideal weather can be more than an inconvenience.
And yet there are some who take good weather for granted, who deal with the temperature by simply turning the thermostat up or down. But there are also many others who can’t afford to heat their homes in winter or find themselves forced to choose between buying food or paying their utility bill.
The holidays aren’t the same for everyone. While many families will share home-cooked feasts of turkey, dressing, and pie for Thanksgiving, others will be eating alone or going hungry. While many will begin their Christmas shopping with Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, or Cyber Monday, others will be hoping they have enough left from their paycheck to put gas in the car to get to work.
My family and I are fortunate. We are blessed in so many ways that we don’t always appreciate what we have. Just last week I had to have a starter put in our daughter’s car. While I grumbled about having to put on my overalls and stocking cap and crawling on the cold ground to hook up a tow chain to pull the car home, I thought of how others could face more than just an inconvenience because a car wouldn’t start.
I could afford to buy a new starter for the car but many others have no room in their budgets for car repairs. With no money for car repairs there is no way to get to work and without work there is no paycheck.
Yes, I am grateful for clear skies and a warm sun but I have many more reasons to give thanks this week. Family, friends, good health, clean water, food to eat, warm shelter, a safe place to live — we have so much a day of sunshine seems like we’ve been blessed with too much.
With Thanksgiving here and Christmas fast approaching, I hope everyone can share the warmth and blessings this season brings to help brighten the spirits of those less fortunate. Sometimes something as simple as a smile or kind word can make a difference.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Change can sometimes be familiar
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
We live in a fairly stable community and have so since late 2005.
The neighbors we first met then, for the most part, remain there still. Our next door neighbors east of us were there when we moved in, as were our neighbors north and northwest of us, although our northern neighbors are now widows.
South of us we’ve had neighbors come and go because there are rental houses across the street. And the house directly west of us, the one can see when I look out my windows watching squirrels and birds or just day dreaming when I should be writing, has changed hands again but even though we have new neighbors there they’re not complete strangers.
When we first moved in our neighbor west of us was Virginia Grace, a widow then whose husband had been a mail carrier and new the exact number of steps from his house to the post office just two blocks away. Her health was already beginning to fail so I tried to catch her when I could to carry groceries up the stairs for her into her kitchen. She was kind and friendly, just the kind of neighbor we all hope for we weren’t blessed with her long.
We were fortunate, though, to have a young family move into Virginia’s old home after she passed away. Around 10 years ago Erin and Ryan and their two daughters moved into the house to our west. Their oldest daughter Kyla was in high school while their youngest, Ryleigh, was in pre-school. Not long afterward they had another daughter, Jayden.
Riley would speak to us when we were outside but as Jayden grew up she made sure to visit with us regularly. She especially liked to come over and look at the three hens we had. Again we had good neighbors but they soon outgrew the house to the west and we found ourselves with another new neighbor.
Our new neighbor, though, turned out to be a familiar face. Rather than buy a bigger house Erin and Ryan simply traded their smaller home with Erin’s mother, who lived alone in a four bedroom not too far away. We met her when she would visit her daughter and granddaughters.
Again we were blessed with a good neighbor. Erin’s mother was polite, an animal lover who sometimes needed help recapturing a dog that escaped her fenced backyard. She was independent, until poor health and concerns from her daughter forced her to move to a home more accessible over this past summer.
And now we have new neighbors west of us again and again they happen to be familiar faces. Kyla, the young girl who had completed high school next door, went off to college, and returned to her hometown to work in health care, moved in to the house next door with her husband Derek.
I got to watch Derek and Kyla mature through high school, writing when we owned the Ledger about their accomplishments in academic, sports, FFA, National Honor Society and other activities. I got to do the same for Nick, whose mother lives directly north of us, and Ross, whose parents live directly east of us.
In the 12 years or so we’ve lived in our neighborhood a lot has changed. But despite the changes, it’s all still very familiar.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
We live in a fairly stable community and have so since late 2005.
The neighbors we first met then, for the most part, remain there still. Our next door neighbors east of us were there when we moved in, as were our neighbors north and northwest of us, although our northern neighbors are now widows.
South of us we’ve had neighbors come and go because there are rental houses across the street. And the house directly west of us, the one can see when I look out my windows watching squirrels and birds or just day dreaming when I should be writing, has changed hands again but even though we have new neighbors there they’re not complete strangers.
When we first moved in our neighbor west of us was Virginia Grace, a widow then whose husband had been a mail carrier and new the exact number of steps from his house to the post office just two blocks away. Her health was already beginning to fail so I tried to catch her when I could to carry groceries up the stairs for her into her kitchen. She was kind and friendly, just the kind of neighbor we all hope for we weren’t blessed with her long.
We were fortunate, though, to have a young family move into Virginia’s old home after she passed away. Around 10 years ago Erin and Ryan and their two daughters moved into the house to our west. Their oldest daughter Kyla was in high school while their youngest, Ryleigh, was in pre-school. Not long afterward they had another daughter, Jayden.
Riley would speak to us when we were outside but as Jayden grew up she made sure to visit with us regularly. She especially liked to come over and look at the three hens we had. Again we had good neighbors but they soon outgrew the house to the west and we found ourselves with another new neighbor.
Our new neighbor, though, turned out to be a familiar face. Rather than buy a bigger house Erin and Ryan simply traded their smaller home with Erin’s mother, who lived alone in a four bedroom not too far away. We met her when she would visit her daughter and granddaughters.
Again we were blessed with a good neighbor. Erin’s mother was polite, an animal lover who sometimes needed help recapturing a dog that escaped her fenced backyard. She was independent, until poor health and concerns from her daughter forced her to move to a home more accessible over this past summer.
And now we have new neighbors west of us again and again they happen to be familiar faces. Kyla, the young girl who had completed high school next door, went off to college, and returned to her hometown to work in health care, moved in to the house next door with her husband Derek.
I got to watch Derek and Kyla mature through high school, writing when we owned the Ledger about their accomplishments in academic, sports, FFA, National Honor Society and other activities. I got to do the same for Nick, whose mother lives directly north of us, and Ross, whose parents live directly east of us.
In the 12 years or so we’ve lived in our neighborhood a lot has changed. But despite the changes, it’s all still very familiar.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Congratulations on a good season Timberwolves
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
A great high school football season has been completed. Hats — err helmets — off to the guys who have put together an awesome season going undefeated in the regular season including an upset of the then top ranked team in the state.
Southwest Valley patrons, parents, student athletes and students should all be proud of the way the team has persevered through the season. Coach Donahoo has made an impact on the team, as they have been very well prepared as they entered each week’s game looking to be 1 and 0. It was very exciting watching the team and I enjoyed watching their success and confidence grow each week. Congratulations to all who had a part on the team from the starters on down to those players who played on the scout teams each and every week.
With the fall sports season behind us, the winter sports will take hold with the wrestlers and basketball players working hard on their conditioning to remain competitive in the upcoming respective seasons. Good luck to the Timberwolf wrestlers and basketball players this winter. The dance team is also getting prepared for the non-competition dance team, which will begin practice in mid to late November.
A few weeks ago a serious tragedy was avoided with the house fire at 500 Grove Ave. Getting to the scene almost immediately after the page was sent out to firefighters allowed me to watch them in action. It was quite the task to get all the hoses down and hooked up to fire hydrants to help fight the fire.
Both Fire Chief Brian Kannas and Assistant Fire Chief Donnie Willett run a pretty tight ship and in no time they got everyone in place to start putting the fire down. They both expressed thanks to the civilians in helping out whether it was helping hold onto the heavy hoses or utilizing the hose themselves to help battle the fire in which both Lenox and Prescott were called into assist.
Kudos to those civilians who also helped to get neighbor John Reese out of his home and away from harm as the fire was threatening to take his home as well and luckily the home only sustained melted siding damage. It was quite the gathering in the neighborhood and both Kannas and Willett expressed a warning to the public to not get too close and be in the way of firefighters and too never drive over a fire hose as that can result in a fine, something I did not realize but it is against the law.
I echo the community’s thanks to the firefighters for doing a good job at containing the blaze and making sure the fire did not spread to neighboring homes.
Halloween has came and gone with the kids being The Incredible Hulk and Tinkerbelle. I think they have more than enough candy to last at least until Thanksgiving as they always do. Trunk or Treat was also a successful event as was the safe kids trick or treat night held the night of the first round of football playoffs.
Election Day has also came and gone with very few local races so several ballots had only the number of candidates and the number of open seats the same. As they say, if you don’t like how things are done you need to find a way to make your voice heard — either run for office or tell those officeholders of your concerns.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
A great high school football season has been completed. Hats — err helmets — off to the guys who have put together an awesome season going undefeated in the regular season including an upset of the then top ranked team in the state.
Southwest Valley patrons, parents, student athletes and students should all be proud of the way the team has persevered through the season. Coach Donahoo has made an impact on the team, as they have been very well prepared as they entered each week’s game looking to be 1 and 0. It was very exciting watching the team and I enjoyed watching their success and confidence grow each week. Congratulations to all who had a part on the team from the starters on down to those players who played on the scout teams each and every week.
With the fall sports season behind us, the winter sports will take hold with the wrestlers and basketball players working hard on their conditioning to remain competitive in the upcoming respective seasons. Good luck to the Timberwolf wrestlers and basketball players this winter. The dance team is also getting prepared for the non-competition dance team, which will begin practice in mid to late November.
A few weeks ago a serious tragedy was avoided with the house fire at 500 Grove Ave. Getting to the scene almost immediately after the page was sent out to firefighters allowed me to watch them in action. It was quite the task to get all the hoses down and hooked up to fire hydrants to help fight the fire.
Both Fire Chief Brian Kannas and Assistant Fire Chief Donnie Willett run a pretty tight ship and in no time they got everyone in place to start putting the fire down. They both expressed thanks to the civilians in helping out whether it was helping hold onto the heavy hoses or utilizing the hose themselves to help battle the fire in which both Lenox and Prescott were called into assist.
Kudos to those civilians who also helped to get neighbor John Reese out of his home and away from harm as the fire was threatening to take his home as well and luckily the home only sustained melted siding damage. It was quite the gathering in the neighborhood and both Kannas and Willett expressed a warning to the public to not get too close and be in the way of firefighters and too never drive over a fire hose as that can result in a fine, something I did not realize but it is against the law.
I echo the community’s thanks to the firefighters for doing a good job at containing the blaze and making sure the fire did not spread to neighboring homes.
Halloween has came and gone with the kids being The Incredible Hulk and Tinkerbelle. I think they have more than enough candy to last at least until Thanksgiving as they always do. Trunk or Treat was also a successful event as was the safe kids trick or treat night held the night of the first round of football playoffs.
Election Day has also came and gone with very few local races so several ballots had only the number of candidates and the number of open seats the same. As they say, if you don’t like how things are done you need to find a way to make your voice heard — either run for office or tell those officeholders of your concerns.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Last lasts happen fast
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
We witnessed a lot of lasts last week.
It all began Sunday when our daughter Hannah celebrated her 18th birthday. I know she didn’t see it as a last but for me, as we cleaned up the kitchen after eating her birthday dinner of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and cupcakes, I realized it would likely be the last time Hannah would spend that much time with Christy and I the week leading up to and the week of her birthday.
I — we — fully realized what it means having another high school senior.
Hannah, our now 18-year-old senior, has already played her last high school softball game. Christy and I and the parents of four other softball seniors honored our daughters on the field Oct. 2 for the last regular home game of the season (our school offers softball and girls golf in the fall instead of volleyball and cross country). While Hannah, Christy, and I didn’t get teary-eyed on the field there were a few daughters and parents who did.
Although senior night was the last regular home softball game of the season, Hannah’s actual final high school softball game was Oct. 9 in the Class 1 District 15 championship game against North Harrison. Although our team lost 3-0 we finished second in the district tournament. I’m not sure how well Hannah realized it but that was the last time she would help earn a high school softball trophy, the last high school softball game she would play. In fact it was probably also the last time that group of girls, many of which had been playing together since t-ball, would play softball together.
Homecoming, too, came last week and again Hannah experienced several lasts. It was her last homecoming pep rally, her last homecoming bonfire, her last time to build a homecoming float with her class, the last time to be a student in a high school homecoming parade, the last high school home football game she’ll attend as a student.
As parents, Christy and I were proud to escort Hannah as one of the homecoming candidates, too walk beside her as we were introduced in front of a homecoming crowd last Friday night. That, too, was a last.
May seems far away but Christy and I realize Hannah’s last day as a high school senior will be here before we know it. Between now and then there will be several more lasts. They happen fast, these last lasts, and I’m working hard to enjoy and appreciate the significance of each one.
Don Groves can be contacted a pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
We witnessed a lot of lasts last week.
It all began Sunday when our daughter Hannah celebrated her 18th birthday. I know she didn’t see it as a last but for me, as we cleaned up the kitchen after eating her birthday dinner of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and cupcakes, I realized it would likely be the last time Hannah would spend that much time with Christy and I the week leading up to and the week of her birthday.
I — we — fully realized what it means having another high school senior.
Hannah, our now 18-year-old senior, has already played her last high school softball game. Christy and I and the parents of four other softball seniors honored our daughters on the field Oct. 2 for the last regular home game of the season (our school offers softball and girls golf in the fall instead of volleyball and cross country). While Hannah, Christy, and I didn’t get teary-eyed on the field there were a few daughters and parents who did.
Although senior night was the last regular home softball game of the season, Hannah’s actual final high school softball game was Oct. 9 in the Class 1 District 15 championship game against North Harrison. Although our team lost 3-0 we finished second in the district tournament. I’m not sure how well Hannah realized it but that was the last time she would help earn a high school softball trophy, the last high school softball game she would play. In fact it was probably also the last time that group of girls, many of which had been playing together since t-ball, would play softball together.
Homecoming, too, came last week and again Hannah experienced several lasts. It was her last homecoming pep rally, her last homecoming bonfire, her last time to build a homecoming float with her class, the last time to be a student in a high school homecoming parade, the last high school home football game she’ll attend as a student.
As parents, Christy and I were proud to escort Hannah as one of the homecoming candidates, too walk beside her as we were introduced in front of a homecoming crowd last Friday night. That, too, was a last.
May seems far away but Christy and I realize Hannah’s last day as a high school senior will be here before we know it. Between now and then there will be several more lasts. They happen fast, these last lasts, and I’m working hard to enjoy and appreciate the significance of each one.
Don Groves can be contacted a pub[email protected].
October brings birthday wishes
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
Well, here we go again … it’s my birthday month and this is not a plea for gifts but if you are so inclined I will not turn any gifts down! Just drop them off at the office and I will thank you at a later date.
Last year I hit the half-century mark and of course the kids caught wind of how old I was and the jokes soon ensued. I cannot count the number of times I heard their wisecracks. “Gee Dad you’re old, but we love you anyway.”
I know I am older than them so I was able to take their jokes in stride. I have never shied away from telling people how old I am, it’s just that some people are really surprised by my age. I’m not sure if I look older or younger when they act that way.
I am starting to get bombarded with people asking me what I want. And then of course with the Christmas holiday approaching I always make my list extra long because I figure if I don’t get it for my birthday I will put it on my Christmas list. So that leaves the question: What do I want for my birthday?
Hmmm … I will hopefully have an answer for you at the end of my column.
Congratulations to the Southwest Valley Timberwolves on a successful fall sports run.
Coach Sussman’s cross country runners are doing well. It sounds like they are consistently getting their times down, which is key with the state meet approaching. Coach Wetzel again has a tough volleyball squad that is also steadily improving. That leaves Coach Donahoo and the football team. They are having a great season and are making a run for a playoff berth. I have been able to witness first hand the football team from the sidelines and taking pictures. Kudos to the team as they are always behind their teammates and give them words of encouragement if something doesn’t go their way on the field. In the way I see it, that positivity has helped the team get better throughout the season. As they say, you win as a team and you lose as a team.
Hats off to the cheerleaders as well as the younger junior varsity and junior high team members. Without them it would be hard to keep things going in a positive direction. Once the fall sports conclude, attention will then be given to the basketball courts and wrestling mats. Conditioning has probably already begun for some of those athletes who don’t play fall sports so they will be able to go once those seasons begin.
The month of October also means its Pork Month, so kudos to those farmers who provide us with bacon and pork chops among other great food choices. And lest I forget football, since it is called a pigskin. Growing up on a farm and exhibiting those animals at the county fair, I learned firsthand how important those animals are to our economy.
October is also Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and while I have not had personal experience with a family member who has suffered from this nasty disease I do have some friends who have lost a mother or grandmother to it so I salute you the survivors of this disease and those who unfortunately lost their battle.
From the research I see it’s not just a women’s disease as an estimated 252,710 women are expected be diagnosed with invasive breast cancer and an estimated 2,470 men will also be diagnosed with the disease during 2017. Statistics show that in the state of Iowa alone almost 2,400 women will receive the news they have breast cancer and almost 400 them will die as a result. But the good news is that if diagnosed and treated early the five-year survival rate is nearly 99 percent.
Well gee, here I am at the end of my column and I guess I need to give you my birthday list … Hmmm. I am still thinking so I guess it will have to maybe wait until next month. And if you’re curious I share my birthday with one of the most famous former residents of Corning, Johnny Carson.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
Well, here we go again … it’s my birthday month and this is not a plea for gifts but if you are so inclined I will not turn any gifts down! Just drop them off at the office and I will thank you at a later date.
Last year I hit the half-century mark and of course the kids caught wind of how old I was and the jokes soon ensued. I cannot count the number of times I heard their wisecracks. “Gee Dad you’re old, but we love you anyway.”
I know I am older than them so I was able to take their jokes in stride. I have never shied away from telling people how old I am, it’s just that some people are really surprised by my age. I’m not sure if I look older or younger when they act that way.
I am starting to get bombarded with people asking me what I want. And then of course with the Christmas holiday approaching I always make my list extra long because I figure if I don’t get it for my birthday I will put it on my Christmas list. So that leaves the question: What do I want for my birthday?
Hmmm … I will hopefully have an answer for you at the end of my column.
Congratulations to the Southwest Valley Timberwolves on a successful fall sports run.
Coach Sussman’s cross country runners are doing well. It sounds like they are consistently getting their times down, which is key with the state meet approaching. Coach Wetzel again has a tough volleyball squad that is also steadily improving. That leaves Coach Donahoo and the football team. They are having a great season and are making a run for a playoff berth. I have been able to witness first hand the football team from the sidelines and taking pictures. Kudos to the team as they are always behind their teammates and give them words of encouragement if something doesn’t go their way on the field. In the way I see it, that positivity has helped the team get better throughout the season. As they say, you win as a team and you lose as a team.
Hats off to the cheerleaders as well as the younger junior varsity and junior high team members. Without them it would be hard to keep things going in a positive direction. Once the fall sports conclude, attention will then be given to the basketball courts and wrestling mats. Conditioning has probably already begun for some of those athletes who don’t play fall sports so they will be able to go once those seasons begin.
The month of October also means its Pork Month, so kudos to those farmers who provide us with bacon and pork chops among other great food choices. And lest I forget football, since it is called a pigskin. Growing up on a farm and exhibiting those animals at the county fair, I learned firsthand how important those animals are to our economy.
October is also Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and while I have not had personal experience with a family member who has suffered from this nasty disease I do have some friends who have lost a mother or grandmother to it so I salute you the survivors of this disease and those who unfortunately lost their battle.
From the research I see it’s not just a women’s disease as an estimated 252,710 women are expected be diagnosed with invasive breast cancer and an estimated 2,470 men will also be diagnosed with the disease during 2017. Statistics show that in the state of Iowa alone almost 2,400 women will receive the news they have breast cancer and almost 400 them will die as a result. But the good news is that if diagnosed and treated early the five-year survival rate is nearly 99 percent.
Well gee, here I am at the end of my column and I guess I need to give you my birthday list … Hmmm. I am still thinking so I guess it will have to maybe wait until next month. And if you’re curious I share my birthday with one of the most famous former residents of Corning, Johnny Carson.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
It’s what you think you know
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.” — Mark Twain
Lately I’ve felt a bit out of sorts, almost apathetic, which can be problematic in many ways but particularly so when part of your profession is producing a semi-regular column for a newspaper. It’s tough to write an opinion piece when you really don’t have a strong opinion.
Having a definite view on an issue wasn’t always so difficult. Not so long ago I could easily take a stance on almost anything but as I’ve grown older fewer things seem to concern me or if they do I can more easily see both sides of an issue. Now it’s more difficult for me to come to a conclusion.
Part of it, I think, has come from the weariness I’ve felt as people have become increasingly politically polarized in this country. There’s no escaping it. Opinions abound on television, on the radio, on social media, in the grocery store, at high school ball games. I see and hear people all the time spouting off misinformation as if it’s the gospel.
The problem is too many are too willing to believe what they want to hear. There’s comfort in having your viewpoint reaffirmed, even if that viewpoint is inaccurate. What’s more difficult, though, is setting aside your belief, listening to another’s viewpoint, considering its validity, realizing your belief wasn’t as strong as you first thought, and changing your mind.
Yes, people, it’s all right to change your mind. There’s nothing wrong with it whatsoever but it isn’t easy.
Most people don’t like their beliefs challenged. Views and opinions help keep us safe. We like being accepted so we identify with others who share our views and opinions and dislike those with differing views and opinions pointing out we’re wrong.
We feel threatened when someone points out we’re wrong. And the more threated we feel the more likely we are to cling to our beliefs, even if they have been shown to be wrong. That’s especially true when we happen to dislike the person pointing out that we’re wrong.
I doubt anyone reading this column will change their political view but I do hope more of you are initially skeptical when presented with information — particularly on social media — that reinforces your existing beliefs.
A healthy dose of skepticism and a willingness to verify information before accepting it as fact could certainly help depolarize what this country has become. But that’s just my opinion.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.” — Mark Twain
Lately I’ve felt a bit out of sorts, almost apathetic, which can be problematic in many ways but particularly so when part of your profession is producing a semi-regular column for a newspaper. It’s tough to write an opinion piece when you really don’t have a strong opinion.
Having a definite view on an issue wasn’t always so difficult. Not so long ago I could easily take a stance on almost anything but as I’ve grown older fewer things seem to concern me or if they do I can more easily see both sides of an issue. Now it’s more difficult for me to come to a conclusion.
Part of it, I think, has come from the weariness I’ve felt as people have become increasingly politically polarized in this country. There’s no escaping it. Opinions abound on television, on the radio, on social media, in the grocery store, at high school ball games. I see and hear people all the time spouting off misinformation as if it’s the gospel.
The problem is too many are too willing to believe what they want to hear. There’s comfort in having your viewpoint reaffirmed, even if that viewpoint is inaccurate. What’s more difficult, though, is setting aside your belief, listening to another’s viewpoint, considering its validity, realizing your belief wasn’t as strong as you first thought, and changing your mind.
Yes, people, it’s all right to change your mind. There’s nothing wrong with it whatsoever but it isn’t easy.
Most people don’t like their beliefs challenged. Views and opinions help keep us safe. We like being accepted so we identify with others who share our views and opinions and dislike those with differing views and opinions pointing out we’re wrong.
We feel threatened when someone points out we’re wrong. And the more threated we feel the more likely we are to cling to our beliefs, even if they have been shown to be wrong. That’s especially true when we happen to dislike the person pointing out that we’re wrong.
I doubt anyone reading this column will change their political view but I do hope more of you are initially skeptical when presented with information — particularly on social media — that reinforces your existing beliefs.
A healthy dose of skepticism and a willingness to verify information before accepting it as fact could certainly help depolarize what this country has become. But that’s just my opinion.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’t become a victim
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
A telephone scam has reached the Adams County area.
Last week I received a phone call from an individual who left a message advising me the IRS was in the process of suing me. The person left a number for me to call but even though it was not a familiar number I returned the call anyway and the person answering the phone indicated the IRS was beginning the process to sue me.
I then hung up the phone because I knew it was a scam.
In contacting the State Attorney General’s office in Des Moines, communications director Geoff Greenwood advised the IRS impersonation scam is a constant problem.
“The scam has been occurring for years and has preyed upon countless victims,” he told me. “These are criminals who call from abroad, they spoof caller ID information so it’s difficult — if not impossible — to track, and they certainly do not follow state or federal laws, including laws regarding the Do Not Call Registry. They do everything they can to threaten victims, many of whom are older consumers. And they utilize technology that makes it relatively cheap and efficient for them to target large numbers of victims — in addition to evading U.S. law enforcement.”
Greenwood also told me federal officials are working on the case.
“At the federal level, the FCC is working with telecommunications providers to develop and deploy technology to bolster the accuracy of caller ID information —which arguably is half the problem since it helps convince people that the fraudulent call is legitimate,” he said. “You cannot and should not trust caller ID information that appears on your display.”
Greenwood also said meanwhile consumers should simply hang up and if you wish you could contact the IRS for confirmation purposes. You can also report the scam to the Treasury Inspector General for Tax Administration at www.treasury.gov/tigta.contact_report_scam.shtml.
Don’t become a victim. Do yourself a favor and check into it, tell them you will get back to them and then get it checked out before you do anything.
If you have become an unfortunate victim of the scam or have received a similar phone call, you can contact your local sheriff’s office, police department or the Iowa Attorney General’s office at (515) 281-5164.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
A telephone scam has reached the Adams County area.
Last week I received a phone call from an individual who left a message advising me the IRS was in the process of suing me. The person left a number for me to call but even though it was not a familiar number I returned the call anyway and the person answering the phone indicated the IRS was beginning the process to sue me.
I then hung up the phone because I knew it was a scam.
In contacting the State Attorney General’s office in Des Moines, communications director Geoff Greenwood advised the IRS impersonation scam is a constant problem.
“The scam has been occurring for years and has preyed upon countless victims,” he told me. “These are criminals who call from abroad, they spoof caller ID information so it’s difficult — if not impossible — to track, and they certainly do not follow state or federal laws, including laws regarding the Do Not Call Registry. They do everything they can to threaten victims, many of whom are older consumers. And they utilize technology that makes it relatively cheap and efficient for them to target large numbers of victims — in addition to evading U.S. law enforcement.”
Greenwood also told me federal officials are working on the case.
“At the federal level, the FCC is working with telecommunications providers to develop and deploy technology to bolster the accuracy of caller ID information —which arguably is half the problem since it helps convince people that the fraudulent call is legitimate,” he said. “You cannot and should not trust caller ID information that appears on your display.”
Greenwood also said meanwhile consumers should simply hang up and if you wish you could contact the IRS for confirmation purposes. You can also report the scam to the Treasury Inspector General for Tax Administration at www.treasury.gov/tigta.contact_report_scam.shtml.
Don’t become a victim. Do yourself a favor and check into it, tell them you will get back to them and then get it checked out before you do anything.
If you have become an unfortunate victim of the scam or have received a similar phone call, you can contact your local sheriff’s office, police department or the Iowa Attorney General’s office at (515) 281-5164.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Creston a reminder King’s dream unfulfilled
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
Last week the town I live in made the news on a statewide level.
In case you missed it, some misguided young people in Creston made the news in which they were wearing white pointed hoods resembling the Ku Klux Klan burning a cross, holding a confederate flag and one was holding a rifle.
I was shocked to say the least that this could happen in the town where my children attend school. The youths were not identified because they are minors but they and their parents know who they are.
This is not to take sides on the issue as to whether it was right or wrong; instead it’s about perceived racism. We all know those images are connected to racism in one way or another, so this is about tolerance of our fellow man. I have met a lot of people of different races throughout my lifetime thus far and have never really had ill feelings towards any of them. One of my friends once told me that “there is white trash and there is black trash.” That statement has stuck with me through the years and pretty much describes our society today.
The school system has indicated the youths have been punished for their actions but now it has become an issue as to whether it is a violation of free speech or not. One of the football players came forward and addressed the media in saying “… that as a whole our football team and community aren’t about that. The actions made by a small group shouldn’t represent the entire football team and community.” I am not going to debate whether it’s an act of free speech or not. Instead I will say I find the actions taken by these individuals troubling and it just happened to have it highlighted because they posted their picture on social media for all to see.
Hopefully these actions will have area history teachers going back to August of 1963. Even though I wasn’t yet born, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. shared a dream many still have today in his famous “I Have a Dream” speech: “I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of ‘interposition’ and ‘nullification’ — one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.”
I too share that dream Dr. King, but it just seems it’s not meant to be.
• • •
High schools around the area have or will soon be celebrating homecoming ’17 activities with the pep rallies and parades and other activities throughout the week promoting school pride. I am reminded of years past for high school homecomings: my high school did not field a football team so our homecoming festivities were scheduled during basketball season.
We did not have the class team building activity of building a float, we instead decorated the hallways of the school to show the rest of the school our pride. I don’t remember much about the decorations only that it was a chance to get out of class and have some fun with classmates.
I only got to attend one homecoming as an alumnus as my high school closed a year after I graduated so I don’t participate in any of those types of things on a high school level, but instead take part in my college’s homecoming activities. I have not returned to my alma mater of Wartburg College for several years, but continue to get mailings showing how much the campus has changed through the years and the yearly calls asking for a pledge. In receiving those mailings or phone calls they are a reminder to me that I am valued alum of that institution and always fun to touch base with a current student or see what my former classmates are up to.
I miss my high school homecomings but thanks to Facebook I am able to keep in touch with most of my high school classmates and keep tabs on what they are up to and most summers we find time to get together at least one weekend and get reacquainted.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
Last week the town I live in made the news on a statewide level.
In case you missed it, some misguided young people in Creston made the news in which they were wearing white pointed hoods resembling the Ku Klux Klan burning a cross, holding a confederate flag and one was holding a rifle.
I was shocked to say the least that this could happen in the town where my children attend school. The youths were not identified because they are minors but they and their parents know who they are.
This is not to take sides on the issue as to whether it was right or wrong; instead it’s about perceived racism. We all know those images are connected to racism in one way or another, so this is about tolerance of our fellow man. I have met a lot of people of different races throughout my lifetime thus far and have never really had ill feelings towards any of them. One of my friends once told me that “there is white trash and there is black trash.” That statement has stuck with me through the years and pretty much describes our society today.
The school system has indicated the youths have been punished for their actions but now it has become an issue as to whether it is a violation of free speech or not. One of the football players came forward and addressed the media in saying “… that as a whole our football team and community aren’t about that. The actions made by a small group shouldn’t represent the entire football team and community.” I am not going to debate whether it’s an act of free speech or not. Instead I will say I find the actions taken by these individuals troubling and it just happened to have it highlighted because they posted their picture on social media for all to see.
Hopefully these actions will have area history teachers going back to August of 1963. Even though I wasn’t yet born, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. shared a dream many still have today in his famous “I Have a Dream” speech: “I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of ‘interposition’ and ‘nullification’ — one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.”
I too share that dream Dr. King, but it just seems it’s not meant to be.
• • •
High schools around the area have or will soon be celebrating homecoming ’17 activities with the pep rallies and parades and other activities throughout the week promoting school pride. I am reminded of years past for high school homecomings: my high school did not field a football team so our homecoming festivities were scheduled during basketball season.
We did not have the class team building activity of building a float, we instead decorated the hallways of the school to show the rest of the school our pride. I don’t remember much about the decorations only that it was a chance to get out of class and have some fun with classmates.
I only got to attend one homecoming as an alumnus as my high school closed a year after I graduated so I don’t participate in any of those types of things on a high school level, but instead take part in my college’s homecoming activities. I have not returned to my alma mater of Wartburg College for several years, but continue to get mailings showing how much the campus has changed through the years and the yearly calls asking for a pledge. In receiving those mailings or phone calls they are a reminder to me that I am valued alum of that institution and always fun to touch base with a current student or see what my former classmates are up to.
I miss my high school homecomings but thanks to Facebook I am able to keep in touch with most of my high school classmates and keep tabs on what they are up to and most summers we find time to get together at least one weekend and get reacquainted.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Unexpected work fills Labor Day weekend
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Even though it was Labor Day weekend I knew I would have to work.
Working on the weekend, even a holiday weekend, is not that big a deal and really isn’t unexpected. After all, you learn early in the news business that leisure time for many means photo opportunities and feature stories for newspapers.
Attending Labor Day events for the Free Press wasn’t one of my work requirements, although Christy and I did work on this week’s paper Monday. Instead my work involved some yard work and home improvement projects I had been planning for and one bit of unexpected and near emergency work — ridding a nest of yellow jackets from a support column on our front porch.
Christy first noticed the little winged creatures flying in and out of the column Saturday morning about the time I took water break from mowing. We went out on the porch, hoping to get close enough to identify what they were without being stung.
Of course the flying insects turned out not to be honeybees, which could have easily have been removed with a quick phone call to a local beekeeper, but instead yellow jackets. A dozen or more of them were lining up at time to take their turn to enter the tiny hole at the top of the column. I told Christy I would finish my mowing then got pick up a can of wasp spray.
With spray in hand, I imagined a quick end to the flying menace but like almost every time I think I have a simple solution I was wrong. I shot a strong blast at a bunch of the yellow jackets as they flew into the hole, watched them fall to the porch rail, and waited. A few seconds later a bunch of them made their way out of the column while another dozen or so waited to get back in. So I hit them again.
Eventually the coming and going of the yellow jackets slowed from a dozen or so at a time to six or seven at once but only after I had emptied my spray can. Surely, I thought, the poison will work on them as they fly in and out and Sunday I can focus on smoking ribs instead of killing insects.
Sunday after church I picked up can No. 2, this time with foaming spray, thinking I would have more success. Throughout the day I attacked with foam, feeling pretty confident about my success because by the time my second can was empty only two or three yellow jackets at a time flew around the entrance.
As I write this today, Monday afternoon, I’m about halfway through my third can of spray and just watched two more yellow jackets enter the hole. I’m pretty sure I’m gaining ground and believe that if can No. 3 doesn’t do away with them a few more cans of spray ought to take care of the problem by the end of the week.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Even though it was Labor Day weekend I knew I would have to work.
Working on the weekend, even a holiday weekend, is not that big a deal and really isn’t unexpected. After all, you learn early in the news business that leisure time for many means photo opportunities and feature stories for newspapers.
Attending Labor Day events for the Free Press wasn’t one of my work requirements, although Christy and I did work on this week’s paper Monday. Instead my work involved some yard work and home improvement projects I had been planning for and one bit of unexpected and near emergency work — ridding a nest of yellow jackets from a support column on our front porch.
Christy first noticed the little winged creatures flying in and out of the column Saturday morning about the time I took water break from mowing. We went out on the porch, hoping to get close enough to identify what they were without being stung.
Of course the flying insects turned out not to be honeybees, which could have easily have been removed with a quick phone call to a local beekeeper, but instead yellow jackets. A dozen or more of them were lining up at time to take their turn to enter the tiny hole at the top of the column. I told Christy I would finish my mowing then got pick up a can of wasp spray.
With spray in hand, I imagined a quick end to the flying menace but like almost every time I think I have a simple solution I was wrong. I shot a strong blast at a bunch of the yellow jackets as they flew into the hole, watched them fall to the porch rail, and waited. A few seconds later a bunch of them made their way out of the column while another dozen or so waited to get back in. So I hit them again.
Eventually the coming and going of the yellow jackets slowed from a dozen or so at a time to six or seven at once but only after I had emptied my spray can. Surely, I thought, the poison will work on them as they fly in and out and Sunday I can focus on smoking ribs instead of killing insects.
Sunday after church I picked up can No. 2, this time with foaming spray, thinking I would have more success. Throughout the day I attacked with foam, feeling pretty confident about my success because by the time my second can was empty only two or three yellow jackets at a time flew around the entrance.
As I write this today, Monday afternoon, I’m about halfway through my third can of spray and just watched two more yellow jackets enter the hole. I’m pretty sure I’m gaining ground and believe that if can No. 3 doesn’t do away with them a few more cans of spray ought to take care of the problem by the end of the week.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Perception is everything
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Perception is everything.
I know this for fact. Just last week we our daughters verified it. We sat down for a meal together, something that hasn’t happened often this summer with a 15-year-old and a 17-year-old with full-time jobs, but both of them said they had just had a great meal.
The meal? Fish tacos made with frozen fish sticks, sweet corn that had been in the refrigerator too long and grilled as Mexican street corn, avocados that were just short of being perfectly ripe, and some left over bean and corn salad we had eaten earlier in the week.
Not my idea of a great meal, not by a long shot, but it was their third day back to school and third day in a row we had sat down at the table as a family for supper. It gave us a chance to return to sharing supper as a family, catching up with one another and sitting together at that table.
Family meals, something that used to be an almost daily occurrence, have grown increasing rare as our two teens have grown. With both of them working at the pool this summer it was more common for Christy and I to run meals to them on their breaks at the pool than it was to have all four of us sitting around the table.
And now that school has begun family meals will again become rare. Just looking at this week’s calendar we’re facing two softball games, softball practice after school and a tournament Saturday that we’ll have to work around. Looks like it’s going to be hot dogs and Subway more often than home-cooked meals.
But that’s OK. We still have Sundays and Mondays for family meals, at least most weeks, so Christy and I will take them as we get them. However few we get this school year we know that after May they will be even fewer. Hannah, our 17-year-old, will graduate then, which means in two more short years Allison, our 15-year-old will follow, leaving us empty-nesters.
How that is going to affect us we still don’t know. We do know, though, that our daughters will have become young adults with lives totally separate from ours. The meals Christy and I will share alone will almost certainly be quieter with far less catching up with one another needed.
You know, maybe our daughters were right after all. Maybe that meal last week of mostly leftovers was great, not because of what we ate but because of the time we shared. I guess how good our meals together are, like a lot of things in life, depend on how we all perceive them.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Perception is everything.
I know this for fact. Just last week we our daughters verified it. We sat down for a meal together, something that hasn’t happened often this summer with a 15-year-old and a 17-year-old with full-time jobs, but both of them said they had just had a great meal.
The meal? Fish tacos made with frozen fish sticks, sweet corn that had been in the refrigerator too long and grilled as Mexican street corn, avocados that were just short of being perfectly ripe, and some left over bean and corn salad we had eaten earlier in the week.
Not my idea of a great meal, not by a long shot, but it was their third day back to school and third day in a row we had sat down at the table as a family for supper. It gave us a chance to return to sharing supper as a family, catching up with one another and sitting together at that table.
Family meals, something that used to be an almost daily occurrence, have grown increasing rare as our two teens have grown. With both of them working at the pool this summer it was more common for Christy and I to run meals to them on their breaks at the pool than it was to have all four of us sitting around the table.
And now that school has begun family meals will again become rare. Just looking at this week’s calendar we’re facing two softball games, softball practice after school and a tournament Saturday that we’ll have to work around. Looks like it’s going to be hot dogs and Subway more often than home-cooked meals.
But that’s OK. We still have Sundays and Mondays for family meals, at least most weeks, so Christy and I will take them as we get them. However few we get this school year we know that after May they will be even fewer. Hannah, our 17-year-old, will graduate then, which means in two more short years Allison, our 15-year-old will follow, leaving us empty-nesters.
How that is going to affect us we still don’t know. We do know, though, that our daughters will have become young adults with lives totally separate from ours. The meals Christy and I will share alone will almost certainly be quieter with far less catching up with one another needed.
You know, maybe our daughters were right after all. Maybe that meal last week of mostly leftovers was great, not because of what we ate but because of the time we shared. I guess how good our meals together are, like a lot of things in life, depend on how we all perceive them.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
It’s good to catch up with friends
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
School will soon be in session for parents, students, and teachers alike along with college classes beginning in earnest as well.
Looking back at my days in education, a total of 16 years out of my life, it was a pretty good experience. Its been said by many that the friends you make in college will be the best friends of your life. While I agree with that statement I also feel that the friends you spend your elementary, junior high and high school days with will also become the best friends in your life. I, like many of you, went to a small rural Iowa school where parents are on first-name basis with teachers, their students’ friends’ parents, their friends as well.
Once you become a professional in your chosen field you also meet a lot of people you either work closely with or are within your circle of what your daily life includes. A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to renew a friendship with a colleague of mine who I had not had a chance to visit with one-on-one only. We communicated via email and there is only so much you can cram into those things.
I call my friend a colleague even though at the time we should have been competitors trying to beat the other for either a headline or a sound bite. It was kind of an ongoing joke that he had the columns of space while I had the sound bites of that person, saying on radio what he wrote in print the person said.
Well, we finally got together for lunch at Three C’s Diner, which was a first time for both of us at the restaurant. Great food, by the way, if you haven’t yet tried it. Now I know what I was missing. It was great to take time and actually talk one-on-one with him.
We got caught up on each other’s lives as we had not really had that chance to do in about 12 years, all the way back to late 2005. Both of us have made several moves professionally. He has stayed in his line of work in newspaper while I have changed my life from being a radio newsman, to a factory worker and now a newspaper reporter. He gave me some great insight on how to be a better reporter and how to handle things. Even though I am not a stranger to media it’s always good to learn how the other side works too. It’s the same but still different. We have now made plans to continue our visits on a monthly basis when time allows. Thanks, John, for the conversation and I look forward to next months visit on your turf.
Lately another issue has come to light and is the annoying telemarketing calls offering this or that. Recently, I had the opportunity to actually speak to a caller instead of just receiving a voicemail. I calmly explained that while I appreciated the call I was not interested in what she had to sell and after telling her that I requested my number be taken off their contact list. Well, apparently my message was not delivered to her co-workers as I have continued to receive numerous phone calls.
Again, I spoke with a human being who insisted they did not know my number was to be removed from the calling list because they have several call centers, both in the United States and abroad, but he would have it removed. Still they continue to call so unfortunately it appears my telemarketing calls will continue to be routed to my voicemail until my request to remove my number makes it to all of them. One would think in today’s world of the Do Not Call Lists and computers that telemarketing firms could contact each other and let them know who does or does not want their phone calls.
In the meantime, my voicemail will continue to fill up with all kinds of automated messages telling me to call back right away for a special deal but those calls will be deleted as soon as they come in. I only hope I do not miss an important phone call as telemarketing firms like to mask their actual numbers with 641 area codes or other well known area codes such as where family members and friends live. So from now on “leave a message at the beep” and if it’s important I will call you back.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
School will soon be in session for parents, students, and teachers alike along with college classes beginning in earnest as well.
Looking back at my days in education, a total of 16 years out of my life, it was a pretty good experience. Its been said by many that the friends you make in college will be the best friends of your life. While I agree with that statement I also feel that the friends you spend your elementary, junior high and high school days with will also become the best friends in your life. I, like many of you, went to a small rural Iowa school where parents are on first-name basis with teachers, their students’ friends’ parents, their friends as well.
Once you become a professional in your chosen field you also meet a lot of people you either work closely with or are within your circle of what your daily life includes. A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to renew a friendship with a colleague of mine who I had not had a chance to visit with one-on-one only. We communicated via email and there is only so much you can cram into those things.
I call my friend a colleague even though at the time we should have been competitors trying to beat the other for either a headline or a sound bite. It was kind of an ongoing joke that he had the columns of space while I had the sound bites of that person, saying on radio what he wrote in print the person said.
Well, we finally got together for lunch at Three C’s Diner, which was a first time for both of us at the restaurant. Great food, by the way, if you haven’t yet tried it. Now I know what I was missing. It was great to take time and actually talk one-on-one with him.
We got caught up on each other’s lives as we had not really had that chance to do in about 12 years, all the way back to late 2005. Both of us have made several moves professionally. He has stayed in his line of work in newspaper while I have changed my life from being a radio newsman, to a factory worker and now a newspaper reporter. He gave me some great insight on how to be a better reporter and how to handle things. Even though I am not a stranger to media it’s always good to learn how the other side works too. It’s the same but still different. We have now made plans to continue our visits on a monthly basis when time allows. Thanks, John, for the conversation and I look forward to next months visit on your turf.
Lately another issue has come to light and is the annoying telemarketing calls offering this or that. Recently, I had the opportunity to actually speak to a caller instead of just receiving a voicemail. I calmly explained that while I appreciated the call I was not interested in what she had to sell and after telling her that I requested my number be taken off their contact list. Well, apparently my message was not delivered to her co-workers as I have continued to receive numerous phone calls.
Again, I spoke with a human being who insisted they did not know my number was to be removed from the calling list because they have several call centers, both in the United States and abroad, but he would have it removed. Still they continue to call so unfortunately it appears my telemarketing calls will continue to be routed to my voicemail until my request to remove my number makes it to all of them. One would think in today’s world of the Do Not Call Lists and computers that telemarketing firms could contact each other and let them know who does or does not want their phone calls.
In the meantime, my voicemail will continue to fill up with all kinds of automated messages telling me to call back right away for a special deal but those calls will be deleted as soon as they come in. I only hope I do not miss an important phone call as telemarketing firms like to mask their actual numbers with 641 area codes or other well known area codes such as where family members and friends live. So from now on “leave a message at the beep” and if it’s important I will call you back.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Compromise can bring divided house together
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Compromise.
We see a lot of compromise in our household, especially now that we have two high-schoolers. With a senior and a sophomore we often find ourselves inundated with meetings, activities, financial needs, and even something as simple as getting everyone fed as our teens head off to class registration, softball practice, band practice, work at the pool, doctors’ and dentists’ appointments, and their ever important social events.
Christy and I find it a challenge to keep up with everyone’s schedule, make sure family members are where they are supposed to be on time, and find a couple of rare moments throughout the week to sit down at the table, have a family meal, and catch up with our daughters’ hectic lives. Despite the hiccups, the surprises, and the last minute schedule changes, we mange to make our lives run relatively smoothly thanks to flexibility, compromise and — most of all — communication.
Compromise and communication play a large role in any success, especially with something as dynamic as a family. I know how difficult it can be for four strong-willed individuals with different ideas, life experiences, and priorities to agree on something as simple and benign as supper so I can easily understand why Washington, D.C., is fraught with hostility and conflict. But with the failure of the Republican-controlled Congress and White House to repeal and replace the Affordable Care Act, it might be time for Capitol Hill to return to compromise.
The dysfunction in Washington has been going on for far too long and not just with Republicans. Democrats, too, have shown their unwillingness to compromise long before the Trump administration took over the White House. But that dysfunction seemed to have come to a head when repeal and replace went down in flames July 25 in a 43-57 vote in the Senate.
Republicans Susan Collins of Maine and Lisa Murkowski of Alaska made their opposition to repeal and replace known earlier in a procedural vote. The motion ultimately passed after Vice President Mike Pence broke the vote tied by Sen. John McCain who, despite being diagnosed with brain cancer, returned to Washington to take part in the process.
Although McCain cast his vote to move forward on repeal and replace, he followed up by telling the Senate "Let's trust each other. Let's return to regular order. We've been spinning our wheels on too many important issues. We're getting nothing done, my friends. We're getting nothing done."
But when the vote actually to repeal and replace came up, McCain joined Collins and Murkowski in opposition and the bill fell short. “I will not vote for the bill today as it is. It’s a shell of a bill right now,” McCain said. “We all know that.”
McCain’s vote was a disappointment to some and a relief to others but his speech on the Senate floor served as a reminder of what Congress should be doing. He reintroduced the idea of compromise, of communicating and working together to improve the country and its citizenry.
““Let’s trust each other. Let’s return to regular order,” McCain said. “We’ve been spinning our wheels on too many important issues because we keep trying to find a way to win without help from across the aisle. That’s an approach that’s been employed by both sides, mandating legislation from the top down, without any support from the other side, with all the parliamentary maneuvers that requires. …
“What have we to lose by trying to work together to find those solutions? We’re not getting much done apart. I don’t think any of us feels very proud of our incapacity. Merely preventing your political opponents from doing what they want isn’t the most inspiring work. There’s greater satisfaction in respecting our differences, but not letting them prevent agreements that don’t require abandonment of core principles, agreements made in good faith that help improve lives and protect the American people.”
Yes, let’s work together. Let’s get things done. Let’s remember what another U.S. congressman said more than 150 years ago in the House of Representatives before becoming the 16th president of the United States — “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Compromise.
We see a lot of compromise in our household, especially now that we have two high-schoolers. With a senior and a sophomore we often find ourselves inundated with meetings, activities, financial needs, and even something as simple as getting everyone fed as our teens head off to class registration, softball practice, band practice, work at the pool, doctors’ and dentists’ appointments, and their ever important social events.
Christy and I find it a challenge to keep up with everyone’s schedule, make sure family members are where they are supposed to be on time, and find a couple of rare moments throughout the week to sit down at the table, have a family meal, and catch up with our daughters’ hectic lives. Despite the hiccups, the surprises, and the last minute schedule changes, we mange to make our lives run relatively smoothly thanks to flexibility, compromise and — most of all — communication.
Compromise and communication play a large role in any success, especially with something as dynamic as a family. I know how difficult it can be for four strong-willed individuals with different ideas, life experiences, and priorities to agree on something as simple and benign as supper so I can easily understand why Washington, D.C., is fraught with hostility and conflict. But with the failure of the Republican-controlled Congress and White House to repeal and replace the Affordable Care Act, it might be time for Capitol Hill to return to compromise.
The dysfunction in Washington has been going on for far too long and not just with Republicans. Democrats, too, have shown their unwillingness to compromise long before the Trump administration took over the White House. But that dysfunction seemed to have come to a head when repeal and replace went down in flames July 25 in a 43-57 vote in the Senate.
Republicans Susan Collins of Maine and Lisa Murkowski of Alaska made their opposition to repeal and replace known earlier in a procedural vote. The motion ultimately passed after Vice President Mike Pence broke the vote tied by Sen. John McCain who, despite being diagnosed with brain cancer, returned to Washington to take part in the process.
Although McCain cast his vote to move forward on repeal and replace, he followed up by telling the Senate "Let's trust each other. Let's return to regular order. We've been spinning our wheels on too many important issues. We're getting nothing done, my friends. We're getting nothing done."
But when the vote actually to repeal and replace came up, McCain joined Collins and Murkowski in opposition and the bill fell short. “I will not vote for the bill today as it is. It’s a shell of a bill right now,” McCain said. “We all know that.”
McCain’s vote was a disappointment to some and a relief to others but his speech on the Senate floor served as a reminder of what Congress should be doing. He reintroduced the idea of compromise, of communicating and working together to improve the country and its citizenry.
““Let’s trust each other. Let’s return to regular order,” McCain said. “We’ve been spinning our wheels on too many important issues because we keep trying to find a way to win without help from across the aisle. That’s an approach that’s been employed by both sides, mandating legislation from the top down, without any support from the other side, with all the parliamentary maneuvers that requires. …
“What have we to lose by trying to work together to find those solutions? We’re not getting much done apart. I don’t think any of us feels very proud of our incapacity. Merely preventing your political opponents from doing what they want isn’t the most inspiring work. There’s greater satisfaction in respecting our differences, but not letting them prevent agreements that don’t require abandonment of core principles, agreements made in good faith that help improve lives and protect the American people.”
Yes, let’s work together. Let’s get things done. Let’s remember what another U.S. congressman said more than 150 years ago in the House of Representatives before becoming the 16th president of the United States — “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Birthday weekend brings minor chaos
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Our household has embraced the shared or cloud-based calendar but a couple of weeks ago I wish I still wrote things down on a desk calendar that I look at daily.
I almost missed by grandson’s first birthday.
Thankfully, through social media, a video of him munching down on a cupcake with green icing saved me. For some reason I had in my mind his birthday was July 14 instead of July 12, largely because I had set a reminder on the cloud-based calendar we were to visit him in Springfield for his party on July 15.
The calendar includes reminders for our three granddaughters’ birthdays, as well as those of other family members, set eight days in advance so I can remember to send birthday cards early enough to arrive on time. When I get the eight-day reminder, I add a reminder to call that person to wish happy birthday on the actual date. Because our grandson was only a year old and we were attending his birthday anyway, I failed to set a reminder for his actual birthday.
Fortunately I have an understanding daughter who knows her dad is prone to short-term memory loss. We spent some time with the birthday boy before his party and then celebrated with the rest of the family with pizza and cake the next day.
It turned out to be quite a weekend. We got to see our oldest granddaughter play a bit of soccer, watched our nephew’s baseball team come back from a win after trailing by 6 runs thanks in part to a couple of double plays by our nephew and his stealing home, and brought our granddaughters back with us that same weekend.
As exciting as all that was it was nothing compared to what we found when we returned home. We had a new dog-sitter this time, one who wasn’t quite as experienced as those we’ve asked to watch our pets before. Danny, our sitter, had a few issues with the dogs, including a broken door on a dog crate. We expected to return home to find puppy poo and gnawed furniture all over the house.
It turns our the pup had left only a few scratch marks on a window in the bathroom when decided to look out. The real surprise came from our older dog who tends to get a bit anxious at times. Poor Daisy had eaten something that didn’t sit well with her and she left us a few unexpected spots to clean up.
Of course that was just the beginning of the chaos in the house. While trying to clean up messes, take out the dogs, unload our granddaughters clothes and toys, and see what other disaster might await one of the granddaughters managed to clog a toilet and flood the bathroom, sending water across the floor, into the hall, and down into the basement.
We managed to stop the flood but with so many cleanups required we quickly ran out of towels. As Christy got the granddaughters settle in I started a load of laundry and sat down at my desk to go through the weekend’s email. It wasn’t long before I heard something fall from the washer but didn’t pay much attention until I heard something going “glug, glug, glug” behind the door to the washer.
I looked to see what it was and found a large bottle of laundry detergent emptying out its blue cleanser all over the carpet. Unfortunately, the big bottle slowed my opening of the bi-fold door to the laundry and most of the bottle emptied itself.
That was Sunday and we still had a week with the granddaughters. I’m happy to see that after we had no more surprises, just mornings at vacation Bible school, afternoons at the pool, and ice cream and popsicles when we’d had enough heat.
We had a good time. And we’ve got a really clean spot on the carpet right in front of the washer and a brand new toilet.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Our household has embraced the shared or cloud-based calendar but a couple of weeks ago I wish I still wrote things down on a desk calendar that I look at daily.
I almost missed by grandson’s first birthday.
Thankfully, through social media, a video of him munching down on a cupcake with green icing saved me. For some reason I had in my mind his birthday was July 14 instead of July 12, largely because I had set a reminder on the cloud-based calendar we were to visit him in Springfield for his party on July 15.
The calendar includes reminders for our three granddaughters’ birthdays, as well as those of other family members, set eight days in advance so I can remember to send birthday cards early enough to arrive on time. When I get the eight-day reminder, I add a reminder to call that person to wish happy birthday on the actual date. Because our grandson was only a year old and we were attending his birthday anyway, I failed to set a reminder for his actual birthday.
Fortunately I have an understanding daughter who knows her dad is prone to short-term memory loss. We spent some time with the birthday boy before his party and then celebrated with the rest of the family with pizza and cake the next day.
It turned out to be quite a weekend. We got to see our oldest granddaughter play a bit of soccer, watched our nephew’s baseball team come back from a win after trailing by 6 runs thanks in part to a couple of double plays by our nephew and his stealing home, and brought our granddaughters back with us that same weekend.
As exciting as all that was it was nothing compared to what we found when we returned home. We had a new dog-sitter this time, one who wasn’t quite as experienced as those we’ve asked to watch our pets before. Danny, our sitter, had a few issues with the dogs, including a broken door on a dog crate. We expected to return home to find puppy poo and gnawed furniture all over the house.
It turns our the pup had left only a few scratch marks on a window in the bathroom when decided to look out. The real surprise came from our older dog who tends to get a bit anxious at times. Poor Daisy had eaten something that didn’t sit well with her and she left us a few unexpected spots to clean up.
Of course that was just the beginning of the chaos in the house. While trying to clean up messes, take out the dogs, unload our granddaughters clothes and toys, and see what other disaster might await one of the granddaughters managed to clog a toilet and flood the bathroom, sending water across the floor, into the hall, and down into the basement.
We managed to stop the flood but with so many cleanups required we quickly ran out of towels. As Christy got the granddaughters settle in I started a load of laundry and sat down at my desk to go through the weekend’s email. It wasn’t long before I heard something fall from the washer but didn’t pay much attention until I heard something going “glug, glug, glug” behind the door to the washer.
I looked to see what it was and found a large bottle of laundry detergent emptying out its blue cleanser all over the carpet. Unfortunately, the big bottle slowed my opening of the bi-fold door to the laundry and most of the bottle emptied itself.
That was Sunday and we still had a week with the granddaughters. I’m happy to see that after we had no more surprises, just mornings at vacation Bible school, afternoons at the pool, and ice cream and popsicles when we’d had enough heat.
We had a good time. And we’ve got a really clean spot on the carpet right in front of the washer and a brand new toilet.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
County Fair one of many culminations
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
The Adams County Fair is in the books for another year. Congratulations to all the exhibitors who had their projects on display. Whether it was a working exhibit, woodworking, garden exhibit or any other type of project you had on display — or if it was livestock — give yourself a pat on the back, you did well. The Iowa State Fair is next on the calendar, which is set to be held Aug. 10-20 in Des Moines.
The State Fair is a great time whether you are just attending to see your project, going to see a grandstand act or just taking a day out to enjoy the sights and sounds of the Iowa State Fair. The State Fair is probably about the only time of the year the state’s capital city has an aroma all its own as many heads of livestock and the numerous fair vendors — along with those camping on the grounds — take over about 445 acres of the capital city.
Many childhood memories come back from when I attend the Iowa State Fair including the big yellow slide, which is still a favorite of mine, followed by the varied industries building where you get plenty of free souvenirs from the fair and commercial exhibitors. There’s also the Hall of Law where the state’s law enforcement officers hole up as well as the exhibit from the Iowa Department of Natural Resources.
A visit to the State Fair is also not complete without a visit to the 4-H building to view the best of the best from the county fairs from throughout Iowa. Another neat thing to see is the Big Boar, the Super Bull, the Giant Ram and the Largest Rabbit. It’s always fun to see how big these animals can really get when they probably have a food dish in front of them 24/7.
For some a trip to the state fair also means pork chop on a stick or turkey leg or some other version of food on a stick. Just wonder how many things can you really deep fat fry on a stick. Anything seems possible, including Snickers bars to ice cream. Don’t forget to check out the butter cow in the Agriculture Building, as that’s always a favorite. Plus there are more commercial exhibitors trying to sell you everything from kitchen knives to jams and jellies.
When the State Fair draws to a close the start of school is just around the corner. Soon the halls of area schools will be filled with the laughter of students getting into their lockers and putting their books and belongings away for the start of another day for the next nine months. For some it will be the first year of their journey to young adulthood and graduation and for others it will be the start of the year of lasts — last high school volleyball game, last high school football game, last high school track meet. The list will continue a series of lasts as they look toward graduation day 2018. Some will then look ahead to their post graduate plans as to where to go to college or work or whatever their future plans will be.
The fall season is also approaching and that means harvest is also just around the corner for many farmers in our area. That, too, is a culmination of a long road that started last spring with the working of the ground and the planting of corn and soybeans along with alfalfa for hay and oats for straw.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
The Adams County Fair is in the books for another year. Congratulations to all the exhibitors who had their projects on display. Whether it was a working exhibit, woodworking, garden exhibit or any other type of project you had on display — or if it was livestock — give yourself a pat on the back, you did well. The Iowa State Fair is next on the calendar, which is set to be held Aug. 10-20 in Des Moines.
The State Fair is a great time whether you are just attending to see your project, going to see a grandstand act or just taking a day out to enjoy the sights and sounds of the Iowa State Fair. The State Fair is probably about the only time of the year the state’s capital city has an aroma all its own as many heads of livestock and the numerous fair vendors — along with those camping on the grounds — take over about 445 acres of the capital city.
Many childhood memories come back from when I attend the Iowa State Fair including the big yellow slide, which is still a favorite of mine, followed by the varied industries building where you get plenty of free souvenirs from the fair and commercial exhibitors. There’s also the Hall of Law where the state’s law enforcement officers hole up as well as the exhibit from the Iowa Department of Natural Resources.
A visit to the State Fair is also not complete without a visit to the 4-H building to view the best of the best from the county fairs from throughout Iowa. Another neat thing to see is the Big Boar, the Super Bull, the Giant Ram and the Largest Rabbit. It’s always fun to see how big these animals can really get when they probably have a food dish in front of them 24/7.
For some a trip to the state fair also means pork chop on a stick or turkey leg or some other version of food on a stick. Just wonder how many things can you really deep fat fry on a stick. Anything seems possible, including Snickers bars to ice cream. Don’t forget to check out the butter cow in the Agriculture Building, as that’s always a favorite. Plus there are more commercial exhibitors trying to sell you everything from kitchen knives to jams and jellies.
When the State Fair draws to a close the start of school is just around the corner. Soon the halls of area schools will be filled with the laughter of students getting into their lockers and putting their books and belongings away for the start of another day for the next nine months. For some it will be the first year of their journey to young adulthood and graduation and for others it will be the start of the year of lasts — last high school volleyball game, last high school football game, last high school track meet. The list will continue a series of lasts as they look toward graduation day 2018. Some will then look ahead to their post graduate plans as to where to go to college or work or whatever their future plans will be.
The fall season is also approaching and that means harvest is also just around the corner for many farmers in our area. That, too, is a culmination of a long road that started last spring with the working of the ground and the planting of corn and soybeans along with alfalfa for hay and oats for straw.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Happy birthday Henry David Thoreau
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Henry David Thoreau was probably the first nature writer whose works I ever read.
In my late teens I discovered “Walden” and became enthralled by his ideas of thrift and need and living in a house he built near a pond in the woods. His writing spoke to me. “Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me the truth,” he wrote and “Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify.”
I wanted to embrace Thoreau’s ideals but I was young and like many teens was distracted by and attracted to what a teen believes he “needs.” Instead of embracing thrift I chased frivolities and often found myself digging for change for enough gas to get to work.
Thoreau’s words on a simple life have stayed with me even though my life has rarely been described as simple. Christy and I are far from extravagant but we still have far more material goods than we need. Our house is full of stuff, far more stuff than we’ve ever had in part because we have two teenage daughters and we have lived in the same house for nearly 12 years — the longest we have ever lived in one place.
While I can’t say I’ve been able to fully “simplify, simplify” Thoreau has inspired some who have had more success. “Walden on Wheels,” a book by Ken Ilgunas, tells about Ilgunas’ extremes he went through to pay off a $32,000 student debt.
Ilgunas worked as a maid, cook, tour guide, and later a backcountry ranger in Alaska, hitchhiked to save travel expenses, worked on a trail crew in Mississippi and, finally, living in a 1994 Econoline Van while attending graduate school at Duke University.
“In ‘Walden,’ Thoreau mentioned a 6 foot-by-3 foot box he had seen by the railroad in which laborers locked up their tools at night,” Ilgunas writes. “A man could live comfortably in one of these boxes, he thought. Nor would he have to borrow money and surrender freedom to afford a ‘larger and more luxurious box.’ And so: I decided to buy a van.”
Ilgunas was, at least for a while, part of a growing movement called van life. It’s akin to the tiny house phenomenon (a home typically 400 square feet or smaller) that is attracting more and more adherents. Van life is simply living out of a van and traveling at whim.
I have to admit I’m intrigued by van life but Christy’s feelings are not as strong. I’ve tried to convince her once we’re ready to retire we should sell everything, get a van, travel until we’re tired, and then find a small home to buy. I’m not making much headway.
We have, however, come to agree we have way too much stuff. This became especially evident after we began cleaning up and repairing our recently flooded basement. For 12 years the basement had become a place to put stuff we rarely used and didn’t even need in the first place. We’ve made good progress so far, both in eliminating stuff and patching and painting the basement.
Thoreau, I’m sure, would say I’m far from being someone who “can walk out the gate empty-handed and without anxiety.” And that’s OK. I know that he wasn’t alone in solitude during his time at Walden and that his arrest for failing to pay taxes last just one night. I’m fine with that. Few of us fully live up to the ideals we aspire.
I still admire Thoreau, his beliefs, his experiments, his thoughts on nature, and, most of all, the inspiration his writings continue to bring. And so I wish Henry David Thoreau happy 200th birthday on July 12.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Henry David Thoreau was probably the first nature writer whose works I ever read.
In my late teens I discovered “Walden” and became enthralled by his ideas of thrift and need and living in a house he built near a pond in the woods. His writing spoke to me. “Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me the truth,” he wrote and “Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify.”
I wanted to embrace Thoreau’s ideals but I was young and like many teens was distracted by and attracted to what a teen believes he “needs.” Instead of embracing thrift I chased frivolities and often found myself digging for change for enough gas to get to work.
Thoreau’s words on a simple life have stayed with me even though my life has rarely been described as simple. Christy and I are far from extravagant but we still have far more material goods than we need. Our house is full of stuff, far more stuff than we’ve ever had in part because we have two teenage daughters and we have lived in the same house for nearly 12 years — the longest we have ever lived in one place.
While I can’t say I’ve been able to fully “simplify, simplify” Thoreau has inspired some who have had more success. “Walden on Wheels,” a book by Ken Ilgunas, tells about Ilgunas’ extremes he went through to pay off a $32,000 student debt.
Ilgunas worked as a maid, cook, tour guide, and later a backcountry ranger in Alaska, hitchhiked to save travel expenses, worked on a trail crew in Mississippi and, finally, living in a 1994 Econoline Van while attending graduate school at Duke University.
“In ‘Walden,’ Thoreau mentioned a 6 foot-by-3 foot box he had seen by the railroad in which laborers locked up their tools at night,” Ilgunas writes. “A man could live comfortably in one of these boxes, he thought. Nor would he have to borrow money and surrender freedom to afford a ‘larger and more luxurious box.’ And so: I decided to buy a van.”
Ilgunas was, at least for a while, part of a growing movement called van life. It’s akin to the tiny house phenomenon (a home typically 400 square feet or smaller) that is attracting more and more adherents. Van life is simply living out of a van and traveling at whim.
I have to admit I’m intrigued by van life but Christy’s feelings are not as strong. I’ve tried to convince her once we’re ready to retire we should sell everything, get a van, travel until we’re tired, and then find a small home to buy. I’m not making much headway.
We have, however, come to agree we have way too much stuff. This became especially evident after we began cleaning up and repairing our recently flooded basement. For 12 years the basement had become a place to put stuff we rarely used and didn’t even need in the first place. We’ve made good progress so far, both in eliminating stuff and patching and painting the basement.
Thoreau, I’m sure, would say I’m far from being someone who “can walk out the gate empty-handed and without anxiety.” And that’s OK. I know that he wasn’t alone in solitude during his time at Walden and that his arrest for failing to pay taxes last just one night. I’m fine with that. Few of us fully live up to the ideals we aspire.
I still admire Thoreau, his beliefs, his experiments, his thoughts on nature, and, most of all, the inspiration his writings continue to bring. And so I wish Henry David Thoreau happy 200th birthday on July 12.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Rain a reminder of the joy of home ownership
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Refinishing our basement is something we’ve worked on in bits and pieces for nearly 12 years but last week we were forced to speed up the pace a bit. Being awakened to the sound of water rushing through a basement wall will get your attention fast.
The storm that came through June 28 put us back to work on the basement over the weekend. I expected a thunderstorm, high winds and possibly a tornado before I went to sleep in the basement but what I didn’t expect was more than eight and a half inches of rain coming down faster than I have ever seen.
I had been watching the weather radar most of the day to try to figure out when the rain would hit us but after getting home later than usual the night before after watching the girls’ last two summer basketball games I was in no mood to wait up for the weather to hit. As it turned out I wound up getting to witness it in a way that was far less entertaining than usual.
Our bed in the basement — our summer bed where we sleep when it’s too hot in our upstairs bedroom that has no air conditioning — is almost beneath the floor level bathroom. From there, it’s easy to hear when someone is in the shower so when I was awakened around midnight to the sound of water my first thought was one of the kids forgot to put the shower curtain inside the tub and she’s splashing water all over the floor.
I found out quickly how wrong I was. Water was splashing on the floor — on the basement floor and it was coming not from the shower but from the deluge that was rushing around our house and gushing through a crack in our basement wall.
I yelled at Christy for help and she ran downstairs to try to stop the flow of water as I grabbed an electric guitar and a stack of books on the floor to move them to higher ground. Christy tried to plug the hole to slow the water but had little success.
I ran outside to check a downspout that had water flooding out around the downspout extension. I did what I could to slow the water there but also had no luck. We gave up on slowing the water and focused instead on getting anything that would be damaged up off the floor.
Although the storm gave us a muddy mess in the basement it at least cooled off our upstairs room enough we could sleep there. The next morning I started clean up and picked up a can of gap sealant at the hardware store where I discovered I was far from the only one cleaning up a flooded basement that morning.
Our basement mess was mostly an inconvenience and a kick in the rear to get to work refinishing it. For others, like my next door neighbor with a finished basement, the damage was much worse. Some were comparing the rain to the flood of 1993 and after seeing flooded fields, closed roads, and water almost to the top of Grand River bridges I could see why.
Unlike 1993, though, last week’s flooding was isolated and short lived. And despite a couple of water rescues by the Highway Patrol and the Department of Conservation, I heard about only one injury after a woman’s car slipped into a washed out section of road.
And now our basement is dry again. We spent the weekend getting things cleared away so we can finish patching walls and the floor, slap on some mold killing paint, and hope we’re more prepared when the next joy of home ownership hits us.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Refinishing our basement is something we’ve worked on in bits and pieces for nearly 12 years but last week we were forced to speed up the pace a bit. Being awakened to the sound of water rushing through a basement wall will get your attention fast.
The storm that came through June 28 put us back to work on the basement over the weekend. I expected a thunderstorm, high winds and possibly a tornado before I went to sleep in the basement but what I didn’t expect was more than eight and a half inches of rain coming down faster than I have ever seen.
I had been watching the weather radar most of the day to try to figure out when the rain would hit us but after getting home later than usual the night before after watching the girls’ last two summer basketball games I was in no mood to wait up for the weather to hit. As it turned out I wound up getting to witness it in a way that was far less entertaining than usual.
Our bed in the basement — our summer bed where we sleep when it’s too hot in our upstairs bedroom that has no air conditioning — is almost beneath the floor level bathroom. From there, it’s easy to hear when someone is in the shower so when I was awakened around midnight to the sound of water my first thought was one of the kids forgot to put the shower curtain inside the tub and she’s splashing water all over the floor.
I found out quickly how wrong I was. Water was splashing on the floor — on the basement floor and it was coming not from the shower but from the deluge that was rushing around our house and gushing through a crack in our basement wall.
I yelled at Christy for help and she ran downstairs to try to stop the flow of water as I grabbed an electric guitar and a stack of books on the floor to move them to higher ground. Christy tried to plug the hole to slow the water but had little success.
I ran outside to check a downspout that had water flooding out around the downspout extension. I did what I could to slow the water there but also had no luck. We gave up on slowing the water and focused instead on getting anything that would be damaged up off the floor.
Although the storm gave us a muddy mess in the basement it at least cooled off our upstairs room enough we could sleep there. The next morning I started clean up and picked up a can of gap sealant at the hardware store where I discovered I was far from the only one cleaning up a flooded basement that morning.
Our basement mess was mostly an inconvenience and a kick in the rear to get to work refinishing it. For others, like my next door neighbor with a finished basement, the damage was much worse. Some were comparing the rain to the flood of 1993 and after seeing flooded fields, closed roads, and water almost to the top of Grand River bridges I could see why.
Unlike 1993, though, last week’s flooding was isolated and short lived. And despite a couple of water rescues by the Highway Patrol and the Department of Conservation, I heard about only one injury after a woman’s car slipped into a washed out section of road.
And now our basement is dry again. We spent the weekend getting things cleared away so we can finish patching walls and the floor, slap on some mold killing paint, and hope we’re more prepared when the next joy of home ownership hits us.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Positives outweigh negatives when youngsters have cell phones
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
News out of Colorado has indicated an effort is under way to stop the sale of smart phones or cell phones for use by children younger then 13.
Evidently, those people must only have one working parent so the one who does not work has all the time in the world to watch those younger than 13. In our household the oldest got a cell phone when she turned 10 and now the middle one has received one, as she is also 10.
Letting a child have a cell phone can have its drawbacks but I am thinking the positives outweigh the negatives. Kids can call you and let you know they are going to be late or they are done with practice earlier then planned. However, kids can also get addicted to chatting on their phones via text but if proper rules are put in place having a phone will help teach the kids responsibility and how to care for expensive “toys.” We usually insure the child’s phone when we get it for them so the financial burden is not so great when something unfortunate does happen to the phone. But I think all in all letting a child younger then 13 makes sense and will pay dividends down the road of life.
The Fourth of July is rapidly approaching, as is Adams County Fair time. I remember those days of 4-H and FFA, getting animals ready for showing at the county fair. The cattle needed washed, trimmed, and broke to lead. While the hogs took less maintenance it was still difficult deciding which three or four to take to the fair out of the 20 or so head I had purchased in March.
Meanwhile, with garden exhibits, it was time to weed the garden and decide what produce was going to be worthy enough to harvest and take on to the county fair. Other exhibits included woodworking exhibits and it took time to get those projects started and finished, as the project need to be constructed and finished by entry day.
I, unfortunately, was one of those who procrastinated, sometimes a little too long. My animals were always ready but my other exhibits … well, lets say July 4 came and reminded me I had to buckle down and get them finished. Every year I was able to get my projects completed on time and taken to the county fair and was rewarded with blue and red ribbons and not once did I ever receive a white ribbon.
My junior year I attained a lavender ribbon, which meant it was considered for State Fair but was denied because another project was deemed to be better. Then my senior year arrived and I admit my heart wasn’t really into things as I had been doing this county fair thing since I was 9 years old. I was a victim of senioritis and just wanted my 4-H career to be over. But I persevered, got all my projects done and was finally rewarded with a purple ribbon on a cabinet I had constructed.
The purple ribbon meant I finally had something headed to Des Moines to look at in the 4-H Exhibit Building. I was happy to finally have something go and was even happier when we went to find the cabinet in the exhibit building I had been rewarded with a blue ribbon.
That cabinet was going to follow me through college and into my first apartment but instead it stayed with my parents and now is in my mothers’ living room and she uses it for a stereo stand. I am reminded of all the hard work I put forth during those 4-H years every time I go back to visit. So a word to those of you exhibiting at the fair this year — if you don’t succeed, try, try again!
Looking at the calendar as well means that August is approaching and of course the youngsters probably don’t want to hear this but school will be starting soon. Where did the summer go?
It will soon be time for the pads to start popping with football practice, volleyball nets will go up and the sound of squeaking tennis shoes will be heard in many a gymnasiums. Golf Courses will also soon see golf carts being replaced by cross-country runners. Also, back to school shopping will take place buying all those school supplies, new clothes and new shoes will be among the purchases.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
News out of Colorado has indicated an effort is under way to stop the sale of smart phones or cell phones for use by children younger then 13.
Evidently, those people must only have one working parent so the one who does not work has all the time in the world to watch those younger than 13. In our household the oldest got a cell phone when she turned 10 and now the middle one has received one, as she is also 10.
Letting a child have a cell phone can have its drawbacks but I am thinking the positives outweigh the negatives. Kids can call you and let you know they are going to be late or they are done with practice earlier then planned. However, kids can also get addicted to chatting on their phones via text but if proper rules are put in place having a phone will help teach the kids responsibility and how to care for expensive “toys.” We usually insure the child’s phone when we get it for them so the financial burden is not so great when something unfortunate does happen to the phone. But I think all in all letting a child younger then 13 makes sense and will pay dividends down the road of life.
The Fourth of July is rapidly approaching, as is Adams County Fair time. I remember those days of 4-H and FFA, getting animals ready for showing at the county fair. The cattle needed washed, trimmed, and broke to lead. While the hogs took less maintenance it was still difficult deciding which three or four to take to the fair out of the 20 or so head I had purchased in March.
Meanwhile, with garden exhibits, it was time to weed the garden and decide what produce was going to be worthy enough to harvest and take on to the county fair. Other exhibits included woodworking exhibits and it took time to get those projects started and finished, as the project need to be constructed and finished by entry day.
I, unfortunately, was one of those who procrastinated, sometimes a little too long. My animals were always ready but my other exhibits … well, lets say July 4 came and reminded me I had to buckle down and get them finished. Every year I was able to get my projects completed on time and taken to the county fair and was rewarded with blue and red ribbons and not once did I ever receive a white ribbon.
My junior year I attained a lavender ribbon, which meant it was considered for State Fair but was denied because another project was deemed to be better. Then my senior year arrived and I admit my heart wasn’t really into things as I had been doing this county fair thing since I was 9 years old. I was a victim of senioritis and just wanted my 4-H career to be over. But I persevered, got all my projects done and was finally rewarded with a purple ribbon on a cabinet I had constructed.
The purple ribbon meant I finally had something headed to Des Moines to look at in the 4-H Exhibit Building. I was happy to finally have something go and was even happier when we went to find the cabinet in the exhibit building I had been rewarded with a blue ribbon.
That cabinet was going to follow me through college and into my first apartment but instead it stayed with my parents and now is in my mothers’ living room and she uses it for a stereo stand. I am reminded of all the hard work I put forth during those 4-H years every time I go back to visit. So a word to those of you exhibiting at the fair this year — if you don’t succeed, try, try again!
Looking at the calendar as well means that August is approaching and of course the youngsters probably don’t want to hear this but school will be starting soon. Where did the summer go?
It will soon be time for the pads to start popping with football practice, volleyball nets will go up and the sound of squeaking tennis shoes will be heard in many a gymnasiums. Golf Courses will also soon see golf carts being replaced by cross-country runners. Also, back to school shopping will take place buying all those school supplies, new clothes and new shoes will be among the purchases.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Vegan dog food is for the birds
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It was a question I never imagined anyone asking: “Will a vegan diet make dogs healthier?”
I immediately did a double take.
The question appears in a New York Times article by Marie Tae McDermott. The article includes an interview with a dog owner who had become a vegan — a person who eats no meat, fish, eggs, dairy products, or other foods made from animals — who thought that because her dietary changes had improved her health a vegan diet might also help her dog.
Her dog, Portland, had suffered from diarrhea and itchy spots on his skin. She switched his dog food to v-dog, a pea-based dog food without soy, corn and wheat. Oh, and she also feeds him homemade smoothies and vegetables.
This dog owner now claims Portland is healthier and more energetic than ever thanks to his new diet. Far be it from me to doubt this woman’s claims but I would never had even thought of putting a dog on a vegan diet.
We have two dogs and while they will eat almost anything — including things they shouldn’t like paperback books, Jenga blocks, dead snakes, and lint from the clothes dryer (while writing this I had to chase down our puppy and pull a Rolo candy wrapper from his mouth) —I doubt we’ll ever try putting them on a vegan diet. First of all, I doubt a vegan diet is healthy for dogs. While I’m no veterinarian I can’t imagine v-dog or any other vegan dog food providing the proper nutrients a healthy dog needs.
Changing a dog’s diet is never a good idea, I know firsthand. Christy decided a while back one of our dogs deserved to try a new kind of dog food. I won’t go into the details but we both regretted that decision.
We’ve also already gone through a vegan experience in our household and it didn’t quite work out. No, we weren't trying to convert our dogs but a couple of years ago one of our daughters decided she would become a vegan. Her experience wasn’t as disastrous as when switched dog food but it wasn’t enjoyable — especially for us.
It’s difficult and expensive to create vegan meals, especially when you’re a family that likes a good burger or smoked rib. We found ourselves adding tofu and other unusual food items to the grocery list. We found ourselves adding meat and dairy to our meals only after we created a plate for our then vegan daughter. It was a big pain in the rear.
Fortunately, our daughter didn't remain a vegan long, though she did last longer than we imagined. After about a month or so she was back to pizza, milkshakes, cheesy potatoes, and everything else that any non-vegan teen enjoys.
Of course we still can’t keep enough food in the house for our former vegan or her sister but that’s the way it is with two teens. The same can also be said about two dogs but we’ve never had to worry about trying to find vegan dog food, although next time I’m at the store I may look for some just to price it.
Vegan dog food? Not at our house. Our dogs aren’t vegans. They’re opportunivores that take every opportunity they get to eat whatever falls on the floor, is left unwatched on a table, or whatever they can get into without being noticed.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It was a question I never imagined anyone asking: “Will a vegan diet make dogs healthier?”
I immediately did a double take.
The question appears in a New York Times article by Marie Tae McDermott. The article includes an interview with a dog owner who had become a vegan — a person who eats no meat, fish, eggs, dairy products, or other foods made from animals — who thought that because her dietary changes had improved her health a vegan diet might also help her dog.
Her dog, Portland, had suffered from diarrhea and itchy spots on his skin. She switched his dog food to v-dog, a pea-based dog food without soy, corn and wheat. Oh, and she also feeds him homemade smoothies and vegetables.
This dog owner now claims Portland is healthier and more energetic than ever thanks to his new diet. Far be it from me to doubt this woman’s claims but I would never had even thought of putting a dog on a vegan diet.
We have two dogs and while they will eat almost anything — including things they shouldn’t like paperback books, Jenga blocks, dead snakes, and lint from the clothes dryer (while writing this I had to chase down our puppy and pull a Rolo candy wrapper from his mouth) —I doubt we’ll ever try putting them on a vegan diet. First of all, I doubt a vegan diet is healthy for dogs. While I’m no veterinarian I can’t imagine v-dog or any other vegan dog food providing the proper nutrients a healthy dog needs.
Changing a dog’s diet is never a good idea, I know firsthand. Christy decided a while back one of our dogs deserved to try a new kind of dog food. I won’t go into the details but we both regretted that decision.
We’ve also already gone through a vegan experience in our household and it didn’t quite work out. No, we weren't trying to convert our dogs but a couple of years ago one of our daughters decided she would become a vegan. Her experience wasn’t as disastrous as when switched dog food but it wasn’t enjoyable — especially for us.
It’s difficult and expensive to create vegan meals, especially when you’re a family that likes a good burger or smoked rib. We found ourselves adding tofu and other unusual food items to the grocery list. We found ourselves adding meat and dairy to our meals only after we created a plate for our then vegan daughter. It was a big pain in the rear.
Fortunately, our daughter didn't remain a vegan long, though she did last longer than we imagined. After about a month or so she was back to pizza, milkshakes, cheesy potatoes, and everything else that any non-vegan teen enjoys.
Of course we still can’t keep enough food in the house for our former vegan or her sister but that’s the way it is with two teens. The same can also be said about two dogs but we’ve never had to worry about trying to find vegan dog food, although next time I’m at the store I may look for some just to price it.
Vegan dog food? Not at our house. Our dogs aren’t vegans. They’re opportunivores that take every opportunity they get to eat whatever falls on the floor, is left unwatched on a table, or whatever they can get into without being noticed.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Tables turned during radio interview
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
Interviews are just part of the responsibilities reporters have no matter what medium they are in.
I am used to interviewing policymakers, lawmakers, politicians, and regular people both notable and those who are not. I have conducted several in my years in covering the news and some are more memorable then others. I have participated in a lot of pool interviews in which I was one of several journalists covering such persons one of which former President Barack Obama when he was first running for president so that is one that sticks out in my mind. Many others include former Vice President Joe Biden, former Governors Tom Vilsack, Chet Culver, and Terry Branstad.
Other notables include Iowa Sen. Charles Grassley and former Sen. Tom Harkin. Each has a unique style of answering a question without really giving the answer I was looking for so I had to think of other ways to ask the question, which sometimes was a challenge but they eventually gave me the answer I was looking for.
With that being said recently I was the one being interviewed, not me holding the tape recorder. Chris Nelson with Adams County Extension has a program on KOAK/KCSI in Red Oak and he approached me awhile back to do an interview. At first I thought he was joking but soon found out it was not a joke and that he was serious.
Following the Chamber Coffee a couple weeks ago, Chris made his way down to The Adams County Free Press office to conduct the interview. I was nervous to say the least, as I am not good about talking about myself so now I know what I put people through when I interviewed them. Chris made it easy on me, asking me the basics and not having me get into too much detail. At one part he suggested I interview him instead but we laughed and continued on with the interview. It was different than a job interview but still the same in telling my story. Well, I survived and Chris took it easy on my and waited until he was done taping to ask the difficult questions. Thanks Chris!
On another topic, it’s June and of course that means the end of school and the beginning of summer activities including baseball, softball games, and weddings, swimming lessons and of course how could we forget Father’s Day.
Dad’s special day is set to be on June 18 and that brings back a flood of memories of my younger days when my sister and I celebrated it with our dad and grandfather. One special memory that I have is one year we both decided to do something fun for Dad on his day. It wasn’t a tie or socks or a dress shirt, it was something better, a giant bottle of Dad’s Root Beer, something we both enjoyed as we helped Dad enjoy his gift.
A couple of years ago I shared this with my kids and that year I got a bottle of Dad’s Root Beer. It brought back those fun memories of years past. So this Father’s Day, as you did for your mother on her day when you gave her a gift that comes from the heart, give your father a sentimental gift whether its from the heart or to quench your thirst.
So cheers Dad, and Happy Father’s Day! I miss you and love you.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
Interviews are just part of the responsibilities reporters have no matter what medium they are in.
I am used to interviewing policymakers, lawmakers, politicians, and regular people both notable and those who are not. I have conducted several in my years in covering the news and some are more memorable then others. I have participated in a lot of pool interviews in which I was one of several journalists covering such persons one of which former President Barack Obama when he was first running for president so that is one that sticks out in my mind. Many others include former Vice President Joe Biden, former Governors Tom Vilsack, Chet Culver, and Terry Branstad.
Other notables include Iowa Sen. Charles Grassley and former Sen. Tom Harkin. Each has a unique style of answering a question without really giving the answer I was looking for so I had to think of other ways to ask the question, which sometimes was a challenge but they eventually gave me the answer I was looking for.
With that being said recently I was the one being interviewed, not me holding the tape recorder. Chris Nelson with Adams County Extension has a program on KOAK/KCSI in Red Oak and he approached me awhile back to do an interview. At first I thought he was joking but soon found out it was not a joke and that he was serious.
Following the Chamber Coffee a couple weeks ago, Chris made his way down to The Adams County Free Press office to conduct the interview. I was nervous to say the least, as I am not good about talking about myself so now I know what I put people through when I interviewed them. Chris made it easy on me, asking me the basics and not having me get into too much detail. At one part he suggested I interview him instead but we laughed and continued on with the interview. It was different than a job interview but still the same in telling my story. Well, I survived and Chris took it easy on my and waited until he was done taping to ask the difficult questions. Thanks Chris!
On another topic, it’s June and of course that means the end of school and the beginning of summer activities including baseball, softball games, and weddings, swimming lessons and of course how could we forget Father’s Day.
Dad’s special day is set to be on June 18 and that brings back a flood of memories of my younger days when my sister and I celebrated it with our dad and grandfather. One special memory that I have is one year we both decided to do something fun for Dad on his day. It wasn’t a tie or socks or a dress shirt, it was something better, a giant bottle of Dad’s Root Beer, something we both enjoyed as we helped Dad enjoy his gift.
A couple of years ago I shared this with my kids and that year I got a bottle of Dad’s Root Beer. It brought back those fun memories of years past. So this Father’s Day, as you did for your mother on her day when you gave her a gift that comes from the heart, give your father a sentimental gift whether its from the heart or to quench your thirst.
So cheers Dad, and Happy Father’s Day! I miss you and love you.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at [email protected].
Lazy days of summer not so lazy
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
This summer is shaping up to be one that we’ve never experienced before at household.
Our two teenage daughters are both working as lifeguards at the pool in Albany, Mo.
Our youngest, who turned 15 in March, could hardly contain her excitement her first day of work at the pool. After a couple of long days of training for her first real job, she was up early Saturday and ready for work.
Excitement, however, turned to disappointment after a thunderstorm moved through the area before the pool opened and the newbies were asked to stay home. Fortunately the storm passed through quickly, the sun came out early in the afternoon, young swimmers headed to the pool, and the first-year lifeguards were called in to help.
The excitement for our older daughter, a 17-year-old senior now with one foot already crossing the graduation stage, was for a different reason. For the last two years she’s worked every available day she could to put enough in her bank account to last through winter. With her savings account closed for lack of funds and $1.16 in her checking account, she was excited to be able to afford to go to the movies, eat fast food, and hang out with her friends again.
Counting their training days, our daughters have worked less than a week so we’re still waiting to see how the summer plays out. It’s nice to know we’ll no longer have one daughter sitting at home bemoaning her boredom for most of the summer but to tell the truth she’s found herself busier than she imagined. Along with training and the pool opening over the weekend both of our teens have been getting up for basketball camp and weight training and this week summer basketball begins with one or two evening game each week in June.
In July, the two help with swimming lessons in the mornings on top of weight training and afternoons working at the pool. Then there’s a week of softball camp, a week off, and then actual high school softball practice begins. Their schedules, which are shared with our online so we can keep track of each other, are busier than our own.
Christy and I are still adjusting to not having two teens and their friends at the house constantly, sending us to Hy-Vee every other day. And we still don’t know what’s going to happen when our three granddaughters come to spend a week with us (I doubt we get the grandson just yet. My oldest daughter and son-in-law keep close eyes on their firstborn). In the past we’ve always had the help of at least one or sometimes both daughters with trips to the pool, park, and other fun activities.
Yes, this summer is certainly different than those of the past. Christy and I are adjusting to it, playing it by ear to our quieter home but realizing things will all changes again sooner than we realize.
Summer, or at least as we’ve come to know it, will be over in not quite 11 weeks when school begins again.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
This summer is shaping up to be one that we’ve never experienced before at household.
Our two teenage daughters are both working as lifeguards at the pool in Albany, Mo.
Our youngest, who turned 15 in March, could hardly contain her excitement her first day of work at the pool. After a couple of long days of training for her first real job, she was up early Saturday and ready for work.
Excitement, however, turned to disappointment after a thunderstorm moved through the area before the pool opened and the newbies were asked to stay home. Fortunately the storm passed through quickly, the sun came out early in the afternoon, young swimmers headed to the pool, and the first-year lifeguards were called in to help.
The excitement for our older daughter, a 17-year-old senior now with one foot already crossing the graduation stage, was for a different reason. For the last two years she’s worked every available day she could to put enough in her bank account to last through winter. With her savings account closed for lack of funds and $1.16 in her checking account, she was excited to be able to afford to go to the movies, eat fast food, and hang out with her friends again.
Counting their training days, our daughters have worked less than a week so we’re still waiting to see how the summer plays out. It’s nice to know we’ll no longer have one daughter sitting at home bemoaning her boredom for most of the summer but to tell the truth she’s found herself busier than she imagined. Along with training and the pool opening over the weekend both of our teens have been getting up for basketball camp and weight training and this week summer basketball begins with one or two evening game each week in June.
In July, the two help with swimming lessons in the mornings on top of weight training and afternoons working at the pool. Then there’s a week of softball camp, a week off, and then actual high school softball practice begins. Their schedules, which are shared with our online so we can keep track of each other, are busier than our own.
Christy and I are still adjusting to not having two teens and their friends at the house constantly, sending us to Hy-Vee every other day. And we still don’t know what’s going to happen when our three granddaughters come to spend a week with us (I doubt we get the grandson just yet. My oldest daughter and son-in-law keep close eyes on their firstborn). In the past we’ve always had the help of at least one or sometimes both daughters with trips to the pool, park, and other fun activities.
Yes, this summer is certainly different than those of the past. Christy and I are adjusting to it, playing it by ear to our quieter home but realizing things will all changes again sooner than we realize.
Summer, or at least as we’ve come to know it, will be over in not quite 11 weeks when school begins again.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Remember Memorial Day for what it is
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
For more than 30 years I have written, off and on, a column for Memorial Day.
That first Memorial Day column, written for my college newspaper in 1986 if I remember correctly, was a feeble attempt at humor.
Since then I’ve matured and have come to appreciate the holiday for what it actually is instead of as a three-day weekend focused on a cookouts, time on the water, or a short vacation.
Memorial Day is, and should be, a time to honor those who have died in military service but I wonder how many truly understand its significance. While there’s nothing wrong with attending a baseball game, waterpark, or concert this weekend it’s important to remember we have the freedom to attend such recreational events only because others have sacrificed their lives.
Such sacrifices shouldn’t be taken for granted. Memorial Day should be remembered for what it is — a day of remembrance, a time to reflect upon and honor those have lost their lives in military service to their nation and fellow citizens.
Locally there are opportunities to observe Memorial Day in a manner in which its creation was intended. There are at least three know Memorial Day services planned.
Williamson American Legion Post 719 plans to hold a service at 2 p.m. May 28 at the Czech National Cemetery south of Williamson. The guest speaker will be Lee Williams. Fellowship at the Williamson American Legion Hall will follow the services.
A Memorial Day service is also planned for 10 a.m. May 29 at the Nodaway Cemetery.
The Clearfield Community and American Legion Woodside Post 97 plan to not only hold a Memorial Day service but to decorate veterans’ graves and put up the Avenue of Flags at the Clearfield Cemetery at 8 a.m. May 27. A ceremony will take place at 10 a.m. May 29 at the Clearfield Lion’s Hall after which members plan to conduct a ceremony over the gravesite of PFC Robert J. Larson, missing in action in France on July 6, 1944. Finally, at 2 p.m. May 29, Legion members and the community will meet at the cemetery to remove the decorations from the veterans’ graves and take down the Avenue of Flags.
There’s a good chance there are other Memorial Day services or events, such as the Memorial Day dinner at the First Presbyterian Church of Villisca, but these are just few I know about.
This weekend, whether you’re spending it with loved ones, attending a service, or traveling, be safe but also remember the reason for Memorial Day.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
For more than 30 years I have written, off and on, a column for Memorial Day.
That first Memorial Day column, written for my college newspaper in 1986 if I remember correctly, was a feeble attempt at humor.
Since then I’ve matured and have come to appreciate the holiday for what it actually is instead of as a three-day weekend focused on a cookouts, time on the water, or a short vacation.
Memorial Day is, and should be, a time to honor those who have died in military service but I wonder how many truly understand its significance. While there’s nothing wrong with attending a baseball game, waterpark, or concert this weekend it’s important to remember we have the freedom to attend such recreational events only because others have sacrificed their lives.
Such sacrifices shouldn’t be taken for granted. Memorial Day should be remembered for what it is — a day of remembrance, a time to reflect upon and honor those have lost their lives in military service to their nation and fellow citizens.
Locally there are opportunities to observe Memorial Day in a manner in which its creation was intended. There are at least three know Memorial Day services planned.
Williamson American Legion Post 719 plans to hold a service at 2 p.m. May 28 at the Czech National Cemetery south of Williamson. The guest speaker will be Lee Williams. Fellowship at the Williamson American Legion Hall will follow the services.
A Memorial Day service is also planned for 10 a.m. May 29 at the Nodaway Cemetery.
The Clearfield Community and American Legion Woodside Post 97 plan to not only hold a Memorial Day service but to decorate veterans’ graves and put up the Avenue of Flags at the Clearfield Cemetery at 8 a.m. May 27. A ceremony will take place at 10 a.m. May 29 at the Clearfield Lion’s Hall after which members plan to conduct a ceremony over the gravesite of PFC Robert J. Larson, missing in action in France on July 6, 1944. Finally, at 2 p.m. May 29, Legion members and the community will meet at the cemetery to remove the decorations from the veterans’ graves and take down the Avenue of Flags.
There’s a good chance there are other Memorial Day services or events, such as the Memorial Day dinner at the First Presbyterian Church of Villisca, but these are just few I know about.
This weekend, whether you’re spending it with loved ones, attending a service, or traveling, be safe but also remember the reason for Memorial Day.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Community making new job easier
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
Good day to the readers of The Adams County Free Press. I have already met several of you so far and my impressions of Adams County and Corning community citizens are right on target. You should pat yourselves on the back.
This community is one of the most friendliest I have ever been a part of. Total strangers wave or say hi to you on the street or when they come in the office to either pick up their paper or drop off information about a news story. So thank you for being so friendly to a newbie. I also want to thank Don and Christy for hiring me to be the new reporter on the block. It will be my attempt to inform you the reader on all sides of the happenings in the area and not allow my bias on a story to come through.
A bit about myself: I have been involved in media reporting since about 1989 after I graduated college with a Bachelor of Arts degree in communications with a broadcast emphasis so I am used to reporting the news only to a radio audience instead of newspaper reader. There are a few differences but not many so please bear with me as make the transition.
I am a farm kid from Northwest Iowa in the 1980s so its been awhile since I drove a tractor but could probably still do it if I had to. I was active in both 4-H and FFA as well as high school sports in baseball, basketball, and track. While attending college at both Iowa Central Community College in Fort Dodge and Wartburg College in Waverly, I was active in campus radio stations on both campuses. My radio career took me from Osage, Cedar Falls, Hampton, Sioux Falls, S.D., Carroll, Jefferson, Denison, Atlantic, and Creston where my last long-term radio position in radio was. I have also spent time in some of the factories in the area.
My three children and I live in Creston and they definitely keep me busy when I am not writing news stories or attending meetings. The oldest, 19-year-old Emma, has been active in a few productions at the Corning Opera House while middle daughter, fourth-grader and 10-year-old Olivia, is busy with dance and softball and the youngest, soon to be kindergartener 5-year-old Luke, keeps busy running around and playing with all the kids of the neighborhood. When not chasing the kids or writing stories you can usually find me watching or listening to my beloved Chicago Cubs and the Iowa Hawkeyes, as I have been a life long fan of both sports teams.
In closing my first ever column I invite you the reader to send in or call me with your story ideas and we at the Free Press will attempt to give you as much coverage as we can to get your story out. I look forward to meeting you and seeing you while I am out and about collecting information for the next edition of The Adams County Free Press.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Marking Time
Mark Saylor
Good day to the readers of The Adams County Free Press. I have already met several of you so far and my impressions of Adams County and Corning community citizens are right on target. You should pat yourselves on the back.
This community is one of the most friendliest I have ever been a part of. Total strangers wave or say hi to you on the street or when they come in the office to either pick up their paper or drop off information about a news story. So thank you for being so friendly to a newbie. I also want to thank Don and Christy for hiring me to be the new reporter on the block. It will be my attempt to inform you the reader on all sides of the happenings in the area and not allow my bias on a story to come through.
A bit about myself: I have been involved in media reporting since about 1989 after I graduated college with a Bachelor of Arts degree in communications with a broadcast emphasis so I am used to reporting the news only to a radio audience instead of newspaper reader. There are a few differences but not many so please bear with me as make the transition.
I am a farm kid from Northwest Iowa in the 1980s so its been awhile since I drove a tractor but could probably still do it if I had to. I was active in both 4-H and FFA as well as high school sports in baseball, basketball, and track. While attending college at both Iowa Central Community College in Fort Dodge and Wartburg College in Waverly, I was active in campus radio stations on both campuses. My radio career took me from Osage, Cedar Falls, Hampton, Sioux Falls, S.D., Carroll, Jefferson, Denison, Atlantic, and Creston where my last long-term radio position in radio was. I have also spent time in some of the factories in the area.
My three children and I live in Creston and they definitely keep me busy when I am not writing news stories or attending meetings. The oldest, 19-year-old Emma, has been active in a few productions at the Corning Opera House while middle daughter, fourth-grader and 10-year-old Olivia, is busy with dance and softball and the youngest, soon to be kindergartener 5-year-old Luke, keeps busy running around and playing with all the kids of the neighborhood. When not chasing the kids or writing stories you can usually find me watching or listening to my beloved Chicago Cubs and the Iowa Hawkeyes, as I have been a life long fan of both sports teams.
In closing my first ever column I invite you the reader to send in or call me with your story ideas and we at the Free Press will attempt to give you as much coverage as we can to get your story out. I look forward to meeting you and seeing you while I am out and about collecting information for the next edition of The Adams County Free Press.
Mark Saylor can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Spring schedules are in full swing
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It was a bit quieter at our house last week.
We were without our youngest as she went on a band trip to St. Louis with a good group of her classmates.
They all seemed to have a good time, giving a performance, visiting the zoo, playing laser tag, relaxing in an indoor pool. At was a nice respite for the students, one that is unusual this time of year.
Spring and warmer weather are nice but quite often they’re just the hectic beginning of what for many is a busy time of year.
Beef producers are busy with calves, farmers are constantly monitoring the weather to see when best to begin fieldwork. Home gardeners, too, are watching the weather, wondering if it’s still too early to put out tomatoes and other warm weather vegetables.
It’s time to make sure the mowers and trimmers are running. Work begins on flowerbeds around town. People clean out their basements and garages and start having yard sales. Fishermen head to the water, and turkey hunters take to the timber, and mushroom hunters scout their secret spots.
Teachers, students, and parents are busy watching the calendar. Spring sports are nearing the end, end of course assessments are in full swing, prom is under way, and graduation is fast approaching. Students are applying for summer jobs, colleges, and scholarships.
Here at our home, we keep careful watch on the calendars this time of year. There are special deadlines at work, that’s for sure, but it seems our personal schedules fill up far faster than we realize.
With high school students, it means track meets, National Honor Society, prom, band concerts, art shows, and RSVPs to dozens of upcoming graduation parties. And that’s just here at home. There’s also a nephew’s graduation, a cousin’s wedding, Memorial Day, granddaughters’ birthdays, and, well, you get the idea.
Late April and May are always a challenge. The weather has me hoping for a weekend spent camping but the calendar, more often that not, says otherwise. Once school is over, though, our schedules become more rigid. There are fewer conflicts on the calendar and it becomes easier to get away for a day or two.
Of course then summer rolls around and for us that means working with our grandchildren’s schedules. And while their schedules can be just as hectic as that of our high schoolers the good news is we aren’t in charge of planning and transportation. All we have to do is show up and enjoy.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It was a bit quieter at our house last week.
We were without our youngest as she went on a band trip to St. Louis with a good group of her classmates.
They all seemed to have a good time, giving a performance, visiting the zoo, playing laser tag, relaxing in an indoor pool. At was a nice respite for the students, one that is unusual this time of year.
Spring and warmer weather are nice but quite often they’re just the hectic beginning of what for many is a busy time of year.
Beef producers are busy with calves, farmers are constantly monitoring the weather to see when best to begin fieldwork. Home gardeners, too, are watching the weather, wondering if it’s still too early to put out tomatoes and other warm weather vegetables.
It’s time to make sure the mowers and trimmers are running. Work begins on flowerbeds around town. People clean out their basements and garages and start having yard sales. Fishermen head to the water, and turkey hunters take to the timber, and mushroom hunters scout their secret spots.
Teachers, students, and parents are busy watching the calendar. Spring sports are nearing the end, end of course assessments are in full swing, prom is under way, and graduation is fast approaching. Students are applying for summer jobs, colleges, and scholarships.
Here at our home, we keep careful watch on the calendars this time of year. There are special deadlines at work, that’s for sure, but it seems our personal schedules fill up far faster than we realize.
With high school students, it means track meets, National Honor Society, prom, band concerts, art shows, and RSVPs to dozens of upcoming graduation parties. And that’s just here at home. There’s also a nephew’s graduation, a cousin’s wedding, Memorial Day, granddaughters’ birthdays, and, well, you get the idea.
Late April and May are always a challenge. The weather has me hoping for a weekend spent camping but the calendar, more often that not, says otherwise. Once school is over, though, our schedules become more rigid. There are fewer conflicts on the calendar and it becomes easier to get away for a day or two.
Of course then summer rolls around and for us that means working with our grandchildren’s schedules. And while their schedules can be just as hectic as that of our high schoolers the good news is we aren’t in charge of planning and transportation. All we have to do is show up and enjoy.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Compassion the only armor against fear
Just Saying
Christy Groves
Very few of us would give up the freedoms democracy affords us. Almost no one would willingly sacrifice the ideals that so many have fought and died for, for hundreds of years.
Most of us would stand to the bitter end to protect our way of life from an outside threat. However, what about one that comes from within? There is a threat so deadly no wall can protect us from it, no weapon can stop it, because it grows within us. That unseen invader is fear.
Terrorism is effective not because so many die from it but because it breeds fear. Many more have died in any one of the many wars our country has known than from terrorism. But terrorism strikes fear because we never know where it will come from and whom it will affect.
Never doubt the power that fear has over us. The desire to protect our families and friends and our way of live is great. It can lead us to sacrifice many of the freedoms that have made this country great in the first place. Fear never attacks us directly. It builds slowly — the fear of losing our jobs, fear of terrorism, and fear of people who our different than us are just stepping stones to the true source of the problem, which is the fear of the unknown. What will happen to our families and us in the future?
No one can answer that question, not presidents or politicians. We make our futures, we decide how we will live our lives and whether we will live in fear. The only power terrorism and fear have over us is that which we give it. It is our decision if we will allow ourselves to be spoon-fed alternative truths and fall prey to fear’s furor or whether we will take the initiative and look for facts, for answers, ourselves.
This county was and still is the melting pot of the world, an open door to new ideals and beliefs, where any man with hard work and determination can build a life for himself and his family. It is this willingness to embrace an all-inclusive way of life that makes the Unites States a leader on the world stage.
We are a country of strength and diversity and it has served us well. At times there have been a cost for our freedom and our brave soldiers have not always been the ones who paid for it. During these times, innocent men, women, and children have paid the cost of freedom through shootings and bombings and even airplane attacks. It’s a high price to be sure, one that should not be ignored, but weighed against loss of liberty and all that it would mean, it is a price Americans have again and again found worth paying.
So the question becomes, how many freedoms would you be willing to sacrifice? Which ones are OK to let go? The right to assembly, freedom of speech what about freedom of the religion? Would you deny some of these freedoms to others, which ones and who are they? What if you were the one whose freedoms were on the line? It is a slippery and effective slope. Better to open our doors, to refuse to be afraid, to help get others to succeed.
Kindest and compassion are the only armor against fear. It is time that we as a country don our armor and fight for the freedom of all man. Will there be a price? Of course, but freedom was never really free and this is a truth American’s have always understood and have proudly and bravely paid.
Christy Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Just Saying
Christy Groves
Very few of us would give up the freedoms democracy affords us. Almost no one would willingly sacrifice the ideals that so many have fought and died for, for hundreds of years.
Most of us would stand to the bitter end to protect our way of life from an outside threat. However, what about one that comes from within? There is a threat so deadly no wall can protect us from it, no weapon can stop it, because it grows within us. That unseen invader is fear.
Terrorism is effective not because so many die from it but because it breeds fear. Many more have died in any one of the many wars our country has known than from terrorism. But terrorism strikes fear because we never know where it will come from and whom it will affect.
Never doubt the power that fear has over us. The desire to protect our families and friends and our way of live is great. It can lead us to sacrifice many of the freedoms that have made this country great in the first place. Fear never attacks us directly. It builds slowly — the fear of losing our jobs, fear of terrorism, and fear of people who our different than us are just stepping stones to the true source of the problem, which is the fear of the unknown. What will happen to our families and us in the future?
No one can answer that question, not presidents or politicians. We make our futures, we decide how we will live our lives and whether we will live in fear. The only power terrorism and fear have over us is that which we give it. It is our decision if we will allow ourselves to be spoon-fed alternative truths and fall prey to fear’s furor or whether we will take the initiative and look for facts, for answers, ourselves.
This county was and still is the melting pot of the world, an open door to new ideals and beliefs, where any man with hard work and determination can build a life for himself and his family. It is this willingness to embrace an all-inclusive way of life that makes the Unites States a leader on the world stage.
We are a country of strength and diversity and it has served us well. At times there have been a cost for our freedom and our brave soldiers have not always been the ones who paid for it. During these times, innocent men, women, and children have paid the cost of freedom through shootings and bombings and even airplane attacks. It’s a high price to be sure, one that should not be ignored, but weighed against loss of liberty and all that it would mean, it is a price Americans have again and again found worth paying.
So the question becomes, how many freedoms would you be willing to sacrifice? Which ones are OK to let go? The right to assembly, freedom of speech what about freedom of the religion? Would you deny some of these freedoms to others, which ones and who are they? What if you were the one whose freedoms were on the line? It is a slippery and effective slope. Better to open our doors, to refuse to be afraid, to help get others to succeed.
Kindest and compassion are the only armor against fear. It is time that we as a country don our armor and fight for the freedom of all man. Will there be a price? Of course, but freedom was never really free and this is a truth American’s have always understood and have proudly and bravely paid.
Christy Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Celebrate how Libraries Transform
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
This week, April 9-15, should be a celebration for readers of all ages.
Why? It’s National Library Week.
According to the American Library Association, National Library Week began in 1958 as a national observance. Today it is sponsored by the ALA and libraries across the country each April. It is a time to celebrate the contributions of our nation's libraries and librarians and to promote library use and support. All types of libraries — school, public, academic and special — participate. This year’s theme is Libraries Transform and, personally, I can think of no more perfect theme.
My love of libraries began way back in elementary school. I’ve always been an avid reader so browsing stacks of books has long been a favorite pastime. Exploring bookshelves, first in the classroom and later in the school library, exposed me to a world of ideas.
Some of the first books I read, outside of Dick and Jane, were a collection of books about different careers. This would have been in first or second grade. I must have read every one of them, discovering what a truck driver, doctor, or cattle rancher did for a living.
After that, around third and fourth grade, I became fascinated by pirates and privateers and naval battles. From Blackbeard to David Farragut, I checked out nearly every historic biography dealing with ships, sailing, and seafarers my elementary school library had to offer.
In middle school my interest turned from ships to cars and motorcycles, and the school library was there to help. About this time I also discovered the public library where I turned for additional resources as we began learning to write essays and reports for class. While I jotted down notes, quotes, and Dewey Decimal numbers on 3x5 notecards I always seemed to check an extra book or two that had nothing to do with the essay I was writing.
In high school I discovered westerns and science fiction, reading nearly every Louis L’Amour novel in the school library before digging into Douglas Adams, Harlan Ellison, and Ursula K. Le Guin. College, though, is where the transformation really took place. When I wasn’t in the campus library doing research for writing assignments in a variety of classes I was discovering authors that weren’t assigned reading — Larry McMurtry, Charles Bukowski, William S. Burroughs, Hunter S. Thompson and many others.
Today my love of libraries continues. In fact it has grown even stronger. I’m a member of two local libraries and am a member of friends of the library group. If I can’t find what I’m looking for, I make an interlibrary exchange request.
I’ve tried to encourage my children to enjoy the same sense of wander I’ve found in libraries, taking them to children’s events when they were young and helping them check out books when they were too young to do little more than look at the illustrations in the books. Because of that my kids read not just what’s assigned in school but read year-round for enjoyment.
If you enjoy libraries like I do I encourage you to take time this week to thank a librarian, make it be known how you value your local library. And if you haven’t visited a library in a while, if you have a child or grandchild who hasn’t experienced a library, or if you’re curious to see how relevant libraries still are in the wired world, take advantage of National Library Week and see how Libraries Transform.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected]
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
This week, April 9-15, should be a celebration for readers of all ages.
Why? It’s National Library Week.
According to the American Library Association, National Library Week began in 1958 as a national observance. Today it is sponsored by the ALA and libraries across the country each April. It is a time to celebrate the contributions of our nation's libraries and librarians and to promote library use and support. All types of libraries — school, public, academic and special — participate. This year’s theme is Libraries Transform and, personally, I can think of no more perfect theme.
My love of libraries began way back in elementary school. I’ve always been an avid reader so browsing stacks of books has long been a favorite pastime. Exploring bookshelves, first in the classroom and later in the school library, exposed me to a world of ideas.
Some of the first books I read, outside of Dick and Jane, were a collection of books about different careers. This would have been in first or second grade. I must have read every one of them, discovering what a truck driver, doctor, or cattle rancher did for a living.
After that, around third and fourth grade, I became fascinated by pirates and privateers and naval battles. From Blackbeard to David Farragut, I checked out nearly every historic biography dealing with ships, sailing, and seafarers my elementary school library had to offer.
In middle school my interest turned from ships to cars and motorcycles, and the school library was there to help. About this time I also discovered the public library where I turned for additional resources as we began learning to write essays and reports for class. While I jotted down notes, quotes, and Dewey Decimal numbers on 3x5 notecards I always seemed to check an extra book or two that had nothing to do with the essay I was writing.
In high school I discovered westerns and science fiction, reading nearly every Louis L’Amour novel in the school library before digging into Douglas Adams, Harlan Ellison, and Ursula K. Le Guin. College, though, is where the transformation really took place. When I wasn’t in the campus library doing research for writing assignments in a variety of classes I was discovering authors that weren’t assigned reading — Larry McMurtry, Charles Bukowski, William S. Burroughs, Hunter S. Thompson and many others.
Today my love of libraries continues. In fact it has grown even stronger. I’m a member of two local libraries and am a member of friends of the library group. If I can’t find what I’m looking for, I make an interlibrary exchange request.
I’ve tried to encourage my children to enjoy the same sense of wander I’ve found in libraries, taking them to children’s events when they were young and helping them check out books when they were too young to do little more than look at the illustrations in the books. Because of that my kids read not just what’s assigned in school but read year-round for enjoyment.
If you enjoy libraries like I do I encourage you to take time this week to thank a librarian, make it be known how you value your local library. And if you haven’t visited a library in a while, if you have a child or grandchild who hasn’t experienced a library, or if you’re curious to see how relevant libraries still are in the wired world, take advantage of National Library Week and see how Libraries Transform.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected]
Some adjustments are easier than others
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Our household recently went through a couple of changes that are requiring us to make some minor adjustments: Our youngest daughter her learner’s permit Monday and a couple of weeks ago we got another puppy, making us now a two-dog house.
We’ve known for quite some time we would be adding another driver. In fact we’ve been preparing for it for several months, letting Allison get behind the wheel of my truck or her sister’s car in places where the worst damage she could do was getting stuck. Now comes the real adjustment, thought, letting our youngest driver gain experience on the road in traffic.
I’ve been the one helping Allison learn to drive, telling her when to back up, which way to turn the steering wheel, when to slow down, how to park, when to use her blinker light and so on. I was there when she learned she doesn't have to stomp on the accelerator, why it’s best to slow down before she has to brake and, most importantly, why it’s important to reduce speed before round a corner — especially on gravel roads.
Learning to corner on a gravel road was probably the hairiest driving lesson I had with my daughter. And it’s probably best we were the only two in the truck at the time.
Allison had rounded a corner a bit faster than she should have a few months earlier with me and her mother in the truck with her. At that time I knew our daughter was driving a bit faster than she should have been for the corner but not so fast that she wouldn’t be able maintain control.
What I thought would be a good learning lesson turned out to be near borderline panic for Christy, though. Allison made the turn all right but not before her mom tried to push her feet through the floorboard of my truck in an unsuccessful effort to slow the vehicle.
So there’s one adjustment we’ll be making as we begin taking family trips with our youngest behind the wheel — trying to remain calm and having enough confidence in a driver with a learner’s permit. I think I’ll be OK with it but I’m not sure about Mom and Sis.
And as far as the other adjustments, well, I think most of you understand them all when I said “puppy” earlier. We’ve had Spooky, a young blue heeler/border collie mix (or so we’re told — we’ll see), for about a month. We still believe daughter Hannah conned us into allowing her to have the puppy and setting the puppy adjustments into motion but that’s an entirely different story.
Now, four weeks after giving Spooky a new home, we’re learning again all those adjustments a puppy requires.
We’ve been reminded of puppies’ propensity to roll in things that humans find disgusting but dogs truly enjoy.
We’ve been reminded puppies aren’t always good at traveling in vehicles, especially if you’ve got one that likes to gorge himself on dog food.
We’ve been reminded it takes consistent training to teach a puppy to hang out in his kennel without whining and to teach him going to the bathroom means going outside.
The good news is, however, that we’re making progress with Spooky. And Christy and I are making progress on our other adjustments, too, as we realize that all too soon our youngest, a freshmen, will be following her sister, a junior, in completing their high school education, moving onto college and leaving us empty nesters.
That, we know, will be an adjustment far more difficult than adding a puppy or seeing the youngest at the wheel.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Our household recently went through a couple of changes that are requiring us to make some minor adjustments: Our youngest daughter her learner’s permit Monday and a couple of weeks ago we got another puppy, making us now a two-dog house.
We’ve known for quite some time we would be adding another driver. In fact we’ve been preparing for it for several months, letting Allison get behind the wheel of my truck or her sister’s car in places where the worst damage she could do was getting stuck. Now comes the real adjustment, thought, letting our youngest driver gain experience on the road in traffic.
I’ve been the one helping Allison learn to drive, telling her when to back up, which way to turn the steering wheel, when to slow down, how to park, when to use her blinker light and so on. I was there when she learned she doesn't have to stomp on the accelerator, why it’s best to slow down before she has to brake and, most importantly, why it’s important to reduce speed before round a corner — especially on gravel roads.
Learning to corner on a gravel road was probably the hairiest driving lesson I had with my daughter. And it’s probably best we were the only two in the truck at the time.
Allison had rounded a corner a bit faster than she should have a few months earlier with me and her mother in the truck with her. At that time I knew our daughter was driving a bit faster than she should have been for the corner but not so fast that she wouldn’t be able maintain control.
What I thought would be a good learning lesson turned out to be near borderline panic for Christy, though. Allison made the turn all right but not before her mom tried to push her feet through the floorboard of my truck in an unsuccessful effort to slow the vehicle.
So there’s one adjustment we’ll be making as we begin taking family trips with our youngest behind the wheel — trying to remain calm and having enough confidence in a driver with a learner’s permit. I think I’ll be OK with it but I’m not sure about Mom and Sis.
And as far as the other adjustments, well, I think most of you understand them all when I said “puppy” earlier. We’ve had Spooky, a young blue heeler/border collie mix (or so we’re told — we’ll see), for about a month. We still believe daughter Hannah conned us into allowing her to have the puppy and setting the puppy adjustments into motion but that’s an entirely different story.
Now, four weeks after giving Spooky a new home, we’re learning again all those adjustments a puppy requires.
We’ve been reminded of puppies’ propensity to roll in things that humans find disgusting but dogs truly enjoy.
We’ve been reminded puppies aren’t always good at traveling in vehicles, especially if you’ve got one that likes to gorge himself on dog food.
We’ve been reminded it takes consistent training to teach a puppy to hang out in his kennel without whining and to teach him going to the bathroom means going outside.
The good news is, however, that we’re making progress with Spooky. And Christy and I are making progress on our other adjustments, too, as we realize that all too soon our youngest, a freshmen, will be following her sister, a junior, in completing their high school education, moving onto college and leaving us empty nesters.
That, we know, will be an adjustment far more difficult than adding a puppy or seeing the youngest at the wheel.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Words have the power to hurt and heal
Just Saying
Christy Groves
I believe that civility and respect for the opinions of others has really taken a beating in our instant gratification world.
Don’t get me wrong, I complete understand how it happens. More than once I have written a long rant in response to a Facebook message I thought was rude or more importantly wrong only to delete it because it didn’t pass the “Don’t be a pot stirrer” rule that my daughter Hannah set.
The stirrer rule is really pretty simple. First, will you still feel the same way in an hour and, secondly, will this do anything to help the situation. It is a hard rule for me to follow, especially since lies wrapped in sheep’s clothing and people who blindly believe them never fail to set me off.
This is the world we live in where our leaders must be constantly fact checked and are often found lacking. It is far too easy to sit in the comfort of our homes and voice our gut reactions to the overwhelming amount of junk that bombards us every day, to type without thinking about the consequent our words might have, to lash out at the ridiculousness of the situation.
I don’t know why but it is my first extinct to add fuel to a fire that is already out of control. However, it only takes a moment to make a mess as anyone who has ever broken a glass on the kitchen floor knows. It only takes seconds for that glass to slip from our finger and shatter, sending glass careening across the floor. While the initial clean up may not take long, small shards of glass can continue to be found for months — even years — after.
So it is with words. Sticks and stones may break bones but words can start wars, break families and divide friends and counties. Information comes at us so fast and furious these days and we are continually asked to react faster and faster. Unfortunately, the direct effect of this is that we often think less.
Words have the power to hurt and to heal, to pull us apart or to bring us together.
I know I will not always succeed but it is my goal to use my words with compassion in mind, to speak with honesty and clarity, to take the time to understand fully the situation I am responding to, to be responsible and informed about the opinions I express.
So, how will you use your words today?
Christy Groves can be contacted at advertis[email protected].
Just Saying
Christy Groves
I believe that civility and respect for the opinions of others has really taken a beating in our instant gratification world.
Don’t get me wrong, I complete understand how it happens. More than once I have written a long rant in response to a Facebook message I thought was rude or more importantly wrong only to delete it because it didn’t pass the “Don’t be a pot stirrer” rule that my daughter Hannah set.
The stirrer rule is really pretty simple. First, will you still feel the same way in an hour and, secondly, will this do anything to help the situation. It is a hard rule for me to follow, especially since lies wrapped in sheep’s clothing and people who blindly believe them never fail to set me off.
This is the world we live in where our leaders must be constantly fact checked and are often found lacking. It is far too easy to sit in the comfort of our homes and voice our gut reactions to the overwhelming amount of junk that bombards us every day, to type without thinking about the consequent our words might have, to lash out at the ridiculousness of the situation.
I don’t know why but it is my first extinct to add fuel to a fire that is already out of control. However, it only takes a moment to make a mess as anyone who has ever broken a glass on the kitchen floor knows. It only takes seconds for that glass to slip from our finger and shatter, sending glass careening across the floor. While the initial clean up may not take long, small shards of glass can continue to be found for months — even years — after.
So it is with words. Sticks and stones may break bones but words can start wars, break families and divide friends and counties. Information comes at us so fast and furious these days and we are continually asked to react faster and faster. Unfortunately, the direct effect of this is that we often think less.
Words have the power to hurt and to heal, to pull us apart or to bring us together.
I know I will not always succeed but it is my goal to use my words with compassion in mind, to speak with honesty and clarity, to take the time to understand fully the situation I am responding to, to be responsible and informed about the opinions I express.
So, how will you use your words today?
Christy Groves can be contacted at advertis[email protected].
Bittersweet endings are only the beginning
Just Saying
Christy Groves
Last week was bittersweet for Don and me. Bitter because it was the last newspaper we put together with the help of Jackie Bardole but sweet because we were glad we got to work with her and happy that she was offered the opportunity to move forward in her career.
As Dr. Seuss so aptly put it “Oh the things you can find. If you don’t stay behind.” Don and I truly believe in continued growth. It is that belief that motivated us to buy the Adams County Free Press in the first place and we hope that Jackie will know success and continue to be an asset to her new employer.
We first met Jackie when she came to us as office manager slash proofreader. It wasn’t long before she was writing a column once a month are so and doing a great job at it. It seemed a natural fit when editor Jay Wilson left for Jackie to step into his shoes.
We were right. She was a great fit. Amidst all her new responsibilities Jackie had the one special quality that stood out amongst the rest, a quality that anyone who works for a community newspaper must have — the ability to wear many, many hats. While hired as the assistant editor she was at times called upon to be an accountant, office manager, sales rep, circulation manager, and from time to time event planner. She will be greatly missed and hard to replace.
We are currently looking for a reporter to fill some pretty big shoes and we want to be sure the person we find will be a good fit for us and the community we serve. This search will take time. We appreciate your patience during this time of transition for the Free Press. We apologize ahead of time if it seems we are keeping some odd hours and it is difficult at time to catch us in the office. Don, I and Carie Morales will all be working some extra hours to try and cover until the right person can be found.
Plus we will be more dependent on you our readers to keep us in the loop. When events or situations arise that are of interest and importance to the community please keep us in mind. It will be important that we continue to have eyes and ears in the community until we can find a full-time person to handle the news beat in town. We will be looking for your help on story leads and may even ask that you take photos of events you are at that we will be unable to attend.
For the next few weeks this will be more of a community paper than ever but with your help we can continue to give the quality coverage you deserve.
Christy Groves can be contacted at advertis[email protected].
Just Saying
Christy Groves
Last week was bittersweet for Don and me. Bitter because it was the last newspaper we put together with the help of Jackie Bardole but sweet because we were glad we got to work with her and happy that she was offered the opportunity to move forward in her career.
As Dr. Seuss so aptly put it “Oh the things you can find. If you don’t stay behind.” Don and I truly believe in continued growth. It is that belief that motivated us to buy the Adams County Free Press in the first place and we hope that Jackie will know success and continue to be an asset to her new employer.
We first met Jackie when she came to us as office manager slash proofreader. It wasn’t long before she was writing a column once a month are so and doing a great job at it. It seemed a natural fit when editor Jay Wilson left for Jackie to step into his shoes.
We were right. She was a great fit. Amidst all her new responsibilities Jackie had the one special quality that stood out amongst the rest, a quality that anyone who works for a community newspaper must have — the ability to wear many, many hats. While hired as the assistant editor she was at times called upon to be an accountant, office manager, sales rep, circulation manager, and from time to time event planner. She will be greatly missed and hard to replace.
We are currently looking for a reporter to fill some pretty big shoes and we want to be sure the person we find will be a good fit for us and the community we serve. This search will take time. We appreciate your patience during this time of transition for the Free Press. We apologize ahead of time if it seems we are keeping some odd hours and it is difficult at time to catch us in the office. Don, I and Carie Morales will all be working some extra hours to try and cover until the right person can be found.
Plus we will be more dependent on you our readers to keep us in the loop. When events or situations arise that are of interest and importance to the community please keep us in mind. It will be important that we continue to have eyes and ears in the community until we can find a full-time person to handle the news beat in town. We will be looking for your help on story leads and may even ask that you take photos of events you are at that we will be unable to attend.
For the next few weeks this will be more of a community paper than ever but with your help we can continue to give the quality coverage you deserve.
Christy Groves can be contacted at advertis[email protected].
Opportunity forces difficult decision
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
Sometimes, we have to do hard things. For me, the easy choice would have been to say no, stay put and stick to what I know. But the hard choice gives me more — more time, more skills, more flexible finances.
The hard choice was to say yes. So I did, for my family and the future of my career. I said yes to a new job opportunity at Feeder’s Grain and Supply to be a web assistant.
Today, as I put the finishing touches on my last issue of the Free Press, I am struggling with the bittersweet feelings of this change. I am excited for new challenges and new opportunities — but I will miss many of the people I have grown to know and love through my role here.
I will be forever grateful to Don and Christy for taking a chance on me when I was ready to reenter the workforce after being at home with children for more than three years. I am thankful for the opportunity to try my hand at so many new challenges, to find my voice and exercise my writing muscles.
From this desk, I have been able to have a front row seat to watch Corning come together to host the world for RAGBRAI. I’ve celebrated with graduates and alongside high school athletes. I’ve learned about the world before my time from people like Rosena Fife, Dean Kester and Frannie Mac. I’ve been on a first name basis with our local and state politicians and even our U.S. congressman. I’ve met a French consulate and spent a day riding along with an Adams County Sheriff’s Office deputy.
I’ve covered car accidents and fires, new businesses and dedications. Visiting authors and student art shows. And I have diligently tried through it all to create a positive and uplifting newspaper that highlights our community in the way it deserves.
I never anticipated that September day in 2013, when I started as a proofreader, that I would be able to accomplish all that I have during my time here. Those who have worked beside me along the way — J, Teri, Tara, Carie, Don and Christy and even our interns Kelsey and Katie have taught me about the newspaper industry, the community, leadership — and most importantly — about myself. Thank you all.
Finally, to you dear readers, your support and encouragement along the way have been incredible. I appreciate the grace I’ve been given when I make mistakes and your kind words have kept me going through the difficult days. Thank you Adams County for letting me tell your stories.
Please enjoy my final issue — I’m very proud of it. And know that though I go, I also stay. I have been given the chance to continue my monthly column Fishbowl Parenting. And who knows, I may just find a story that needs to be told.
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
Sometimes, we have to do hard things. For me, the easy choice would have been to say no, stay put and stick to what I know. But the hard choice gives me more — more time, more skills, more flexible finances.
The hard choice was to say yes. So I did, for my family and the future of my career. I said yes to a new job opportunity at Feeder’s Grain and Supply to be a web assistant.
Today, as I put the finishing touches on my last issue of the Free Press, I am struggling with the bittersweet feelings of this change. I am excited for new challenges and new opportunities — but I will miss many of the people I have grown to know and love through my role here.
I will be forever grateful to Don and Christy for taking a chance on me when I was ready to reenter the workforce after being at home with children for more than three years. I am thankful for the opportunity to try my hand at so many new challenges, to find my voice and exercise my writing muscles.
From this desk, I have been able to have a front row seat to watch Corning come together to host the world for RAGBRAI. I’ve celebrated with graduates and alongside high school athletes. I’ve learned about the world before my time from people like Rosena Fife, Dean Kester and Frannie Mac. I’ve been on a first name basis with our local and state politicians and even our U.S. congressman. I’ve met a French consulate and spent a day riding along with an Adams County Sheriff’s Office deputy.
I’ve covered car accidents and fires, new businesses and dedications. Visiting authors and student art shows. And I have diligently tried through it all to create a positive and uplifting newspaper that highlights our community in the way it deserves.
I never anticipated that September day in 2013, when I started as a proofreader, that I would be able to accomplish all that I have during my time here. Those who have worked beside me along the way — J, Teri, Tara, Carie, Don and Christy and even our interns Kelsey and Katie have taught me about the newspaper industry, the community, leadership — and most importantly — about myself. Thank you all.
Finally, to you dear readers, your support and encouragement along the way have been incredible. I appreciate the grace I’ve been given when I make mistakes and your kind words have kept me going through the difficult days. Thank you Adams County for letting me tell your stories.
Please enjoy my final issue — I’m very proud of it. And know that though I go, I also stay. I have been given the chance to continue my monthly column Fishbowl Parenting. And who knows, I may just find a story that needs to be told.
Best intentions often have unintended consequences
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
If you haven’t seen Ken Burns’ three-part documentary “Prohibition” I highly recommend you watch it.
I’ve been watching it on PBS and have just the final episode to watch. It’s interesting to see how the passage of the 18th Amendment didn’t improve society and the lives of Americans as it intended but instead did nearly the opposite. The crime and hypocrisy prohibition produced were unintended consequences, outcomes there were not foreseen by citizens and legislators behind the Volstead Act.
Unintended consequences happen all the time. We think we’re doing what’s best but we don’t always consider or understand an action’s final outcome. Personally, I remember planting a maple tree in our backyard in Rogers, Ark., without fully considering the space it would ultimately require. Let’s just say in a year’s time I was in the backyard again with a shovel transplanting the maple from near the house farther out in the backyard.
What originally got me thinking about unintended consequences was something I read in a book by George Leonard Herter and Berthe E. Herter a while back. The book, “How To Get Out Of The Rat Race And Live On $10 A Month,” is filled with hunting and fishing tips and other outdoor and survival skills written back in the ’60s.
George Herter was the founder of an outdoor goods business, a business plan that was adopted by Cabela’s and Bass Pro Shops. You can still find his name on such things as ammo on the Cabela’s website.
Anyway, on Page 250 the book promotes the planting of multiflora rose, saying such planting “fence in cattle better than a barbed wire fence and keep out trespassers far better.”
The book also says multiflora rose furnishes “the best nesting homes for upland game birds and rabbits.” I won’t argue with that but I know that I’ve battled the invasive plant on more than one property I’ve owned. The United States Department of Agriculture says multiflora rose was introduced into the U.S. in the late 1700s. Since then it has spread throughout much of North America and is a problem for many. In fact multiflora rose has even been named a “restricted noxious weed” in some states where even its transportation, propagation or sale is outlawed.
The unintended consequences of multiflora rose, however, are miniscule compared to another issue that’s crossed my mind: Our country’s global war on terror. We’re more than 15 years into a war in Afghanistan but instead of curtailing the number of radical terrorists we seem only to be empowering them elsewhere. Now we’re not just fighting Al-Qaeda we’re also fighting the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria.
Our war on terror seems to be a relatively recent fight but the birth of radical terrorists dates back far earlier than Sept. 11, 2001. If you truly want to try to get your mind around radical terrorists you need to look back at how the U.S. aided the Afghans in driving out the Soviet Union in the 1980s, back to the 1950s coup in Iran, back to the global changes that happened during and immediately after World War II.
As politicians call for such things as travel bans, increased military funding and tighter airport security I wonder just much foresight politicians actually have in deciding U.S. foreign policy, and I’m speaking not only of our current administration but of those decades earlier. As the cries for a safer society grow I fear our civil liberties are slowly being whittled away because of fear.
What are future generations going to say about this country’s actions now? Will they look back and say we had made the right decisions or will they suffer from unintended consequences?
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
If you haven’t seen Ken Burns’ three-part documentary “Prohibition” I highly recommend you watch it.
I’ve been watching it on PBS and have just the final episode to watch. It’s interesting to see how the passage of the 18th Amendment didn’t improve society and the lives of Americans as it intended but instead did nearly the opposite. The crime and hypocrisy prohibition produced were unintended consequences, outcomes there were not foreseen by citizens and legislators behind the Volstead Act.
Unintended consequences happen all the time. We think we’re doing what’s best but we don’t always consider or understand an action’s final outcome. Personally, I remember planting a maple tree in our backyard in Rogers, Ark., without fully considering the space it would ultimately require. Let’s just say in a year’s time I was in the backyard again with a shovel transplanting the maple from near the house farther out in the backyard.
What originally got me thinking about unintended consequences was something I read in a book by George Leonard Herter and Berthe E. Herter a while back. The book, “How To Get Out Of The Rat Race And Live On $10 A Month,” is filled with hunting and fishing tips and other outdoor and survival skills written back in the ’60s.
George Herter was the founder of an outdoor goods business, a business plan that was adopted by Cabela’s and Bass Pro Shops. You can still find his name on such things as ammo on the Cabela’s website.
Anyway, on Page 250 the book promotes the planting of multiflora rose, saying such planting “fence in cattle better than a barbed wire fence and keep out trespassers far better.”
The book also says multiflora rose furnishes “the best nesting homes for upland game birds and rabbits.” I won’t argue with that but I know that I’ve battled the invasive plant on more than one property I’ve owned. The United States Department of Agriculture says multiflora rose was introduced into the U.S. in the late 1700s. Since then it has spread throughout much of North America and is a problem for many. In fact multiflora rose has even been named a “restricted noxious weed” in some states where even its transportation, propagation or sale is outlawed.
The unintended consequences of multiflora rose, however, are miniscule compared to another issue that’s crossed my mind: Our country’s global war on terror. We’re more than 15 years into a war in Afghanistan but instead of curtailing the number of radical terrorists we seem only to be empowering them elsewhere. Now we’re not just fighting Al-Qaeda we’re also fighting the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria.
Our war on terror seems to be a relatively recent fight but the birth of radical terrorists dates back far earlier than Sept. 11, 2001. If you truly want to try to get your mind around radical terrorists you need to look back at how the U.S. aided the Afghans in driving out the Soviet Union in the 1980s, back to the 1950s coup in Iran, back to the global changes that happened during and immediately after World War II.
As politicians call for such things as travel bans, increased military funding and tighter airport security I wonder just much foresight politicians actually have in deciding U.S. foreign policy, and I’m speaking not only of our current administration but of those decades earlier. As the cries for a safer society grow I fear our civil liberties are slowly being whittled away because of fear.
What are future generations going to say about this country’s actions now? Will they look back and say we had made the right decisions or will they suffer from unintended consequences?
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Teach financial responsibility early
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
As a mom, one thing that I have always tried to do is to keep in mind that the current stage is only temporary and new challenges will always be right around the corner. I’m a planner by nature, so I prefer to look at what comes two or three stages ahead just as much as I focus on what is happening in the present and the next step. Lately, my thoughts concerning our girls’ future have focused heavily on financial responsibility.
When I was a teen, my single mom handed the budgeting and bill paying responsibilities to me for nearly a year. I was instructed on how much money I needed to keep in the bank from one paycheck to the next, which bills to pay over the minimum and how to negotiate repayment terms when necessary. I would balance the checkbook, write out the checks and after Mom had checked them over and signed off on everything, I mailed all of our payments.
That kind of budgeting and responsibility won’t really work for our kids, because most of our bills are already set up for automatic withdrawals. So I have to get creative and think of new ways to teach these important life skills. One thing I didn’t learn until well into my adult years was how to live comfortably within my means. That wasn’t something I was ever taught — Mom always had a hefty credit card bill. I want Brady and Ava to be better prepared in that aspect of personal finance than I was.
In all things, I believe in learning from those who have gone before. Why reinvent the wheel when it still rolls just fine? I talk with other parents who are a few years ahead of me in the parenting journey. I ask questions of my parents and in-laws. I read dozens of parenting advice pieces each month.
One family requires their teen to maintain her automotive insurance deductible in her bank account at all times in order to have access to her car. Many parents I know require their teenage children to pay for their own gas and any expenses they incur from eating out with friends. My mother-in-law gives each of her grandkids a budget for Christmas and birthday gifts and lets them choose their own items within that limit. If a kid spends over and above their allotment of phone data — they pay the overage fees. All of these tactics teach kids to be more responsible with their money, to plan ahead and help them to understand that all goods and services come at a cost.
This time of year, one major expense for many families to think about is prom. I think I have come up with a good way to approach this with our girls in order to keep them and myself from forgetting the importance of budgeting and financial responsibility when we are in a store, surrounded by chiffon and sequins. I think that when each girl reaches high school, she will be given a budget for all four years of prom. The total will be reasonable, yet conservative. The annual limit will be up to her — if she spends two thirds of her entire budget on one year, then she is going to have to figure it out for herself the rest of the years. Maybe that will mean borrowing a dress from a friend or skipping the fancy new shoes and professional makeup services. The choices will be up to them. And, I think that it could even be fun to give an incentive that if the total budget is not spent in full by the end of her senior year — she can have the remainder and a bonus (interest) for making smart choices.
As easy as it is to want to give our kids the world and to want to rescue them when they get in over their heads, it is important to give them the skills to build their own futures. The bank of Mom and Dad have rescued me from financial ruin a time or three, and I expect my girls to need that safety net themselves at some point — but I want to teach them how to make the hard choices on their own, before they have to swallow their pride and ask for help.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
As a mom, one thing that I have always tried to do is to keep in mind that the current stage is only temporary and new challenges will always be right around the corner. I’m a planner by nature, so I prefer to look at what comes two or three stages ahead just as much as I focus on what is happening in the present and the next step. Lately, my thoughts concerning our girls’ future have focused heavily on financial responsibility.
When I was a teen, my single mom handed the budgeting and bill paying responsibilities to me for nearly a year. I was instructed on how much money I needed to keep in the bank from one paycheck to the next, which bills to pay over the minimum and how to negotiate repayment terms when necessary. I would balance the checkbook, write out the checks and after Mom had checked them over and signed off on everything, I mailed all of our payments.
That kind of budgeting and responsibility won’t really work for our kids, because most of our bills are already set up for automatic withdrawals. So I have to get creative and think of new ways to teach these important life skills. One thing I didn’t learn until well into my adult years was how to live comfortably within my means. That wasn’t something I was ever taught — Mom always had a hefty credit card bill. I want Brady and Ava to be better prepared in that aspect of personal finance than I was.
In all things, I believe in learning from those who have gone before. Why reinvent the wheel when it still rolls just fine? I talk with other parents who are a few years ahead of me in the parenting journey. I ask questions of my parents and in-laws. I read dozens of parenting advice pieces each month.
One family requires their teen to maintain her automotive insurance deductible in her bank account at all times in order to have access to her car. Many parents I know require their teenage children to pay for their own gas and any expenses they incur from eating out with friends. My mother-in-law gives each of her grandkids a budget for Christmas and birthday gifts and lets them choose their own items within that limit. If a kid spends over and above their allotment of phone data — they pay the overage fees. All of these tactics teach kids to be more responsible with their money, to plan ahead and help them to understand that all goods and services come at a cost.
This time of year, one major expense for many families to think about is prom. I think I have come up with a good way to approach this with our girls in order to keep them and myself from forgetting the importance of budgeting and financial responsibility when we are in a store, surrounded by chiffon and sequins. I think that when each girl reaches high school, she will be given a budget for all four years of prom. The total will be reasonable, yet conservative. The annual limit will be up to her — if she spends two thirds of her entire budget on one year, then she is going to have to figure it out for herself the rest of the years. Maybe that will mean borrowing a dress from a friend or skipping the fancy new shoes and professional makeup services. The choices will be up to them. And, I think that it could even be fun to give an incentive that if the total budget is not spent in full by the end of her senior year — she can have the remainder and a bonus (interest) for making smart choices.
As easy as it is to want to give our kids the world and to want to rescue them when they get in over their heads, it is important to give them the skills to build their own futures. The bank of Mom and Dad have rescued me from financial ruin a time or three, and I expect my girls to need that safety net themselves at some point — but I want to teach them how to make the hard choices on their own, before they have to swallow their pride and ask for help.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Main Street Corning making a difference
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
I have served as chair of the Main Street Corning Events and Marketing Committee, formerly known as the Promotions Committee, for a couple of years now. Last spring I joined the Main Street Corning Board of Directors. Serving in these groups alongside a wide variety of dedicated community volunteers has given me an even greater appreciation for the behind the scenes work that goes into making Corning such a thriving community.
Main Street committees volunteer hours of their time each month working with downtown businesses to make Corning a fun and attractive place, giving residents and visitors a place they want to visit. Did you know that Central Park, the giant flowerpots downtown, Sally’s Alley and even the new garbage cans are all past and ongoing Main Street Beautification projects?
Main Street Public Relations Committee recruits and recognizes volunteers, hosts the annual homecoming alumni registration and orchestrates the community events fliers found on tables and counters in businesses all over town. In April, they will hold a second annual Make a Difference volunteer recruitment event, giving potential volunteers an opportunity to learn about the many organizations looking for more help.
If you work downtown do you remember filling out a survey and answering questions for a study a few years ago? That study became a full market analysis that is used to benefit downtown businesses and attract new entrepreneurs to our community. It was conducted by the Main Street Economic Vitality Committee. This group also meets with businesses to assist them in issues like succession planning and available business incentive programs.
Events and Marketing may be the most recognized committee because we host the big events — Lazy Days, homecoming, Safe Trick or Treat and Kid’s Shopping Day. Our goal this year is to expand our focus beyond these events and begin orchestrating smaller events and promotions that will benefit our downtown retailers.
Coming soon, we will be starting a Corning Cash Mob. Similar in function to a flash mob, a cash mob is designed to flood one business with shoppers. Each month, one lucky business will be selected by the committee to be the secret location of the cash mob. Since the secret is part of the fun, the location will not be publically announced, rather participants will need to email [email protected] to learn of the location.
Main Street Corning is only one of many hardworking volunteer organizations in our county. Find out where you fit and make a difference in your community.
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
I have served as chair of the Main Street Corning Events and Marketing Committee, formerly known as the Promotions Committee, for a couple of years now. Last spring I joined the Main Street Corning Board of Directors. Serving in these groups alongside a wide variety of dedicated community volunteers has given me an even greater appreciation for the behind the scenes work that goes into making Corning such a thriving community.
Main Street committees volunteer hours of their time each month working with downtown businesses to make Corning a fun and attractive place, giving residents and visitors a place they want to visit. Did you know that Central Park, the giant flowerpots downtown, Sally’s Alley and even the new garbage cans are all past and ongoing Main Street Beautification projects?
Main Street Public Relations Committee recruits and recognizes volunteers, hosts the annual homecoming alumni registration and orchestrates the community events fliers found on tables and counters in businesses all over town. In April, they will hold a second annual Make a Difference volunteer recruitment event, giving potential volunteers an opportunity to learn about the many organizations looking for more help.
If you work downtown do you remember filling out a survey and answering questions for a study a few years ago? That study became a full market analysis that is used to benefit downtown businesses and attract new entrepreneurs to our community. It was conducted by the Main Street Economic Vitality Committee. This group also meets with businesses to assist them in issues like succession planning and available business incentive programs.
Events and Marketing may be the most recognized committee because we host the big events — Lazy Days, homecoming, Safe Trick or Treat and Kid’s Shopping Day. Our goal this year is to expand our focus beyond these events and begin orchestrating smaller events and promotions that will benefit our downtown retailers.
Coming soon, we will be starting a Corning Cash Mob. Similar in function to a flash mob, a cash mob is designed to flood one business with shoppers. Each month, one lucky business will be selected by the committee to be the secret location of the cash mob. Since the secret is part of the fun, the location will not be publically announced, rather participants will need to email [email protected] to learn of the location.
Main Street Corning is only one of many hardworking volunteer organizations in our county. Find out where you fit and make a difference in your community.
A walk does a world of good
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
My old, free daypack had served its purpose.
It had carried water bottles, oranges, apples, sandwiches, M&Ms, peanuts, deer sheds, assorted rocks, a wide variety of feathers and more treasures my two youngest girls discovered on our explorations over the last 12 years or so.
Because of that, I had been watching the price of a cheap daypack at Walmart for weeks. As soon as the fall deer season was over and the pack was marked down from about $50 to $25, I bought it.
Last week the dog and I tried it out with a windy almost warm hike at Elam Bend Conservation Area a few miles south of where we live. I wasn’t sure I was going to like the pack — a Mossy Oak Highland Internal Frame — when I bought it but I knew it would certainly be better than the old flimsy daypack I’d had for years. So when the hiking bug wouldn’t let loose I thought it would be dumb to waste a relatively warm February day and filled the new pack with some water, a few treats, warm clothes and a bit of gear and tried it out.
The dog and I put in about three miles or so. Early in our hike we startled a couple of dozen wild turkeys grazing in a bean field. The turkeys took flight into the treetops faster than I could get my camera up so I missed some good shots.
I did manage a few photos, though — an empty bird’s nest in a bush a few feet above ground, some scattered blue jay feathers, a pond I had never discovered before, a few melting patches of ice along a creek, a deer stand with a half empty water bottle abandoned by a hunter, skein after skein of Canada geese flying northwest.
Along the way the dog picked up mud and burs so we took a break by the pond to share a chunk of cheddar and bit of bread. I picked the burs off the dog and watched sparrows dart from shrubs around the pond. It was a nice day, just what I needed to cure my spring fever.
And the pack worked much better than the old one I finally retired. Of course its success started me thinking about how nice it would be to replace the old external frame pack I use on overnight trips with something lighter and roomier. I’ve only had it for about 30 years so I think I might be due for a new one. Although the hike cured my spring fever it also started me looking forward to other longer, more remote hikes.
A walk in the woods does a world of good, even when you already have no complaints. Hiking brings discoveries in various forms for all ages. When our children were younger their discoveries turned into the simplest treasures that we carried home in our backpack — rocks, sticks, feathers, bones.
I didn’t come across any such treasures I needed to bring back with me during my hike last week. It’s more fun when my girls make their own discoveries. The only thing is that now that they’re both in high school our explorations are fewer and fewer.
That’s just the way it is, though. We’ve still got three granddaughters and a grandson who I’m sure would enjoy scaring up a flock of wild turkey, finding an abandoned bird’s nest, wondering if it was a coyote or hawk or something else that scattered blue jay feathers as leftovers, and marveling at the dozens of Canada geese fly overhead toward their summer homes.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
My old, free daypack had served its purpose.
It had carried water bottles, oranges, apples, sandwiches, M&Ms, peanuts, deer sheds, assorted rocks, a wide variety of feathers and more treasures my two youngest girls discovered on our explorations over the last 12 years or so.
Because of that, I had been watching the price of a cheap daypack at Walmart for weeks. As soon as the fall deer season was over and the pack was marked down from about $50 to $25, I bought it.
Last week the dog and I tried it out with a windy almost warm hike at Elam Bend Conservation Area a few miles south of where we live. I wasn’t sure I was going to like the pack — a Mossy Oak Highland Internal Frame — when I bought it but I knew it would certainly be better than the old flimsy daypack I’d had for years. So when the hiking bug wouldn’t let loose I thought it would be dumb to waste a relatively warm February day and filled the new pack with some water, a few treats, warm clothes and a bit of gear and tried it out.
The dog and I put in about three miles or so. Early in our hike we startled a couple of dozen wild turkeys grazing in a bean field. The turkeys took flight into the treetops faster than I could get my camera up so I missed some good shots.
I did manage a few photos, though — an empty bird’s nest in a bush a few feet above ground, some scattered blue jay feathers, a pond I had never discovered before, a few melting patches of ice along a creek, a deer stand with a half empty water bottle abandoned by a hunter, skein after skein of Canada geese flying northwest.
Along the way the dog picked up mud and burs so we took a break by the pond to share a chunk of cheddar and bit of bread. I picked the burs off the dog and watched sparrows dart from shrubs around the pond. It was a nice day, just what I needed to cure my spring fever.
And the pack worked much better than the old one I finally retired. Of course its success started me thinking about how nice it would be to replace the old external frame pack I use on overnight trips with something lighter and roomier. I’ve only had it for about 30 years so I think I might be due for a new one. Although the hike cured my spring fever it also started me looking forward to other longer, more remote hikes.
A walk in the woods does a world of good, even when you already have no complaints. Hiking brings discoveries in various forms for all ages. When our children were younger their discoveries turned into the simplest treasures that we carried home in our backpack — rocks, sticks, feathers, bones.
I didn’t come across any such treasures I needed to bring back with me during my hike last week. It’s more fun when my girls make their own discoveries. The only thing is that now that they’re both in high school our explorations are fewer and fewer.
That’s just the way it is, though. We’ve still got three granddaughters and a grandson who I’m sure would enjoy scaring up a flock of wild turkey, finding an abandoned bird’s nest, wondering if it was a coyote or hawk or something else that scattered blue jay feathers as leftovers, and marveling at the dozens of Canada geese fly overhead toward their summer homes.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Parenting is a lot like Groundhog Day
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Today is Groundhog Day. I’ve never really liked the tradition of waking a sleeping animal to test some superstition — perhaps that’s because I detest being woken in the middle of a sleep cycle for anything other than a legitimate emergency. My kids know that in order to wake Momma in the middle of the night there better be vomit, blood or fire. Occasionally I tolerate an early morning monster check.
But Groundhog Day has me thinking about the movie by the same name. You know the one, Bill Murray has to relive Feb. 2 again and again until he learns the big lesson and realigns his priorities. Parenting can be an awful lot like that Groundhog Day.
I have tried pretty hard so far through my parenting career not to put much stock in parenting clichés as most prove to be over generalizations with little actual truth at the center. But the one cliché that I have actually found to be more truth than fiction is this, “the days are long, but the years are short.” To a brand new parent, this makes no sense at all. Sure, the days with a newborn — all diapers, feedings and sleep deprivation — seem endless. But after months of pregnancy, many of which reminded me of being a child on Christmas morning waiting for Mom and Dad to get up before ripping into the piles of wrapping paper, the passage of time feels painfully slow. But then out of nowhere, that tiny, squishy baby can sit up on her own and look at you with a big, drooly grin, showing off a shiny new tooth. And suddenly, you realize that time really does fly when you spend your days with small people.
Here we are, more than 10 years in. We survived sleep deprivation, diapers, potty training, learning to tie shoes, self-inflicted hair cuts, bumps, bruises and medical scares, temper tantrums and even a short phase of biting. Some days are still impossibly long what with laundry, homework, lessons on navigating friendships, power struggles and after school activities. But now, I realize how quickly those years do fly by. I really don’t look forward to that “next stage” anymore. And I try not to mourn the stages that have passed.
I want to be the mom who is present in the here and now. Because even though some days feel like we are repeating ourselves over and over again, each day also offers a chance to enjoy the incredible, kind-hearted little people who share our home. At this current stage, we have a girl who is delicately navigating the minefield of pre-teen emotions. She stumbles some days and others her maturity amazes me. We have another girl who is slowly transitioning beyond the little girl years. She is starting to discover new interests and expanding her circle of friends.
The cycle of daily chores and parental monotony (seriously how many times do I need to remind these people that backpacks and coats don’t belong on the dining room floor?) can feel a little bit like our own personal Groundhog Day. But like Bill Murray, we can learn from the repetition and find the beauty in the everyday.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected]
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Today is Groundhog Day. I’ve never really liked the tradition of waking a sleeping animal to test some superstition — perhaps that’s because I detest being woken in the middle of a sleep cycle for anything other than a legitimate emergency. My kids know that in order to wake Momma in the middle of the night there better be vomit, blood or fire. Occasionally I tolerate an early morning monster check.
But Groundhog Day has me thinking about the movie by the same name. You know the one, Bill Murray has to relive Feb. 2 again and again until he learns the big lesson and realigns his priorities. Parenting can be an awful lot like that Groundhog Day.
I have tried pretty hard so far through my parenting career not to put much stock in parenting clichés as most prove to be over generalizations with little actual truth at the center. But the one cliché that I have actually found to be more truth than fiction is this, “the days are long, but the years are short.” To a brand new parent, this makes no sense at all. Sure, the days with a newborn — all diapers, feedings and sleep deprivation — seem endless. But after months of pregnancy, many of which reminded me of being a child on Christmas morning waiting for Mom and Dad to get up before ripping into the piles of wrapping paper, the passage of time feels painfully slow. But then out of nowhere, that tiny, squishy baby can sit up on her own and look at you with a big, drooly grin, showing off a shiny new tooth. And suddenly, you realize that time really does fly when you spend your days with small people.
Here we are, more than 10 years in. We survived sleep deprivation, diapers, potty training, learning to tie shoes, self-inflicted hair cuts, bumps, bruises and medical scares, temper tantrums and even a short phase of biting. Some days are still impossibly long what with laundry, homework, lessons on navigating friendships, power struggles and after school activities. But now, I realize how quickly those years do fly by. I really don’t look forward to that “next stage” anymore. And I try not to mourn the stages that have passed.
I want to be the mom who is present in the here and now. Because even though some days feel like we are repeating ourselves over and over again, each day also offers a chance to enjoy the incredible, kind-hearted little people who share our home. At this current stage, we have a girl who is delicately navigating the minefield of pre-teen emotions. She stumbles some days and others her maturity amazes me. We have another girl who is slowly transitioning beyond the little girl years. She is starting to discover new interests and expanding her circle of friends.
The cycle of daily chores and parental monotony (seriously how many times do I need to remind these people that backpacks and coats don’t belong on the dining room floor?) can feel a little bit like our own personal Groundhog Day. But like Bill Murray, we can learn from the repetition and find the beauty in the everyday.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected]
Goodbye sweet man
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
Our community lost a dear man this week with the passing of Frannie Mack. His impact on the community was clearly evident as news of his passing spread in Facebook posts. Comments and memories flooded my newsfeed all weekend as the community honored a legend.
I too have wonderful memories of time spent with Frannie. Like many, I think fondly of his warm smile, the many serenades and his slightly ornery sense of humor — I heard more than one off color joke from Frannie through the past four years. But beyond that, Frannie always liked to remind me that he and I were a lot alike. You see, my first job here in town, here at the Free Press, was as proofreader. Frannie was the proofreader here for about a year in 2004 and 2005. He always said that he wasn’t so great with grammar, but he knew everyone’s names. We joked that I was just the opposite — being pretty new to town, there I had no idea if the names were correct, but I sure know how to pay attention to grammar and details.
Frannie and I also celebrated our birthdays together, along with the also dearly departed Bev Heaton since we all had birthdays in the first few days of July. As one of our “honorary Methodists” at the fitness center, Frannie was included in all the birthday celebrations, frequently leading the charge to sing to those celebrating another year.
He was always one to share a story. I can’t even count the number of stories I’ve heard about his time in the service, or his years running the hardware store. And as I talk to others, I hear new stories, ones they remember hearing from the man himself.
Frannie, the most independent old man I have ever met, driving around town in your little red car, it was my honor to know you and call you my friend. You will be missed.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
Our community lost a dear man this week with the passing of Frannie Mack. His impact on the community was clearly evident as news of his passing spread in Facebook posts. Comments and memories flooded my newsfeed all weekend as the community honored a legend.
I too have wonderful memories of time spent with Frannie. Like many, I think fondly of his warm smile, the many serenades and his slightly ornery sense of humor — I heard more than one off color joke from Frannie through the past four years. But beyond that, Frannie always liked to remind me that he and I were a lot alike. You see, my first job here in town, here at the Free Press, was as proofreader. Frannie was the proofreader here for about a year in 2004 and 2005. He always said that he wasn’t so great with grammar, but he knew everyone’s names. We joked that I was just the opposite — being pretty new to town, there I had no idea if the names were correct, but I sure know how to pay attention to grammar and details.
Frannie and I also celebrated our birthdays together, along with the also dearly departed Bev Heaton since we all had birthdays in the first few days of July. As one of our “honorary Methodists” at the fitness center, Frannie was included in all the birthday celebrations, frequently leading the charge to sing to those celebrating another year.
He was always one to share a story. I can’t even count the number of stories I’ve heard about his time in the service, or his years running the hardware store. And as I talk to others, I hear new stories, ones they remember hearing from the man himself.
Frannie, the most independent old man I have ever met, driving around town in your little red car, it was my honor to know you and call you my friend. You will be missed.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Small towns full of opportunities
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
Most people tend to think that large communities are where the action is. That a large community provides the most opportunities for individual involvement. While it’s true that large communities do offer a lot of options, small communities let residents participate in a wider variety of activities.
For a small community to have as many options for entertainment, shopping and philanthropy, the people must be involved in more than one facet of community life. The Adams Community is a vibrant place to live and play. That requires the work and support of many dedicated people.
In all honesty, when our previous district superintendent of the United Methodist Church told us that Corning was going to be our new home, I was scared. I have never before lived in such a small community. I was spoiled by having spent the past half-decade living in the relatively metropolitan areas of Dubuque and Indianola. I felt like everything I needed or wanted was readily accessible. Moving to a rural area was not in my plan. But, as the wife of a Methodist pastor, you go where the church sends you, that’s part of the deal. I was struggling, but determined to keep an open mind.
So on one Thursday in February of 2012, Andrew and I made the trip to Corning to tour the church and parsonage and meet with the committee that is in charge of pastoral relations. There were nine people on that committee at the meeting. I can’t remember now who they all were, but I do remember that every single person relayed that they had lived in Corning, then moved away for a period of months or even years at some point as an adult before choosing to move back here. If that were the case for one or two people, I could pass it off as a coincidence. But nine unrelated people sharing the same experience told me that there is something different, something special about this community. I left that meeting eager to start our life here and figure out what that special something is.
Nearly five years later, here is what I think it is. The people of Adams County rely on one another for nearly everything. I heard it said at an Ambassadors event over a year ago that in a place like ours we can either learn to work together or we will watch our community die together. And that’s just it, this community is full of passionate people who don’t want to sit idly by and watch their home die like so many other rural communities around the country.
It started with three guys who continually petitioned the State of Iowa to allow communities of less than 5,000 people become part of the Main Street program. Now, 27 years later, Corning’s downtown is a thriving place. Through all those years, the Chamber has maintained an active membership and a board of volunteers who work hard to make the Adams Community attractive for businesses and patrons alike. The Ambassadors work alongside the Adams Community Economic Development Corporation to promote the community to potential businesses and residents while also advocating for the needs of rural communities with state government. Places like the Opera House, Corning Center for Fine Arts and the French Icarian Colony work to bring a bit of culture and entertainment.
The schools provide a truly diverse offering of activities for our students to experience. In large schools, student athletes need to focus on one or maybe two sports in order to get any playing time. Small schools need all the players they can get in order to field full, competitive teams. That means kids can participate every season if they like, and sometimes, athletes are active in more than one sport at a time. Not to mention how many members of the marching band perform at half time in their football or cheerleading uniforms. Beyond sports and music, our kids can learn and compete in robotics, speech, dance, and national clubs focused on future career opportunities in business, agriculture and consumer sciences.
The thing that I find great about all of these options is actually two-fold. One, there is room for every person to get involved. Two, with such a wide variety of opportunities, including many more that I haven’t listed, you can really find your place in the community. Try something new, if it’s not a great fit, then you can try something else. Just get involved, it makes a world of difference.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
Most people tend to think that large communities are where the action is. That a large community provides the most opportunities for individual involvement. While it’s true that large communities do offer a lot of options, small communities let residents participate in a wider variety of activities.
For a small community to have as many options for entertainment, shopping and philanthropy, the people must be involved in more than one facet of community life. The Adams Community is a vibrant place to live and play. That requires the work and support of many dedicated people.
In all honesty, when our previous district superintendent of the United Methodist Church told us that Corning was going to be our new home, I was scared. I have never before lived in such a small community. I was spoiled by having spent the past half-decade living in the relatively metropolitan areas of Dubuque and Indianola. I felt like everything I needed or wanted was readily accessible. Moving to a rural area was not in my plan. But, as the wife of a Methodist pastor, you go where the church sends you, that’s part of the deal. I was struggling, but determined to keep an open mind.
So on one Thursday in February of 2012, Andrew and I made the trip to Corning to tour the church and parsonage and meet with the committee that is in charge of pastoral relations. There were nine people on that committee at the meeting. I can’t remember now who they all were, but I do remember that every single person relayed that they had lived in Corning, then moved away for a period of months or even years at some point as an adult before choosing to move back here. If that were the case for one or two people, I could pass it off as a coincidence. But nine unrelated people sharing the same experience told me that there is something different, something special about this community. I left that meeting eager to start our life here and figure out what that special something is.
Nearly five years later, here is what I think it is. The people of Adams County rely on one another for nearly everything. I heard it said at an Ambassadors event over a year ago that in a place like ours we can either learn to work together or we will watch our community die together. And that’s just it, this community is full of passionate people who don’t want to sit idly by and watch their home die like so many other rural communities around the country.
It started with three guys who continually petitioned the State of Iowa to allow communities of less than 5,000 people become part of the Main Street program. Now, 27 years later, Corning’s downtown is a thriving place. Through all those years, the Chamber has maintained an active membership and a board of volunteers who work hard to make the Adams Community attractive for businesses and patrons alike. The Ambassadors work alongside the Adams Community Economic Development Corporation to promote the community to potential businesses and residents while also advocating for the needs of rural communities with state government. Places like the Opera House, Corning Center for Fine Arts and the French Icarian Colony work to bring a bit of culture and entertainment.
The schools provide a truly diverse offering of activities for our students to experience. In large schools, student athletes need to focus on one or maybe two sports in order to get any playing time. Small schools need all the players they can get in order to field full, competitive teams. That means kids can participate every season if they like, and sometimes, athletes are active in more than one sport at a time. Not to mention how many members of the marching band perform at half time in their football or cheerleading uniforms. Beyond sports and music, our kids can learn and compete in robotics, speech, dance, and national clubs focused on future career opportunities in business, agriculture and consumer sciences.
The thing that I find great about all of these options is actually two-fold. One, there is room for every person to get involved. Two, with such a wide variety of opportunities, including many more that I haven’t listed, you can really find your place in the community. Try something new, if it’s not a great fit, then you can try something else. Just get involved, it makes a world of difference.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Even simple meals can be difficult
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Sunday at our house can be the most difficult day of the week.
The difficulty comes not with Sunday school at 8:30 a.m. and worship right afterward, it isn’t even four people trying to shower, shave and get ready for church in a single crowded bathroom. Instead the problem comes after church, that big question that is so difficult to answer as we head home again: What’s for lunch?
Our Sunday dinner isn’t always difficult. Many times Christy or I will have thought of something to make ahead of time, say chili in the crockpot or something on the grill we’ve set out from the freezer the night before. A little preparation makes Sunday meals a breeze. On the other hand, a busy Saturday can easily interfere with Sunday meal planning.
That was the case over the weekend when daughter Hannah, a junior, had to referee some third- and fourth-grade basketball games while Christy and I worked concessions to help raise money for prom. With most of our day spent in a gymnasium we opted for a meal at a restaurant instead of making a meal at home.
While our decision to eat out simplified Saturday’s dinner it, our time spent in the gym and the cold weather had us wanting to just hunker down after church on Sunday. The problem was we hadn’t done any meal planning and really hadn’t been to the grocery store for anything other than milk since before the first of the year.
A trip to Hy-Vee to pick up a few things for lunch wasn’t any big deal. Getting consensus on what to have for lunch, though, was an entirely different thing. Too much input on food cravings and dislikes made what should have been a quick trip to the store far more difficult than it should have been.
Finally, as is often the case, Christy made an executive decision and let us know if she was going to make our meal it was going to be something simple. She said she would run to Hy-Vee for what she needed to make Philly cheesesteaks for a quick meal.
About an hour later we ended up eating buffalo chicken wraps. It turns out Christy couldn’t find what she needed for Philly cheesesteaks but she did find breaded buffalo chicken breasts, as well as several other items she remembered.
We still ended up with a simple and relatively quick Sunday meal but as with many hastily made plans this one too went awry. Of course Sunday isn’t only the difficult day when it comes to meal planning. With basketball games, unannounced friends dropping by at supper or lunch, and miscommunications any day of the week can be difficult when it comes to meal preparation.
For a while this summer we would sit down and plan our meals for an entire month, make one big trip to the grocery store and cook what we had from our monthly menu. It seemed to work well and it may be time to return to it.
But then that would take preparation, planning and schedule and right now the calendar’s pretty much booked except for a few days in early March after basketball ends and before track begins.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected]
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Sunday at our house can be the most difficult day of the week.
The difficulty comes not with Sunday school at 8:30 a.m. and worship right afterward, it isn’t even four people trying to shower, shave and get ready for church in a single crowded bathroom. Instead the problem comes after church, that big question that is so difficult to answer as we head home again: What’s for lunch?
Our Sunday dinner isn’t always difficult. Many times Christy or I will have thought of something to make ahead of time, say chili in the crockpot or something on the grill we’ve set out from the freezer the night before. A little preparation makes Sunday meals a breeze. On the other hand, a busy Saturday can easily interfere with Sunday meal planning.
That was the case over the weekend when daughter Hannah, a junior, had to referee some third- and fourth-grade basketball games while Christy and I worked concessions to help raise money for prom. With most of our day spent in a gymnasium we opted for a meal at a restaurant instead of making a meal at home.
While our decision to eat out simplified Saturday’s dinner it, our time spent in the gym and the cold weather had us wanting to just hunker down after church on Sunday. The problem was we hadn’t done any meal planning and really hadn’t been to the grocery store for anything other than milk since before the first of the year.
A trip to Hy-Vee to pick up a few things for lunch wasn’t any big deal. Getting consensus on what to have for lunch, though, was an entirely different thing. Too much input on food cravings and dislikes made what should have been a quick trip to the store far more difficult than it should have been.
Finally, as is often the case, Christy made an executive decision and let us know if she was going to make our meal it was going to be something simple. She said she would run to Hy-Vee for what she needed to make Philly cheesesteaks for a quick meal.
About an hour later we ended up eating buffalo chicken wraps. It turns out Christy couldn’t find what she needed for Philly cheesesteaks but she did find breaded buffalo chicken breasts, as well as several other items she remembered.
We still ended up with a simple and relatively quick Sunday meal but as with many hastily made plans this one too went awry. Of course Sunday isn’t only the difficult day when it comes to meal planning. With basketball games, unannounced friends dropping by at supper or lunch, and miscommunications any day of the week can be difficult when it comes to meal preparation.
For a while this summer we would sit down and plan our meals for an entire month, make one big trip to the grocery store and cook what we had from our monthly menu. It seemed to work well and it may be time to return to it.
But then that would take preparation, planning and schedule and right now the calendar’s pretty much booked except for a few days in early March after basketball ends and before track begins.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected]
Use life’s messes as lessons
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
With the fun of the Christmas come and gone and the pink hearts of Valentine’s Day still too far off in the future, the winter doldrums have set in at my house. I am not much for the cold, or the snow and ice that comes along with it this time of year. The girls still enjoy playing out in the snow, but at this time of the year, so often the wind is just too cold, even for their hearty little bodies.
The days are short and dark and being trapped inside seems to create a breeding ground for all sorts of microbes and ick. Before long, I anticipate the arguing to begin. Ava will want to control the television, but Brady will be tired of watching the same things over and over again. Brady will want to spend every cold afternoon soaking for hours in the bathtub — monopolizing a bathroom.
At some point, I guarantee, I will lose my mind over wet socks created yet again by the constant puddles left behind by snow boots — it will not be pretty. Andrew spends the winter months trying to keep up, recoup from the pace of Advent and gear up for the pace of Lent. This usually means that about the time he starts getting caught up, a sinus infection is going to rear its ugly head.
It’s always at this time of year that I find myself wondering if the subjects of Norman Rockwell paintings were as messy and irritable as we so often are. I look at the idyllic images of families snuggled together before a softly flickering fire and I just don’t buy it. We can’t be that abnormal. And in my experience, “the good old days” are mostly just a figment of our imagination.
Life, especially when lived in close proximity to other people, is messy. People in healthy relationships sometimes fight with those they care for. And the occasional fight is certainly healthier than pent up emotions and bottled up aggression. Those tend to explode at the most inappropriate times. As long as everyone involved respects appropriate boundaries when arguing — like never, ever get physical with your anger, something children need to be reminded of in the heat of the moment — there is a lot to learn in these less than lovely times.
Children learn how to express their great big emotions in a constructive way, they can learn about how to apologize and admit when they are wrong. And every one involved can learn about what life looks like from someone else’s perspective. Opportunities to teach children empathy can never be too frequent. Most importantly, everyone can learn how to compromise, offer forgiveness and move forward together after an argument.
Don’t feel like you need to hide the real messiness of life from your children — they will be better adults if you teach them while they are young how to manage conflict. And they will know that love can overcome irritation and anger. A lesson we all need from time to time.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
With the fun of the Christmas come and gone and the pink hearts of Valentine’s Day still too far off in the future, the winter doldrums have set in at my house. I am not much for the cold, or the snow and ice that comes along with it this time of year. The girls still enjoy playing out in the snow, but at this time of the year, so often the wind is just too cold, even for their hearty little bodies.
The days are short and dark and being trapped inside seems to create a breeding ground for all sorts of microbes and ick. Before long, I anticipate the arguing to begin. Ava will want to control the television, but Brady will be tired of watching the same things over and over again. Brady will want to spend every cold afternoon soaking for hours in the bathtub — monopolizing a bathroom.
At some point, I guarantee, I will lose my mind over wet socks created yet again by the constant puddles left behind by snow boots — it will not be pretty. Andrew spends the winter months trying to keep up, recoup from the pace of Advent and gear up for the pace of Lent. This usually means that about the time he starts getting caught up, a sinus infection is going to rear its ugly head.
It’s always at this time of year that I find myself wondering if the subjects of Norman Rockwell paintings were as messy and irritable as we so often are. I look at the idyllic images of families snuggled together before a softly flickering fire and I just don’t buy it. We can’t be that abnormal. And in my experience, “the good old days” are mostly just a figment of our imagination.
Life, especially when lived in close proximity to other people, is messy. People in healthy relationships sometimes fight with those they care for. And the occasional fight is certainly healthier than pent up emotions and bottled up aggression. Those tend to explode at the most inappropriate times. As long as everyone involved respects appropriate boundaries when arguing — like never, ever get physical with your anger, something children need to be reminded of in the heat of the moment — there is a lot to learn in these less than lovely times.
Children learn how to express their great big emotions in a constructive way, they can learn about how to apologize and admit when they are wrong. And every one involved can learn about what life looks like from someone else’s perspective. Opportunities to teach children empathy can never be too frequent. Most importantly, everyone can learn how to compromise, offer forgiveness and move forward together after an argument.
Don’t feel like you need to hide the real messiness of life from your children — they will be better adults if you teach them while they are young how to manage conflict. And they will know that love can overcome irritation and anger. A lesson we all need from time to time.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Wool socks and time important in 2016
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
With another year almost gone from the calendar and a new one upon us, thoughts of New Year’s resolutions come to many people’s minds. To all of you making resolutions to improve your life, I wish you well.
I, however, won’t be making any New Year’s resolutions, at least no resolutions I wouldn’t also make any other time of year. As I’ve written before, if you want to improve your life or the lives of others don’t wait until a new year begins. Start right away, as soon you first think of it. Change can take place any time of year and if you’re serious about it there’s no time better than the present.
Probably second in popularity to New Year’s resolutions is a time of reflection that’s suggested this time of year in many columns, blogs and commentaries. To me a time of reflection, like resolutions, can and should take place any time of year or in one’s life. The New Year, however, provides an excellent time to look back. It’s easier to understand where you’ve been and where you want to go when you reach an obvious divide such as one marked by a new calendar.
A top 10 or top 20 list of questions to consider when reflecting on the past year is a popular topic for all sorts of writers at the end of the year. Usually these lists ask you to consider what was most enjoyable or in what ways you grew spiritually, physically or emotionally. Rather than attempt to answer a list of questions or grade myself on how well I met my goals in 2016, I instead came to a few realizations in 2016. They are, in no particular order:
Wool socks have become my friend. For years I’ve never been disappointed by wool socks as Christmas gifts and have come to appreciate them sooner each fall and later each spring, usually until it grows warm enough for me to do away with socks altogether. Wool socks are especially appreciated in 2016.
Time in the kitchen is time well spent. I’ve come to enjoy cooking for my family (given I can come up with meal ideas) and get great pleasure from cooking them favorites, trying new recipes with them and especially cooking with them. As Michael Pollan says, “Is there any practice less selfish, any time less wasted than preparing something nourishing and delicious for the people you love?”
Screen time is most often wasted time. Television, smartphones and other devices have turned many of us into passive zombies. Unplug or hit the off button as often as possible, get off the couch and get outdoors — or in the kitchen as suggested above — and take control of life instead of wasting it (of course typing this right now at my laptop I’m feeling the hypocrisy of my statement).
The best gifts are those that are shared. Sure, new clothes or useful household items have their place but far more valuable is time shared — a joke, a phone call, a conversation, a walk in the sunshine. Such gifts should not be limited to just friends and families. Smile and say hello to people you meet. Hold the door for a stranger. Like they say, being a decent person costs nothing.
There are more realizations I could share but it looks like I could pretty well sum up 2016 with three simple words — time is valuable. Foremost time will be even more valuable, at least for me, in 2017 and in each year I make another revolution around the sun on this planet.
And wool socks will remain a strong second, at least as long as I live in a part of the world where it is cold enough to require socks at all. Happy New Year to you all.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
With another year almost gone from the calendar and a new one upon us, thoughts of New Year’s resolutions come to many people’s minds. To all of you making resolutions to improve your life, I wish you well.
I, however, won’t be making any New Year’s resolutions, at least no resolutions I wouldn’t also make any other time of year. As I’ve written before, if you want to improve your life or the lives of others don’t wait until a new year begins. Start right away, as soon you first think of it. Change can take place any time of year and if you’re serious about it there’s no time better than the present.
Probably second in popularity to New Year’s resolutions is a time of reflection that’s suggested this time of year in many columns, blogs and commentaries. To me a time of reflection, like resolutions, can and should take place any time of year or in one’s life. The New Year, however, provides an excellent time to look back. It’s easier to understand where you’ve been and where you want to go when you reach an obvious divide such as one marked by a new calendar.
A top 10 or top 20 list of questions to consider when reflecting on the past year is a popular topic for all sorts of writers at the end of the year. Usually these lists ask you to consider what was most enjoyable or in what ways you grew spiritually, physically or emotionally. Rather than attempt to answer a list of questions or grade myself on how well I met my goals in 2016, I instead came to a few realizations in 2016. They are, in no particular order:
Wool socks have become my friend. For years I’ve never been disappointed by wool socks as Christmas gifts and have come to appreciate them sooner each fall and later each spring, usually until it grows warm enough for me to do away with socks altogether. Wool socks are especially appreciated in 2016.
Time in the kitchen is time well spent. I’ve come to enjoy cooking for my family (given I can come up with meal ideas) and get great pleasure from cooking them favorites, trying new recipes with them and especially cooking with them. As Michael Pollan says, “Is there any practice less selfish, any time less wasted than preparing something nourishing and delicious for the people you love?”
Screen time is most often wasted time. Television, smartphones and other devices have turned many of us into passive zombies. Unplug or hit the off button as often as possible, get off the couch and get outdoors — or in the kitchen as suggested above — and take control of life instead of wasting it (of course typing this right now at my laptop I’m feeling the hypocrisy of my statement).
The best gifts are those that are shared. Sure, new clothes or useful household items have their place but far more valuable is time shared — a joke, a phone call, a conversation, a walk in the sunshine. Such gifts should not be limited to just friends and families. Smile and say hello to people you meet. Hold the door for a stranger. Like they say, being a decent person costs nothing.
There are more realizations I could share but it looks like I could pretty well sum up 2016 with three simple words — time is valuable. Foremost time will be even more valuable, at least for me, in 2017 and in each year I make another revolution around the sun on this planet.
And wool socks will remain a strong second, at least as long as I live in a part of the world where it is cold enough to require socks at all. Happy New Year to you all.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Safe travels and merry Christmas
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Christmas didn’t happen this year.
Yes, I know it isn’t Christmas yet but over the weekend we were supposed to have Christmas at my parents’ house near Branson, Mo. Instead of making the five-hour, 300-mile trip we made a five-hour, 140-mile round trip.
Our family Christmas was planned for Saturday but with the girls playing basketball Friday night we began debating early when to leave. Do we head south after the game and stay up late or get up early Saturday? After watching the weather forecasts for most the week we decided Friday night was our best bet.
Of course Friday night turned out not to be our best bet but it was certainly better than Saturday. The ice that covered the highways we traveled Friday arrived Saturday in Southwest Missouri.
As it sometimes happens this time of year weather became a factor in our plan. At first I thought the weather might work to our favor. All morning Friday I monitored three weather radar websites and the Missouri Department of Transportation’s Traveler Information Map to see what I would have to deal with when we hit the road.
For the most part I remained hopeful. Throughout the day I saw nothing but light snow outside my windows and MoDOT said the highway I planned to drive was only partially covered for about 40 miles. South of that, the roads were clear. Things were looking good, I thought.
Then early Friday afternoon, I got a notice the basketball game was cancelled and school was going to dismiss early and thought things were going to work out even better. Of course I turned out to be wrong.
My belief was an early departure would put us ahead of the worst of the weather. Instead all leaving early did was put us on the road just as the ice hit the hardest. As we headed south on Interstate 35 the highway got slicker, traffic grew heavier and slower, and soon we were seeing vehicles that had overturned or slid into a ditch.
I still mistakenly believed the roads would clear if we could get far enough south. I found out how wrong I was after we got on U.S. Highway 69, the route I take to bypass Kansas City. Less traffic, less chance of being hit by someone skidding on the ice, I thought.
A few miles south on 69 we began meeting cars and trucks stalled or spinning their tires as they tried to climb the ice covered hills. After a bit we pulled off the road to check road conditions. Things weren’t looking much better. Then a family heading north pulled over behind us and told us just as bad for the next 50 miles or so. By then we had been on the road for about two hours and had traveled only 50 miles. We decided to catch a road back to I-35 and head home.
Of course by then interstate traffic was even heavier and slower. Near a couple of exits traffic stopped altogether in both lanes for several minutes. Finally, in about the amount of time it would have taken us to visit my parents, we returned home.
Although we didn’t complete our trip we were just as tired as if we had taken one twice as long. We let our family know we weren’t going to make it this time and spent the weekend holed up out of the cold.
We will try again this weekend with another family Christmas, this time with Christy’s parents and her brother and his family. This time, though, we will be the hosts instead of the travelers.
The weather looks more favorable this time but traffic is expected to be heavy this weekend. I wish everyone safe travels and merry Christmas.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Christmas didn’t happen this year.
Yes, I know it isn’t Christmas yet but over the weekend we were supposed to have Christmas at my parents’ house near Branson, Mo. Instead of making the five-hour, 300-mile trip we made a five-hour, 140-mile round trip.
Our family Christmas was planned for Saturday but with the girls playing basketball Friday night we began debating early when to leave. Do we head south after the game and stay up late or get up early Saturday? After watching the weather forecasts for most the week we decided Friday night was our best bet.
Of course Friday night turned out not to be our best bet but it was certainly better than Saturday. The ice that covered the highways we traveled Friday arrived Saturday in Southwest Missouri.
As it sometimes happens this time of year weather became a factor in our plan. At first I thought the weather might work to our favor. All morning Friday I monitored three weather radar websites and the Missouri Department of Transportation’s Traveler Information Map to see what I would have to deal with when we hit the road.
For the most part I remained hopeful. Throughout the day I saw nothing but light snow outside my windows and MoDOT said the highway I planned to drive was only partially covered for about 40 miles. South of that, the roads were clear. Things were looking good, I thought.
Then early Friday afternoon, I got a notice the basketball game was cancelled and school was going to dismiss early and thought things were going to work out even better. Of course I turned out to be wrong.
My belief was an early departure would put us ahead of the worst of the weather. Instead all leaving early did was put us on the road just as the ice hit the hardest. As we headed south on Interstate 35 the highway got slicker, traffic grew heavier and slower, and soon we were seeing vehicles that had overturned or slid into a ditch.
I still mistakenly believed the roads would clear if we could get far enough south. I found out how wrong I was after we got on U.S. Highway 69, the route I take to bypass Kansas City. Less traffic, less chance of being hit by someone skidding on the ice, I thought.
A few miles south on 69 we began meeting cars and trucks stalled or spinning their tires as they tried to climb the ice covered hills. After a bit we pulled off the road to check road conditions. Things weren’t looking much better. Then a family heading north pulled over behind us and told us just as bad for the next 50 miles or so. By then we had been on the road for about two hours and had traveled only 50 miles. We decided to catch a road back to I-35 and head home.
Of course by then interstate traffic was even heavier and slower. Near a couple of exits traffic stopped altogether in both lanes for several minutes. Finally, in about the amount of time it would have taken us to visit my parents, we returned home.
Although we didn’t complete our trip we were just as tired as if we had taken one twice as long. We let our family know we weren’t going to make it this time and spent the weekend holed up out of the cold.
We will try again this weekend with another family Christmas, this time with Christy’s parents and her brother and his family. This time, though, we will be the hosts instead of the travelers.
The weather looks more favorable this time but traffic is expected to be heavy this weekend. I wish everyone safe travels and merry Christmas.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Could Reynolds be elected governor?
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
As a person who lives my day to day life in the public eye, both because of my career choice and who I chose to partner with for life, I generally try pretty diligently to keep my political and even social leanings to myself. I guess I figure you as my readers and our congregation deserve to make up your own minds about such things and I shouldn’t use my influence in that way. I also wouldn’t want my political ideas to negatively affect anyone’s perception of our church or this newspaper.
However, at the same time, I’m pretty sure that if anyone tried very hard, it wouldn’t be too difficult to tell what my thoughts are on most subjects. One social principal that I am not afraid to be very open about is the fact that I am proudly feminist.
I know that word scares people. I know that feminism calls to mind images of bra burnings and anarchy. I am aware that people think being a feminist is synonymous with being a man hater. But I also know that most women and even men who will call themselves feminist don’t embody any of these things.
To me, feminist means believing that women’s rights are human rights. It means that maybe my daughters won’t have to fight so hard for equality and equity as the generations before them. It means that the pay-gap and the pink tax are not only ridiculous, but outdated notions that should disappear. It means that there should not be any jobs, anywhere, at any level of authority that are not open to all people regardless of gender. If a woman has the training and is willing to lead a squadron into battle, she should. Likewise, if a man adores children and wants to make teaching kindergarten his career, people should not find that odd. I believe that men and women often think and process information in different ways and also make decisions differently. That doesn’t mean that either method is correct or superior, just different. And I believe that the best decisions happen when a variety of thoughts and opinions carry equal weight at the table. That requires men and women working together for the common good.
I was very pleased this week when I learned that Gov. Branstad has been appointed by the president-elect to serve as ambassador to China. I was pleased because I have had the opportunity on a few different occasions in the past few years to meet Lt. Gov. Kim Reynolds. I find her to be pleasant and intelligent and I got the impression that she is passionate about serving our state and its residents. I believe that she will do a fine job. But I admit, I was also pleased that come January, the State of Iowa will have its very first female governor. I love that my home will no longer be one of the few that has never had a woman fill the state’s highest office.
I had a moment though, where I wondered. If she was running for the office, rather than being promoted because of Branstad’s appointment, would she be elected? Are the people of Iowa open minded enough to recognize her for her politics and her abilities rather than her gender? I truly don’t know, and, in this case, I’m glad not to know anyone else’s political leanings either.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
As a person who lives my day to day life in the public eye, both because of my career choice and who I chose to partner with for life, I generally try pretty diligently to keep my political and even social leanings to myself. I guess I figure you as my readers and our congregation deserve to make up your own minds about such things and I shouldn’t use my influence in that way. I also wouldn’t want my political ideas to negatively affect anyone’s perception of our church or this newspaper.
However, at the same time, I’m pretty sure that if anyone tried very hard, it wouldn’t be too difficult to tell what my thoughts are on most subjects. One social principal that I am not afraid to be very open about is the fact that I am proudly feminist.
I know that word scares people. I know that feminism calls to mind images of bra burnings and anarchy. I am aware that people think being a feminist is synonymous with being a man hater. But I also know that most women and even men who will call themselves feminist don’t embody any of these things.
To me, feminist means believing that women’s rights are human rights. It means that maybe my daughters won’t have to fight so hard for equality and equity as the generations before them. It means that the pay-gap and the pink tax are not only ridiculous, but outdated notions that should disappear. It means that there should not be any jobs, anywhere, at any level of authority that are not open to all people regardless of gender. If a woman has the training and is willing to lead a squadron into battle, she should. Likewise, if a man adores children and wants to make teaching kindergarten his career, people should not find that odd. I believe that men and women often think and process information in different ways and also make decisions differently. That doesn’t mean that either method is correct or superior, just different. And I believe that the best decisions happen when a variety of thoughts and opinions carry equal weight at the table. That requires men and women working together for the common good.
I was very pleased this week when I learned that Gov. Branstad has been appointed by the president-elect to serve as ambassador to China. I was pleased because I have had the opportunity on a few different occasions in the past few years to meet Lt. Gov. Kim Reynolds. I find her to be pleasant and intelligent and I got the impression that she is passionate about serving our state and its residents. I believe that she will do a fine job. But I admit, I was also pleased that come January, the State of Iowa will have its very first female governor. I love that my home will no longer be one of the few that has never had a woman fill the state’s highest office.
I had a moment though, where I wondered. If she was running for the office, rather than being promoted because of Branstad’s appointment, would she be elected? Are the people of Iowa open minded enough to recognize her for her politics and her abilities rather than her gender? I truly don’t know, and, in this case, I’m glad not to know anyone else’s political leanings either.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Feel fuller by fasting
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
During our Thanksgiving feat, I fasted.
I know it sounds unusual but my fast, though, had nothing to do with avoiding the turkey, dressing, gravy, cranberries, pie and endless other goodies. Instead it had everything to do about avoiding social media.
I’ve never been one to constantly check my cellphone but I do usually check it in the morning and in the evening, mainly to keep up with work. And, of course, I answer it when I get texts or messages throughout the day. Most of the time, though, it rests on my desk at home so it isn’t uncommon for me to miss a call or message.
My media fast, I think, was a semi-conscious effort to avoid something I see far too often: friends and family at a restaurant, bar, party or family get-together with faces glued to their tiny screens and any socializing is taking place more on social media than in old fashioned flesh and blood (even as I write this on my front porch a man is walking in front of me down the street focused more on his phone than his surroundings).
I have nothing against cellphones. If I did I wouldn’t own one. They have their uses. In fact when we went to a restaurant with all my children and grandchildren my son received a phone call from work. He got up, walked away, handled his business and came back to join us a few seconds later.
The problem I see, though, is that too often cellphones in general and social media in particular are too often a distraction if not an outright addiction. Instead of using a cellphone too many are letting a cellphone use them. They become obsessed, so much so that they are connecting not with the people immediately around them but with whoever has just posted the most recent video, photo, song or meme on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Flickr, Vine or whatever.
Now don’t get me wrong. I didn’t totally do without my cellphone over Thanksgiving. I have an older phone that I use more for email and music than surfing the web or staying connected on social media. In fact I deleted several apps that otherwise might have kept me connected to free up space on my phone for more music or to take photos of grandchildren.
To tell you the truth, my social media fast was enjoyable, possibly even liberating. When I got home Sunday evening I checked the 200-plus emails I received and visited the social media sites friends and family sent me over those few days. And you know what? I hadn’t missed anything that couldn’t have waited until I returned home.
Those few days without distractions allowed for greater connectedness with those dear to me. I recommend a social media fast, especially for those most obsessed by Facebook, Instagram or whatever. I think you’ll discover a bit more about yourself, those you care most about and what truly matters.
Fasting, sometimes, can leave one feeling a bit fuller.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
During our Thanksgiving feat, I fasted.
I know it sounds unusual but my fast, though, had nothing to do with avoiding the turkey, dressing, gravy, cranberries, pie and endless other goodies. Instead it had everything to do about avoiding social media.
I’ve never been one to constantly check my cellphone but I do usually check it in the morning and in the evening, mainly to keep up with work. And, of course, I answer it when I get texts or messages throughout the day. Most of the time, though, it rests on my desk at home so it isn’t uncommon for me to miss a call or message.
My media fast, I think, was a semi-conscious effort to avoid something I see far too often: friends and family at a restaurant, bar, party or family get-together with faces glued to their tiny screens and any socializing is taking place more on social media than in old fashioned flesh and blood (even as I write this on my front porch a man is walking in front of me down the street focused more on his phone than his surroundings).
I have nothing against cellphones. If I did I wouldn’t own one. They have their uses. In fact when we went to a restaurant with all my children and grandchildren my son received a phone call from work. He got up, walked away, handled his business and came back to join us a few seconds later.
The problem I see, though, is that too often cellphones in general and social media in particular are too often a distraction if not an outright addiction. Instead of using a cellphone too many are letting a cellphone use them. They become obsessed, so much so that they are connecting not with the people immediately around them but with whoever has just posted the most recent video, photo, song or meme on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Flickr, Vine or whatever.
Now don’t get me wrong. I didn’t totally do without my cellphone over Thanksgiving. I have an older phone that I use more for email and music than surfing the web or staying connected on social media. In fact I deleted several apps that otherwise might have kept me connected to free up space on my phone for more music or to take photos of grandchildren.
To tell you the truth, my social media fast was enjoyable, possibly even liberating. When I got home Sunday evening I checked the 200-plus emails I received and visited the social media sites friends and family sent me over those few days. And you know what? I hadn’t missed anything that couldn’t have waited until I returned home.
Those few days without distractions allowed for greater connectedness with those dear to me. I recommend a social media fast, especially for those most obsessed by Facebook, Instagram or whatever. I think you’ll discover a bit more about yourself, those you care most about and what truly matters.
Fasting, sometimes, can leave one feeling a bit fuller.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Kindness heals many wounds
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
I have been wracking my brain for the past few days to figure out what there is to say about Christmas and parenting that I haven’t already said. Then yesterday, as I was lamenting my loss for words to Andrew, he reminded me of a great moment of parental pride we recently experienced. He suggested that I share it with you.
I am always proud of my girls, especially when they demonstrate just how sweet and kind they can be. Ava is incredibly empathetic and is devastated when someone she cares about is hurting. She will do anything she can to make the person feel better. And Brady is a kind child with a big heart who wants nothing more than for everyone to feel valued and included. I’m not really sure if these are traits that have been learned by anything special we have done as parents or if they were each just born with an extra measure of sensitivity. I kind of hope it is a little of both.
But life with a 10-year-old can be really unpredictable. Some days everything is fantastic and she is the girl I remember, other days I’m not entirely sure where the girl at the kitchen table came from. But then we have moments like the one that happened a couple of weeks ago at the Creston Family Restaurant.
Andrew’s parents had come down to enjoy Sample Corning with us and spent the night so we could do some family Christmas shopping on Saturday. After shopping, we went to lunch. As a party of six, we were seated in one of the round corner booths. We ordered our lunch and continued to chat and be silly. The waitress brought out a serving tray stacked heavily with our plates. As she attempted to set the tray on a neighboring table, it tipped, causing all of the dishes and food to crash to the floor. Mushrooms, french fries and broccoli rolled under the tables and gravy pooled in the carpet.
Our poor waitress was so embarrassed. As she and her co-workers frantically cleaned up the spills and broken glass, we tried to assure her that accidents happen and we didn’t mind waiting longer to eat. We did get more food, and eventually our waitress seemed less anxious about coming near our table again. In all it was a pleasant meal. As we finished up, the waitress stopped by the table asking if we needed anything else and let us know that our bill had been taken care of. Each adult at our table thanked her and told her again that we were not inconvenienced by the wait. And we left a generous tip, hoping that would help to soothe her anxiety over the whole situation.
Brady decided that a tip and a verbal thank you was not enough. She wanted this waitress to know that we saw her. We saw how hard she worked and how upset and embarrassed she was over a simple accident. So Brady asked for a piece of paper and a pen. She wrote a note to the waitress to leave with the tip. She wrote: “Thank you for paying for our lunch. Please don’t be embarrassed or upset about dropping the plates. Have a nice day.”
That is the kind, big-hearted girl that I know. The girl who has learned that every person and every job has value and deserves our respect. The girl who knows a kind word heals many wounds.
I know that we have worked on some of these lessons many times. I know that we will continue to work through the lessons. But for that one day — my daughter saw a person who was hurting and did what was in her power to make her feel better. And she understood that sometimes all it takes to make someone feel better is simply to see and understand.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
I have been wracking my brain for the past few days to figure out what there is to say about Christmas and parenting that I haven’t already said. Then yesterday, as I was lamenting my loss for words to Andrew, he reminded me of a great moment of parental pride we recently experienced. He suggested that I share it with you.
I am always proud of my girls, especially when they demonstrate just how sweet and kind they can be. Ava is incredibly empathetic and is devastated when someone she cares about is hurting. She will do anything she can to make the person feel better. And Brady is a kind child with a big heart who wants nothing more than for everyone to feel valued and included. I’m not really sure if these are traits that have been learned by anything special we have done as parents or if they were each just born with an extra measure of sensitivity. I kind of hope it is a little of both.
But life with a 10-year-old can be really unpredictable. Some days everything is fantastic and she is the girl I remember, other days I’m not entirely sure where the girl at the kitchen table came from. But then we have moments like the one that happened a couple of weeks ago at the Creston Family Restaurant.
Andrew’s parents had come down to enjoy Sample Corning with us and spent the night so we could do some family Christmas shopping on Saturday. After shopping, we went to lunch. As a party of six, we were seated in one of the round corner booths. We ordered our lunch and continued to chat and be silly. The waitress brought out a serving tray stacked heavily with our plates. As she attempted to set the tray on a neighboring table, it tipped, causing all of the dishes and food to crash to the floor. Mushrooms, french fries and broccoli rolled under the tables and gravy pooled in the carpet.
Our poor waitress was so embarrassed. As she and her co-workers frantically cleaned up the spills and broken glass, we tried to assure her that accidents happen and we didn’t mind waiting longer to eat. We did get more food, and eventually our waitress seemed less anxious about coming near our table again. In all it was a pleasant meal. As we finished up, the waitress stopped by the table asking if we needed anything else and let us know that our bill had been taken care of. Each adult at our table thanked her and told her again that we were not inconvenienced by the wait. And we left a generous tip, hoping that would help to soothe her anxiety over the whole situation.
Brady decided that a tip and a verbal thank you was not enough. She wanted this waitress to know that we saw her. We saw how hard she worked and how upset and embarrassed she was over a simple accident. So Brady asked for a piece of paper and a pen. She wrote a note to the waitress to leave with the tip. She wrote: “Thank you for paying for our lunch. Please don’t be embarrassed or upset about dropping the plates. Have a nice day.”
That is the kind, big-hearted girl that I know. The girl who has learned that every person and every job has value and deserves our respect. The girl who knows a kind word heals many wounds.
I know that we have worked on some of these lessons many times. I know that we will continue to work through the lessons. But for that one day — my daughter saw a person who was hurting and did what was in her power to make her feel better. And she understood that sometimes all it takes to make someone feel better is simply to see and understand.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Share the bounty
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“I woke up. I have clothes to wear. I have running water. I have food to eat. Life is good. I am thankful.” — Unknown
In this week’s Free Press you will found our annual Thanksgiving recipes written by first-grade students.
The section is something Christy and I have enjoyed annually, beginning at a newspaper we ran in Wiggins, Miss. We’ve published the special section in one form or another at every paper we had the authority to do so. It gives people a bit of amusement and cheer, something we should experience during the holidays.
And just two weeks after weary presidential election we could all use a bit of cheer and positive amusement. Even though there are many voters — maybe half if you want to be fair — who are disappointed by the outcome of the election the country will move forward. And there will continue to be protests, filibusters, name calling, fear mongering, outrageous claims and outright lies, just like there has been since this nation formed. But beginning this week and for the next few weeks I encourage everyone left and right to put aside political angst and anger and remember how fortunate we in this country and particularly this region truly are.
When you sit down with family and friends this week give sincere thanks for those around you and with you and for the blessings you share. I for one know I’ve much to be grateful for, far more than I feel I deserve.
I have family and friends who are thoughtful and caring despite the times that I haven’t been. I am grateful for them and their forgiveness. I’m happy to see that my children have similar friendships with their peers and hope that as my grandchildren mature they find such friendships too (and, I should add, I’m blessed with family that continues to grow; we gained another grandchild in 2016, this time a boy, the first grandson).
I’m healthy and able, allowing me to help those in need, those younger, older or not as fortunate. Helping others is something we can all do, even if it’s something as simple as tying a youngster’s shoelace or showing kindness with a smile. For that I am grateful too.
I have the opportunity to pursue my interests, hobbies and curiosities, whether it’s camping or hiking, traveling to a new town or state, or trying a new food. For that I’m grateful because there are many more here and around the world who do not have those same opportunities.
During Thanksgiving and throughout the Christmas holiday and the New Year, I ask everyone who reads this to remember how fortunate we are here and consider those who are less fortunate. Maybe, just maybe, if we use this time of the year to truly remember our blessings we will remember to share those blessings throughout the year.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“I woke up. I have clothes to wear. I have running water. I have food to eat. Life is good. I am thankful.” — Unknown
In this week’s Free Press you will found our annual Thanksgiving recipes written by first-grade students.
The section is something Christy and I have enjoyed annually, beginning at a newspaper we ran in Wiggins, Miss. We’ve published the special section in one form or another at every paper we had the authority to do so. It gives people a bit of amusement and cheer, something we should experience during the holidays.
And just two weeks after weary presidential election we could all use a bit of cheer and positive amusement. Even though there are many voters — maybe half if you want to be fair — who are disappointed by the outcome of the election the country will move forward. And there will continue to be protests, filibusters, name calling, fear mongering, outrageous claims and outright lies, just like there has been since this nation formed. But beginning this week and for the next few weeks I encourage everyone left and right to put aside political angst and anger and remember how fortunate we in this country and particularly this region truly are.
When you sit down with family and friends this week give sincere thanks for those around you and with you and for the blessings you share. I for one know I’ve much to be grateful for, far more than I feel I deserve.
I have family and friends who are thoughtful and caring despite the times that I haven’t been. I am grateful for them and their forgiveness. I’m happy to see that my children have similar friendships with their peers and hope that as my grandchildren mature they find such friendships too (and, I should add, I’m blessed with family that continues to grow; we gained another grandchild in 2016, this time a boy, the first grandson).
I’m healthy and able, allowing me to help those in need, those younger, older or not as fortunate. Helping others is something we can all do, even if it’s something as simple as tying a youngster’s shoelace or showing kindness with a smile. For that I am grateful too.
I have the opportunity to pursue my interests, hobbies and curiosities, whether it’s camping or hiking, traveling to a new town or state, or trying a new food. For that I’m grateful because there are many more here and around the world who do not have those same opportunities.
During Thanksgiving and throughout the Christmas holiday and the New Year, I ask everyone who reads this to remember how fortunate we are here and consider those who are less fortunate. Maybe, just maybe, if we use this time of the year to truly remember our blessings we will remember to share those blessings throughout the year.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Today’s safety concerns can be disheartening
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
This week, as I am supposed to be focused on all the things that I am thankful for, I find myself feeling a little bit discouraged. Discouraged might not even be the right word, more disheartened.
We received a letter home with the girls last week from their principal at Corning Elementary. This Tuesday, before Thanksgiving break, the kids at Corning Elementary will participate in an active intruder drill followed by a lighthearted, fun meet and greet with local law enforcement.
I truly am grateful for the way the school has decided to approach and handle this. I am not at all disappointed in them. I am, however, very disheartened that this is the world my children live in.
A world where my sweet girls have to think about how to survive a shooter in their school building. A world that sometimes feels like hate and divisiveness overshadows tolerance and acceptance. Maybe parents in the 1980s did a better job of sheltering their kids from the ugliness of the world, but I don’t remember the world I grew up in to be anything like this.
I remember the world celebrating things like the fall of the Berlin Wall, and grieving together over the Challenger. There were wars — The Cold War that raged on silently throughout my childhood and Operation Desert Storm that captured our attention for a few months in the middle of fifth grade. I remember knowing so little about the what and why of the Cold War that every time I heard those words, I envisioned something like a massive snowball fight. In general and in specific — these things didn’t affect my life and barely registered on my list of childhood concerns.
Once in fourth grade we had to put our drills into action when a tornado came through our town. We sat in the hallway against the lockers with our heads covered by our clasped hands for little over 20 minutes that afternoon. At my end of the building, teachers were trying to keep kids from poking each other and giggling. We weren’t scared, instead we fussed that we were still there even though the school day had already ended.
Now, I have two elementary school aged daughters who are more aware of the evil and violence in the world than I was a high school freshman. Ava has told me no less than 15 times over the past week about their preparations for the drill. This is the same child that has never once mentioned a fire or tornado drill — though I know they practice those multiple times every year. I hate that my kiddos even have to wonder if one day they will be unsafe at their school. I trust that our school district is doing everything to keep all of our kids safe. And I appreciate that they are responding to the world as it is. I just wish the world was a different place.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
This week, as I am supposed to be focused on all the things that I am thankful for, I find myself feeling a little bit discouraged. Discouraged might not even be the right word, more disheartened.
We received a letter home with the girls last week from their principal at Corning Elementary. This Tuesday, before Thanksgiving break, the kids at Corning Elementary will participate in an active intruder drill followed by a lighthearted, fun meet and greet with local law enforcement.
I truly am grateful for the way the school has decided to approach and handle this. I am not at all disappointed in them. I am, however, very disheartened that this is the world my children live in.
A world where my sweet girls have to think about how to survive a shooter in their school building. A world that sometimes feels like hate and divisiveness overshadows tolerance and acceptance. Maybe parents in the 1980s did a better job of sheltering their kids from the ugliness of the world, but I don’t remember the world I grew up in to be anything like this.
I remember the world celebrating things like the fall of the Berlin Wall, and grieving together over the Challenger. There were wars — The Cold War that raged on silently throughout my childhood and Operation Desert Storm that captured our attention for a few months in the middle of fifth grade. I remember knowing so little about the what and why of the Cold War that every time I heard those words, I envisioned something like a massive snowball fight. In general and in specific — these things didn’t affect my life and barely registered on my list of childhood concerns.
Once in fourth grade we had to put our drills into action when a tornado came through our town. We sat in the hallway against the lockers with our heads covered by our clasped hands for little over 20 minutes that afternoon. At my end of the building, teachers were trying to keep kids from poking each other and giggling. We weren’t scared, instead we fussed that we were still there even though the school day had already ended.
Now, I have two elementary school aged daughters who are more aware of the evil and violence in the world than I was a high school freshman. Ava has told me no less than 15 times over the past week about their preparations for the drill. This is the same child that has never once mentioned a fire or tornado drill — though I know they practice those multiple times every year. I hate that my kiddos even have to wonder if one day they will be unsafe at their school. I trust that our school district is doing everything to keep all of our kids safe. And I appreciate that they are responding to the world as it is. I just wish the world was a different place.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fall’s bounties have been plentiful
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
November already? The only signs that it really is November are Daylight Saving Time, Election Day and stores with half-priced Halloween candy.
Halfway through the month and I’m still doing a great deal of my writing with the laptop on the front porch — without shoes and wearing shorts and a t-shirt. About the only things autumn-like are crisp mornings and fallen leaves.
It’s been an enjoyable fall, at least weather-wise. The warm, dry weather has been a boon to grain producers, who are looking at a record-high harvest. Of course a good harvest brings other concerns such as lower grain prices and storage but that’s how the market works.
But I’m not a farmer and have only a rudimentary understanding of grain commodity prices and how the market works. I do know, however, that as a vegetable gardener I’ve had better success this year than in the past. Even Sunday after, a couple of earlier frosts, I found one last surviving tomato large enough to slice for a sandwich.
Our bell and banana peppers grew extremely well this year. After giving away probably a peck of peppers at church we still have nearly as many ourselves as well as a few pints of pickled peppers. Our pole beans took off too, so much so that I eventually gave up and left them to dry on the trellis. I’ve probably got a gallon or so left to let dry before cleaning so we have plenty to boil this winter and plant again next spring.
We still have plenty of romaine lettuce and onions in the garden. We’ll have plenty for salad as long as I remember to cover the lettuce or harvest it all before a hard frost. The onions will last all winter; they always have in the past.
It hasn’t been all good on the garden front this year, though. Of the leeks I planted only one came up. I struck out on jalapenos too and the birds beat me to both the strawberries and blackberries this year.
I’ve also had to mow the lawn a little bit longer than I had imagined this fall. I need to mow one final time to clean up the leaves and trim the grass to top off the compost pile. The problem is I’ve been a bit lackadaisical about it. It seems I’ve been a bit busy just enjoying the weather, fall’s colors and a bountiful season.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
November already? The only signs that it really is November are Daylight Saving Time, Election Day and stores with half-priced Halloween candy.
Halfway through the month and I’m still doing a great deal of my writing with the laptop on the front porch — without shoes and wearing shorts and a t-shirt. About the only things autumn-like are crisp mornings and fallen leaves.
It’s been an enjoyable fall, at least weather-wise. The warm, dry weather has been a boon to grain producers, who are looking at a record-high harvest. Of course a good harvest brings other concerns such as lower grain prices and storage but that’s how the market works.
But I’m not a farmer and have only a rudimentary understanding of grain commodity prices and how the market works. I do know, however, that as a vegetable gardener I’ve had better success this year than in the past. Even Sunday after, a couple of earlier frosts, I found one last surviving tomato large enough to slice for a sandwich.
Our bell and banana peppers grew extremely well this year. After giving away probably a peck of peppers at church we still have nearly as many ourselves as well as a few pints of pickled peppers. Our pole beans took off too, so much so that I eventually gave up and left them to dry on the trellis. I’ve probably got a gallon or so left to let dry before cleaning so we have plenty to boil this winter and plant again next spring.
We still have plenty of romaine lettuce and onions in the garden. We’ll have plenty for salad as long as I remember to cover the lettuce or harvest it all before a hard frost. The onions will last all winter; they always have in the past.
It hasn’t been all good on the garden front this year, though. Of the leeks I planted only one came up. I struck out on jalapenos too and the birds beat me to both the strawberries and blackberries this year.
I’ve also had to mow the lawn a little bit longer than I had imagined this fall. I need to mow one final time to clean up the leaves and trim the grass to top off the compost pile. The problem is I’ve been a bit lackadaisical about it. It seems I’ve been a bit busy just enjoying the weather, fall’s colors and a bountiful season.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Campaign stench unlikely to clear soon
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Election Day, Nov. 8, is now behind us but regardless of who won — if we have a true winner yet — the aftermath of the 2016 presidential race is likely to remain uncertain for quite some time.
I write this column now, the day before the election, knowing that even though I’ll be waiting for numbers to roll in from precincts across the nation I might be better advised to hold off until the votes are counted to comment on this long, exhausting, bizarre election.
This morning I read in a daily newspaper Greene County, Mo., plans to station plainclothes sheriff’s deputies at about 45 polling places there.
“In this setting, with everything that, in terms of just the emotions around the election, some of the things we’ve seen happen, we thought it would be good to have a presence,” county clerk Shane Schoeller said. “Not on the outside — we don’t want anyone to have any intimidation in terms of entering the polling location — but certainly there at the back, as people are coming in, there to assist and be helpful.”
Greene County isn’t the only place concerned about polling site security. States like North Carolina are also meeting with law enforcement to work to make Election Day peaceful. California voting rights advocates plan to monitor more polling places than usual because of concerns of voter intimidation.
Election Day in a democratic nation shouldn’t require added security at polling places but it appears that’s what we’ve come to. Claims of rigged voting, Russian hacking, voter fraud and uncounted votes — along with a mistrust of the news media, government in general and the entire electoral process — have brought us to this point.
This election has been filled with name calling and bombast, outrageous claims and FBI investigations, ethnic concerns and missing emails, all of which have helped polarize both the Trump camp and the Clinton camp and incite racial slurs, physical attacks and at least one firebombing of a GOP office.
There’s a lot of fear and hate and anger out there, so much so that on Saturday Christy and I voted absentee to try to put this election behind us. I’ve been trying to stay away from social media as much as possible and clicking “See fewer posts like this” and hiding links to outlandish political sites.
As anxious voters — many of them figuratively holding their noses —go the polls on Election Day to cast their ballots either for or against I’ll be following the results as they come in, hoping 2016 ends better and quicker than Bush vs. Gore in 2000. Hopefully by Wednesday an historic election — where we either have our first woman president or our first former reality TV star president — will be over.
Unfortunately I suspect the fear, anger and hate will remain and that even with a clear winner the stench of the 2016 presidential campaign will linger for quite some time.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Election Day, Nov. 8, is now behind us but regardless of who won — if we have a true winner yet — the aftermath of the 2016 presidential race is likely to remain uncertain for quite some time.
I write this column now, the day before the election, knowing that even though I’ll be waiting for numbers to roll in from precincts across the nation I might be better advised to hold off until the votes are counted to comment on this long, exhausting, bizarre election.
This morning I read in a daily newspaper Greene County, Mo., plans to station plainclothes sheriff’s deputies at about 45 polling places there.
“In this setting, with everything that, in terms of just the emotions around the election, some of the things we’ve seen happen, we thought it would be good to have a presence,” county clerk Shane Schoeller said. “Not on the outside — we don’t want anyone to have any intimidation in terms of entering the polling location — but certainly there at the back, as people are coming in, there to assist and be helpful.”
Greene County isn’t the only place concerned about polling site security. States like North Carolina are also meeting with law enforcement to work to make Election Day peaceful. California voting rights advocates plan to monitor more polling places than usual because of concerns of voter intimidation.
Election Day in a democratic nation shouldn’t require added security at polling places but it appears that’s what we’ve come to. Claims of rigged voting, Russian hacking, voter fraud and uncounted votes — along with a mistrust of the news media, government in general and the entire electoral process — have brought us to this point.
This election has been filled with name calling and bombast, outrageous claims and FBI investigations, ethnic concerns and missing emails, all of which have helped polarize both the Trump camp and the Clinton camp and incite racial slurs, physical attacks and at least one firebombing of a GOP office.
There’s a lot of fear and hate and anger out there, so much so that on Saturday Christy and I voted absentee to try to put this election behind us. I’ve been trying to stay away from social media as much as possible and clicking “See fewer posts like this” and hiding links to outlandish political sites.
As anxious voters — many of them figuratively holding their noses —go the polls on Election Day to cast their ballots either for or against I’ll be following the results as they come in, hoping 2016 ends better and quicker than Bush vs. Gore in 2000. Hopefully by Wednesday an historic election — where we either have our first woman president or our first former reality TV star president — will be over.
Unfortunately I suspect the fear, anger and hate will remain and that even with a clear winner the stench of the 2016 presidential campaign will linger for quite some time.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Reclaiming childhood joys
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
As I walked through Central Park and along Benton on my way to a photo op today, I found myself smiling as I heard the leaves crackle under my feet. Before I knew it, I realized that I was shuffling my feet through the piles accumulated in the gutters.
I am pretty sure that sometime in my teens I lost the joy of crunching through the fallen leaves, watching bubbles float by, playing in sand and catching fireflies. But then, I had children. As I have watched my girls discover all these and many other little wonders of the world, I have rediscovered my own simple joys, and found a few new ones — like the first sip of a great cup of tea, reading a book into the wee hours of the morning or bubble baths by candlelight.
As a mom, I want my kids to experience as many fun and silly moments as possible. And I want to play right along with them. Except in snow — I am still not a fan of the cold, no matter how gleeful they are while sledding and building snowmen. But believe me, I always have the hot chocolate and marshmallows ready when they come in. In the past 10 years I have jumped in rain puddles, rolled down hills, blown millions of bubbles, read about a surly llama or a curious monkey dozens of times, sang every Veggie Tales song ever written, licked brownie batter from the spoon and filled my living room with blanket forts. I’ve chased fireflies, created Play-Doh masterpieces, drank hundreds of tiny cups of “tea” and babysat plastic grandchildren. And all these little joys have filled my days with so much fun. To look at the world around me with child’s eyes has renewed some of my sense of wonder.
The past two weeks in Sunday school we have talked a bit about what Jesus meant when he encouraged others to have faith like a child. We came to the conclusion that childlike faith is untainted, trusting and simple. Children, especially very young children, believe the best in every person and every situation.
I usually spend this space urging you to try something new to teach your kids how to grow into responsible, productive adults. Today, I encourage you, dear reader, to learn from the children in your life. Learn how to see the world through their eyes. Learn about what is important to them — yes that may mean listening to a very long explanation of Minecraft or Ever After High – but they will learn that you care enough about them to understand what they love. Remember how to find shapes in the clouds or try to name all the colors in the sunset.
In this season of political exhaustion and fear — spend some time with a child and learn once again how to be truly silly and deeply joyful.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
As I walked through Central Park and along Benton on my way to a photo op today, I found myself smiling as I heard the leaves crackle under my feet. Before I knew it, I realized that I was shuffling my feet through the piles accumulated in the gutters.
I am pretty sure that sometime in my teens I lost the joy of crunching through the fallen leaves, watching bubbles float by, playing in sand and catching fireflies. But then, I had children. As I have watched my girls discover all these and many other little wonders of the world, I have rediscovered my own simple joys, and found a few new ones — like the first sip of a great cup of tea, reading a book into the wee hours of the morning or bubble baths by candlelight.
As a mom, I want my kids to experience as many fun and silly moments as possible. And I want to play right along with them. Except in snow — I am still not a fan of the cold, no matter how gleeful they are while sledding and building snowmen. But believe me, I always have the hot chocolate and marshmallows ready when they come in. In the past 10 years I have jumped in rain puddles, rolled down hills, blown millions of bubbles, read about a surly llama or a curious monkey dozens of times, sang every Veggie Tales song ever written, licked brownie batter from the spoon and filled my living room with blanket forts. I’ve chased fireflies, created Play-Doh masterpieces, drank hundreds of tiny cups of “tea” and babysat plastic grandchildren. And all these little joys have filled my days with so much fun. To look at the world around me with child’s eyes has renewed some of my sense of wonder.
The past two weeks in Sunday school we have talked a bit about what Jesus meant when he encouraged others to have faith like a child. We came to the conclusion that childlike faith is untainted, trusting and simple. Children, especially very young children, believe the best in every person and every situation.
I usually spend this space urging you to try something new to teach your kids how to grow into responsible, productive adults. Today, I encourage you, dear reader, to learn from the children in your life. Learn how to see the world through their eyes. Learn about what is important to them — yes that may mean listening to a very long explanation of Minecraft or Ever After High – but they will learn that you care enough about them to understand what they love. Remember how to find shapes in the clouds or try to name all the colors in the sunset.
In this season of political exhaustion and fear — spend some time with a child and learn once again how to be truly silly and deeply joyful.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Make the most of Halloween
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Halloween just isn’t the same anymore.
It all started a few years back when our two youngest became old enough to go trick or treating with parent supervision. Now Halloween for them means getting together with their friends and watching horror movies, if they do that at all.
It looks like our home is going to be the place for this year’s scary movie night, which that’s fine and all but I kind of miss walking around the neighborhood on a cool fall evening when all the youngsters are out in costume running from house to house. It’s fun to run into kids you know to see what they’re dressed as or trying to guess who is hiding behind a mask.
For a few years we were fortunate enough to help the granddaughters collect Halloween candy. That, I’m sad to say, hasn’t happened in a while. With two still in high school and grandchildren nearly 300 miles away visiting isn’t as simple as heading to the next town over though I wish it was, especially with a new grandson and his first Halloween.
Fortunately now with social media and things like FaceTime grandparents like me can at least get a timely look at grandchildren’s Halloween costumes. Still, it isn’t the same as being there.
It’s enjoyable to see the excitement children have when carving a pumpkin, putting on their costume for the first time or sorting through a bag of goodies they’ve collected. We still get to see that excitement when trick-or-treaters come to our house. If it’s warm enough we usually set on the front porch to greet the little ghosts and goblins as they arrive. We always like to have a variety of treats available so that there’s something for everyone.
Halloween excitement in downtown Corning will take place this year on Oct. 28 with the fourth annual Safe Trick or Treat Night. Activities begin at 4 p.m. with Pics and Treats at Extreme Images by Ashley. Registration for the trick or treating and the fall carnival will begin at 5 p.m. in Central Park. The event will include a costume contest, a pumpkin patch in Central Park, a hot dog feed sponsored by the Corning Fire Department, Pics and Treats by Extreme Images by Ashley, and inflatable fun and Business Scavenger Hunt by Main Street Corning. The trick or treaters will register in Central Park and receive an official Main Street Corning trick or trick bag and wrist band.
Halloween excitement at our house begins Oct. 29 when an unknown amount of hungry teens take over our living room, dining room and kitchen. Then, if we survive that, we’ll be ready again with treats on Halloween itself. I’m hoping that somehow after scary movie night and trick or treating there’s enough candy leftover for me.
Have a safe and happy Halloween.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Halloween just isn’t the same anymore.
It all started a few years back when our two youngest became old enough to go trick or treating with parent supervision. Now Halloween for them means getting together with their friends and watching horror movies, if they do that at all.
It looks like our home is going to be the place for this year’s scary movie night, which that’s fine and all but I kind of miss walking around the neighborhood on a cool fall evening when all the youngsters are out in costume running from house to house. It’s fun to run into kids you know to see what they’re dressed as or trying to guess who is hiding behind a mask.
For a few years we were fortunate enough to help the granddaughters collect Halloween candy. That, I’m sad to say, hasn’t happened in a while. With two still in high school and grandchildren nearly 300 miles away visiting isn’t as simple as heading to the next town over though I wish it was, especially with a new grandson and his first Halloween.
Fortunately now with social media and things like FaceTime grandparents like me can at least get a timely look at grandchildren’s Halloween costumes. Still, it isn’t the same as being there.
It’s enjoyable to see the excitement children have when carving a pumpkin, putting on their costume for the first time or sorting through a bag of goodies they’ve collected. We still get to see that excitement when trick-or-treaters come to our house. If it’s warm enough we usually set on the front porch to greet the little ghosts and goblins as they arrive. We always like to have a variety of treats available so that there’s something for everyone.
Halloween excitement in downtown Corning will take place this year on Oct. 28 with the fourth annual Safe Trick or Treat Night. Activities begin at 4 p.m. with Pics and Treats at Extreme Images by Ashley. Registration for the trick or treating and the fall carnival will begin at 5 p.m. in Central Park. The event will include a costume contest, a pumpkin patch in Central Park, a hot dog feed sponsored by the Corning Fire Department, Pics and Treats by Extreme Images by Ashley, and inflatable fun and Business Scavenger Hunt by Main Street Corning. The trick or treaters will register in Central Park and receive an official Main Street Corning trick or trick bag and wrist band.
Halloween excitement at our house begins Oct. 29 when an unknown amount of hungry teens take over our living room, dining room and kitchen. Then, if we survive that, we’ll be ready again with treats on Halloween itself. I’m hoping that somehow after scary movie night and trick or treating there’s enough candy leftover for me.
Have a safe and happy Halloween.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Humanity rings true in books
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
Earlier this week I was cruising on Facebook and came across a Reddit thread about avid readers. The central point of the post was that true book lovers can’t choose a single favorite book, because in one way or another they all become a part of you. As an avid reader myself, I will have to agree with that. I get lost in the story, but I also find myself in so many classic characters.
I found an appreciation for the wide-open spaces filled with never ending grain fields reading My Antonia. But, like Gulliver, I still have a yearning to travel.
Hester Pryne and I have the same fatal flaw — pride. Like Anne Shirley, I am bright, curious, a little awkward and fiercely loyal. I have a deep and abiding love for both reading and writing, not unlike Jo March. Yet, Jo isn’t the only March sister I identify with. I am an optimist like Beth, and I have a touch of Meg’s practicality. Amy is the sister who I love to hate — burning Jo’s manuscript is simply unforgiveable — but I too am a bit petulant at times.
I have escaped the French Revolution under the protection of the mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel. I’ve daydreamed of a better life along with Sara Crewe and Becky in the attic of Miss Minchin’s London boarding school. I’ve mourned for Piggy and the loss of innocence when chaos is allowed to reign. I’ve schemed with Emma Woodhouse and wept with Tess over many injustices.
I have stood in the court and listened to Shylock’s impassioned speech, realizing that despite many differences, we are all human at our core and that makes us more alike than not. And I’ve helped the Pevensie children defeat the White Witch, find Aslan and restore Narnia from endless winter.
One of my earliest memories involves curling up in the corner of the sofa eagerly anticipating victory with Matilda Wormwood. Not only did she outsmart her rotten parents, that tiny girl got the upper hand with the giant Ms. Trunchbull. For my 7-year-old self — that was exhilarating.
I am currently spending my nights with Francie Nolan. We sit in a tree growing out of the concrete in a Williamsburg tenement and read together. Both of us eager to learn about the world that we cannot see.
I read a bit of current literature, but generally I prefer to stick with books that have been around longer than I have. I feel like they give me a window into a world that I haven’t had the opportunity to know. The authors of these stories couldn’t fathom today’s society, culture or technology — yet their assessment of humanity still rings true today. I have found pieces of myself in many stories and each of them helps me on my journey of self-discovery.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected]
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
Earlier this week I was cruising on Facebook and came across a Reddit thread about avid readers. The central point of the post was that true book lovers can’t choose a single favorite book, because in one way or another they all become a part of you. As an avid reader myself, I will have to agree with that. I get lost in the story, but I also find myself in so many classic characters.
I found an appreciation for the wide-open spaces filled with never ending grain fields reading My Antonia. But, like Gulliver, I still have a yearning to travel.
Hester Pryne and I have the same fatal flaw — pride. Like Anne Shirley, I am bright, curious, a little awkward and fiercely loyal. I have a deep and abiding love for both reading and writing, not unlike Jo March. Yet, Jo isn’t the only March sister I identify with. I am an optimist like Beth, and I have a touch of Meg’s practicality. Amy is the sister who I love to hate — burning Jo’s manuscript is simply unforgiveable — but I too am a bit petulant at times.
I have escaped the French Revolution under the protection of the mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel. I’ve daydreamed of a better life along with Sara Crewe and Becky in the attic of Miss Minchin’s London boarding school. I’ve mourned for Piggy and the loss of innocence when chaos is allowed to reign. I’ve schemed with Emma Woodhouse and wept with Tess over many injustices.
I have stood in the court and listened to Shylock’s impassioned speech, realizing that despite many differences, we are all human at our core and that makes us more alike than not. And I’ve helped the Pevensie children defeat the White Witch, find Aslan and restore Narnia from endless winter.
One of my earliest memories involves curling up in the corner of the sofa eagerly anticipating victory with Matilda Wormwood. Not only did she outsmart her rotten parents, that tiny girl got the upper hand with the giant Ms. Trunchbull. For my 7-year-old self — that was exhilarating.
I am currently spending my nights with Francie Nolan. We sit in a tree growing out of the concrete in a Williamsburg tenement and read together. Both of us eager to learn about the world that we cannot see.
I read a bit of current literature, but generally I prefer to stick with books that have been around longer than I have. I feel like they give me a window into a world that I haven’t had the opportunity to know. The authors of these stories couldn’t fathom today’s society, culture or technology — yet their assessment of humanity still rings true today. I have found pieces of myself in many stories and each of them helps me on my journey of self-discovery.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected]
Support builds resilience
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
About a month ago, I sat with all the new teachers in our district as well as those teachers who have shifted to new support and leadership positions within the district. Since I sat and talked with at-risk coordinator Liz Timmerman, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about my own childhood experiences.
Liz told me that one of the things she focuses her time and efforts on are the children in our district who are experiencing Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs). These include situations like violence in the home, food insecurity, parental incarceration, mental illness, substance abuse and separation or divorce. In 1998, an obesity clinic conducted a study evaluating the connection between ACEs and adult risk factors for chronic disease. The Centers for Disease Control conducted their own study of 17,000 participants, mostly white, middle and upper class, college-educated people from San Diego with good jobs and access to quality healthcare. Two thirds of the participants had a score of at least one ACE, 87 percent had more than one.
The study asks 10 questions, each affirmative response carries 1 point. Any score of 4 or more is considered high. The more ACEs a person experiences, the greater their risk for alcoholism, chronic depression, liver disease, perpetrating domestic violence, smoking, teen sexual behaviors — including pregnancy, suicide attempts and impaired work performance. Now, these ACEs can be counteracted by a person’s resilience score. This score is determined by 14 factors of support present in a child’s life.
My childhood was pretty rocky at times, so I was curious about my scores. My ACE score is 6. But my resilience score is 10. When I originally learned of these ACEs from Liz, I realized that of the few experiences she listed, I identified most of them in my childhood. Immediately I was flooded with a pair of emotions — sadness and pride. Yes, I had a rocky childhood filled with various forms of abuse, but I turned out to be a relatively well-adjusted, functional member of society as an adult. I think the primary reason that I have been able to move forward and lead the life I want to lead is because I had a great deal of support from my mom and our extended family. I also had a great school system that was aware of the trauma in my life and provided the support and structure I needed to thrive.
Thinking of my own ACEs has motivated me to take action and be that supportive adult for the children within my sphere of influence. The only ACE scores I have any impact on are those of my own daughters. I can try to ensure that their scores remain low. But I can have an impact on the resilience scores of every child I interact with.
When children feel that adults care about them and are concerned about their experiences, they feel more secure and are better equipped to handle trauma. Make an effort with your children’s friends — get to know them, ask about their day and offer support through their rough patches. Visit with children at church or in your neighborhood and attend their school or sports activities. And most of all, as parents, grandparents or other extended family — make it abundantly clear to the kids in your life that they are loved and valued. Supported kids are resilient.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
About a month ago, I sat with all the new teachers in our district as well as those teachers who have shifted to new support and leadership positions within the district. Since I sat and talked with at-risk coordinator Liz Timmerman, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about my own childhood experiences.
Liz told me that one of the things she focuses her time and efforts on are the children in our district who are experiencing Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs). These include situations like violence in the home, food insecurity, parental incarceration, mental illness, substance abuse and separation or divorce. In 1998, an obesity clinic conducted a study evaluating the connection between ACEs and adult risk factors for chronic disease. The Centers for Disease Control conducted their own study of 17,000 participants, mostly white, middle and upper class, college-educated people from San Diego with good jobs and access to quality healthcare. Two thirds of the participants had a score of at least one ACE, 87 percent had more than one.
The study asks 10 questions, each affirmative response carries 1 point. Any score of 4 or more is considered high. The more ACEs a person experiences, the greater their risk for alcoholism, chronic depression, liver disease, perpetrating domestic violence, smoking, teen sexual behaviors — including pregnancy, suicide attempts and impaired work performance. Now, these ACEs can be counteracted by a person’s resilience score. This score is determined by 14 factors of support present in a child’s life.
My childhood was pretty rocky at times, so I was curious about my scores. My ACE score is 6. But my resilience score is 10. When I originally learned of these ACEs from Liz, I realized that of the few experiences she listed, I identified most of them in my childhood. Immediately I was flooded with a pair of emotions — sadness and pride. Yes, I had a rocky childhood filled with various forms of abuse, but I turned out to be a relatively well-adjusted, functional member of society as an adult. I think the primary reason that I have been able to move forward and lead the life I want to lead is because I had a great deal of support from my mom and our extended family. I also had a great school system that was aware of the trauma in my life and provided the support and structure I needed to thrive.
Thinking of my own ACEs has motivated me to take action and be that supportive adult for the children within my sphere of influence. The only ACE scores I have any impact on are those of my own daughters. I can try to ensure that their scores remain low. But I can have an impact on the resilience scores of every child I interact with.
When children feel that adults care about them and are concerned about their experiences, they feel more secure and are better equipped to handle trauma. Make an effort with your children’s friends — get to know them, ask about their day and offer support through their rough patches. Visit with children at church or in your neighborhood and attend their school or sports activities. And most of all, as parents, grandparents or other extended family — make it abundantly clear to the kids in your life that they are loved and valued. Supported kids are resilient.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fall enjoyable for many reasons
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Autumn has arrived and with its cooler weather many are looking forward to the season’s changing colors, a bountiful harvest, crisp evenings, Halloween, pumpkin spice everything, sweaters and sweatshirts, geese overhead and all else that fall brings.
I, however, am just grateful it has cooled off enough to begin sleeping in our upstairs bedroom instead of in the basement.
Each fall we migrate back upstairs as soon as overnight temperatures fall enough to make sleeping in our bedroom comfortable again. You see, we have a 100 or so year old home with heating and air just on the ground floor so when daytime highs climb much above the low 80s our bedroom becomes like an oven. It isn’t until it cools off again and we can pull hot air from the bedroom with an attic fan that we can sleep in comfort again.
We have another sort of bedroom area in the basement where we sleep during the summer. It’s not a bad arrangement but it certainly has its drawbacks.
For one thing the bed we sleep on in the basement is smaller, older and not nearly as comfortable as our queen bed upstairs. The basement bed has a metal frame and wooden slats that creak with each movement making a far from quiet sleeping environment.
A creaky bed is just one noise disturbance to deal with in the basement though. Our heat and air blower is also in the basement so we get to hear it kick on and off all night as it works to cool the ground floor rooms. Of course all the heating and air ductwork is also in the basement so just a few feet from our heads we can hear condensation drip from one of the air ducts.
Sleeping in the basement also means hearing every time a sink is turned on or the toilet is flushed because like the air ducts the plumbing can be easily seen and heard from our bed. There’s also little chance of sleeping late while in the basement. First of all our youngest is an early riser so as soon as she is up and looking for something to eat we hear every step she takes on the wooden floor above our heads. Secondly because of the ductwork and the layout of the basement our bed there faces east so unless it’s overcast we’re almost always greeted by the morning sun.
This summer sleeping in the basement seemed to be an even greater challenge than those of summers past. Part of it came from those cool stretches of weather that would allow us to sleep in our actual bedroom instead of the basement. What should have been more restful was only confusing because at times I would wake up in the middle of the night and wonder at first if I was in our bedroom or in the basement.
I’m happy to say, though, it looks like we’ll be in our bedroom again until next summer, barring any unusual weather. We slept upstairs Sunday evening. I took advantage of the autumn weather and went to bed a little after 9 p.m. and not waking up until nearly 12 hours later.
Now if only we could get a good frost to get rid of flies, ticks and mosquitoes …
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Autumn has arrived and with its cooler weather many are looking forward to the season’s changing colors, a bountiful harvest, crisp evenings, Halloween, pumpkin spice everything, sweaters and sweatshirts, geese overhead and all else that fall brings.
I, however, am just grateful it has cooled off enough to begin sleeping in our upstairs bedroom instead of in the basement.
Each fall we migrate back upstairs as soon as overnight temperatures fall enough to make sleeping in our bedroom comfortable again. You see, we have a 100 or so year old home with heating and air just on the ground floor so when daytime highs climb much above the low 80s our bedroom becomes like an oven. It isn’t until it cools off again and we can pull hot air from the bedroom with an attic fan that we can sleep in comfort again.
We have another sort of bedroom area in the basement where we sleep during the summer. It’s not a bad arrangement but it certainly has its drawbacks.
For one thing the bed we sleep on in the basement is smaller, older and not nearly as comfortable as our queen bed upstairs. The basement bed has a metal frame and wooden slats that creak with each movement making a far from quiet sleeping environment.
A creaky bed is just one noise disturbance to deal with in the basement though. Our heat and air blower is also in the basement so we get to hear it kick on and off all night as it works to cool the ground floor rooms. Of course all the heating and air ductwork is also in the basement so just a few feet from our heads we can hear condensation drip from one of the air ducts.
Sleeping in the basement also means hearing every time a sink is turned on or the toilet is flushed because like the air ducts the plumbing can be easily seen and heard from our bed. There’s also little chance of sleeping late while in the basement. First of all our youngest is an early riser so as soon as she is up and looking for something to eat we hear every step she takes on the wooden floor above our heads. Secondly because of the ductwork and the layout of the basement our bed there faces east so unless it’s overcast we’re almost always greeted by the morning sun.
This summer sleeping in the basement seemed to be an even greater challenge than those of summers past. Part of it came from those cool stretches of weather that would allow us to sleep in our actual bedroom instead of the basement. What should have been more restful was only confusing because at times I would wake up in the middle of the night and wonder at first if I was in our bedroom or in the basement.
I’m happy to say, though, it looks like we’ll be in our bedroom again until next summer, barring any unusual weather. We slept upstairs Sunday evening. I took advantage of the autumn weather and went to bed a little after 9 p.m. and not waking up until nearly 12 hours later.
Now if only we could get a good frost to get rid of flies, ticks and mosquitoes …
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’t forget to read a book during Banned Book Week
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Long before I could even read I enjoyed books. I know this because my parents have told me about reading to me as a child. “Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” “Little Red Riding Hood” and “The Three Little Pigs” were, I’m told, favorites of mine.
After I learned to read there was rarely a time I didn’t have a book in my hands. I read everything. Biographies, comic books, classics — even the backs of cereal boxes was worthwhile to me. But there’s one book from my childhood that stands out as a favorite, one that I have read more times than any other. That book was Mark Twain’s “Huckleberry Finn.”
My grandfather turned me on to Mark Twain when I was very young, about the second grade if I remember right. He gave me an old worn copy of “Huckleberry Finn.” To me, it was just an adventure story about a boy and his friend as they made their way down the Mississippi River. It wasn’t until years later I discovered not everyone was as enamored by the book as I was.
In college I signed up for a course titled Banned Books. My classmates and I read “Huckleberry Finn.” We also read “The Catcher in the Rye,” “To Kill a Mockingbird,” “1984,” “Of Mice and Men,” “Catch-22,” “A Brave New World” and a host of other books that over the years I have read and reread several times. Those books, now classics and included in many high school and college literature courses, were all at one time or another the targets of individuals or groups who wanted them banned.
I took that class about 30 years ago. At the time I and some of my classmates thought it ludicrous someone could feel so challenged or sure enough of himself to want to limit someone’s right of free expression by wanting to ban a book he disagreed with. Today, 30 years later, I still feel the same.
Next week, Sept. 25-Oct. 1, is Banned Books Week and, believe it or not, books by Steinbeck, Salinger, Orwell and Huxley are still the targets of censorship attempts. Unfortunately, those authors are no longer alone. They have been joined by other writers like J.K. Rowling and Annette Curtis Klause, the authors of the Harry Potter books and “Blood and Chocolate.”
I’ve never read any of the Harry Potter books, nor have I seen the movies. I also haven’t read “Blood and Chocolate” and probably never will. I’ve learned enough about them to decide they’re not the kind of books I’m interested in reading. But even though I have no interest in those authors or their books I also realize there are others who do enjoy them and they should be allowed to read them. A free society cannot infringe upon the ideas or beliefs of others.
And that is the goal of Banned Books Week: celebrating the freedom to choose or the freedom to express one’s opinion. Banned Books Week is a week to remind people that we are a people with a wide variety of different opinions, ideas and beliefs — some of which are unpopular or unorthodox — and that no individual has the right to infringe upon those opinions, ideas or beliefs. That’s why freedom of speech and freedom of religion are so closely related in the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.
So take the time during Banned Books Week to celebrate your intellectual freedom by reading a book.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Long before I could even read I enjoyed books. I know this because my parents have told me about reading to me as a child. “Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” “Little Red Riding Hood” and “The Three Little Pigs” were, I’m told, favorites of mine.
After I learned to read there was rarely a time I didn’t have a book in my hands. I read everything. Biographies, comic books, classics — even the backs of cereal boxes was worthwhile to me. But there’s one book from my childhood that stands out as a favorite, one that I have read more times than any other. That book was Mark Twain’s “Huckleberry Finn.”
My grandfather turned me on to Mark Twain when I was very young, about the second grade if I remember right. He gave me an old worn copy of “Huckleberry Finn.” To me, it was just an adventure story about a boy and his friend as they made their way down the Mississippi River. It wasn’t until years later I discovered not everyone was as enamored by the book as I was.
In college I signed up for a course titled Banned Books. My classmates and I read “Huckleberry Finn.” We also read “The Catcher in the Rye,” “To Kill a Mockingbird,” “1984,” “Of Mice and Men,” “Catch-22,” “A Brave New World” and a host of other books that over the years I have read and reread several times. Those books, now classics and included in many high school and college literature courses, were all at one time or another the targets of individuals or groups who wanted them banned.
I took that class about 30 years ago. At the time I and some of my classmates thought it ludicrous someone could feel so challenged or sure enough of himself to want to limit someone’s right of free expression by wanting to ban a book he disagreed with. Today, 30 years later, I still feel the same.
Next week, Sept. 25-Oct. 1, is Banned Books Week and, believe it or not, books by Steinbeck, Salinger, Orwell and Huxley are still the targets of censorship attempts. Unfortunately, those authors are no longer alone. They have been joined by other writers like J.K. Rowling and Annette Curtis Klause, the authors of the Harry Potter books and “Blood and Chocolate.”
I’ve never read any of the Harry Potter books, nor have I seen the movies. I also haven’t read “Blood and Chocolate” and probably never will. I’ve learned enough about them to decide they’re not the kind of books I’m interested in reading. But even though I have no interest in those authors or their books I also realize there are others who do enjoy them and they should be allowed to read them. A free society cannot infringe upon the ideas or beliefs of others.
And that is the goal of Banned Books Week: celebrating the freedom to choose or the freedom to express one’s opinion. Banned Books Week is a week to remind people that we are a people with a wide variety of different opinions, ideas and beliefs — some of which are unpopular or unorthodox — and that no individual has the right to infringe upon those opinions, ideas or beliefs. That’s why freedom of speech and freedom of religion are so closely related in the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.
So take the time during Banned Books Week to celebrate your intellectual freedom by reading a book.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Be informed before going to the polls
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
As a general rule of thumb, I try to keep my political thoughts and leanings to myself. As a person who lives my life both personally and professionally in the public eye, I feel that it would be wrong of me to publically endorse any particular candidate for any office — locally or nationally. But today I found myself engaged in a political conversation concerning local candidates.
What’s funny is I had already decided I would write a column for this week’s issue on the importance of being an informed voter. As the conversation today progressed, I was surprised to realize how many people are not really aware of the issues at hand. It’s hard to make an informed vote if you don’t know what’s happening or the possible ramifications of voting either way.
So here is my plea — I encourage every eligible voter to please learn about all of the candidates on the ballot — for every race. I know that’s a lot of people and a lot of positions. And I too get tired of the political banter — I likely endure more of it than most people as my work email is inundated with messages from candidates or their representatives, state political parties and special interest groups — from both sides of the aisle. So I get it. And it does get really old. But I still firmly believe that you can’t vote in your own best interest or that of your community if you don’t know what is happening and who stands for what issues.
There are a wide variety of resources at your disposal to find out information on presidential and congressional candidates. You don’t have to choose between only Hillary and Donald. There are third party candidates who are making some good traction and may be worth your consideration.
I feel it is important to realize that the likelihood of finding one candidate who you can fully support with no reservations is very slim. However, I encourage others to vote the way I do. Rather than trying to decide who is the lesser of two evils or who is the least corrupt, I research the issues and choose a few issues that I feel are the most important to me. In this election that includes things like equality, education, security and justice. Then I research — preferably from neutral party sources — who stands where and choose a candidate that most closely aligns with my stance on the issues that matter to me. I feel like that is the way representative government should work.
As for the local elections — please, talk to people and learn what they know. Find out who is running for what office. When the candidates submit letters to the Free Press about who they are and why they are running for office — read them. Attend the candidate forum that will be held next month — use that opportunity to ask the candidates questions. Learn all you can before you make your choice.
One final thought. If I could change any one thing in our political system — it would be this. I would do away with the straight party vote option. Here’s why. First of all, many Americans agree, our two party system no longer functions. The straight party vote restricts voters to those two parties. I also believe that the ability to straight party vote allows candidates to hide behind party lines. Because they have the backing of their party, incumbents are sometimes more responsive to the party than to their constituents. Second, outside of county supervisors and perhaps city councilpersons (who are not on the ballot this cycle) most local offices require candidates to select a party, even though the office is not particularly political in nature. For example — treasurer, auditor, recorder and sheriff. I really believe each of these positions should be held by the candidate best qualified to meet the demands of the job. If you vote straight party, the most qualified candidate may not get your vote.
So get informed. And then get to the polls. Make your vote count.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
As a general rule of thumb, I try to keep my political thoughts and leanings to myself. As a person who lives my life both personally and professionally in the public eye, I feel that it would be wrong of me to publically endorse any particular candidate for any office — locally or nationally. But today I found myself engaged in a political conversation concerning local candidates.
What’s funny is I had already decided I would write a column for this week’s issue on the importance of being an informed voter. As the conversation today progressed, I was surprised to realize how many people are not really aware of the issues at hand. It’s hard to make an informed vote if you don’t know what’s happening or the possible ramifications of voting either way.
So here is my plea — I encourage every eligible voter to please learn about all of the candidates on the ballot — for every race. I know that’s a lot of people and a lot of positions. And I too get tired of the political banter — I likely endure more of it than most people as my work email is inundated with messages from candidates or their representatives, state political parties and special interest groups — from both sides of the aisle. So I get it. And it does get really old. But I still firmly believe that you can’t vote in your own best interest or that of your community if you don’t know what is happening and who stands for what issues.
There are a wide variety of resources at your disposal to find out information on presidential and congressional candidates. You don’t have to choose between only Hillary and Donald. There are third party candidates who are making some good traction and may be worth your consideration.
I feel it is important to realize that the likelihood of finding one candidate who you can fully support with no reservations is very slim. However, I encourage others to vote the way I do. Rather than trying to decide who is the lesser of two evils or who is the least corrupt, I research the issues and choose a few issues that I feel are the most important to me. In this election that includes things like equality, education, security and justice. Then I research — preferably from neutral party sources — who stands where and choose a candidate that most closely aligns with my stance on the issues that matter to me. I feel like that is the way representative government should work.
As for the local elections — please, talk to people and learn what they know. Find out who is running for what office. When the candidates submit letters to the Free Press about who they are and why they are running for office — read them. Attend the candidate forum that will be held next month — use that opportunity to ask the candidates questions. Learn all you can before you make your choice.
One final thought. If I could change any one thing in our political system — it would be this. I would do away with the straight party vote option. Here’s why. First of all, many Americans agree, our two party system no longer functions. The straight party vote restricts voters to those two parties. I also believe that the ability to straight party vote allows candidates to hide behind party lines. Because they have the backing of their party, incumbents are sometimes more responsive to the party than to their constituents. Second, outside of county supervisors and perhaps city councilpersons (who are not on the ballot this cycle) most local offices require candidates to select a party, even though the office is not particularly political in nature. For example — treasurer, auditor, recorder and sheriff. I really believe each of these positions should be held by the candidate best qualified to meet the demands of the job. If you vote straight party, the most qualified candidate may not get your vote.
So get informed. And then get to the polls. Make your vote count.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Share drug price outrage where it matters
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Shortly before the big $609 EpiPen outrage began making the news I had written myself a note on the back of a subscription postcard inside one of my youngest daughter’s magazines. The note says “Number of drug ads/pages in this magazine.”
I had written the note on the Cooking Light postcard as a possible column idea. Once Mylan Pharmaceuticals became the latest corporation to be associated with price gouging I realized I did indeed have a column in the making.
That little note to myself began after I noticed several drug ads in a healthy lifestyle cooking magazine. There, scattered throughout the recipes for quinoa crusted chicken nuggets, pet food and makeup ads, and articles like “The New Breakfast Rules,” were nearly a dozen prescription drug ads ranging from two to four pages in size.
You should know Mylan Pharmaceuticals wasn’t one of the advertisers but there were plenty of other big name corporations: Merck, Lilly, Allegran, Janssen, Bristol-Myers Squibb, Amgen, Pfizer (three different ads and seven pages), Celgene and Novartis. Treatment of the drugs advertised ranged from psoriasis and constipation to depression and lung cancer.
Advertising prescription drugs is not just limited to print. It’s difficult to watch news on the television without seeing a couple of baby boomers enjoying life while a voice over lets viewers know they too can be soaking in a hot tub or walking hand in hand on a beach by simply asking their doctor if pharmaceutical X is right for them.
But advertising, that is direct to customer advertising of prescription drugs, is legal only in the United States and New Zealand, a country of just over 4 million people. Yet the advertising of prescription drugs in the U.S. approached nearly $5 billion in 2008, according to the World Health Organization.
Direct to customer advertising has certainly increased demand of advertised prescription drugs and pharmaceutical companies’ profits. It has also, however, driven up the costs for consumers, health insurance companies and taxpayers.
Pharmaceutical companies like any other business in a capitalistic nation are looking for ways to increase profits. Direct to customer advertising is just one way pharmaceutical companies go about increasing revenues but they may be beginning to feel the heat from customers angry about high drug prices.
But consumers’ anger about price gouging shouldn’t be directed at corporations such as Mylan. Instead their outrage should head straight to their Senators and Representatives who even as we speak are calling for an investigation into the manufacturer of the EpiPen.
Just remember, though, that when you call your Congressman most of them like to tell their constituents they are working for them while taking campaign donations from pharmaceutical companies and allowing corporate tax loopholes.
By all means, share your outrage, but share it with Congress, which has the power to negotiate drug prices with producers, do away with pharmaceutical monopolies and work to make drug prices more affordable for U.S. citizens.
Tell your elected representative to represent you, not the pharmaceutical industry.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Shortly before the big $609 EpiPen outrage began making the news I had written myself a note on the back of a subscription postcard inside one of my youngest daughter’s magazines. The note says “Number of drug ads/pages in this magazine.”
I had written the note on the Cooking Light postcard as a possible column idea. Once Mylan Pharmaceuticals became the latest corporation to be associated with price gouging I realized I did indeed have a column in the making.
That little note to myself began after I noticed several drug ads in a healthy lifestyle cooking magazine. There, scattered throughout the recipes for quinoa crusted chicken nuggets, pet food and makeup ads, and articles like “The New Breakfast Rules,” were nearly a dozen prescription drug ads ranging from two to four pages in size.
You should know Mylan Pharmaceuticals wasn’t one of the advertisers but there were plenty of other big name corporations: Merck, Lilly, Allegran, Janssen, Bristol-Myers Squibb, Amgen, Pfizer (three different ads and seven pages), Celgene and Novartis. Treatment of the drugs advertised ranged from psoriasis and constipation to depression and lung cancer.
Advertising prescription drugs is not just limited to print. It’s difficult to watch news on the television without seeing a couple of baby boomers enjoying life while a voice over lets viewers know they too can be soaking in a hot tub or walking hand in hand on a beach by simply asking their doctor if pharmaceutical X is right for them.
But advertising, that is direct to customer advertising of prescription drugs, is legal only in the United States and New Zealand, a country of just over 4 million people. Yet the advertising of prescription drugs in the U.S. approached nearly $5 billion in 2008, according to the World Health Organization.
Direct to customer advertising has certainly increased demand of advertised prescription drugs and pharmaceutical companies’ profits. It has also, however, driven up the costs for consumers, health insurance companies and taxpayers.
Pharmaceutical companies like any other business in a capitalistic nation are looking for ways to increase profits. Direct to customer advertising is just one way pharmaceutical companies go about increasing revenues but they may be beginning to feel the heat from customers angry about high drug prices.
But consumers’ anger about price gouging shouldn’t be directed at corporations such as Mylan. Instead their outrage should head straight to their Senators and Representatives who even as we speak are calling for an investigation into the manufacturer of the EpiPen.
Just remember, though, that when you call your Congressman most of them like to tell their constituents they are working for them while taking campaign donations from pharmaceutical companies and allowing corporate tax loopholes.
By all means, share your outrage, but share it with Congress, which has the power to negotiate drug prices with producers, do away with pharmaceutical monopolies and work to make drug prices more affordable for U.S. citizens.
Tell your elected representative to represent you, not the pharmaceutical industry.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Thanks for being a part of our village teachers
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Another school year has started, bringing along with it the stability of routines and the chaos activities. I was chatting with a friend the other day and she was talking about her newly minted high-schooler’s upcoming schedule which includes weightlifting and film review for football and drivers ed before school each day, then practice in the afternoon and of course trying to fit in homework and family time.
My girls are no where close to that intensity yet, but with busy high school sports schedules and Andrew volunteering as a coach — he and I are busier than we’ve ever been, not to mention that one or both of the girls will be at gymnastics practice three times a week. And soon, we start church activities too.
Families are pressured to have kids scheduled for a wide variety of activities — always filling their time with structured events — starting at a very young age. This over-scheduling limits the time that parents have to work on life skills with their children. Sometimes batting practice takes away from spelling drills, and then those spelling drills leave little time to learn how to cook. Somewhere in there, we parents are supposed to reinforce personal hygiene and manners and help our kids foster a love of reading, a respect for authority and empathy for one another.
If you parents and grandparents out there have figured out how to fit all of that in and still get your kids to bed at a reasonable time — I’m open to suggestions. But here is what I have come to realize about being a parent over the past seven years of having preschool and school aged kids. Parents need to rely a lot on the school and their child’s teachers in order to raise healthy, well-rounded human beings who can function well in society.
Gone are the days when all teachers needed to worry about were reading, writing and arithmetic. Not only has technology forever changed the face of education; society has changed dramatically over the past 50 years.
Now, not only does a teacher need to be sure her student can figure out the square root of 324, she also needs to help him understand the importance of not interrupting her lecture. Second grade teachers can no longer be content knowing that their students can punctuate each sentence properly, they also have to focus on being sure each child knows they have value — because they may not get that message at home. Fifth grade teachers have to teach kids the history of the American colonies and teach them both the study and social skills they will need to survive middle school.
So I want to take this moment to express my sincere gratitude to the teachers in our school system — my kids have had some amazing examples of kindness, compassion and lovers of learning. And I for one am so thankful to have them as part of the village raising my children. I encourage all parents to realize that our children spend more waking hours of their school days with their teachers than they do at home. So thank your teachers, ask how you can best support them, and get involved in your child’s education.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Another school year has started, bringing along with it the stability of routines and the chaos activities. I was chatting with a friend the other day and she was talking about her newly minted high-schooler’s upcoming schedule which includes weightlifting and film review for football and drivers ed before school each day, then practice in the afternoon and of course trying to fit in homework and family time.
My girls are no where close to that intensity yet, but with busy high school sports schedules and Andrew volunteering as a coach — he and I are busier than we’ve ever been, not to mention that one or both of the girls will be at gymnastics practice three times a week. And soon, we start church activities too.
Families are pressured to have kids scheduled for a wide variety of activities — always filling their time with structured events — starting at a very young age. This over-scheduling limits the time that parents have to work on life skills with their children. Sometimes batting practice takes away from spelling drills, and then those spelling drills leave little time to learn how to cook. Somewhere in there, we parents are supposed to reinforce personal hygiene and manners and help our kids foster a love of reading, a respect for authority and empathy for one another.
If you parents and grandparents out there have figured out how to fit all of that in and still get your kids to bed at a reasonable time — I’m open to suggestions. But here is what I have come to realize about being a parent over the past seven years of having preschool and school aged kids. Parents need to rely a lot on the school and their child’s teachers in order to raise healthy, well-rounded human beings who can function well in society.
Gone are the days when all teachers needed to worry about were reading, writing and arithmetic. Not only has technology forever changed the face of education; society has changed dramatically over the past 50 years.
Now, not only does a teacher need to be sure her student can figure out the square root of 324, she also needs to help him understand the importance of not interrupting her lecture. Second grade teachers can no longer be content knowing that their students can punctuate each sentence properly, they also have to focus on being sure each child knows they have value — because they may not get that message at home. Fifth grade teachers have to teach kids the history of the American colonies and teach them both the study and social skills they will need to survive middle school.
So I want to take this moment to express my sincere gratitude to the teachers in our school system — my kids have had some amazing examples of kindness, compassion and lovers of learning. And I for one am so thankful to have them as part of the village raising my children. I encourage all parents to realize that our children spend more waking hours of their school days with their teachers than they do at home. So thank your teachers, ask how you can best support them, and get involved in your child’s education.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’t take water for granted
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“Water must be free for sustenance needs. Since nature gives water to us free of cost, buying and selling it for profit violates our inherent right to nature’s gift and denies the poor of their human rights.” — Vandana Shiva
I awoke Sunday to find a text message informing me and other residents east of Hundley Street and north of Clay Street a boil order was in effect, which wasn’t exactly a good thing but it was serendipity at work.
It just so happened the boil order came at the same time I had been jotting down notes for a column about water privatization, the price many are willing to pay for bottled water, and the drying of the planet’s aquifers. Our household’s need to limit use of uncontaminated water and requirement to treat tap water until further notice only reinforced my thoughts on water.
It was while watching the documentary 180º South that I first began to think seriously about water. In the film, a young adventurer sets off in a sailboat with some friends to surf and climb mountains in South America as early mountain climbers Yvon Chouinard and Doug Tomkins had.
Although I enjoyed the adventure aspect of the film it was the section about Chile’s decision to turn its public water utilities to privately operated utilities that got my attention. In essence, Chile took the water rights out of the hands of farmers who used the rivers for irrigation into the hands of corporations, a move that was upheld in the Chilean Supreme Court.
It sounds a bit absurd to think that a nation would decide a for-profit conglomerate would have a greater right to water that flows freely from mountains into rivers that families and farmers have been using as they need for centuries but consider this: in the last couple of decades, water privatization has been taking place here in some U.S. cities.
The reason behind why a municipality would turn its water utility over to a private company is simple economics. The cost to repair and maintain water treatment plants, sewer systems and other infrastructure are costly. Add to that ever increasing state and federal water regulation and it’s easy to understand why a city would consider water privatization.
But is water a human right or a commodity to be traded?
Multinational corporations like Pepsi, Coca-Cola and Nestle are well aware of the profit to be made in the sale of water. Just look at the bottled water industry, which brings in $11.8 billion in the U.S. alone and $60 billion globally. I would argue that many people are already willingly paying for privatized water.
Buying bottled water is something that has never made sense to me. Sure, it’s convenient to grab a bottle of water as I myself have done a time or two but to rely solely on bottled water seems excessive. A $1.50 bottle of water could be refilled with tap water for years before that same cost would be realized. Studies have shown bottled water is no safer than tap water and in most municipalities the taste and quality are no different.
Which brings me to a final consideration: greater demands on the world’s water resources. As countries like Brazil, India and China continue to grow and improve their economies, they’ll require more water but that is just one concern. Already changing weather patterns have reduced water availability in South America, Africa, Australia, the Mideast and even here at home. Aquifers in California’s Central Valley, the Colorado River Basin, the Great Plans and elsewhere are slowing drying up because of drought and greater water demands.
While most of us take water for granted or remain unaware of global concerns others, like the U.S. Government Accountability Office, the United Nations and the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, have aired concern about freshwater availability. Nestle chairman Peter Brabeck-Letmathe said at a 2012 OECD Forum, “We’re going to run out of water much earlier than we’ll run out of oil.”
Water, despite its apparent abundance in this part of the nation, is a resource that deserves our consideration and concern and the time to do so is now, not when we can no longer drink water from our tap.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“Water must be free for sustenance needs. Since nature gives water to us free of cost, buying and selling it for profit violates our inherent right to nature’s gift and denies the poor of their human rights.” — Vandana Shiva
I awoke Sunday to find a text message informing me and other residents east of Hundley Street and north of Clay Street a boil order was in effect, which wasn’t exactly a good thing but it was serendipity at work.
It just so happened the boil order came at the same time I had been jotting down notes for a column about water privatization, the price many are willing to pay for bottled water, and the drying of the planet’s aquifers. Our household’s need to limit use of uncontaminated water and requirement to treat tap water until further notice only reinforced my thoughts on water.
It was while watching the documentary 180º South that I first began to think seriously about water. In the film, a young adventurer sets off in a sailboat with some friends to surf and climb mountains in South America as early mountain climbers Yvon Chouinard and Doug Tomkins had.
Although I enjoyed the adventure aspect of the film it was the section about Chile’s decision to turn its public water utilities to privately operated utilities that got my attention. In essence, Chile took the water rights out of the hands of farmers who used the rivers for irrigation into the hands of corporations, a move that was upheld in the Chilean Supreme Court.
It sounds a bit absurd to think that a nation would decide a for-profit conglomerate would have a greater right to water that flows freely from mountains into rivers that families and farmers have been using as they need for centuries but consider this: in the last couple of decades, water privatization has been taking place here in some U.S. cities.
The reason behind why a municipality would turn its water utility over to a private company is simple economics. The cost to repair and maintain water treatment plants, sewer systems and other infrastructure are costly. Add to that ever increasing state and federal water regulation and it’s easy to understand why a city would consider water privatization.
But is water a human right or a commodity to be traded?
Multinational corporations like Pepsi, Coca-Cola and Nestle are well aware of the profit to be made in the sale of water. Just look at the bottled water industry, which brings in $11.8 billion in the U.S. alone and $60 billion globally. I would argue that many people are already willingly paying for privatized water.
Buying bottled water is something that has never made sense to me. Sure, it’s convenient to grab a bottle of water as I myself have done a time or two but to rely solely on bottled water seems excessive. A $1.50 bottle of water could be refilled with tap water for years before that same cost would be realized. Studies have shown bottled water is no safer than tap water and in most municipalities the taste and quality are no different.
Which brings me to a final consideration: greater demands on the world’s water resources. As countries like Brazil, India and China continue to grow and improve their economies, they’ll require more water but that is just one concern. Already changing weather patterns have reduced water availability in South America, Africa, Australia, the Mideast and even here at home. Aquifers in California’s Central Valley, the Colorado River Basin, the Great Plans and elsewhere are slowing drying up because of drought and greater water demands.
While most of us take water for granted or remain unaware of global concerns others, like the U.S. Government Accountability Office, the United Nations and the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, have aired concern about freshwater availability. Nestle chairman Peter Brabeck-Letmathe said at a 2012 OECD Forum, “We’re going to run out of water much earlier than we’ll run out of oil.”
Water, despite its apparent abundance in this part of the nation, is a resource that deserves our consideration and concern and the time to do so is now, not when we can no longer drink water from our tap.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Focus should be on achievement, not gender
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
So we’re about half way through the 2016 Olympics in Rio and so far, a lot has happened. Some of it hasn’t been ideal, like poor water quality, political upheaval in Brazil, a Russian doping scandal and the looming threat of the Zika virus. But many spectacular achievements bring the spotlight right back to where it should be — the world class athletes who have worked for years to compete on this international stage.
Many records have been broken at this Olympics, but the ones that stand out most to me are those set by women. In 2016 we have seen Simone Biles achieve feats that stun fellow gymnasts, including Mary Lou Retton, the world’s first athlete to earn a perfect 10, who said Simone is the greatest gymnast ever. And Keri Walsh-Jennings who at 38 years old, recovering from two shoulder surgeries in the past year and in her fourth trip to the Olympics — this year with a new partner — has still never lost an Olympic match.
We saw Michelle Carter win the gold in shot put, a feat no other American woman has achieved. And Simone Manuel not only won the first individual medal for an African American woman, she brought home a gold.
And then there’s Katie Ledecky who broke her own world record time in the 800-meter freestyle by over three full seconds to claim the gold medal. When I watched her race, she looked like she was alone in the pool, she was so far ahead of her competition.
While I am amazed and impressed by all of these accomplishments, I am outraged that in 2016, the media coverage of these women is still focused on something other than their skill or success. There are the attention grabbing headlines or tweets that get things backwards. Like the Chicago Tribune who failed to mention Corey Cogdell-Unrein’s name when mentioning her bronze medal for trap shooting instead referring to her as a (also nameless) Bear’s lineman’s wife. Or the Greeley Tribune of Colorado whose headline placed Michael Phelps’ tie for silver in the 100 fly over Ledecky’s world record gold.
Beyond these admittedly egregious errors, the on-air commentators have also misplaced the focus of their attention. Egypt’s beach volleyball players Doaa Elghobashy and Nada Meawad were the first to compete in full sleeves and pants. Elghobashy also wore a hijab (Muslim head cover) during her match. Rather than the match, media coverage focused near entirely on what the athletes were wearing. Why? The United States also had a hijab clad athlete with fencer Ibtihaj Muhammad. She has been named one of Time magazine’s 100 Most Influential People and has been the first hijab wearing American to win a medal. While an accomplished Muslim American athlete makes an important statement in our current political climate, she didn’t earn the medal for her clothing choice, but rather for her skill.
Fox Sports commentators had an on-air discussion about the importance of female gymnasts wearing makeup while they compete; NBC commentator Dan Hicks credits Hungarian swimmer Katinka Hosszu’s husband/coach for her success.
I really can’t believe that in 2016 we still live in a world where accomplishments and achievements are overshadowed by gender. I imagine that Serena Williams is not the only female athlete desiring her gender to be dropped as a title. When asked about being labeled one of the greatest female athletes of all time, Williams responded that she prefers the words “one of the greatest athletes of all time.” No one calls Michael Phelps the medal winningest male Olympian or Michael Jordan the greatest male basketball player ever. Why do women need to be defined by their gender?
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected]
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
So we’re about half way through the 2016 Olympics in Rio and so far, a lot has happened. Some of it hasn’t been ideal, like poor water quality, political upheaval in Brazil, a Russian doping scandal and the looming threat of the Zika virus. But many spectacular achievements bring the spotlight right back to where it should be — the world class athletes who have worked for years to compete on this international stage.
Many records have been broken at this Olympics, but the ones that stand out most to me are those set by women. In 2016 we have seen Simone Biles achieve feats that stun fellow gymnasts, including Mary Lou Retton, the world’s first athlete to earn a perfect 10, who said Simone is the greatest gymnast ever. And Keri Walsh-Jennings who at 38 years old, recovering from two shoulder surgeries in the past year and in her fourth trip to the Olympics — this year with a new partner — has still never lost an Olympic match.
We saw Michelle Carter win the gold in shot put, a feat no other American woman has achieved. And Simone Manuel not only won the first individual medal for an African American woman, she brought home a gold.
And then there’s Katie Ledecky who broke her own world record time in the 800-meter freestyle by over three full seconds to claim the gold medal. When I watched her race, she looked like she was alone in the pool, she was so far ahead of her competition.
While I am amazed and impressed by all of these accomplishments, I am outraged that in 2016, the media coverage of these women is still focused on something other than their skill or success. There are the attention grabbing headlines or tweets that get things backwards. Like the Chicago Tribune who failed to mention Corey Cogdell-Unrein’s name when mentioning her bronze medal for trap shooting instead referring to her as a (also nameless) Bear’s lineman’s wife. Or the Greeley Tribune of Colorado whose headline placed Michael Phelps’ tie for silver in the 100 fly over Ledecky’s world record gold.
Beyond these admittedly egregious errors, the on-air commentators have also misplaced the focus of their attention. Egypt’s beach volleyball players Doaa Elghobashy and Nada Meawad were the first to compete in full sleeves and pants. Elghobashy also wore a hijab (Muslim head cover) during her match. Rather than the match, media coverage focused near entirely on what the athletes were wearing. Why? The United States also had a hijab clad athlete with fencer Ibtihaj Muhammad. She has been named one of Time magazine’s 100 Most Influential People and has been the first hijab wearing American to win a medal. While an accomplished Muslim American athlete makes an important statement in our current political climate, she didn’t earn the medal for her clothing choice, but rather for her skill.
Fox Sports commentators had an on-air discussion about the importance of female gymnasts wearing makeup while they compete; NBC commentator Dan Hicks credits Hungarian swimmer Katinka Hosszu’s husband/coach for her success.
I really can’t believe that in 2016 we still live in a world where accomplishments and achievements are overshadowed by gender. I imagine that Serena Williams is not the only female athlete desiring her gender to be dropped as a title. When asked about being labeled one of the greatest female athletes of all time, Williams responded that she prefers the words “one of the greatest athletes of all time.” No one calls Michael Phelps the medal winningest male Olympian or Michael Jordan the greatest male basketball player ever. Why do women need to be defined by their gender?
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected]
Summer is time for memories
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
The first week of August has become something of a tradition at our house. For nearly seven days our three granddaughters — Callee, Ella and Mallery — stay with Grandpa and Grandma.
Their short visit serves as a sort of transition from summer to back to school for all involved. It gives our daughter-in-law Cara time to get her classroom ready for the school year, it gives the granddaughters a reminder that school is just around the corner, and it gives us and our daughters a similar reminder that our lives will soon be more structured when school begins.
But better than the transition the week provides, it gives Christy, our daughters and I the opportunity to catch up with the granddaughters with some one-on-one time. Although we get to visit the three regularly throughout the year our visit to the Ozarks usually lasts only two or three days and typically involves a variety of events that include my parents, my siblings, their children and even at times the granddaughters’ other grandparents.
Our week together in August allows us time to share with each other at a more leisurely pace. There are no schedules and structured activities, just a few ideas for things the granddaughters might enjoy.
Swimming at the pool is always one of the top activities. Last week we went there twice, mainly to cool off but also because we like to take the granddaughters outdoors as often as possible. A walk downtown to the used bookstore or to buy a sweet treat is popular, as is walking to the school playground for a little exercise if it isn’t too hot outside.
Chalk drawings on the sidewalk or front porch steps are also popular but this year just spending time on the front porch with our dog Daisy seemed as much entertainment for the granddaughters as anything else. There was always quite a bit of giggling from the younger two with the dog around, especially after they got Daisy to join them on the porch swing.
Of course there’s also fun indoors. Baking cookies is another highlight and as the granddaughters have gotten older more cookie dough is actually making its way into the oven instead of their mouths. Make-your-own personal pizza is also a favorite but like the cookies not all of the ingredients make it onto the pizza crust and into the oven.
And usually there’s at least one art project. This year it was tie-dye t-shirts again. The art projects can be a little messy but they give Callee, Ella and Mallery something to take home.
Pizza, cookies and art projects bring us all together at the kitchen table. While these activities are fun, it’s sharing breakfast, lunch and dinner at the table that really gives us time to connect. The granddaughters share about their lives, their friends, their interests and we get to see just how fortunate we are.
After the granddaughters leave each summer we’re left with a quieter house, a few chalk drawings on the front porch step and a new tie-dye stain on the kitchen rug.
But best of all, we’re left with memories of another summer together.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
The first week of August has become something of a tradition at our house. For nearly seven days our three granddaughters — Callee, Ella and Mallery — stay with Grandpa and Grandma.
Their short visit serves as a sort of transition from summer to back to school for all involved. It gives our daughter-in-law Cara time to get her classroom ready for the school year, it gives the granddaughters a reminder that school is just around the corner, and it gives us and our daughters a similar reminder that our lives will soon be more structured when school begins.
But better than the transition the week provides, it gives Christy, our daughters and I the opportunity to catch up with the granddaughters with some one-on-one time. Although we get to visit the three regularly throughout the year our visit to the Ozarks usually lasts only two or three days and typically involves a variety of events that include my parents, my siblings, their children and even at times the granddaughters’ other grandparents.
Our week together in August allows us time to share with each other at a more leisurely pace. There are no schedules and structured activities, just a few ideas for things the granddaughters might enjoy.
Swimming at the pool is always one of the top activities. Last week we went there twice, mainly to cool off but also because we like to take the granddaughters outdoors as often as possible. A walk downtown to the used bookstore or to buy a sweet treat is popular, as is walking to the school playground for a little exercise if it isn’t too hot outside.
Chalk drawings on the sidewalk or front porch steps are also popular but this year just spending time on the front porch with our dog Daisy seemed as much entertainment for the granddaughters as anything else. There was always quite a bit of giggling from the younger two with the dog around, especially after they got Daisy to join them on the porch swing.
Of course there’s also fun indoors. Baking cookies is another highlight and as the granddaughters have gotten older more cookie dough is actually making its way into the oven instead of their mouths. Make-your-own personal pizza is also a favorite but like the cookies not all of the ingredients make it onto the pizza crust and into the oven.
And usually there’s at least one art project. This year it was tie-dye t-shirts again. The art projects can be a little messy but they give Callee, Ella and Mallery something to take home.
Pizza, cookies and art projects bring us all together at the kitchen table. While these activities are fun, it’s sharing breakfast, lunch and dinner at the table that really gives us time to connect. The granddaughters share about their lives, their friends, their interests and we get to see just how fortunate we are.
After the granddaughters leave each summer we’re left with a quieter house, a few chalk drawings on the front porch step and a new tie-dye stain on the kitchen rug.
But best of all, we’re left with memories of another summer together.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Time away, though difficult, is beneficial
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
This week, I had the opportunity to remember what it is like to be childless. Well, sort of. The girls left Sunday for camp at Wesley Woods outside of Indianola. Ava came home Tuesday and Brady will come home Friday night. This was the first year she has been old enough to stay at camp for the whole week. But for two and a half days I had no kids in the house.
You know what — it’s really quiet. It gave Andrew and I a chance to get dinner alone without worrying about a babysitter and I could watch whatever I wanted on the television no matter what time of day. But it was really just too quiet. The respite from child bickering due to too much summer togetherness has been glorious, but I find myself thinking about them and wondering what they are up to more and more as each day passes without them around.
My favorite part of this week has been having three days to focus extra love and attention on the little miss while her sister is still away. The greatest struggle of having two kids is finding time to be engaged with the girls one on one. Both of the girls have said in the past that one of their favorite things is to have both parents to themselves for a day or even just for dinner. With two parents and two kids, we can split them up pretty easily and focus one to one — but it still doesn’t happen as often as we’d like. Having both Andrew and I spend time with just one of the girls requires childcare and some major planning.
So this week, while Ava was home alone without her sister, we spent time doing things she likes to do — swimming, going to the pharmacy for ice cream (which may or may not have been lunch), playing board games and lots of cuddled up reading time.
When Brady comes home, we will spend as much time as possible snuggling and listening to her camp stories before they go away again. Each summer, the girls spend a full week at my mom’s house for what we affectionately call “Grandma Camp.” They leave Saturday, and at this moment, I’m not entirely sure how long they are going to stay.
As a mom, it’s sometimes hard for me to let go of my girls. To let them explore the world outside of our home and community without me is a challenge. But each summer, I send them away to church camp because I know how good it will be for them — body, mind and spirit. And then they go to Grandma Camp because I believe that children get to know their grandparents and build a deeper relationship when they spend time together without parents around. I spent similar weeks with both my grandparents and my great-grandparents as a child and those weeks make up some of my most valuable childhood memories. So as difficult as it can be to separate from my children, especially for long, consecutive stretches, I know that it is best for their long-term growth and development into well adjusted, contributing members of society.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
This week, I had the opportunity to remember what it is like to be childless. Well, sort of. The girls left Sunday for camp at Wesley Woods outside of Indianola. Ava came home Tuesday and Brady will come home Friday night. This was the first year she has been old enough to stay at camp for the whole week. But for two and a half days I had no kids in the house.
You know what — it’s really quiet. It gave Andrew and I a chance to get dinner alone without worrying about a babysitter and I could watch whatever I wanted on the television no matter what time of day. But it was really just too quiet. The respite from child bickering due to too much summer togetherness has been glorious, but I find myself thinking about them and wondering what they are up to more and more as each day passes without them around.
My favorite part of this week has been having three days to focus extra love and attention on the little miss while her sister is still away. The greatest struggle of having two kids is finding time to be engaged with the girls one on one. Both of the girls have said in the past that one of their favorite things is to have both parents to themselves for a day or even just for dinner. With two parents and two kids, we can split them up pretty easily and focus one to one — but it still doesn’t happen as often as we’d like. Having both Andrew and I spend time with just one of the girls requires childcare and some major planning.
So this week, while Ava was home alone without her sister, we spent time doing things she likes to do — swimming, going to the pharmacy for ice cream (which may or may not have been lunch), playing board games and lots of cuddled up reading time.
When Brady comes home, we will spend as much time as possible snuggling and listening to her camp stories before they go away again. Each summer, the girls spend a full week at my mom’s house for what we affectionately call “Grandma Camp.” They leave Saturday, and at this moment, I’m not entirely sure how long they are going to stay.
As a mom, it’s sometimes hard for me to let go of my girls. To let them explore the world outside of our home and community without me is a challenge. But each summer, I send them away to church camp because I know how good it will be for them — body, mind and spirit. And then they go to Grandma Camp because I believe that children get to know their grandparents and build a deeper relationship when they spend time together without parents around. I spent similar weeks with both my grandparents and my great-grandparents as a child and those weeks make up some of my most valuable childhood memories. So as difficult as it can be to separate from my children, especially for long, consecutive stretches, I know that it is best for their long-term growth and development into well adjusted, contributing members of society.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Service under Patton remembered
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Delmar Chafa recently brought a newspaper article into the office about someone whose name is likely well remembered by many Free Press readers.
Chafa shared a Dec. 30, 2001, article titled “The power of Patton” from the Cedar Rapids Gazette about former Free Press publisher Paul Gauthier and his time spent serving under Gen. George S. Patton Jr. during World War II.
Max Isaacson of West Des Moines interviewed Gauthier, who spoke about his service as press briefing officer in the European theater and Patton’s personality.
“He was one of my idols,” Gauthier said. “Although Patton’s biggest public relations blunder was slapping a wounded soldier in Sicily, I didn’t ever see a mean side to him. He read the Bible regularly and wrote poetry, but he did have a foul mouth.”
After defeating German Gen. Irwin Rommel in North Africa, Patton’s Seventh Army joined up with the British Eighth Army in Sicily but it was Patton’s swift armored drive across France following the invasion of Normandy Gauthier spoke of.
“Here was Patton, the half back, at his best,” he said. “About halfway through the sweep, we literally were running off the tactical maps. Our mobile lithographers couldn’t keep up. We finally resorted to buying out civilian bookstores along the way, grabbing up all the Michelin road maps that could be found.”
Patton continued his rapid and aggressive offense during the Battle of the Bulge where he came to the aid of U.S. troops in the German-encircled city of Bastogne. Gauthier said it was probably Patton’s most remarkable feat.
“He attacked over icy roads in 20-below weather in brutal fighting during one of the worst winters in European history,” he said.
Gauthier said in the article an Allied strategy was formed Dec. 17 to attack the Germans in the Ardennes. Although some officers wanted to withdraw and wait until spring, Gauthier said Patton said he could attack in 72 hours. With approval, Patton and his staff mobilized the Fourth Armored Division, the 80th Infantry Division and the 26th Infantry Division.
Bad weather made it impossible for close ground air support in the operation but Gauthier said the day before Christmas the weather changed.
“But the sky cleared on Dec. 24, providing one of the most awesome sights of the war,” he said. “The sky literally was filled with our cargo supply and fighter planes and the white contrails reached from horizon to horizon while the ground literally shook. Most welcome were the billowing, colored parachutes denoting cargoes of food and ammunition.”
Patton died following an automobile accident shortly after World War II but Gauthier was fortunate enough to later visit the cemetery in Luxembourg where Patton is buried among 5,000 other American soldiers.
“There is the feeling that because you were fortunate enough to make this visit, you should speak to those heroes; tell them you represent millions of their countrymen in expression of gratefulness and appreciation.”
Chafa has the entire article about Patton and Gauthier and plans to display it at American Legion Post 117 where all who are interested may read it in its entirety.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Delmar Chafa recently brought a newspaper article into the office about someone whose name is likely well remembered by many Free Press readers.
Chafa shared a Dec. 30, 2001, article titled “The power of Patton” from the Cedar Rapids Gazette about former Free Press publisher Paul Gauthier and his time spent serving under Gen. George S. Patton Jr. during World War II.
Max Isaacson of West Des Moines interviewed Gauthier, who spoke about his service as press briefing officer in the European theater and Patton’s personality.
“He was one of my idols,” Gauthier said. “Although Patton’s biggest public relations blunder was slapping a wounded soldier in Sicily, I didn’t ever see a mean side to him. He read the Bible regularly and wrote poetry, but he did have a foul mouth.”
After defeating German Gen. Irwin Rommel in North Africa, Patton’s Seventh Army joined up with the British Eighth Army in Sicily but it was Patton’s swift armored drive across France following the invasion of Normandy Gauthier spoke of.
“Here was Patton, the half back, at his best,” he said. “About halfway through the sweep, we literally were running off the tactical maps. Our mobile lithographers couldn’t keep up. We finally resorted to buying out civilian bookstores along the way, grabbing up all the Michelin road maps that could be found.”
Patton continued his rapid and aggressive offense during the Battle of the Bulge where he came to the aid of U.S. troops in the German-encircled city of Bastogne. Gauthier said it was probably Patton’s most remarkable feat.
“He attacked over icy roads in 20-below weather in brutal fighting during one of the worst winters in European history,” he said.
Gauthier said in the article an Allied strategy was formed Dec. 17 to attack the Germans in the Ardennes. Although some officers wanted to withdraw and wait until spring, Gauthier said Patton said he could attack in 72 hours. With approval, Patton and his staff mobilized the Fourth Armored Division, the 80th Infantry Division and the 26th Infantry Division.
Bad weather made it impossible for close ground air support in the operation but Gauthier said the day before Christmas the weather changed.
“But the sky cleared on Dec. 24, providing one of the most awesome sights of the war,” he said. “The sky literally was filled with our cargo supply and fighter planes and the white contrails reached from horizon to horizon while the ground literally shook. Most welcome were the billowing, colored parachutes denoting cargoes of food and ammunition.”
Patton died following an automobile accident shortly after World War II but Gauthier was fortunate enough to later visit the cemetery in Luxembourg where Patton is buried among 5,000 other American soldiers.
“There is the feeling that because you were fortunate enough to make this visit, you should speak to those heroes; tell them you represent millions of their countrymen in expression of gratefulness and appreciation.”
Chafa has the entire article about Patton and Gauthier and plans to display it at American Legion Post 117 where all who are interested may read it in its entirety.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Be a difference maker
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
Enough is enough already. Many of my recent heartfelt conversations over the past weeks and months have revolved around the violence and extreme prejudice that is ever present and seems to be growing ever worse in our world. I, for one, am sick over it all and I’m sick of having to have the same conversations with a different list of names week after week.
Here is what I want to say. I don’t care what color your skin, who you love, what you chose as your profession or what anatomy you have in your pants. I value you for the person you are and the life God gave you to live. That said, I do not have any issue with a faction of society proclaiming that “Black Lives Matter.” Why not? Because they do matter. Those who say All Lives Matter are not wrong, but it is not wrong for those with black bodies to declare that they have just as much value as those of us with white ones. What people who shout back “All Lives Matter” are missing is that right now, many people with black bodies feel like they are being told by society that they are less important. So yes, all lives matter, but right now, the focus is on black lives.
We also need to remember to focus on blue lives. Men and women who have chosen careers in law enforcement did so knowing full well the potential risk and heartache they would face. And they choose each day to face it anyway for the safety and protection of the rest of us. No police officer, even those who may have acted wrongly in the line of duty deserves to be gunned down. Their job is dangerous enough without adding the fear and stress of being hunted down by those they have sworn to protect.
There you have it — my stance on race relations in America. All Lives Matter, but right now, lets focus on Black and Blue lives.
The issue that I have with movements like All Lives Matter is what I perceive to be the assumption of some that minority groups claiming their worth and value to society threatens their own position and security.
Gay Pride Month is not homosexuals saying they are better than heterosexuals or that they are trying to convert anyone, it’s simply declaring their right to love as they choose and being proud of who they are.
Similarly, declaring that I am feminist does not in any way indicate that I feel women deserve more rights and privileges than men, or that women are better than men in any way. Rather, I simply mean that I believe women and men deserve to have the same rights, privileges and opportunities. I believe that women deserve to be compensated for their work equally to their male counterparts and I believe that women should be judged more on the quality of their character and their work than on their physical appearance.
The problems with racism, classism, sexism and discrimination based on sexual orientation have plagued our nation for generations. The problems are by and large systemic issues etched into the fabric of our society. But just because they are so ingrained and deep rooted, doesn’t mean that we have to accept that this is the world and we have to take it as it stands. Fight for what you believe. Let people know that their life matters to you. Offer your voice and support to those whose voices are shouted down. Seek to be a difference maker. And keep having those heartfelt conversations with friends and family.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
Enough is enough already. Many of my recent heartfelt conversations over the past weeks and months have revolved around the violence and extreme prejudice that is ever present and seems to be growing ever worse in our world. I, for one, am sick over it all and I’m sick of having to have the same conversations with a different list of names week after week.
Here is what I want to say. I don’t care what color your skin, who you love, what you chose as your profession or what anatomy you have in your pants. I value you for the person you are and the life God gave you to live. That said, I do not have any issue with a faction of society proclaiming that “Black Lives Matter.” Why not? Because they do matter. Those who say All Lives Matter are not wrong, but it is not wrong for those with black bodies to declare that they have just as much value as those of us with white ones. What people who shout back “All Lives Matter” are missing is that right now, many people with black bodies feel like they are being told by society that they are less important. So yes, all lives matter, but right now, the focus is on black lives.
We also need to remember to focus on blue lives. Men and women who have chosen careers in law enforcement did so knowing full well the potential risk and heartache they would face. And they choose each day to face it anyway for the safety and protection of the rest of us. No police officer, even those who may have acted wrongly in the line of duty deserves to be gunned down. Their job is dangerous enough without adding the fear and stress of being hunted down by those they have sworn to protect.
There you have it — my stance on race relations in America. All Lives Matter, but right now, lets focus on Black and Blue lives.
The issue that I have with movements like All Lives Matter is what I perceive to be the assumption of some that minority groups claiming their worth and value to society threatens their own position and security.
Gay Pride Month is not homosexuals saying they are better than heterosexuals or that they are trying to convert anyone, it’s simply declaring their right to love as they choose and being proud of who they are.
Similarly, declaring that I am feminist does not in any way indicate that I feel women deserve more rights and privileges than men, or that women are better than men in any way. Rather, I simply mean that I believe women and men deserve to have the same rights, privileges and opportunities. I believe that women deserve to be compensated for their work equally to their male counterparts and I believe that women should be judged more on the quality of their character and their work than on their physical appearance.
The problems with racism, classism, sexism and discrimination based on sexual orientation have plagued our nation for generations. The problems are by and large systemic issues etched into the fabric of our society. But just because they are so ingrained and deep rooted, doesn’t mean that we have to accept that this is the world and we have to take it as it stands. Fight for what you believe. Let people know that their life matters to you. Offer your voice and support to those whose voices are shouted down. Seek to be a difference maker. And keep having those heartfelt conversations with friends and family.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at edi[email protected].
Summer vegetables are tough to beat
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Except for the berries, I’ve had more success with our garden this year compared to last.
We’ve gotten some nice, big cloves of garlic, we stayed supplied with romaine lettuce and green onions all through the spring, we’ve been enjoying some healthy sweet banana peppers and the tomatoes are beginning to ripen. It will soon be BLT time here and, if we’re lucky, we’ll be making fresh salsa and canning more to get us through the winter.
I say if we’re lucky because I’m hoping to grow everything we need to make our salsa. The only thing that will be a challenge is the timing of everything.
You see I started our cilantro from seed when I re-did our herb bed and what was once cilantro has now become coriander and my first planting of jalapeno seeds didn’t germinate so I had to start over. With luck, we’ll be producing tomatoes, cilantro and jalapeno at the same time.
There are just some things, such as homemade salsa, that taste better and are more satisfying to make if you can say you grew it all yourself. That first salad of spring made from garden lettuce, spinach, green onions, peas and radishes is far more enjoyable than the iceberg and whatever vegetables we have on hand we eat throughout the winter.
It’s rewarding to gather your own eggs, collect some chives and sage or oregano from the garden and make an omelet (unfortunately egg production is near zero here at the Groves homestead). One of the best dishes I’ve ever had was a mess of morels, fresh asparagus and garlic from the garden cooked simply with salt, pepper and just a bit of olive oil.
Yes, there are plenty of good eats coming on even if they don’t arrive in time salsa gathered straight from the backyard. If the jalapenos and cilantro don’t make it on time I’ll just have to eat my tomatoes by the slice with a bit of salt while I wait.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Except for the berries, I’ve had more success with our garden this year compared to last.
We’ve gotten some nice, big cloves of garlic, we stayed supplied with romaine lettuce and green onions all through the spring, we’ve been enjoying some healthy sweet banana peppers and the tomatoes are beginning to ripen. It will soon be BLT time here and, if we’re lucky, we’ll be making fresh salsa and canning more to get us through the winter.
I say if we’re lucky because I’m hoping to grow everything we need to make our salsa. The only thing that will be a challenge is the timing of everything.
You see I started our cilantro from seed when I re-did our herb bed and what was once cilantro has now become coriander and my first planting of jalapeno seeds didn’t germinate so I had to start over. With luck, we’ll be producing tomatoes, cilantro and jalapeno at the same time.
There are just some things, such as homemade salsa, that taste better and are more satisfying to make if you can say you grew it all yourself. That first salad of spring made from garden lettuce, spinach, green onions, peas and radishes is far more enjoyable than the iceberg and whatever vegetables we have on hand we eat throughout the winter.
It’s rewarding to gather your own eggs, collect some chives and sage or oregano from the garden and make an omelet (unfortunately egg production is near zero here at the Groves homestead). One of the best dishes I’ve ever had was a mess of morels, fresh asparagus and garlic from the garden cooked simply with salt, pepper and just a bit of olive oil.
Yes, there are plenty of good eats coming on even if they don’t arrive in time salsa gathered straight from the backyard. If the jalapenos and cilantro don’t make it on time I’ll just have to eat my tomatoes by the slice with a bit of salt while I wait.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Daughters reach their own ‘Independence Day’
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Independence Day felt different to me this year. The girls love spending time as a family and really enjoy being part of the community festivities out at the lake, that hasn’t changed. But somehow, it all feels a little bit different.
Ava no longer squeals in delight, oooing and ahhing as each burst lights up the night. It’s been several years since Brady crawled in my lap, frightened by the big booms. In fact, last year, we had a difficult time getting them to sit with us so we wouldn’t lose them in the dark and the crowds. My girls are experiencing their own “Independence Day.”
We are less than one month from the day our sweet firstborn turns double digits in age. Not to be left behind, Little Miss moves to the upper elementary pod this year. Long gone are the baby, toddler and preschool years. Even kindergarten memories are in our distant past.
And I struggle with this nearly daily. I want to put on the breaks and scream at the world — “not so fast, just slow down for a minute.” I want my babies to retain their sweetness and their innocence. I think in a way, all parents feel this way.
Where I really feel the struggle is that while I really do want things to slow down, I enjoy the changes too. I relish each new skill they master. I’m excited to see their personalities unfold. I am in awe of their character and their growing independence.
I have really paid attention these past couple of months and seen some very distinct changes in my girls. Not only are they navigating the path of declaring independence from Andrew and I, but they seem to be figuring out who they are independent of each other.
Especially Ava. As the little sister, she has long been inadvertently compared, by family, church members, teachers and friends, to Brady. But she seems to have just recently grown enough self-awareness to realize that she and her sister, while similar in many ways, have some really distinct differences. And she is figuring out how to stake her claim on her own space in our family and in this world.
In some ways it feels like we are back in the early years. When Ava was a baby Brady would grab her, try to take away her toys, give unwanted hugs and kisses. Typical toddler things. As soon as Ava was strong enough and mobile enough, the tables turned and Brady had a pretty rude awakening. These days, Brady is learning that her little sister is no longer willing to sit idly by and let her set the agenda for every game, every playtime or every day. Ava finally has a strong enough sense of self that the tables have turned. Right now, that means a lot more squabbles and bickering.
I hope that someday soon our family’s little Revolutionary War follows in the lead of our country and results in a whole lot more democracy and mutual independence. In the meantime, I’ll keep watching, acting as referee when absolutely necessary and reminding both parties of the importance of mutual respect and grace.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Independence Day felt different to me this year. The girls love spending time as a family and really enjoy being part of the community festivities out at the lake, that hasn’t changed. But somehow, it all feels a little bit different.
Ava no longer squeals in delight, oooing and ahhing as each burst lights up the night. It’s been several years since Brady crawled in my lap, frightened by the big booms. In fact, last year, we had a difficult time getting them to sit with us so we wouldn’t lose them in the dark and the crowds. My girls are experiencing their own “Independence Day.”
We are less than one month from the day our sweet firstborn turns double digits in age. Not to be left behind, Little Miss moves to the upper elementary pod this year. Long gone are the baby, toddler and preschool years. Even kindergarten memories are in our distant past.
And I struggle with this nearly daily. I want to put on the breaks and scream at the world — “not so fast, just slow down for a minute.” I want my babies to retain their sweetness and their innocence. I think in a way, all parents feel this way.
Where I really feel the struggle is that while I really do want things to slow down, I enjoy the changes too. I relish each new skill they master. I’m excited to see their personalities unfold. I am in awe of their character and their growing independence.
I have really paid attention these past couple of months and seen some very distinct changes in my girls. Not only are they navigating the path of declaring independence from Andrew and I, but they seem to be figuring out who they are independent of each other.
Especially Ava. As the little sister, she has long been inadvertently compared, by family, church members, teachers and friends, to Brady. But she seems to have just recently grown enough self-awareness to realize that she and her sister, while similar in many ways, have some really distinct differences. And she is figuring out how to stake her claim on her own space in our family and in this world.
In some ways it feels like we are back in the early years. When Ava was a baby Brady would grab her, try to take away her toys, give unwanted hugs and kisses. Typical toddler things. As soon as Ava was strong enough and mobile enough, the tables turned and Brady had a pretty rude awakening. These days, Brady is learning that her little sister is no longer willing to sit idly by and let her set the agenda for every game, every playtime or every day. Ava finally has a strong enough sense of self that the tables have turned. Right now, that means a lot more squabbles and bickering.
I hope that someday soon our family’s little Revolutionary War follows in the lead of our country and results in a whole lot more democracy and mutual independence. In the meantime, I’ll keep watching, acting as referee when absolutely necessary and reminding both parties of the importance of mutual respect and grace.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Be safe, courteous this July 4
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
For years fireworks both a big and small were my main way of celebrating July 4.
It all began when I was a young child lighting sparklers, black snakes, Roman candles and smoke bombs. As soon as the fireworks stands opened for the season I would begin bugging my parents about buying us some. They often did, but my little brother and I would quickly run through our small arsenal and would find ourselves emptying piggy banks and searching roadside ditches for pop bottles so we could buy more fireworks.
A good part of our July 4 celebration took place at my grandparents’ house in downtown Hollister, Mo. From there, we had the perfect vantage of the town’s fireworks display as rockets and shells were shot from the school atop Candy Mountain and over downtown. As we waited for dusk to arrive my cousins and I would set off our mini displays until the big show started.
When I got older and had children of my own I would help them set off fireworks and take them to the fireworks display in whatever town we happened to live. We would load up a couple of blankets, some folding chairs, a cooler full of drinks and usually a watermelon, if we could find a good one. That’s pretty much exactly how we’ve celebrated the last 10 years.
This year, though, I’m not sure how the Fourth is going to work for us. Our 16-year-old daughter will likely be working at the pool the evening of the fireworks display and we’re not really sure of her plans. I imagine she’ll watch the fireworks with her friends and it will just be our youngest, Christy and I watching the fireworks if we decide to do so.
I’m not as keen as I once was on fireworks. I think that after nearly 50 years of July 4 celebrations, many of which included Independence Day photos of one form or another for whichever newspaper I worked for, I’ve seen about enough fireworks I’ve needed to see.
Sure, fireworks are nice to watch and sharing a pleasant summer evening with fellow townspeople celebrating our nation’s independence is enjoyable but two weeks of explosions at all times of day around town have become a bit too much for me.
And I’m not the only one. The organization Military with PTSD is asking people to be courteous of combat veterans July 4. While celebrating the holiday with fireworks is fun for many, the blasts can trigger post-traumatic stress disorder for some of our veterans. If you see a red, white and blue sign that reads “Combat veterans lives here, Please be courteous with fireworks” be considerate and use common sense.
Whether fireworks are a part of your holiday or not, have a safe and happy Independence Day.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
For years fireworks both a big and small were my main way of celebrating July 4.
It all began when I was a young child lighting sparklers, black snakes, Roman candles and smoke bombs. As soon as the fireworks stands opened for the season I would begin bugging my parents about buying us some. They often did, but my little brother and I would quickly run through our small arsenal and would find ourselves emptying piggy banks and searching roadside ditches for pop bottles so we could buy more fireworks.
A good part of our July 4 celebration took place at my grandparents’ house in downtown Hollister, Mo. From there, we had the perfect vantage of the town’s fireworks display as rockets and shells were shot from the school atop Candy Mountain and over downtown. As we waited for dusk to arrive my cousins and I would set off our mini displays until the big show started.
When I got older and had children of my own I would help them set off fireworks and take them to the fireworks display in whatever town we happened to live. We would load up a couple of blankets, some folding chairs, a cooler full of drinks and usually a watermelon, if we could find a good one. That’s pretty much exactly how we’ve celebrated the last 10 years.
This year, though, I’m not sure how the Fourth is going to work for us. Our 16-year-old daughter will likely be working at the pool the evening of the fireworks display and we’re not really sure of her plans. I imagine she’ll watch the fireworks with her friends and it will just be our youngest, Christy and I watching the fireworks if we decide to do so.
I’m not as keen as I once was on fireworks. I think that after nearly 50 years of July 4 celebrations, many of which included Independence Day photos of one form or another for whichever newspaper I worked for, I’ve seen about enough fireworks I’ve needed to see.
Sure, fireworks are nice to watch and sharing a pleasant summer evening with fellow townspeople celebrating our nation’s independence is enjoyable but two weeks of explosions at all times of day around town have become a bit too much for me.
And I’m not the only one. The organization Military with PTSD is asking people to be courteous of combat veterans July 4. While celebrating the holiday with fireworks is fun for many, the blasts can trigger post-traumatic stress disorder for some of our veterans. If you see a red, white and blue sign that reads “Combat veterans lives here, Please be courteous with fireworks” be considerate and use common sense.
Whether fireworks are a part of your holiday or not, have a safe and happy Independence Day.
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Few consider the true costs of war
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
After four nights of camping and a 10-mile hike I found myself a bit tired and uninspired for a column this week. Searching for ideas, I came across a June 4, 2003, column I had written when I worked for the Arkansas-Democrat Gazette.
That column is about Pfc. Eric Bleything, a soldier in the 3rd Armored Cavalry who was shot May 27, 2003, while working at a checkpoint near Fallujah, west of Baghdad. More than 13 years ago I was writing about a young man from Rogers, Ark., his wife Marcie and their 8-month-old son Anthony.
Thirteen years seems like a long time and yet battles still rage in Iraq. Just last week some of us heard about Iraqi special forces taking back Fallujah from Islamic State militants and thousands of residents trapped there fled the city, some of them even swimming across the Euphrates River to safety.
I say only some of us heard about the most recent battle in Fallujah because even 13 years ago while “shock and awe,” “weapons of mass destruction” and “Saddam” were fresh in minds of many, not everyone knew or even cared about a foot soldier like Pfc. Bleything. I’m willing to bet today even fewer know what’s going on in Iraq, what is happening in the wake of Operation Iraqi Freedom.
And that’s disappointing on many levels. It’s disappointing that so many decry our national debt yet so few realize the Department of Defense alone has spent more than $750 billion on the war in Iraq (not to mention the U.S. has spent more $740 billion in Afghanistan and still counting).
Set aside the financial costs, though. What’s more disappointing is how few realize the true costs of our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan — more than 6,000 U.S. casualties, more than 50,000 wounded, more than 100,000 post-traumatic stress disorder diagnoses, and more than 250,000 traumatic brain injury diagnoses, and this from a February 2013 Congressional Research Service report.
Of course all of that is just statistics. There’s no true measure of the cost of war, no way of calculating its effects on spouses, parents, children and friends of service members, no way of knowing the fear, horrors, doubts and disappointments they must endure. Fewer of us still consider those costs.
And there’s another human cost that fewer still in the U.S. consider — the toll taken on the non-combatants, the children, parents and grandparents suffering in these war torn countries. The United Nations Refugee Agency has registered more than 400,000 Iraqi refugees since 2013 but that’s not counting other countries affected by the war, countries like Jordan, Turkey, Syria, Lebanon and others.
Too few of us here in the U.S. have any idea of the true cost and effects of war. We are a sheltered nation in many ways. True, the nation has felt the effects of war through terrorist attacks but those leave our minds quickly. Not since the Civil War have U.S. citizens had to endure the atrocities and costs of war on our own soil but I would ask you to consider those costs.
Think of these wars and their long-term effects on us as a nation, on our national debt, on our service men and women, and on individuals like Pfc. Eric Bleything. But most of all think about the cost of war on destroyed homes, on families fleeing military operations, on children going hungry. Those are atrocities most of us never witness.
We — Americans — are blessed in many ways and take too many things for granted. Martha Gellhorn, one of our country’s greatest war correspondents, traveled by car around the U.S. a couple of years after the end of World War II and what she said then is something to consider again today.
“After all the miles and all the weeks, there is still no conclusion to draw from driving through America,” Gellhorn writes. “It is beautiful and strange. It also has a great quality of unreality, because the reality of most of the world is hunger and desolation, gutted houses and factories, the car that lies pocked with bullet holes and rusting at the side of the road, the burned-out tank, the ration tickets, the devious anguish of black markets, the hopelessly repaired clothes, the cracked shoes and the wretched allotment of coal. I do not see how many can make that reality clear to Americans, because they have not felt it and experience is not communicated through the mind. But if Americans could understand and feel that reality, someone should tell them to be generous quickly, to be impractically and imprudently generous, since it is not safe for one nation alone to be so blessed.”
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
After four nights of camping and a 10-mile hike I found myself a bit tired and uninspired for a column this week. Searching for ideas, I came across a June 4, 2003, column I had written when I worked for the Arkansas-Democrat Gazette.
That column is about Pfc. Eric Bleything, a soldier in the 3rd Armored Cavalry who was shot May 27, 2003, while working at a checkpoint near Fallujah, west of Baghdad. More than 13 years ago I was writing about a young man from Rogers, Ark., his wife Marcie and their 8-month-old son Anthony.
Thirteen years seems like a long time and yet battles still rage in Iraq. Just last week some of us heard about Iraqi special forces taking back Fallujah from Islamic State militants and thousands of residents trapped there fled the city, some of them even swimming across the Euphrates River to safety.
I say only some of us heard about the most recent battle in Fallujah because even 13 years ago while “shock and awe,” “weapons of mass destruction” and “Saddam” were fresh in minds of many, not everyone knew or even cared about a foot soldier like Pfc. Bleything. I’m willing to bet today even fewer know what’s going on in Iraq, what is happening in the wake of Operation Iraqi Freedom.
And that’s disappointing on many levels. It’s disappointing that so many decry our national debt yet so few realize the Department of Defense alone has spent more than $750 billion on the war in Iraq (not to mention the U.S. has spent more $740 billion in Afghanistan and still counting).
Set aside the financial costs, though. What’s more disappointing is how few realize the true costs of our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan — more than 6,000 U.S. casualties, more than 50,000 wounded, more than 100,000 post-traumatic stress disorder diagnoses, and more than 250,000 traumatic brain injury diagnoses, and this from a February 2013 Congressional Research Service report.
Of course all of that is just statistics. There’s no true measure of the cost of war, no way of calculating its effects on spouses, parents, children and friends of service members, no way of knowing the fear, horrors, doubts and disappointments they must endure. Fewer of us still consider those costs.
And there’s another human cost that fewer still in the U.S. consider — the toll taken on the non-combatants, the children, parents and grandparents suffering in these war torn countries. The United Nations Refugee Agency has registered more than 400,000 Iraqi refugees since 2013 but that’s not counting other countries affected by the war, countries like Jordan, Turkey, Syria, Lebanon and others.
Too few of us here in the U.S. have any idea of the true cost and effects of war. We are a sheltered nation in many ways. True, the nation has felt the effects of war through terrorist attacks but those leave our minds quickly. Not since the Civil War have U.S. citizens had to endure the atrocities and costs of war on our own soil but I would ask you to consider those costs.
Think of these wars and their long-term effects on us as a nation, on our national debt, on our service men and women, and on individuals like Pfc. Eric Bleything. But most of all think about the cost of war on destroyed homes, on families fleeing military operations, on children going hungry. Those are atrocities most of us never witness.
We — Americans — are blessed in many ways and take too many things for granted. Martha Gellhorn, one of our country’s greatest war correspondents, traveled by car around the U.S. a couple of years after the end of World War II and what she said then is something to consider again today.
“After all the miles and all the weeks, there is still no conclusion to draw from driving through America,” Gellhorn writes. “It is beautiful and strange. It also has a great quality of unreality, because the reality of most of the world is hunger and desolation, gutted houses and factories, the car that lies pocked with bullet holes and rusting at the side of the road, the burned-out tank, the ration tickets, the devious anguish of black markets, the hopelessly repaired clothes, the cracked shoes and the wretched allotment of coal. I do not see how many can make that reality clear to Americans, because they have not felt it and experience is not communicated through the mind. But if Americans could understand and feel that reality, someone should tell them to be generous quickly, to be impractically and imprudently generous, since it is not safe for one nation alone to be so blessed.”
Don Groves can be contacted at pub[email protected].
Spring brings pleasures and problems
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Late spring is one of the greatest seasons. As I sit on my front porch writing this column I catch the fragrance of our climbing rose growing not even five feet from me.
Hummingbirds zip around the yard, there’s fresh lettuce and peas in the vegetable garden, and cool nights with windows open mean waking refreshed each morning.
Yet along with all nature’s pleasures also come a few minor inconveniences. For some its seasonal allergies or a fast growing lawn, but for me it’s been trying to coexist with a few of nature’s creatures.
Bees, particularly honeybees and occasionally bumblebees, always seems to have their way with me beginning in spring and throughout summer. I’m glad to say our yard is a great place for bees to forage but I’m not so fond of receiving unexpected apitherapy. It’s just never quite fully spring for me until I get my first bee sting of the season.
I admit I enjoy going barefoot and doing so offers no protection from stings when you step on those little critters so I’ve taken to wearing sandals outside. They provide some protection but won’t stop a honeybee from buzzing into a sandal and stinging a toe. That happened a couple of days ago, my second sting this spring, but I’m happy to say my big toe no longer itches and the redness is almost all gone from it.
A challenge greater than bees, though, has been our indoor ant invasion brought on in large part by all our recent wet weather. The ants began arriving a couple of weeks ago in our bathroom on the east side of the house where a couple of teen daughters are less than diligent in putting caps back on toothpaste or cleaning up spilled mouthwash.
From the bathroom the ants have found other feeding places in the house: the living room, where one daughter enjoys eating cereal and leaving empty bowls on the coffee table; the kitchen, where both teens are guilty of leaving assorted sweet messes and empty dishes everywhere; and, worst of all, a small room just off the bathroom where our 16-year-old likes to watch videos on her laptop.
It was our 16-year-old who pointed out the mass ant invasion in her little room but she first misidentified the insects. She tried telling us she thought the dog had fleas because she felt little bugs on her. It turned out she herself was the one to blame for stockpiling empty soda cans and candy wrappers beneath the couch she sat upon instead of disposing of her trash properly.
And finally birds, particularly blue jays, have vexed me recently. It seems they’ve grown fond of my strawberries and have left me fewer than a handful.
When the first few strawberries began appearing I kept an almost daily sight on them so I could sample them at their ripest. It turned out our youngest daughter beat me to the first few but I claimed the next half dozen or so as I stood there sampling them next to the berry patch. After that, though, I noticed something had been feeding on my berries as soon as they began turning red.
I discovered the culprits one afternoon when I went outside to find several blue jays hanging out around the strawberries. I knew the birds were guilty after I found a partially eaten strawberry stuck to a tomato trellis where a bird had obviously been perched.
Since the tomato trellis was right next to my strawberries, I thought an old CD strung up on the trellis might deter the birds. My idea didn’t work. Soon after I strung up the CD I went out to the garden to find three blue jays perched on the trellis above the CD. And of course my youngest had to rub in my failure when she asked, “Hey Dad, why is there a CD hanging up in the garden?”
Spring, it seems, means sharing, even with blue jays, ants, bees and every other creature it brings. Sure the season brings a few minor problems but that’s small inconvenience compared to all its pleasure. My only hope is that the mulberries in the backyard ripen just ahead of my blackberries so that maybe, just maybe, I can have a blackberry cobbler this year.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Late spring is one of the greatest seasons. As I sit on my front porch writing this column I catch the fragrance of our climbing rose growing not even five feet from me.
Hummingbirds zip around the yard, there’s fresh lettuce and peas in the vegetable garden, and cool nights with windows open mean waking refreshed each morning.
Yet along with all nature’s pleasures also come a few minor inconveniences. For some its seasonal allergies or a fast growing lawn, but for me it’s been trying to coexist with a few of nature’s creatures.
Bees, particularly honeybees and occasionally bumblebees, always seems to have their way with me beginning in spring and throughout summer. I’m glad to say our yard is a great place for bees to forage but I’m not so fond of receiving unexpected apitherapy. It’s just never quite fully spring for me until I get my first bee sting of the season.
I admit I enjoy going barefoot and doing so offers no protection from stings when you step on those little critters so I’ve taken to wearing sandals outside. They provide some protection but won’t stop a honeybee from buzzing into a sandal and stinging a toe. That happened a couple of days ago, my second sting this spring, but I’m happy to say my big toe no longer itches and the redness is almost all gone from it.
A challenge greater than bees, though, has been our indoor ant invasion brought on in large part by all our recent wet weather. The ants began arriving a couple of weeks ago in our bathroom on the east side of the house where a couple of teen daughters are less than diligent in putting caps back on toothpaste or cleaning up spilled mouthwash.
From the bathroom the ants have found other feeding places in the house: the living room, where one daughter enjoys eating cereal and leaving empty bowls on the coffee table; the kitchen, where both teens are guilty of leaving assorted sweet messes and empty dishes everywhere; and, worst of all, a small room just off the bathroom where our 16-year-old likes to watch videos on her laptop.
It was our 16-year-old who pointed out the mass ant invasion in her little room but she first misidentified the insects. She tried telling us she thought the dog had fleas because she felt little bugs on her. It turned out she herself was the one to blame for stockpiling empty soda cans and candy wrappers beneath the couch she sat upon instead of disposing of her trash properly.
And finally birds, particularly blue jays, have vexed me recently. It seems they’ve grown fond of my strawberries and have left me fewer than a handful.
When the first few strawberries began appearing I kept an almost daily sight on them so I could sample them at their ripest. It turned out our youngest daughter beat me to the first few but I claimed the next half dozen or so as I stood there sampling them next to the berry patch. After that, though, I noticed something had been feeding on my berries as soon as they began turning red.
I discovered the culprits one afternoon when I went outside to find several blue jays hanging out around the strawberries. I knew the birds were guilty after I found a partially eaten strawberry stuck to a tomato trellis where a bird had obviously been perched.
Since the tomato trellis was right next to my strawberries, I thought an old CD strung up on the trellis might deter the birds. My idea didn’t work. Soon after I strung up the CD I went out to the garden to find three blue jays perched on the trellis above the CD. And of course my youngest had to rub in my failure when she asked, “Hey Dad, why is there a CD hanging up in the garden?”
Spring, it seems, means sharing, even with blue jays, ants, bees and every other creature it brings. Sure the season brings a few minor problems but that’s small inconvenience compared to all its pleasure. My only hope is that the mulberries in the backyard ripen just ahead of my blackberries so that maybe, just maybe, I can have a blackberry cobbler this year.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].

As the journey ends — Now what?
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
This past weekend, I stood on the stage in Hy-Vee Hall before my family and many friends, surrounded by a dozen clergy people, including two Bishops as my husband, Andrew, was ordained as an Elder in Full Connection in the United Methodist Church. That means that he now has all the rights and privileges available to United Methodist clergy — and that he can officially be called by the title of Reverend.
But now what? Honestly, I really am not sure. His ministry doesn’t radically change with a change in title. The new privileges are not things that most people will even be aware of. For the foreseeable future, we stay here, with the people of Corning First United Methodist Church, we continue to do the day to day work of living and loving in this community. What we aren’t sure of is this — what is life like for us without this goal in our future? Andrew began the process of becoming a pastor and working toward ordination 15 years ago this July. We met 15 years ago in August. This has been in our sights throughout our entire relationship.
Last week, as I was putting together final plans for our celebration after the service, I started thinking about what comes after the party. I had the very same feeling I had at the close of our wedding ceremony. This was great — and I am so happy to be celebrating this new marriage with our friends and family — but I couldn’t help but feel a “that’s it?” feeling in the pit of my stomach. All the planning and budgeting, the addressing of invitations and crafting of decorations, the searching for the perfect dress and nervous energy the days and weeks before and the ceremony was over in less time than I spent getting ready that morning. “That’s it? — Now what?” Well, we were left to figure out who we are as a married couple, how to work together, how to fight, how to raise kids, how to stay connected and in love through it all.
Fifteen years of paperwork, schooling, preaching, interviews, more paperwork and much prayer for a worship service that lasted two hours — with the actual ordination lasting mere minutes. “That’s it? Now what? Who are we without this hanging over us?” Just as we did nearly 12 years ago, we will go forward learning what it is to work together with our congregation, to love one another and keep our connection vibrant and growing. We will continue to raise our children and fight for the things that matter.
But for now, I am going to continue to revel in the joy and relief that this journey has come to its conclusion. And I will sit in the intense feeling of pride for my dear husband. Celebrate with me people — the newly ordained Rev. Andrew Bardole.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
This past weekend, I stood on the stage in Hy-Vee Hall before my family and many friends, surrounded by a dozen clergy people, including two Bishops as my husband, Andrew, was ordained as an Elder in Full Connection in the United Methodist Church. That means that he now has all the rights and privileges available to United Methodist clergy — and that he can officially be called by the title of Reverend.
But now what? Honestly, I really am not sure. His ministry doesn’t radically change with a change in title. The new privileges are not things that most people will even be aware of. For the foreseeable future, we stay here, with the people of Corning First United Methodist Church, we continue to do the day to day work of living and loving in this community. What we aren’t sure of is this — what is life like for us without this goal in our future? Andrew began the process of becoming a pastor and working toward ordination 15 years ago this July. We met 15 years ago in August. This has been in our sights throughout our entire relationship.
Last week, as I was putting together final plans for our celebration after the service, I started thinking about what comes after the party. I had the very same feeling I had at the close of our wedding ceremony. This was great — and I am so happy to be celebrating this new marriage with our friends and family — but I couldn’t help but feel a “that’s it?” feeling in the pit of my stomach. All the planning and budgeting, the addressing of invitations and crafting of decorations, the searching for the perfect dress and nervous energy the days and weeks before and the ceremony was over in less time than I spent getting ready that morning. “That’s it? — Now what?” Well, we were left to figure out who we are as a married couple, how to work together, how to fight, how to raise kids, how to stay connected and in love through it all.
Fifteen years of paperwork, schooling, preaching, interviews, more paperwork and much prayer for a worship service that lasted two hours — with the actual ordination lasting mere minutes. “That’s it? Now what? Who are we without this hanging over us?” Just as we did nearly 12 years ago, we will go forward learning what it is to work together with our congregation, to love one another and keep our connection vibrant and growing. We will continue to raise our children and fight for the things that matter.
But for now, I am going to continue to revel in the joy and relief that this journey has come to its conclusion. And I will sit in the intense feeling of pride for my dear husband. Celebrate with me people — the newly ordained Rev. Andrew Bardole.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Sharing life is the best lesson
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
One thing as parents we know we are supposed to teach our children is how to share. We want them to get along well with others and to be generous with their resources. As parents, we want our kids to understand that people are more valuable than possessions. But this past week, I learned, once again, that sharing is not always the best practice with children.
I have no way of knowing where I picked up the stomach virus that ruined the latter part of my week, but I know exactly where my daughter got it. She came down with the ick about 24 hours after I did. I was still down and pretty miserable when my sweet first born cried out from her room. My only thoughts were of fear for her to endure the hours of stomach pain and know what was to come for her next few days. Luckily, either her bug was weaker or her body stronger as she only had a few hours of discomfort and aside from a fever, none of the misery I had.
This certainly wasn’t the first time in her nearly 10 years we have shared a bug, and it won’t be the last — such as it is to live in a close family. But this is the first I can remember in a long time of me passing the sickness to her. In our experience, germs and grossness generally come from the younger generation. Probably because as parents, we become so focused on comforting and taking care of sick children that we forget basic self-care. One thing is for certain, once I knew this bug was happy to spread from host to host — I kept Brady and I in as much quarantine as possible to protect the rest of our brood.
That meant a lot of closeness and alone time with my dear girl. We played computer games and watched Internet videos together and had many quiet conversations between naps. And, since Brady and I were both on the mend at about the same time on Friday, I got to share with her a piece of my life. Andrew and Ava had gone out for an evening with friends to stay far from germ central. In anticipation of our trip to see the newest of the comic book movies, our group of unabashedly nerdy friends was watching a marathon of X-Men movies.
Brady and I chose to watch them at home. Neither of us had ever seen them in their entirety, so we got to experience them for a first time together. I marveled as my child pieced together the layers of good, evil and conflicted. Of friendship and heartache. Conflict and resolution. I watched as she continues to navigate the sticky place of being caught between little kid and grown-up. And I came to learn more about how my girl sees the world.
She and I joined the rest for the remainder of the movie marathon on Saturday, where she, by virtue of her continued interest in the series, earned herself a trip with the adults to view the new movie in the theater. She got to spend Sunday afternoon with Andrew and I along with our friends. She experienced her first action movie on the big screen. And she understands even more than before that she is more like her parents than she once knew.
So much of what we think of when we consider teaching our kids to share has to do with the material. That isn’t wrong, it is important to share our “stuff” with others. But it is far more valuable to share our lives — especially with those we love. When you share who you are with your children, they will come to know you not just as Mom or Dad, but as a person who thinks, works, feels and loves. That is how you share a life.
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
One thing as parents we know we are supposed to teach our children is how to share. We want them to get along well with others and to be generous with their resources. As parents, we want our kids to understand that people are more valuable than possessions. But this past week, I learned, once again, that sharing is not always the best practice with children.
I have no way of knowing where I picked up the stomach virus that ruined the latter part of my week, but I know exactly where my daughter got it. She came down with the ick about 24 hours after I did. I was still down and pretty miserable when my sweet first born cried out from her room. My only thoughts were of fear for her to endure the hours of stomach pain and know what was to come for her next few days. Luckily, either her bug was weaker or her body stronger as she only had a few hours of discomfort and aside from a fever, none of the misery I had.
This certainly wasn’t the first time in her nearly 10 years we have shared a bug, and it won’t be the last — such as it is to live in a close family. But this is the first I can remember in a long time of me passing the sickness to her. In our experience, germs and grossness generally come from the younger generation. Probably because as parents, we become so focused on comforting and taking care of sick children that we forget basic self-care. One thing is for certain, once I knew this bug was happy to spread from host to host — I kept Brady and I in as much quarantine as possible to protect the rest of our brood.
That meant a lot of closeness and alone time with my dear girl. We played computer games and watched Internet videos together and had many quiet conversations between naps. And, since Brady and I were both on the mend at about the same time on Friday, I got to share with her a piece of my life. Andrew and Ava had gone out for an evening with friends to stay far from germ central. In anticipation of our trip to see the newest of the comic book movies, our group of unabashedly nerdy friends was watching a marathon of X-Men movies.
Brady and I chose to watch them at home. Neither of us had ever seen them in their entirety, so we got to experience them for a first time together. I marveled as my child pieced together the layers of good, evil and conflicted. Of friendship and heartache. Conflict and resolution. I watched as she continues to navigate the sticky place of being caught between little kid and grown-up. And I came to learn more about how my girl sees the world.
She and I joined the rest for the remainder of the movie marathon on Saturday, where she, by virtue of her continued interest in the series, earned herself a trip with the adults to view the new movie in the theater. She got to spend Sunday afternoon with Andrew and I along with our friends. She experienced her first action movie on the big screen. And she understands even more than before that she is more like her parents than she once knew.
So much of what we think of when we consider teaching our kids to share has to do with the material. That isn’t wrong, it is important to share our “stuff” with others. But it is far more valuable to share our lives — especially with those we love. When you share who you are with your children, they will come to know you not just as Mom or Dad, but as a person who thinks, works, feels and loves. That is how you share a life.
It may be time to go Dutch
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Dutch oven cooking has interested me for quite some time but I’ve yet to get around to actually using a real cast iron Dutch oven.
Every time we found ourselves at an outdoor store like Cabela’s or Bass Pro Shop, or even at almost any store that has cookware, I found myself looking for ideas for us to use for cooking when we camp. I’m always pricing Dutch ovens but the tightwad in me just hasn’t been ready yet to fork out $50 or so for a six-quart chunk of cast iron.
I’ve come across a few so-called Dutch ovens, some of the enameled ones or those with no legs, at a price I feel comfortable with but those aren’t true Dutch ovens. No, I want a real Dutch oven, a heavy cast iron one with a tight fitting lid that needs to be seasoned like our cast iron skillets and is made so that its legs allow it to be placed over coals and more coals or even a smaller Dutch oven can be placed on top.
My fixation on Dutch oven has been with me for a while but it wasn’t until we went camping with another family a summer or two ago that my fixation took full control. When it came meal time we all made pretty much the same meals over a grill but when breakfast time came I had my first campsite biscuits and gravy courtesy of our friend’s Dutch oven.
I had watched Dutch oven cooking on television before but seeing, smelling it and tasting it in person created an almost obsession in me. The clichéd light bulb went off inside my head and I realized the addition of a Dutch oven would allow for endless possibilities when it comes to camp fare. Fresh-baked pie on a camping trip? There would be no reason not to with a Dutch oven.
And so, after a weekend camping trip and an experiment with an improvised hillbilly Dutch oven, I see the addition of a Dutch oven to our camping gear in the immediate future. What convinced me was a desire for dessert and a pineapple cobbler we made with a can of pineapple, some Bisquick, brown sugar, an aluminum pot and lid from our mess kit.
I thought why couldn’t I use our mess kit as a Dutch oven? I had seen aluminum Dutch ovens before and knew it could be done so I ran my idea past Christy and she helped me fine tune it. She suggested setting the mess kit in a cast iron skillet and setting over the coals instead of putting the aluminum directly on the fire.
We did, and it worked. Coals beneath, a half dozen more on top and a half hour later we had a nicely browned, gooey, sweet dessert that smelled so delicious we had a hard time waiting for our main course to finish.
Now I’m that much more anxious to buy a real Dutch oven and see what else we can create. I’m pretty sure one would be used not just in camp but also at home alongside the smoker.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Dutch oven cooking has interested me for quite some time but I’ve yet to get around to actually using a real cast iron Dutch oven.
Every time we found ourselves at an outdoor store like Cabela’s or Bass Pro Shop, or even at almost any store that has cookware, I found myself looking for ideas for us to use for cooking when we camp. I’m always pricing Dutch ovens but the tightwad in me just hasn’t been ready yet to fork out $50 or so for a six-quart chunk of cast iron.
I’ve come across a few so-called Dutch ovens, some of the enameled ones or those with no legs, at a price I feel comfortable with but those aren’t true Dutch ovens. No, I want a real Dutch oven, a heavy cast iron one with a tight fitting lid that needs to be seasoned like our cast iron skillets and is made so that its legs allow it to be placed over coals and more coals or even a smaller Dutch oven can be placed on top.
My fixation on Dutch oven has been with me for a while but it wasn’t until we went camping with another family a summer or two ago that my fixation took full control. When it came meal time we all made pretty much the same meals over a grill but when breakfast time came I had my first campsite biscuits and gravy courtesy of our friend’s Dutch oven.
I had watched Dutch oven cooking on television before but seeing, smelling it and tasting it in person created an almost obsession in me. The clichéd light bulb went off inside my head and I realized the addition of a Dutch oven would allow for endless possibilities when it comes to camp fare. Fresh-baked pie on a camping trip? There would be no reason not to with a Dutch oven.
And so, after a weekend camping trip and an experiment with an improvised hillbilly Dutch oven, I see the addition of a Dutch oven to our camping gear in the immediate future. What convinced me was a desire for dessert and a pineapple cobbler we made with a can of pineapple, some Bisquick, brown sugar, an aluminum pot and lid from our mess kit.
I thought why couldn’t I use our mess kit as a Dutch oven? I had seen aluminum Dutch ovens before and knew it could be done so I ran my idea past Christy and she helped me fine tune it. She suggested setting the mess kit in a cast iron skillet and setting over the coals instead of putting the aluminum directly on the fire.
We did, and it worked. Coals beneath, a half dozen more on top and a half hour later we had a nicely browned, gooey, sweet dessert that smelled so delicious we had a hard time waiting for our main course to finish.
Now I’m that much more anxious to buy a real Dutch oven and see what else we can create. I’m pretty sure one would be used not just in camp but also at home alongside the smoker.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Mother’s Day can be a pain
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
When you schedule events weeks or even months in advance you can almost always expect the unexpected.
Such was the case with our weekend visit the granddaughters in Ozark, Mo. Planned back about the middle of March, the trip was to allow us watch our oldest granddaughter Callee play soccer and our middle granddaughter compete in gymnastics, spend some time with my oldest daughter to see how well she and our on-the-way grandson are doing, and visit my mom on Mother’s Day.
We made it to both events, although not quite as planned. A couple of unexpected things threw us some curves.
Soon after we had made our plans we discovered son Jon and daughter-in-law Cara had made an offer on a house in Ozark. We subsequently discovered that not only was their offer on the house accepted but also that they would be closing on their new home the Friday we would be heading south. Happy to hear their news, I volunteered our labor in helping with their move and let Christy know this Mother’s Day we would celebrate by lifting heavy boxes and furniture.
Not one to pass up an opportunity, I figured we might was well take advantage of our car’s warranty and have the dealer service it while we were there. With my granddaughters’ schedules in hand, I planned our Saturday: 9 a.m. oil change followed by soccer at 9:30, gymnastics at 10:30 and the rest of the day visiting with my son and oldest daughter as we helped with the move.
All was going according to schedule until the weekend before Mother’s Day. Somehow, sometime between an afternoon track meet and reinstalling the rear window in my pickup my back slipped out of place.
Sitting at a computer most of the day almost every day for the last 25 years or so I’ve become familiar with back pain. I’ve learned I can avoid it if don’t sit too long, and I can treat it if I stretch, rest and do yoga. But if I can’t treat it myself, if the pain has me wincing whenever I bend over, it’s time to visit the chiropractor.
And that was were I found myself the Friday we were to leave for Ozark: stretched out on a chiropractor’s table hooked up to an electronic muscle simulator with an ice pack on my back knowing that in just a few hours I would be sitting in a car for some 300 miles.
The trip, at least the first 90 miles or so, was nearly unbearable. By the time we made our first stop in Liberty, Mo., I wasn’t sure I could even get out of the car. I bought a bag of ice and some zip lock bags and spent the next 40 miles flat on my back on the passenger’s seat with an ice pack under my back. It helped, and I discovered if I placed a rolled up sweat shirt behind my back the pain almost disappeared. By the time we arrived at my parents’ the shooting pain had gone down to a low, constant throb.
By Saturday morning my back was better. There was an occasional stab of pain but nothing unbearable as long as I didn’t sit for too long. After standing during soccer and gymnastics my condition continued to improve to the point I was able to help with the move by carrying a few of the lighter packed boxes. When I felt my back growing inflamed I would lie down flat on my back, have Christy pull my legs to straighten my spine and, with her help, achieve a little self adjustment.
In church on Mother’s Day time in the pew brought back a bit of soreness but the ride home wasn’t totally unbearable. The only real problem came when I decided to take a turn driving and found out just how closely connected our feet are to our spines.
On Monday I visited the chiropractor again for another adjustment and hopefully after a visit Thursday I’ll be as back to normal as I get. As I write this on Monday afternoon I’ve regained range of motion enough to stand up after sitting at my desk instead of rolling out of my chair onto the floor and lying on my back until I become brave enough to bend my back again.
Yes, even the most thorough schedule can often throw you a couple of curves. My curves just happened to come unexpectedly to my back and this Mother’s Day was a real pain.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
When you schedule events weeks or even months in advance you can almost always expect the unexpected.
Such was the case with our weekend visit the granddaughters in Ozark, Mo. Planned back about the middle of March, the trip was to allow us watch our oldest granddaughter Callee play soccer and our middle granddaughter compete in gymnastics, spend some time with my oldest daughter to see how well she and our on-the-way grandson are doing, and visit my mom on Mother’s Day.
We made it to both events, although not quite as planned. A couple of unexpected things threw us some curves.
Soon after we had made our plans we discovered son Jon and daughter-in-law Cara had made an offer on a house in Ozark. We subsequently discovered that not only was their offer on the house accepted but also that they would be closing on their new home the Friday we would be heading south. Happy to hear their news, I volunteered our labor in helping with their move and let Christy know this Mother’s Day we would celebrate by lifting heavy boxes and furniture.
Not one to pass up an opportunity, I figured we might was well take advantage of our car’s warranty and have the dealer service it while we were there. With my granddaughters’ schedules in hand, I planned our Saturday: 9 a.m. oil change followed by soccer at 9:30, gymnastics at 10:30 and the rest of the day visiting with my son and oldest daughter as we helped with the move.
All was going according to schedule until the weekend before Mother’s Day. Somehow, sometime between an afternoon track meet and reinstalling the rear window in my pickup my back slipped out of place.
Sitting at a computer most of the day almost every day for the last 25 years or so I’ve become familiar with back pain. I’ve learned I can avoid it if don’t sit too long, and I can treat it if I stretch, rest and do yoga. But if I can’t treat it myself, if the pain has me wincing whenever I bend over, it’s time to visit the chiropractor.
And that was were I found myself the Friday we were to leave for Ozark: stretched out on a chiropractor’s table hooked up to an electronic muscle simulator with an ice pack on my back knowing that in just a few hours I would be sitting in a car for some 300 miles.
The trip, at least the first 90 miles or so, was nearly unbearable. By the time we made our first stop in Liberty, Mo., I wasn’t sure I could even get out of the car. I bought a bag of ice and some zip lock bags and spent the next 40 miles flat on my back on the passenger’s seat with an ice pack under my back. It helped, and I discovered if I placed a rolled up sweat shirt behind my back the pain almost disappeared. By the time we arrived at my parents’ the shooting pain had gone down to a low, constant throb.
By Saturday morning my back was better. There was an occasional stab of pain but nothing unbearable as long as I didn’t sit for too long. After standing during soccer and gymnastics my condition continued to improve to the point I was able to help with the move by carrying a few of the lighter packed boxes. When I felt my back growing inflamed I would lie down flat on my back, have Christy pull my legs to straighten my spine and, with her help, achieve a little self adjustment.
In church on Mother’s Day time in the pew brought back a bit of soreness but the ride home wasn’t totally unbearable. The only real problem came when I decided to take a turn driving and found out just how closely connected our feet are to our spines.
On Monday I visited the chiropractor again for another adjustment and hopefully after a visit Thursday I’ll be as back to normal as I get. As I write this on Monday afternoon I’ve regained range of motion enough to stand up after sitting at my desk instead of rolling out of my chair onto the floor and lying on my back until I become brave enough to bend my back again.
Yes, even the most thorough schedule can often throw you a couple of curves. My curves just happened to come unexpectedly to my back and this Mother’s Day was a real pain.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Who is really unsafe in restroom controversy?
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
I usually steer pretty far from engaging any political debates in my columns. Especially when my focus is parenting. Today I depart from that self-inflicted policy because I am just sickened by conversations swirling around in the past week.
As a further step in the direction of inclusion, Target stores instituted a policy that has many patrons upset. If you don’t know what I mean, Target has declared that any person shopping in one of their stores may use the restroom and fitting room of the gender they identify with, regardless of physical anatomy. This follows closely on the heels of Target’s decision last summer to eliminate gender branding in their toy and bedding departments because, as they said in their corporate announcement last August, “In some departments like toys, home or entertainment, suggesting products by gender is unnecessary.”
Unfortunately, in response to both policies, people have lost their minds. The response to the gender branding removal last summer was frustrating to me as a mom of girls, because both of my daughters, one in particular, enjoy toys that have been traditionally marketed to boys. I celebrate the removal of gender specifications in regards to toys. Girls can grow up to be mechanics, construction workers and racecar drivers — so why shouldn’t they be able to play with toys in those fields as children? And boys, a majority of today’s boys will grow up to one day be fathers who maybe once in a while have to cook something for themselves or their family. So tell me again how having a doll or a play kitchen is only for girls.
Back to the restroom issue. Yes, I understand that there are some people who will attempt to abuse a policy of inclusion. But those same people wouldn’t let a policy of exclusion stop them from victimizing others if that was their intent. And, those crying out that they don’t want their daughters being exposed to pedophiles in the bathroom who will suddenly have a ruse to gain access seem to have forgotten that these same individuals have access to their sons in the men’s room.
Further, transgendered individuals are in the highest category for risk of assault — both physical and sexual. Simply stated, using the restroom that matches their anatomy is generally unsafe. The reality of the situation is this — transgendered women and men have been using the restroom of their corresponding gender identity for years, the greater public is only now aware of it because the transgendered community is now more visible.
How does this relate to parenting you ask? In two ways. First — put yourself in the shoes of a father whose 16-year-old son tearfully insists that he is really supposed to be a girl. Imagine if you can trying to parent the child who you love and want to protect. Coaching her, as you always have, to be herself and make wise choices. Then realize that there are those who want to force her to use the men’s room because that is the gender she was assigned at birth. Do you really feel she will be safe? Be sensitive to others, understand most people are simply in the restroom to meet their biological needs — same as you.
Secondly, as parents your opinions, fears and prejudices are passed on to your children. As in the 1950s and ’60s, children did not know to be racist and afraid of each other until their parents and grandparents made racist remarks in their presence. Children are not born afraid of snakes, spiders or mice. Unless they have a negative personal encounter with them, they pick up these fears from the reactions of the adults around them. You can teach your kids that your way of thinking is the only right way, or you can teach your kids that people are basically good and that it takes a variety of thoughts and opinions to keep the world functioning. Your choice.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
I usually steer pretty far from engaging any political debates in my columns. Especially when my focus is parenting. Today I depart from that self-inflicted policy because I am just sickened by conversations swirling around in the past week.
As a further step in the direction of inclusion, Target stores instituted a policy that has many patrons upset. If you don’t know what I mean, Target has declared that any person shopping in one of their stores may use the restroom and fitting room of the gender they identify with, regardless of physical anatomy. This follows closely on the heels of Target’s decision last summer to eliminate gender branding in their toy and bedding departments because, as they said in their corporate announcement last August, “In some departments like toys, home or entertainment, suggesting products by gender is unnecessary.”
Unfortunately, in response to both policies, people have lost their minds. The response to the gender branding removal last summer was frustrating to me as a mom of girls, because both of my daughters, one in particular, enjoy toys that have been traditionally marketed to boys. I celebrate the removal of gender specifications in regards to toys. Girls can grow up to be mechanics, construction workers and racecar drivers — so why shouldn’t they be able to play with toys in those fields as children? And boys, a majority of today’s boys will grow up to one day be fathers who maybe once in a while have to cook something for themselves or their family. So tell me again how having a doll or a play kitchen is only for girls.
Back to the restroom issue. Yes, I understand that there are some people who will attempt to abuse a policy of inclusion. But those same people wouldn’t let a policy of exclusion stop them from victimizing others if that was their intent. And, those crying out that they don’t want their daughters being exposed to pedophiles in the bathroom who will suddenly have a ruse to gain access seem to have forgotten that these same individuals have access to their sons in the men’s room.
Further, transgendered individuals are in the highest category for risk of assault — both physical and sexual. Simply stated, using the restroom that matches their anatomy is generally unsafe. The reality of the situation is this — transgendered women and men have been using the restroom of their corresponding gender identity for years, the greater public is only now aware of it because the transgendered community is now more visible.
How does this relate to parenting you ask? In two ways. First — put yourself in the shoes of a father whose 16-year-old son tearfully insists that he is really supposed to be a girl. Imagine if you can trying to parent the child who you love and want to protect. Coaching her, as you always have, to be herself and make wise choices. Then realize that there are those who want to force her to use the men’s room because that is the gender she was assigned at birth. Do you really feel she will be safe? Be sensitive to others, understand most people are simply in the restroom to meet their biological needs — same as you.
Secondly, as parents your opinions, fears and prejudices are passed on to your children. As in the 1950s and ’60s, children did not know to be racist and afraid of each other until their parents and grandparents made racist remarks in their presence. Children are not born afraid of snakes, spiders or mice. Unless they have a negative personal encounter with them, they pick up these fears from the reactions of the adults around them. You can teach your kids that your way of thinking is the only right way, or you can teach your kids that people are basically good and that it takes a variety of thoughts and opinions to keep the world functioning. Your choice.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Life returns to as normal as it gets
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
This week my life returns to normal.
Perhaps it would be more accurate to say our lives return to normal, or should I say as normal as life gets for a family with two teenage daughters.
You see, for the last eight weeks Christy and our daughters have been involved in the Albany High School musical, “Shrek the Musical,” leaving me a virtual bachelor.
For five or six days a week I had the house all to myself for anywhere from two and a half hours to five hours. And for the most part that’s been all right.
With peace and quiet and complete control of the television I was able to watch whatever I wanted. Unfortunately except for one weekend when we received free movie networks I found few shows interesting enough to hold my full attention.
I was able to finish reading several books I had started or checked out of the library: “Blue Highways,” “Wildlife in America, “Monkey Bridge,” “Wild,” “The Trail of Tears Across Missouri,” and others. Even better, many of those were read on the front porch thanks to warmer weather.
When I grew tired of reading I’d sit on the porch, strum a few songs on the acoustic guitar and watch the birds, rabbits and squirrels (I discovered a cardinals’ nest in the spirea in front of the porch and a doves’ nest in the crabapple tree on the west side of the house). When simple strumming wasn’t enough I went into the basement, plugged in the electric guitar and cranked up the amp as loud as I wanted with no complaints from anyone (of course that isn’t to say my neighbors didn’t hear me).
With only myself at home and longer daylight hours I started early vegetables, such as radishes, lettuce and peas. I’ve also used my time to de-weed vegetable beds, spread compost and create a raised bed for herbs.
While I was able to focus on projects and hobbies mealtime was either super easy or super challenging. When Christy and the girls had evening play practice they took sandwiches or grabbed something at a convenience store and I got to eat whatever I wanted for supper. Pie and ice cream? No problem. On Mondays though, when they practiced until noon or so and Allison had track meets, I never knew when to have lunch ready or if there was enough time to get everyone fed before they had to head back out the door again.
Of course days when they didn’t have play practice were challenging. I wanted to go do things with the family, maybe go for a hike or even just a stroll around the neighborhood, but because of their long hours in rehearsal any activity more strenuous than watching TV was out of the question.
Monday, however, marked the return to a slower, simpler way of family life. Now we have no great demands on our time other than twice a week track meets, prom, graduation, the spring music concert, National Honor Society, FFA banquet, helping my son and his family move into a house they’re buying, laundry, keeping the yard mowed, trying to squeeze in a couple of camping trips … well, you get the idea.
Yep, we’re back to our own quiet little lives again.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
This week my life returns to normal.
Perhaps it would be more accurate to say our lives return to normal, or should I say as normal as life gets for a family with two teenage daughters.
You see, for the last eight weeks Christy and our daughters have been involved in the Albany High School musical, “Shrek the Musical,” leaving me a virtual bachelor.
For five or six days a week I had the house all to myself for anywhere from two and a half hours to five hours. And for the most part that’s been all right.
With peace and quiet and complete control of the television I was able to watch whatever I wanted. Unfortunately except for one weekend when we received free movie networks I found few shows interesting enough to hold my full attention.
I was able to finish reading several books I had started or checked out of the library: “Blue Highways,” “Wildlife in America, “Monkey Bridge,” “Wild,” “The Trail of Tears Across Missouri,” and others. Even better, many of those were read on the front porch thanks to warmer weather.
When I grew tired of reading I’d sit on the porch, strum a few songs on the acoustic guitar and watch the birds, rabbits and squirrels (I discovered a cardinals’ nest in the spirea in front of the porch and a doves’ nest in the crabapple tree on the west side of the house). When simple strumming wasn’t enough I went into the basement, plugged in the electric guitar and cranked up the amp as loud as I wanted with no complaints from anyone (of course that isn’t to say my neighbors didn’t hear me).
With only myself at home and longer daylight hours I started early vegetables, such as radishes, lettuce and peas. I’ve also used my time to de-weed vegetable beds, spread compost and create a raised bed for herbs.
While I was able to focus on projects and hobbies mealtime was either super easy or super challenging. When Christy and the girls had evening play practice they took sandwiches or grabbed something at a convenience store and I got to eat whatever I wanted for supper. Pie and ice cream? No problem. On Mondays though, when they practiced until noon or so and Allison had track meets, I never knew when to have lunch ready or if there was enough time to get everyone fed before they had to head back out the door again.
Of course days when they didn’t have play practice were challenging. I wanted to go do things with the family, maybe go for a hike or even just a stroll around the neighborhood, but because of their long hours in rehearsal any activity more strenuous than watching TV was out of the question.
Monday, however, marked the return to a slower, simpler way of family life. Now we have no great demands on our time other than twice a week track meets, prom, graduation, the spring music concert, National Honor Society, FFA banquet, helping my son and his family move into a house they’re buying, laundry, keeping the yard mowed, trying to squeeze in a couple of camping trips … well, you get the idea.
Yep, we’re back to our own quiet little lives again.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Time for Brother-In-Law Day
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
After my sister posted a 1970s photo of her, my brother and me on social media for Siblings Day I began to think about similar holidays and decided to find out if Brother-In-Law Day existed.
I found out there is no widely observed holiday but there is, or at least was, a group of brothers-in-law who celebrate Brother-In-Law Day.
Established in 2004 and headquartered in Gracey, Ky., National Brother-In-Law Day is held the day after Thanksgiving to “celebrate not having to shop with our wives.” After visiting the broinlaw.com website, I discovered the group appears to spend the day sharing manly endeavors such as drinking beer, deep frying turkeys, eating sausage and chips, and cracking jokes while their wives do their Black Friday shopping.
I think these Kentucky brothers-in-law may have come up with a good idea. I’ve never had the desire to battle shoppers during the holidays, let alone the hysteria Black Friday brings, but I know my sister-in-law takes part in the annual madness. I could easily see her husband Matt and my other brother-in-law Scott celebrating National Brother-In-Law Day.
The original group says on its website it is possible for anyone with a brother-in-law to apply to join. “You can be ‘adopted’ by an existing Brother-In-Law chapter if your vote passes unanimously.” Local chapters, too, can be started. As the website says, “A quorum of the founding fathers must vote to approve your charter (bourbon will help your petition).”
I’m going to have to talk to Matt and Scott about creating a Brother-In-Law chapter. I think our shared sense of humor and sarcasm can help us convince national headquarters to accept us. After all, my brothers-in-law are the kind who enjoy sharing things like Quilted Northern Rustic Weave artisanal toilet paper videos on social media.
Perhaps it’s time for an official Brother-In-Law Day. The day after Thanksgiving seems the logical date and I know my brothers-in-law and I are up for the celebration.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
After my sister posted a 1970s photo of her, my brother and me on social media for Siblings Day I began to think about similar holidays and decided to find out if Brother-In-Law Day existed.
I found out there is no widely observed holiday but there is, or at least was, a group of brothers-in-law who celebrate Brother-In-Law Day.
Established in 2004 and headquartered in Gracey, Ky., National Brother-In-Law Day is held the day after Thanksgiving to “celebrate not having to shop with our wives.” After visiting the broinlaw.com website, I discovered the group appears to spend the day sharing manly endeavors such as drinking beer, deep frying turkeys, eating sausage and chips, and cracking jokes while their wives do their Black Friday shopping.
I think these Kentucky brothers-in-law may have come up with a good idea. I’ve never had the desire to battle shoppers during the holidays, let alone the hysteria Black Friday brings, but I know my sister-in-law takes part in the annual madness. I could easily see her husband Matt and my other brother-in-law Scott celebrating National Brother-In-Law Day.
The original group says on its website it is possible for anyone with a brother-in-law to apply to join. “You can be ‘adopted’ by an existing Brother-In-Law chapter if your vote passes unanimously.” Local chapters, too, can be started. As the website says, “A quorum of the founding fathers must vote to approve your charter (bourbon will help your petition).”
I’m going to have to talk to Matt and Scott about creating a Brother-In-Law chapter. I think our shared sense of humor and sarcasm can help us convince national headquarters to accept us. After all, my brothers-in-law are the kind who enjoy sharing things like Quilted Northern Rustic Weave artisanal toilet paper videos on social media.
Perhaps it’s time for an official Brother-In-Law Day. The day after Thanksgiving seems the logical date and I know my brothers-in-law and I are up for the celebration.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Morning madness a weekday constant
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Again this morning, like almost every morning, a battle raged in my house. And, while I don’t wish these daily power struggles on anyone, I also kind of hope that those of you with school age kids can relate. Because that means we are not alone. Nearly every single school morning looks about the same in our home.
Andrew or I wake the girls around 7 a.m. Both girls have pet feeding chores first thing in the morning. The hope is that leaving their room to tend to cats or fish will spur them to moving. But, at 7:15, Brady is likely back in her bed, or — on a good day — sitting on her bedroom floor in her jammies staring at her dresser. Ava usually does a little better, and is at least undressed and probably has clothes chosen for the day.
Finally around 7:30 both girls are at the breakfast table, or at least in the kitchen getting their breakfast. They are generally on their own to choose and prepare their own breakfast of toast, cereal or Pop-Tarts most days since Andrew and I both have to get ready to leave by 8 too. Once Ava sits down at the table, she loses any sense of urgency and can sit staring blankly at her chosen breakfast for ages.
When I join the girls in the kitchen and dining room to do my morning routine of breakfast, dishes and packing lunches, we usually drill spelling words for the week. This may be their favorite part of the morning — as a kid who hated spelling, I’m not really sure why.
Beginning at 7:45 I give time updates about every five minutes. For some reason every single time my two lovely girls are in the bathroom at the same time fights ensue, generally someone ends up crying and no one gets their teeth brushed. So the first to finish her breakfast is the first to the bathroom. The other is to put on her shoes and pack her school bag.
Ideally, they should be ready to switch in five minutes. If Brady is first to the bathroom, timing is never ideal. After 10 minutes, and several times of calling down the hall hoping to spur her on, I can usually find her just starting to put toothpaste to toothbrush and her hair might be brushed. I think she might just stand there looking at herself in the mirror, but I don’t have proof because when we watch her, she moves right along and she won’t say what she does with that lost time when we aren’t looking.
Once we are done with hair and teeth and everyone is in shoes and coats we are finally ready to leave. Though both girls would like to be at school by 8:10 or earlier to have time to talk with friends before the day begins, we rarely manage — especially at this point in the school year — to make it out the door before 8:15. As an added bonus everyone is annoyed with everyone else and has probably said some unkind word to someone they love.
This same battle plays out nearly every day, Monday through Friday. The girls have a grand total of seven tasks to complete each morning — feed pets, get dressed, make beds, eat breakfast, brush hair, brush teeth and pack backpacks. I can’t figure out for the life of me how it takes more than an hour to do those simple things.
Then, for reasons I have yet to comprehend, Saturday rolls around and these little sleeping beauties are wide awake under their own power and moving around the house long before 7. Sure Saturdays are more relaxed and they don’t have to be dressed or have breakfast eaten by a certain time. But why would a child who laments “I’m so tired” all week suddenly want to be out of bed at 6:15 just because she doesn’t have school?
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Again this morning, like almost every morning, a battle raged in my house. And, while I don’t wish these daily power struggles on anyone, I also kind of hope that those of you with school age kids can relate. Because that means we are not alone. Nearly every single school morning looks about the same in our home.
Andrew or I wake the girls around 7 a.m. Both girls have pet feeding chores first thing in the morning. The hope is that leaving their room to tend to cats or fish will spur them to moving. But, at 7:15, Brady is likely back in her bed, or — on a good day — sitting on her bedroom floor in her jammies staring at her dresser. Ava usually does a little better, and is at least undressed and probably has clothes chosen for the day.
Finally around 7:30 both girls are at the breakfast table, or at least in the kitchen getting their breakfast. They are generally on their own to choose and prepare their own breakfast of toast, cereal or Pop-Tarts most days since Andrew and I both have to get ready to leave by 8 too. Once Ava sits down at the table, she loses any sense of urgency and can sit staring blankly at her chosen breakfast for ages.
When I join the girls in the kitchen and dining room to do my morning routine of breakfast, dishes and packing lunches, we usually drill spelling words for the week. This may be their favorite part of the morning — as a kid who hated spelling, I’m not really sure why.
Beginning at 7:45 I give time updates about every five minutes. For some reason every single time my two lovely girls are in the bathroom at the same time fights ensue, generally someone ends up crying and no one gets their teeth brushed. So the first to finish her breakfast is the first to the bathroom. The other is to put on her shoes and pack her school bag.
Ideally, they should be ready to switch in five minutes. If Brady is first to the bathroom, timing is never ideal. After 10 minutes, and several times of calling down the hall hoping to spur her on, I can usually find her just starting to put toothpaste to toothbrush and her hair might be brushed. I think she might just stand there looking at herself in the mirror, but I don’t have proof because when we watch her, she moves right along and she won’t say what she does with that lost time when we aren’t looking.
Once we are done with hair and teeth and everyone is in shoes and coats we are finally ready to leave. Though both girls would like to be at school by 8:10 or earlier to have time to talk with friends before the day begins, we rarely manage — especially at this point in the school year — to make it out the door before 8:15. As an added bonus everyone is annoyed with everyone else and has probably said some unkind word to someone they love.
This same battle plays out nearly every day, Monday through Friday. The girls have a grand total of seven tasks to complete each morning — feed pets, get dressed, make beds, eat breakfast, brush hair, brush teeth and pack backpacks. I can’t figure out for the life of me how it takes more than an hour to do those simple things.
Then, for reasons I have yet to comprehend, Saturday rolls around and these little sleeping beauties are wide awake under their own power and moving around the house long before 7. Sure Saturdays are more relaxed and they don’t have to be dressed or have breakfast eaten by a certain time. But why would a child who laments “I’m so tired” all week suddenly want to be out of bed at 6:15 just because she doesn’t have school?
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Remembering Thunder
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
I have always been a cat person. Many of my younger years, I wasn’t able to keep cats at home due to my mom’s allergies. So when I was 19 and living on my own for the first time, I made my way to my local animal shelter in search of a fluffy little friend. That’s where I met Thunder.
Thunder was just one day post-op, he had been neutered and had his broken tail docked off. I wasn’t allowed to handle him in the shelter because of his fresh stitches, but he and I bonded through the bars of his cage. I was told he wasn’t adoptable until the end of the week, because protocol required his owners have time to change their minds and pick him up. They didn’t want him — his tail was more important to them than his sweet temperament. He came home with me early that October Friday morning.
With the exception of the four years I was in college dorms, Thunder has gone everywhere with me. He was even the unofficial church camp mascot my first summer on staff. He lived in Orange City with Andrew and I after we were married. It was there we discovered he had an allergy to flowering trees. He’d stand at the open screen door looking at the birds and just sneeze and sneeze.
While we were expecting our first child, Thunder took up a new perch. Right on top of my growing belly with his head tucked under my chin. He had never sat that way before, and upon her birth, he quickly returned to his old familiar style of cuddling next to my hip. So when in late November of 2007 he climbed atop my belly and snuggled under my chin, I knew he must have been telling me something. Four positive pregnancy tests later, Andrew finally agreed that Thunder had been right all along.
From the moment the girls were born, he was their companion and protector. He would sit in the bathroom and watch carefully during bath time and would often lick their tiny heads dry when we were finished.
Thunder knew when someone was upset and would provide his particular brand of sweet comfort. Always ready with a snuggle and a ready purr. I named him Thunder because of that purr. You could hear him from several feet away. And a thousand sandpaper kisses.
Last Tuesday, Andrew and I tearfully made the decision to let Thunder pass peacefully in the controlled environment of the vet clinic rather than continue to waste away. He would have been 17 this summer. We laid him to rest at my in-laws’ acreage Saturday. It has been a hard week in our home, with a lot of tears and a lot of shared memories.
This coming Saturday, we will journey to a pet shelter and adopt another rescue cat. Our new fluffy friend will never replace Thunder, but we look forward to sharing the love of our family with another sweet kitty that without us may never find a forever family.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
I have always been a cat person. Many of my younger years, I wasn’t able to keep cats at home due to my mom’s allergies. So when I was 19 and living on my own for the first time, I made my way to my local animal shelter in search of a fluffy little friend. That’s where I met Thunder.
Thunder was just one day post-op, he had been neutered and had his broken tail docked off. I wasn’t allowed to handle him in the shelter because of his fresh stitches, but he and I bonded through the bars of his cage. I was told he wasn’t adoptable until the end of the week, because protocol required his owners have time to change their minds and pick him up. They didn’t want him — his tail was more important to them than his sweet temperament. He came home with me early that October Friday morning.
With the exception of the four years I was in college dorms, Thunder has gone everywhere with me. He was even the unofficial church camp mascot my first summer on staff. He lived in Orange City with Andrew and I after we were married. It was there we discovered he had an allergy to flowering trees. He’d stand at the open screen door looking at the birds and just sneeze and sneeze.
While we were expecting our first child, Thunder took up a new perch. Right on top of my growing belly with his head tucked under my chin. He had never sat that way before, and upon her birth, he quickly returned to his old familiar style of cuddling next to my hip. So when in late November of 2007 he climbed atop my belly and snuggled under my chin, I knew he must have been telling me something. Four positive pregnancy tests later, Andrew finally agreed that Thunder had been right all along.
From the moment the girls were born, he was their companion and protector. He would sit in the bathroom and watch carefully during bath time and would often lick their tiny heads dry when we were finished.
Thunder knew when someone was upset and would provide his particular brand of sweet comfort. Always ready with a snuggle and a ready purr. I named him Thunder because of that purr. You could hear him from several feet away. And a thousand sandpaper kisses.
Last Tuesday, Andrew and I tearfully made the decision to let Thunder pass peacefully in the controlled environment of the vet clinic rather than continue to waste away. He would have been 17 this summer. We laid him to rest at my in-laws’ acreage Saturday. It has been a hard week in our home, with a lot of tears and a lot of shared memories.
This coming Saturday, we will journey to a pet shelter and adopt another rescue cat. Our new fluffy friend will never replace Thunder, but we look forward to sharing the love of our family with another sweet kitty that without us may never find a forever family.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Digital distractions hamper productivity
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Saturday was going to be my day to be productive.
My plan was to get up, make a pot of coffee and take advantage of the morning while the house was teenager free. And since the weather forecast included a high barely above 40 degrees and a 50 percent chance of rain or snow I knew I wouldn’t feel as great a need to get outside as I have since spring like days have arrived.
It was a good plan but like many it went awry.
It turns out it’s easy to sleep in when there’s no one banging around in the kitchen at 6:30 a.m. making a bowl of cereal. Both of our girls had spent Friday night with someone else so Saturday’s typical wake up didn’t occur. It was 9 a.m. before I made my way downstairs. It was only a minor setback.
I got the coffee going, took the dog out, picked up the newspaper from the drive and got ready to tackle the day. After catching up on the news and downing a couple of cups of coffee, I sat down at the laptop to start work on a column for this week’s Free Press.
And that was a far as I got. I found myself distracted.
Well actually I found myself indecisive and then distracted. The night before I had typed in a few notes about last week’s Missouri presidential primary, thinking I could write about how close the primary was for both Democrats and Republicans. Clinton edged out Sanders by .2 percent and Trump did the same with Cruz. But as I sat there reading my notes I realized I had already grown weary of the campaign, the debates, the lunacy of it all and found myself distracted.
Food became my first distraction. Coleslaw, to be more precise. The night before I had started a pork roast in the crockpot and as its smell filled the house Saturday morning I developed a craving for slaw as a side. We had cabbage, I knew, and carrots so I found myself searching the Internet for “best coleslaw ever recipes” for about a half hour.
Christy helped end my slaw distraction when she told me we were having a family meal after the girls returned home and there would be plenty of time to make coleslaw later. I turned away from the computer’s search engine and back at my mostly blank column. That didn’t last long.
I worked on some copy and photos for this week’s paper as I waited for inspiration to strike. I didn’t even get a nibble. After getting all the photos ready and about half of the copy there was another distraction, one so time consuming and ironic it motivated me to finish this column — I found myself visiting a website with the title “15 apps that will make you insanely productive.”
So there I was, trying to be productive as I procrastinated by visiting websites about apps that promised to make me more productive. There were apps that deny access to certain websites for a particular amount of time, apps that provide ambient background noise, apps that award you by growing virtual trees by remaining off your phone, apps that find people you can pay to run your errands, apps that sort email and create shortcuts — there was no shortage of apps that promised to improve your productivity.
Then I came across an app that helps you manage your to-do list that, of all things, looks just like the monthly desk calendars I used to use, the kind I used to schedule events and appointments using a pen. It was an epiphany. All these apps, the synching of phones and computers with contacts and calendars and reminders and notes with iCloud or Google Drive or Microsoft Cloud or whatever, all this that’s been designed to improve my productivity have just become digital distractions.
With that revelation, I closed my search engine, closed my email, tuned iTunes to KUSC (music, most times, still helps my productivity), returned my attention to my column and began writing, occasionally glancing out the window to admire a few scattered snowflakes or a robin searching for something to eat.
And before I knew it, my work was done. Conveniences, I realized, are too often easy distractions. Now all I have to do is find the willpower to ignore the distractions.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Saturday was going to be my day to be productive.
My plan was to get up, make a pot of coffee and take advantage of the morning while the house was teenager free. And since the weather forecast included a high barely above 40 degrees and a 50 percent chance of rain or snow I knew I wouldn’t feel as great a need to get outside as I have since spring like days have arrived.
It was a good plan but like many it went awry.
It turns out it’s easy to sleep in when there’s no one banging around in the kitchen at 6:30 a.m. making a bowl of cereal. Both of our girls had spent Friday night with someone else so Saturday’s typical wake up didn’t occur. It was 9 a.m. before I made my way downstairs. It was only a minor setback.
I got the coffee going, took the dog out, picked up the newspaper from the drive and got ready to tackle the day. After catching up on the news and downing a couple of cups of coffee, I sat down at the laptop to start work on a column for this week’s Free Press.
And that was a far as I got. I found myself distracted.
Well actually I found myself indecisive and then distracted. The night before I had typed in a few notes about last week’s Missouri presidential primary, thinking I could write about how close the primary was for both Democrats and Republicans. Clinton edged out Sanders by .2 percent and Trump did the same with Cruz. But as I sat there reading my notes I realized I had already grown weary of the campaign, the debates, the lunacy of it all and found myself distracted.
Food became my first distraction. Coleslaw, to be more precise. The night before I had started a pork roast in the crockpot and as its smell filled the house Saturday morning I developed a craving for slaw as a side. We had cabbage, I knew, and carrots so I found myself searching the Internet for “best coleslaw ever recipes” for about a half hour.
Christy helped end my slaw distraction when she told me we were having a family meal after the girls returned home and there would be plenty of time to make coleslaw later. I turned away from the computer’s search engine and back at my mostly blank column. That didn’t last long.
I worked on some copy and photos for this week’s paper as I waited for inspiration to strike. I didn’t even get a nibble. After getting all the photos ready and about half of the copy there was another distraction, one so time consuming and ironic it motivated me to finish this column — I found myself visiting a website with the title “15 apps that will make you insanely productive.”
So there I was, trying to be productive as I procrastinated by visiting websites about apps that promised to make me more productive. There were apps that deny access to certain websites for a particular amount of time, apps that provide ambient background noise, apps that award you by growing virtual trees by remaining off your phone, apps that find people you can pay to run your errands, apps that sort email and create shortcuts — there was no shortage of apps that promised to improve your productivity.
Then I came across an app that helps you manage your to-do list that, of all things, looks just like the monthly desk calendars I used to use, the kind I used to schedule events and appointments using a pen. It was an epiphany. All these apps, the synching of phones and computers with contacts and calendars and reminders and notes with iCloud or Google Drive or Microsoft Cloud or whatever, all this that’s been designed to improve my productivity have just become digital distractions.
With that revelation, I closed my search engine, closed my email, tuned iTunes to KUSC (music, most times, still helps my productivity), returned my attention to my column and began writing, occasionally glancing out the window to admire a few scattered snowflakes or a robin searching for something to eat.
And before I knew it, my work was done. Conveniences, I realized, are too often easy distractions. Now all I have to do is find the willpower to ignore the distractions.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Damage isn’t always visible
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“When little people are overwhelmed by big emotions, it’s our job to share our calm, not join their chaos.” — L.R. Knost
It was a warm Sunday afternoon when we saw the child in the middle of the road just south of where we lived.
We were returning home after a weekend at my parents’ when the child, little more than a toddler, came up through the ditch on the passengers’ side of our car and onto the road about four car lengths ahead.
I stopped the car and put it in park, thinking that would at least stop oncoming traffic behind us and was just opening the door when an adult dashed out of the house, ran to the road, grabbed the child and carried the child back to the house.
Stunned, we sat there for a few seconds before driving on home. Along the way we discussed what we should do, if anything, about seeing a young child in the middle of the road. Do we tell the sheriff? Call social services? Or, from our own experience as parents, remember how quickly a child can be somewhere she shouldn’t and be grateful what we had just witnessed didn’t end in a tragedy?
The child in the street happened several years ago. The event made me remember a few times one of our daughters slipped away somewhere she shouldn’t — the time I saw Hannah run naked past the sliding glass door in our backyard in Gravette, Ark., or the time Allison disappeared from in front of our newspaper office in Albany. She was supposed to wait outside the front door as we ducked back inside to get something but she decided to explore the ally behind the office instead without letting anyone know.
While Hannah’s streaking ended with a funny story to tell Allison’s short disappearance brought on mild panic. Our child had wandered off, just like that. We never imagined ourselves the best parents in the world but we thought we were better than that.
Of course a parent whose child slips away unnoticed is quite different from the parent who neglects or bullies their child. A parent too caught up in himself to notice the harm he does to his child should be a concern to those who are aware of it but the question of when and how to take action remains.
Emotional neglect can be more damaging than physical abuse in the long run but identifying emotional neglect is more difficult than identifying physical abuse. The evidence is usually quite clear with the latter.
Child neglect, however, takes many forms. Belittling a child, withholding food or basic needs, exposing a child to danger are all forms of neglect. And, unfortunately, I’ve learned about all these and far worse over the years as I’ve covered court cases. What I’ve learned has often been heartbreaking and it pains me to know some of the things have happened and are happening in our little community.
So you see my shared meditation here all along has been not about a child in the middle of the road, it hasn’t even been about child neglect in general. Instead it’s been about a specific child, a specific set of parents, and I’ve just been thinking to myself while writing publically.
Now if I can only come up with answers and solutions.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“When little people are overwhelmed by big emotions, it’s our job to share our calm, not join their chaos.” — L.R. Knost
It was a warm Sunday afternoon when we saw the child in the middle of the road just south of where we lived.
We were returning home after a weekend at my parents’ when the child, little more than a toddler, came up through the ditch on the passengers’ side of our car and onto the road about four car lengths ahead.
I stopped the car and put it in park, thinking that would at least stop oncoming traffic behind us and was just opening the door when an adult dashed out of the house, ran to the road, grabbed the child and carried the child back to the house.
Stunned, we sat there for a few seconds before driving on home. Along the way we discussed what we should do, if anything, about seeing a young child in the middle of the road. Do we tell the sheriff? Call social services? Or, from our own experience as parents, remember how quickly a child can be somewhere she shouldn’t and be grateful what we had just witnessed didn’t end in a tragedy?
The child in the street happened several years ago. The event made me remember a few times one of our daughters slipped away somewhere she shouldn’t — the time I saw Hannah run naked past the sliding glass door in our backyard in Gravette, Ark., or the time Allison disappeared from in front of our newspaper office in Albany. She was supposed to wait outside the front door as we ducked back inside to get something but she decided to explore the ally behind the office instead without letting anyone know.
While Hannah’s streaking ended with a funny story to tell Allison’s short disappearance brought on mild panic. Our child had wandered off, just like that. We never imagined ourselves the best parents in the world but we thought we were better than that.
Of course a parent whose child slips away unnoticed is quite different from the parent who neglects or bullies their child. A parent too caught up in himself to notice the harm he does to his child should be a concern to those who are aware of it but the question of when and how to take action remains.
Emotional neglect can be more damaging than physical abuse in the long run but identifying emotional neglect is more difficult than identifying physical abuse. The evidence is usually quite clear with the latter.
Child neglect, however, takes many forms. Belittling a child, withholding food or basic needs, exposing a child to danger are all forms of neglect. And, unfortunately, I’ve learned about all these and far worse over the years as I’ve covered court cases. What I’ve learned has often been heartbreaking and it pains me to know some of the things have happened and are happening in our little community.
So you see my shared meditation here all along has been not about a child in the middle of the road, it hasn’t even been about child neglect in general. Instead it’s been about a specific child, a specific set of parents, and I’ve just been thinking to myself while writing publically.
Now if I can only come up with answers and solutions.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
New moms need support, not guilt
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
I confess that I am often easily riled. Some statements just get under my skin and push every one of my buttons at the very same time. I had this experience again yesterday when I saw a very new mom friend post on Facebook, jokingly asking for someone to come cuddle her son or clean her house as she was having difficulty finding a way to do both. I so clearly remember those days. And while I myself would probably tell her, not to feel pressured to keep everything as orderly as she could before baby, I was irritated at some of the comments she received.
Many of her friends told her not to worry about the house, dirt will keep but the day will come when that baby doesn’t want to be constantly cuddled anymore. While none of that is false, I do think that these kinds of statements do more harm than good.
Here’s why — a new mom can’t spend all of her time holding her precious baby, no matter how much she may want to. She needs to eat, which means she is likely to have to cook something from time to time, not to mention have clean dishes to eat from and leave the house on occasion to get groceries. Leaving the house generally involves being clean and dressed. In all my years I have yet to meet a magical laundry fairy who washes, dries and puts away my clothes. Also, it is downright impossible to shower or even take a bath while holding a newborn. Before resorting to a handy-dandy baby sling, I couldn’t even figure out how to brush my teeth while holding the baby.
What I’m saying is that while it is true that housekeeping matters will always be there and cuddly babies won’t always be so tiny, don’t make a new mom feel guilty that she has the desire to do something other than cuddle her child for a few moments. Moms, especially new, first-time moms, need support not additional guilt. Every mother I’ve ever met manages just fine on her own finding all her faults, both real and imaginary and heaping her own mountain of guilt on her shoulders. She doesn’t need your help.
Besides, anyone who has ever parented a newborn child knows just how exhausting that time is. Sleep deprivation, trying to discern the cause of baby’s cries and — for a nursing mom — feeling like a poop-cleaning milk machine is hard.
If a mom, or a dad, expresses a desire to do something else, no matter how mundane for a few moments or even hours, support them. Let them know that it’s OK not to want to hold junior every second. Better yet, if you are capable of doing so, jump in. Take advantage of baby snuggles that don’t come with your own dose of sleep deprivation.
Also, if you are that new parent, make people take you seriously when you need a break. And please, for the sake of yourself and your child, be kind to yourself. Take care of you. Eat well, sleep as much as you can, and remember who you were B.C. (before children). Being a parent changes parts of you, but it doesn’t have to take over all of you. Remember what makes you unique so that as your child grows, they can learn what it looks like to be a whole person.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
I confess that I am often easily riled. Some statements just get under my skin and push every one of my buttons at the very same time. I had this experience again yesterday when I saw a very new mom friend post on Facebook, jokingly asking for someone to come cuddle her son or clean her house as she was having difficulty finding a way to do both. I so clearly remember those days. And while I myself would probably tell her, not to feel pressured to keep everything as orderly as she could before baby, I was irritated at some of the comments she received.
Many of her friends told her not to worry about the house, dirt will keep but the day will come when that baby doesn’t want to be constantly cuddled anymore. While none of that is false, I do think that these kinds of statements do more harm than good.
Here’s why — a new mom can’t spend all of her time holding her precious baby, no matter how much she may want to. She needs to eat, which means she is likely to have to cook something from time to time, not to mention have clean dishes to eat from and leave the house on occasion to get groceries. Leaving the house generally involves being clean and dressed. In all my years I have yet to meet a magical laundry fairy who washes, dries and puts away my clothes. Also, it is downright impossible to shower or even take a bath while holding a newborn. Before resorting to a handy-dandy baby sling, I couldn’t even figure out how to brush my teeth while holding the baby.
What I’m saying is that while it is true that housekeeping matters will always be there and cuddly babies won’t always be so tiny, don’t make a new mom feel guilty that she has the desire to do something other than cuddle her child for a few moments. Moms, especially new, first-time moms, need support not additional guilt. Every mother I’ve ever met manages just fine on her own finding all her faults, both real and imaginary and heaping her own mountain of guilt on her shoulders. She doesn’t need your help.
Besides, anyone who has ever parented a newborn child knows just how exhausting that time is. Sleep deprivation, trying to discern the cause of baby’s cries and — for a nursing mom — feeling like a poop-cleaning milk machine is hard.
If a mom, or a dad, expresses a desire to do something else, no matter how mundane for a few moments or even hours, support them. Let them know that it’s OK not to want to hold junior every second. Better yet, if you are capable of doing so, jump in. Take advantage of baby snuggles that don’t come with your own dose of sleep deprivation.
Also, if you are that new parent, make people take you seriously when you need a break. And please, for the sake of yourself and your child, be kind to yourself. Take care of you. Eat well, sleep as much as you can, and remember who you were B.C. (before children). Being a parent changes parts of you, but it doesn’t have to take over all of you. Remember what makes you unique so that as your child grows, they can learn what it looks like to be a whole person.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Spring fever strikes
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Saturday brought spring fever to many of my neighbors and me.
A good many, myself included, took advantage of the weather for a walk around town. Others fired up the motorcycle or convertible for a drive. And there were even a few who felt compelled to break out the riding mower.
I’m not quite ready for lawn mowing season but I am ready to start on the vegetable garden. Part of my Saturday was spent playing in the dirt, pulling weeds and scattering a bit of compost.
I’ve been anxious to get some cool weather plants in the ground but have managed to refrain with other winter preparations. There’s a cold frame to get ready and compost piles to turn. I’ve sorted the vegetable seeds leftover from last year and started looking at what seeds are available at the stores. I’ve even started some tomatoes and peppers beneath a shop light so I can get them in the ground as soon as it’s ready.
Waiting, though, as Tom Petty says, is the hardest part, especially when the temperatures hit 50. When the temp climbs to 70, as it did Saturday, waiting is darn near impossible.
But wait I did over the weekend, even though part of my waiting was done with a garden fork in my hand as I stirred dirt in the vegetable beds. I also waited by pulling back the leaves on my garden beds to see how the fall planted bulbs are doing (I was happy to see hyacinths, tulips and narcissus all ready to go beneath the leaves).
Not raking away the leaves used as winter mulch on the flowerbeds was more difficult than wanting to put out a vegetable garden. I’m curious to see what’s survived the winter, what’s thrived, what needs divided and to see how well I remember where I planted bulbs in the fall.
Instead I walked around the yard, looking for new places for iris when I divide it later. I turned the hens out to scratch the earth as I broke up clumps of soil with my hands in the vegetable beds, tossing them the occasional earthworm I found. I cut some tree limbs I had saved so my pole beans will later have something to climb, pausing to admire a lone honeybee out scouting in the warm sunshine.
And overhead, I marveled at flights of snow geese heading toward their summer homes as if they too were smitten by spring fever like so many of us.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Saturday brought spring fever to many of my neighbors and me.
A good many, myself included, took advantage of the weather for a walk around town. Others fired up the motorcycle or convertible for a drive. And there were even a few who felt compelled to break out the riding mower.
I’m not quite ready for lawn mowing season but I am ready to start on the vegetable garden. Part of my Saturday was spent playing in the dirt, pulling weeds and scattering a bit of compost.
I’ve been anxious to get some cool weather plants in the ground but have managed to refrain with other winter preparations. There’s a cold frame to get ready and compost piles to turn. I’ve sorted the vegetable seeds leftover from last year and started looking at what seeds are available at the stores. I’ve even started some tomatoes and peppers beneath a shop light so I can get them in the ground as soon as it’s ready.
Waiting, though, as Tom Petty says, is the hardest part, especially when the temperatures hit 50. When the temp climbs to 70, as it did Saturday, waiting is darn near impossible.
But wait I did over the weekend, even though part of my waiting was done with a garden fork in my hand as I stirred dirt in the vegetable beds. I also waited by pulling back the leaves on my garden beds to see how the fall planted bulbs are doing (I was happy to see hyacinths, tulips and narcissus all ready to go beneath the leaves).
Not raking away the leaves used as winter mulch on the flowerbeds was more difficult than wanting to put out a vegetable garden. I’m curious to see what’s survived the winter, what’s thrived, what needs divided and to see how well I remember where I planted bulbs in the fall.
Instead I walked around the yard, looking for new places for iris when I divide it later. I turned the hens out to scratch the earth as I broke up clumps of soil with my hands in the vegetable beds, tossing them the occasional earthworm I found. I cut some tree limbs I had saved so my pole beans will later have something to climb, pausing to admire a lone honeybee out scouting in the warm sunshine.
And overhead, I marveled at flights of snow geese heading toward their summer homes as if they too were smitten by spring fever like so many of us.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Memories to last a lifetime
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
The memory is really a funny thing. I regularly have issues being able to remember what someone said to me hours earlier, what my own notes mean or why I walked into the kitchen. I struggle to remember a person’s name until I see their face and I can’t remember dates of either family or historical events outside of my immediate family. But I remember totally random movie, television or obscure literary quotes.
I can remember where I put an item when I unpacked it right after we moved over three years ago — chances are it’s not still there, as things tend to move around and not be put back where they were when you share your home with small people. In fact, I once helped my mom move while I was home from college for the summer. I did the majority of the unpacking since I didn’t have a summer job that year. For months, she or my sister would call and ask if I knew where something was. Most of the time, I knew exactly where it could be found.
When I am seeking background noise, I find myself turning my Pandora to a ’90s station. Occasionally I notice that I am subconsciously singing along and though I may not have heard a particular song in years, I remember every word as though it was on the radio every day.
I was reminiscing about my kids the other day and recalled the crazy phenomenon of child memory. My kids have an incredible ability to recall events that happened years ago, despite the fact that was half a lifetime ago for them. Yet somehow they can’t remember from one day to the next where their coat and shoes belong. I’m told that’s a kid thing. The particular moment that came to mind on Ash Wednesday was one of Brady when she was still in preschool. Like all preschoolers, she asked a million questions. The question on this particular day was “Where did my spaghetti come from?”
As we ate our spaghetti for dinner that night Andrew patiently explained how a farmer plants, grows and harvests wheat. How that wheat is ground into flour and shipped to a factory where it is mixed with other ingredients and rolled out into dough that is then cut into noodles. He told her that those noodles are then sent to stores where people, in this case Mommy, buy them and take them home. He then explained the process of how we cook spaghetti to turn it from hard sticks to floppy, slippery noodles. She listened as she fidgeted and fumbled with her fork.
Confident that he had answered the latest in her line of questioning, Andrew did as he regularly does. He lovingly teased his daughter. Pinched her cheek and asked, “Do you think that’s where you came from?” He was hoping for a giggle. What he got was a very seriously dismayed little girl — who at this point in her life hated when she felt she was being laughed at. We heard continually “I’m not funny.” Try not to laugh at that, especially when accompanied by four-year old fists on hips and a little stomp. — Anyway, we got a very serious, “No Daddy. I came from dust and to dust I shall return.” Instead of getting a giggle he got a dose of theology from a tiny little pastor’s kid who not only paid attention in worship on Ash Wednesday, but also remembered it months later.
In the end, I am glad she remembers the big things. Now if I can just get her to remember to brush her teeth without a reminder.
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
The memory is really a funny thing. I regularly have issues being able to remember what someone said to me hours earlier, what my own notes mean or why I walked into the kitchen. I struggle to remember a person’s name until I see their face and I can’t remember dates of either family or historical events outside of my immediate family. But I remember totally random movie, television or obscure literary quotes.
I can remember where I put an item when I unpacked it right after we moved over three years ago — chances are it’s not still there, as things tend to move around and not be put back where they were when you share your home with small people. In fact, I once helped my mom move while I was home from college for the summer. I did the majority of the unpacking since I didn’t have a summer job that year. For months, she or my sister would call and ask if I knew where something was. Most of the time, I knew exactly where it could be found.
When I am seeking background noise, I find myself turning my Pandora to a ’90s station. Occasionally I notice that I am subconsciously singing along and though I may not have heard a particular song in years, I remember every word as though it was on the radio every day.
I was reminiscing about my kids the other day and recalled the crazy phenomenon of child memory. My kids have an incredible ability to recall events that happened years ago, despite the fact that was half a lifetime ago for them. Yet somehow they can’t remember from one day to the next where their coat and shoes belong. I’m told that’s a kid thing. The particular moment that came to mind on Ash Wednesday was one of Brady when she was still in preschool. Like all preschoolers, she asked a million questions. The question on this particular day was “Where did my spaghetti come from?”
As we ate our spaghetti for dinner that night Andrew patiently explained how a farmer plants, grows and harvests wheat. How that wheat is ground into flour and shipped to a factory where it is mixed with other ingredients and rolled out into dough that is then cut into noodles. He told her that those noodles are then sent to stores where people, in this case Mommy, buy them and take them home. He then explained the process of how we cook spaghetti to turn it from hard sticks to floppy, slippery noodles. She listened as she fidgeted and fumbled with her fork.
Confident that he had answered the latest in her line of questioning, Andrew did as he regularly does. He lovingly teased his daughter. Pinched her cheek and asked, “Do you think that’s where you came from?” He was hoping for a giggle. What he got was a very seriously dismayed little girl — who at this point in her life hated when she felt she was being laughed at. We heard continually “I’m not funny.” Try not to laugh at that, especially when accompanied by four-year old fists on hips and a little stomp. — Anyway, we got a very serious, “No Daddy. I came from dust and to dust I shall return.” Instead of getting a giggle he got a dose of theology from a tiny little pastor’s kid who not only paid attention in worship on Ash Wednesday, but also remembered it months later.
In the end, I am glad she remembers the big things. Now if I can just get her to remember to brush her teeth without a reminder.
Basketball brings an unwanted trip
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Every so often when I think one of my children is doing something or getting ready to do something that is a bad idea I warn her by saying “I don’t want to make a trip to the emergency room.”
On Friday I didn’t give that warning. After all, we were at a basketball game like we have been two to three nights each week since late November so why would I need to? It turns out I should have anyway.
Hannah, our 16-year-old, doesn’t get a lot of time on the court because first of all she’s just a sophomore on team of about 18 fairly talented girls and secondly because she’s what some call vertically challenged. Friday, though, included a junior varsity game so she was going to get her chance to play more than a minute or two.
Hannah didn’t start the JV game but she was put in early on. She was playing well, picking up several defensive rebounds despite competing against taller girls and playing smart offense.
We were particularly proud when Hannah not just stopped a layup by the opposing team but also drew a charging call, giving our team possession. She got up off the floor, came down the court and looked over at the bench as she ran by in what we thought was a “see how I drew that charge” grin.
Christy and I soon found out Hannah wasn’t trying to let her coach know she was proud of taking a charge. Hannah was actually letting her know she had hurt her wrist when she had taken the fall. How badly injured, we discovered at the emergency room, was a fracture and at least six weeks in a cast.
The good news, if there is good news, is that Hannah’s injury could have been a lot worse. On Tuesday one of her teammates tore her ACL after trying to stop a layup and hitting the floor wrong. She is looking at surgery. Another of her teammates sat out much of the early season after suffering a concussion. Hannah and her team play hard, to say the least.
The bad news, other than a trip to the ER, appointments with an orthopedist and no more court time for Hannah for the rest of the season, was that Saturday she was supposed to have joined her sister Allison in an all-conference band concert. The wrapping around Hannah’s wrist and the sling around her neck meant one fewer clarinets at the concert.
And it was too bad Hannah didn’t get to perform in the concert. A lot of talented musicians from nearly a dozen high schools put on an impressive concert. I shot a little video of the concert to share with friends and family, letting them know how well Allison had done and how Hannah had missed her performance because of her injury.
Yet while everyone said they liked Allison’s performance in the video Hannah received an even greater number of sympathy comments, which I guess is to be expected. But for now on, regardless of what activity my children are involved, I plan to remind them the last place I want to go is the emergency room.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Every so often when I think one of my children is doing something or getting ready to do something that is a bad idea I warn her by saying “I don’t want to make a trip to the emergency room.”
On Friday I didn’t give that warning. After all, we were at a basketball game like we have been two to three nights each week since late November so why would I need to? It turns out I should have anyway.
Hannah, our 16-year-old, doesn’t get a lot of time on the court because first of all she’s just a sophomore on team of about 18 fairly talented girls and secondly because she’s what some call vertically challenged. Friday, though, included a junior varsity game so she was going to get her chance to play more than a minute or two.
Hannah didn’t start the JV game but she was put in early on. She was playing well, picking up several defensive rebounds despite competing against taller girls and playing smart offense.
We were particularly proud when Hannah not just stopped a layup by the opposing team but also drew a charging call, giving our team possession. She got up off the floor, came down the court and looked over at the bench as she ran by in what we thought was a “see how I drew that charge” grin.
Christy and I soon found out Hannah wasn’t trying to let her coach know she was proud of taking a charge. Hannah was actually letting her know she had hurt her wrist when she had taken the fall. How badly injured, we discovered at the emergency room, was a fracture and at least six weeks in a cast.
The good news, if there is good news, is that Hannah’s injury could have been a lot worse. On Tuesday one of her teammates tore her ACL after trying to stop a layup and hitting the floor wrong. She is looking at surgery. Another of her teammates sat out much of the early season after suffering a concussion. Hannah and her team play hard, to say the least.
The bad news, other than a trip to the ER, appointments with an orthopedist and no more court time for Hannah for the rest of the season, was that Saturday she was supposed to have joined her sister Allison in an all-conference band concert. The wrapping around Hannah’s wrist and the sling around her neck meant one fewer clarinets at the concert.
And it was too bad Hannah didn’t get to perform in the concert. A lot of talented musicians from nearly a dozen high schools put on an impressive concert. I shot a little video of the concert to share with friends and family, letting them know how well Allison had done and how Hannah had missed her performance because of her injury.
Yet while everyone said they liked Allison’s performance in the video Hannah received an even greater number of sympathy comments, which I guess is to be expected. But for now on, regardless of what activity my children are involved, I plan to remind them the last place I want to go is the emergency room.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
It’s all about love
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Valentine’s Day, the ultimate example of a Hallmark Holiday, is quickly approaching. The day when custom dictates that we must demonstrate the depth of our affection for our loved ones. I am personally not a big fan of the custom, though much of that stems from the anxiety I felt during my days of working in a flower shop or the catering department of a grocery store. Do you know how long it takes to dip 1,000 strawberries in chocolate? Not one of my fondest work memories, that is for sure.
But more than just some fairly traumatic work flashbacks, I am not a fan of being told that one day is more important than any other for demonstrating my love for my husband and children. By no means would I turn away flowers, chocolates or other expressions of love from my husband on Valentine’s Day — who would. But, the same tokens on a random Tuesday in April would mean so much more. Rather than feeling as though the gifts were because of convention, I would know that he was thinking about me and wanted to let me know that I am loved.
As a mom, I want nothing more than for my girls to always be secure in knowing that they are loved beyond their wildest imagination by both their father and I. They are told several times every day that they are loved. I tell them often that they are awesome girls and that we are proud of them. There is no shortage of kisses and cuddles, homework help and tickle fights. I don’t want the less lovely moments to ever convince them that my love is conditional or can ever be lost. Children who know they are loved are secure children.
I also want my girls to see a model of a working marriage, one that is a partnership. We do sometimes argue in front of the children, and occasionally those arguments get pretty heated, which can be scary for the girls. But, they also witness us moving on from the argument and figure out how to work together. They hear apologies and see reconciliation. And if they are upset about a fight between Mama and Daddy, we talk about how people in healthy relationships don’t always agree, we assure them that everything is all right. We are also openly affectionate with one another freely giving hugs and kisses. My hope is that someday, when they are in romantic relationships, they will realize that when the initial passion fades a deep, lasting affection develops. I hope that they will also realize that they witnessed a deep level of mutual respect for one another’s needs and boundaries.
Children learn about love through experience. They will come to understand how to demonstrate and recognize love by what they witness. Childhood is the time to ensure that kids learn that love doesn’t hurt rather real love heals.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Valentine’s Day, the ultimate example of a Hallmark Holiday, is quickly approaching. The day when custom dictates that we must demonstrate the depth of our affection for our loved ones. I am personally not a big fan of the custom, though much of that stems from the anxiety I felt during my days of working in a flower shop or the catering department of a grocery store. Do you know how long it takes to dip 1,000 strawberries in chocolate? Not one of my fondest work memories, that is for sure.
But more than just some fairly traumatic work flashbacks, I am not a fan of being told that one day is more important than any other for demonstrating my love for my husband and children. By no means would I turn away flowers, chocolates or other expressions of love from my husband on Valentine’s Day — who would. But, the same tokens on a random Tuesday in April would mean so much more. Rather than feeling as though the gifts were because of convention, I would know that he was thinking about me and wanted to let me know that I am loved.
As a mom, I want nothing more than for my girls to always be secure in knowing that they are loved beyond their wildest imagination by both their father and I. They are told several times every day that they are loved. I tell them often that they are awesome girls and that we are proud of them. There is no shortage of kisses and cuddles, homework help and tickle fights. I don’t want the less lovely moments to ever convince them that my love is conditional or can ever be lost. Children who know they are loved are secure children.
I also want my girls to see a model of a working marriage, one that is a partnership. We do sometimes argue in front of the children, and occasionally those arguments get pretty heated, which can be scary for the girls. But, they also witness us moving on from the argument and figure out how to work together. They hear apologies and see reconciliation. And if they are upset about a fight between Mama and Daddy, we talk about how people in healthy relationships don’t always agree, we assure them that everything is all right. We are also openly affectionate with one another freely giving hugs and kisses. My hope is that someday, when they are in romantic relationships, they will realize that when the initial passion fades a deep, lasting affection develops. I hope that they will also realize that they witnessed a deep level of mutual respect for one another’s needs and boundaries.
Children learn about love through experience. They will come to understand how to demonstrate and recognize love by what they witness. Childhood is the time to ensure that kids learn that love doesn’t hurt rather real love heals.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Life balance is what you make of it
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about life balance.
I play a lot of different roles — wife, mother, daughter, newspaper editor, committee chairperson, pastor’s wife (believe me, it’s different and in addition to my role as simply Andrew’s wife), Sunday school teacher and probably others I can’t even remember right now. Some of these roles ebb and flow; for example, my committee duties are far less intense at this time of year than in summer and fall and I don’t teach Sunday school in the summer months.
But I am always a wife and mother. And I always have my job and the constantly looming deadlines. I try to be a good friend and maintain a connection despite the miles to my family.
Maybe it’s because I’m a bit of a perfectionist, but I regularly feel like I’m missing the mark. I scramble to finish stories on a Tuesday morning far more often than I’d like. Sometimes covering the news doesn’t happen between the hours of 8 and 4, which means I miss out on family dinner or bedtime rituals. I have difficulty finding time to have relaxed, connected time with Andrew, get enough sleep and make it to the fitness center at least once a week. I feel like I may be able to manage two of the three while still having time to spend with the girls. But which do I leave out? More often than not, it’s taking care of myself. Which leads to exhaustion and illness.
I would love to spend more time crafting, and I try to on the weekends. But spending any time on the weekends not with my family feels selfish.
I try to remember that not all parenting is done through intentional instruction, our kids learn as much about life by observing adults as they do in the “teachable moments.” I remind myself that I need to demonstrate for my girls what a healthy life balance looks like. Part of that is only being involved in things that I enjoy or am passionate about. So outside of covering news and events for work, I will not allow someone else to dictate the activities I will commit my time to. And, one step further, I will work hard not to allow myself to feel any guilt about saying “no” when I must. Additionally, I need to be more intentional about taking care of myself — getting enough sleep, moving my body every day, not eating on the run as often and drinking enough water. Because if I don’t, I won’t be able to take care of anyone else either.
Ultimately I’ve decided that life balance is what you make of it. Maybe I need to stop worrying about it so much and just embrace the fact that my life is now fuller and busier than it has ever been, but that not only can I handle all of these different roles, I love each one for how they contribute to who I am.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about life balance.
I play a lot of different roles — wife, mother, daughter, newspaper editor, committee chairperson, pastor’s wife (believe me, it’s different and in addition to my role as simply Andrew’s wife), Sunday school teacher and probably others I can’t even remember right now. Some of these roles ebb and flow; for example, my committee duties are far less intense at this time of year than in summer and fall and I don’t teach Sunday school in the summer months.
But I am always a wife and mother. And I always have my job and the constantly looming deadlines. I try to be a good friend and maintain a connection despite the miles to my family.
Maybe it’s because I’m a bit of a perfectionist, but I regularly feel like I’m missing the mark. I scramble to finish stories on a Tuesday morning far more often than I’d like. Sometimes covering the news doesn’t happen between the hours of 8 and 4, which means I miss out on family dinner or bedtime rituals. I have difficulty finding time to have relaxed, connected time with Andrew, get enough sleep and make it to the fitness center at least once a week. I feel like I may be able to manage two of the three while still having time to spend with the girls. But which do I leave out? More often than not, it’s taking care of myself. Which leads to exhaustion and illness.
I would love to spend more time crafting, and I try to on the weekends. But spending any time on the weekends not with my family feels selfish.
I try to remember that not all parenting is done through intentional instruction, our kids learn as much about life by observing adults as they do in the “teachable moments.” I remind myself that I need to demonstrate for my girls what a healthy life balance looks like. Part of that is only being involved in things that I enjoy or am passionate about. So outside of covering news and events for work, I will not allow someone else to dictate the activities I will commit my time to. And, one step further, I will work hard not to allow myself to feel any guilt about saying “no” when I must. Additionally, I need to be more intentional about taking care of myself — getting enough sleep, moving my body every day, not eating on the run as often and drinking enough water. Because if I don’t, I won’t be able to take care of anyone else either.
Ultimately I’ve decided that life balance is what you make of it. Maybe I need to stop worrying about it so much and just embrace the fact that my life is now fuller and busier than it has ever been, but that not only can I handle all of these different roles, I love each one for how they contribute to who I am.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Cold brings on dreams of warm weather
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Sunday’s snow shoveling, which maybe took all of 30 minutes, had me dreaming of Miami or even Tucson. It wasn’t the shoveling that bothered me. It was the cold.
I don’t remember being bothered by cold weather when I was younger. Maybe I could just tolerate it better. Maybe I just had better circulation. Or maybe then when I was outside in the cold it was because I wanted to sled or hike or just enjoy the sunshine.
The sun felt nice Sunday, I agree, but by the time I had cleared the sidewalk and our driveway I’d had about all I could take of the cold. Yes, the minus 2 temperature and a wind chill between 8 and 18 below had a lot to do with it but even on less frigid days I find myself counting down the days to spring.
Years ago I started buying wool socks for the winter but even those don’t seem to keep my toes as warm as I would like, even on days far warmer than Sunday. There’s been an afternoon or two I’ve found myself grabbing a book, turning on the hot water and spending a half hour or so soaking in a warm bathtub.
Of course this has been a mild winter and maybe that’s been part of the problem. It was unusually warm for so long we didn’t really have time to gradually acclimate to winter and now that it’s here it’s just our natural inclination to wish it would end.
I shouldn’t complain, I know. I’ve only had to shovel snow a couple of times this winter and I might have to break out the shovel another time or two but this has been nothing compared to years past. Not so long ago I remember one winter was spent not just pushing a couple of inches of snow from the driveway but shoveling several inches of heavy snow on multiple occasions.
And the good news is, at least according to AccuWeather, we’re past the frigid days. Monthly forecasts include a bit of snow or ice a time or two but after this week highs are expected to be near or above 30 degrees. Weather like that is certainly bearable.
And now that I have a column largely written and the feeling in my toes and fingers has returned (it helps to type to get the circulation going again in your fingers) I need to put on my stocking cap, gloves, coat and insulated pac boots and add some more suet to the bird feeder.
After that I plan to warm my toes over a heat register, drink a little more coffee and count down the days until spring.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Sunday’s snow shoveling, which maybe took all of 30 minutes, had me dreaming of Miami or even Tucson. It wasn’t the shoveling that bothered me. It was the cold.
I don’t remember being bothered by cold weather when I was younger. Maybe I could just tolerate it better. Maybe I just had better circulation. Or maybe then when I was outside in the cold it was because I wanted to sled or hike or just enjoy the sunshine.
The sun felt nice Sunday, I agree, but by the time I had cleared the sidewalk and our driveway I’d had about all I could take of the cold. Yes, the minus 2 temperature and a wind chill between 8 and 18 below had a lot to do with it but even on less frigid days I find myself counting down the days to spring.
Years ago I started buying wool socks for the winter but even those don’t seem to keep my toes as warm as I would like, even on days far warmer than Sunday. There’s been an afternoon or two I’ve found myself grabbing a book, turning on the hot water and spending a half hour or so soaking in a warm bathtub.
Of course this has been a mild winter and maybe that’s been part of the problem. It was unusually warm for so long we didn’t really have time to gradually acclimate to winter and now that it’s here it’s just our natural inclination to wish it would end.
I shouldn’t complain, I know. I’ve only had to shovel snow a couple of times this winter and I might have to break out the shovel another time or two but this has been nothing compared to years past. Not so long ago I remember one winter was spent not just pushing a couple of inches of snow from the driveway but shoveling several inches of heavy snow on multiple occasions.
And the good news is, at least according to AccuWeather, we’re past the frigid days. Monthly forecasts include a bit of snow or ice a time or two but after this week highs are expected to be near or above 30 degrees. Weather like that is certainly bearable.
And now that I have a column largely written and the feeling in my toes and fingers has returned (it helps to type to get the circulation going again in your fingers) I need to put on my stocking cap, gloves, coat and insulated pac boots and add some more suet to the bird feeder.
After that I plan to warm my toes over a heat register, drink a little more coffee and count down the days until spring.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
New music, new favorites 2015
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
A couple of years ago (although I mistakenly believed it was only last year) I wrote a column or two about half dozen new CDs I had added to my music collection that year.
Among those was a group called Lake Street Dive, which we were fortunate enough to see in Kansas City this summer. Although they, along with another artist from 2013, Eilen Jewell, remain on my favorites list, I discovered a couple of new groups this year that have joined the list. So as part of a biennial tradition I promise will happen at least once, I thought I’d write another column about some of my new music favorites from 2015.
Shovels and Rope
Swimmin’ Time
Like many new groups that grab my attention Shovels and Rope just happened to show up one day on YouTube while I was searching some other band or music style I have long forgotten.
What I found was Michael Trent’s and Cary Ann Hearst’s video “Birmingham” and the moment I heard Hearst sing I was hooked. Her South Carolina voice is raw, powerful and downright sexy, and when Trent harmonizes you get a nostalgic duet that’s been missing from country music for decades.
Intrigued, I sat and listened to every song of theirs I could find on YouTube. And what I discovered was they have a depth and musical craftsmanship unlike any other other group in the country/folk/Americana genre. I quickly downloaded their five-tune Swimmin’ Time Primer released in 2014, bought tickets to see them in Lawrence, Kan., and bought the complete Swimmin’ Time album soon after its release.
Shovels and Rope proved to be one of the best groups I got to see all summer. The husband and wife duet put out more nonstop verve and sound than a band five times their size backed by a tower of Marshalls and separate horn section.
While you can hear this couple’s country hearts when they sing you can easily hear The White Stripes and Tom Waits when they attack their guitars. Their song “Ohio” is Bourbon Street blues with distortion while “Coping Mechanism,” which they performed on The Late Show with David Letterman, sounds like an updated version of Paul Anka or The Platters.
Shovels and Rope’s best songs, though, are those that have little comparison with those who came before them. “The Devil Is All Around” and “After the Storm” showcase their unique songwriting talent, their voices and their musical skills. I can’t wait to catch Trent and Hearst live again and I can’t wait to hear their next album.
Lydia Loveless
Somewhere Else
If you haven’t figured it out already I’m a sucker women singers with a strong dose of authentic country in their voices. Lydia Loveless is one of those singers.
Loveless showed up on my search one day on Music Fog, a video and production company that promotes Americana music, folk and country (not the kind of country you hear on the radio but more authentic country).
I discovered Loveless, her bass player husband Ben Lamb, guitarist Todd May and her father Parker Chandler on drums performing “Back on the Bottle” with the warning it contained explicit lyrics. As intrigued as I was by Loveless’s voice, I was more impressed with the band as a whole. Lamb’s upright bass playing, May’s harmonies and guitar solos, and her fathers’ obvious fun on the drums earned my admiration.
I ordered the LP Somewhere Else and also received a free digital download with the bonus track “Come Over” and soon found myself playing the album nonstop. Loveless writes songs with a sense of humor and literary knowledge. You can hear outlaw country in her music but there’s also a touch of punk. She’s sort of a modern day female David Allen Coe who sings about mistakes unapologetically.
“Somewhere Else,” the title track from Loveless’s album, is all about indecision as she apologizes for what she’s done. While the tune includes explicit lyrics, like many of her songs, there’s also a sense of humor when she sings “I just wanted to 867-5309 you” as the steel guitar and May’s Telecaster play along.
On “Wine Lips” Loveless is more decisive, knowing exactly where she wants to be and not apologizing for the “bad idea” she has for “wine lips.” Catchy and upbeat, the song is fun on its own but when you hear Loveless sing “tell your momma that my French has finally improved” your grin only grows bigger.
Loveless shares her literary bent with “Verlaine Shot Rimbaud.” French poet Arthur Rimbaud’s affair wit Paul Verlaine turns tragic but Loveless sees their violent passion as the fuel for Rimbaud’s poetry. “I just like you so much better when we’re coming to blows” she sings as she tells her lover “I just wanna be the one you love.”
There’s plenty of heartache, dysfunction, bad decisions and loss throughout most of Loveless’s songs but my favorite, “Everything’s Gone,” deals not with the loss of a lover but the loss of a lifestyle. One imagines she’s singing about her hometown in rural Ohio, “the place where I grew up and my little brother was born.” What she finds when she returns is nothing like she remembered it and she’s left asking “where has everything gone?”
At 24 years old Loveless is just beginning her career. I wish her and her husband great success. I also hope they continue working with guitarist Todd May, put out a new album soon and put on a show near enough for me to see.
Anat Cohen
Notes From the Village
There is one other musician I discovered this summer, Anat Cohen, but I won’t go into details about her for a couple of reasons.
First, Cohen plays jazz clarinet and people either love jazz or hate it. I happened to love it so if you do too you can search for some Anat Cohen tunes yourself and decide if she’s your kind of jazz or not.
Second, I bought Cohen’s album Notes From the Village for my youngest daughter who plays clarinet for her high school marching band, concert band and pep band. She would like to play clarinet in the high school jazz band too but was told the clarinet is not considered part of the jazz band.
Armed with an Anat Cohen album I’m hoping my youngest, if she chooses, one day shows people everywhere jazz bands do have a spot for the clarinet.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
A couple of years ago (although I mistakenly believed it was only last year) I wrote a column or two about half dozen new CDs I had added to my music collection that year.
Among those was a group called Lake Street Dive, which we were fortunate enough to see in Kansas City this summer. Although they, along with another artist from 2013, Eilen Jewell, remain on my favorites list, I discovered a couple of new groups this year that have joined the list. So as part of a biennial tradition I promise will happen at least once, I thought I’d write another column about some of my new music favorites from 2015.
Shovels and Rope
Swimmin’ Time
Like many new groups that grab my attention Shovels and Rope just happened to show up one day on YouTube while I was searching some other band or music style I have long forgotten.
What I found was Michael Trent’s and Cary Ann Hearst’s video “Birmingham” and the moment I heard Hearst sing I was hooked. Her South Carolina voice is raw, powerful and downright sexy, and when Trent harmonizes you get a nostalgic duet that’s been missing from country music for decades.
Intrigued, I sat and listened to every song of theirs I could find on YouTube. And what I discovered was they have a depth and musical craftsmanship unlike any other other group in the country/folk/Americana genre. I quickly downloaded their five-tune Swimmin’ Time Primer released in 2014, bought tickets to see them in Lawrence, Kan., and bought the complete Swimmin’ Time album soon after its release.
Shovels and Rope proved to be one of the best groups I got to see all summer. The husband and wife duet put out more nonstop verve and sound than a band five times their size backed by a tower of Marshalls and separate horn section.
While you can hear this couple’s country hearts when they sing you can easily hear The White Stripes and Tom Waits when they attack their guitars. Their song “Ohio” is Bourbon Street blues with distortion while “Coping Mechanism,” which they performed on The Late Show with David Letterman, sounds like an updated version of Paul Anka or The Platters.
Shovels and Rope’s best songs, though, are those that have little comparison with those who came before them. “The Devil Is All Around” and “After the Storm” showcase their unique songwriting talent, their voices and their musical skills. I can’t wait to catch Trent and Hearst live again and I can’t wait to hear their next album.
Lydia Loveless
Somewhere Else
If you haven’t figured it out already I’m a sucker women singers with a strong dose of authentic country in their voices. Lydia Loveless is one of those singers.
Loveless showed up on my search one day on Music Fog, a video and production company that promotes Americana music, folk and country (not the kind of country you hear on the radio but more authentic country).
I discovered Loveless, her bass player husband Ben Lamb, guitarist Todd May and her father Parker Chandler on drums performing “Back on the Bottle” with the warning it contained explicit lyrics. As intrigued as I was by Loveless’s voice, I was more impressed with the band as a whole. Lamb’s upright bass playing, May’s harmonies and guitar solos, and her fathers’ obvious fun on the drums earned my admiration.
I ordered the LP Somewhere Else and also received a free digital download with the bonus track “Come Over” and soon found myself playing the album nonstop. Loveless writes songs with a sense of humor and literary knowledge. You can hear outlaw country in her music but there’s also a touch of punk. She’s sort of a modern day female David Allen Coe who sings about mistakes unapologetically.
“Somewhere Else,” the title track from Loveless’s album, is all about indecision as she apologizes for what she’s done. While the tune includes explicit lyrics, like many of her songs, there’s also a sense of humor when she sings “I just wanted to 867-5309 you” as the steel guitar and May’s Telecaster play along.
On “Wine Lips” Loveless is more decisive, knowing exactly where she wants to be and not apologizing for the “bad idea” she has for “wine lips.” Catchy and upbeat, the song is fun on its own but when you hear Loveless sing “tell your momma that my French has finally improved” your grin only grows bigger.
Loveless shares her literary bent with “Verlaine Shot Rimbaud.” French poet Arthur Rimbaud’s affair wit Paul Verlaine turns tragic but Loveless sees their violent passion as the fuel for Rimbaud’s poetry. “I just like you so much better when we’re coming to blows” she sings as she tells her lover “I just wanna be the one you love.”
There’s plenty of heartache, dysfunction, bad decisions and loss throughout most of Loveless’s songs but my favorite, “Everything’s Gone,” deals not with the loss of a lover but the loss of a lifestyle. One imagines she’s singing about her hometown in rural Ohio, “the place where I grew up and my little brother was born.” What she finds when she returns is nothing like she remembered it and she’s left asking “where has everything gone?”
At 24 years old Loveless is just beginning her career. I wish her and her husband great success. I also hope they continue working with guitarist Todd May, put out a new album soon and put on a show near enough for me to see.
Anat Cohen
Notes From the Village
There is one other musician I discovered this summer, Anat Cohen, but I won’t go into details about her for a couple of reasons.
First, Cohen plays jazz clarinet and people either love jazz or hate it. I happened to love it so if you do too you can search for some Anat Cohen tunes yourself and decide if she’s your kind of jazz or not.
Second, I bought Cohen’s album Notes From the Village for my youngest daughter who plays clarinet for her high school marching band, concert band and pep band. She would like to play clarinet in the high school jazz band too but was told the clarinet is not considered part of the jazz band.
Armed with an Anat Cohen album I’m hoping my youngest, if she chooses, one day shows people everywhere jazz bands do have a spot for the clarinet.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Parenting the individual
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Over the past 15 months that I have been writing these Fishbowl columns, I would hope that I have made it abundantly clear that I have two daughters. I realize that I have spent more of my writing time on Brady, simply because as the older child, she is the one who hits milestones first, providing me with material on which to write. By the time Ava reaches the same milestone, it no longer feels new and like a stage I am unprepared to process. So today, I share with you a realization I had about my precocious, headstrong second child.
I had a conversation yesterday with a mom friend who is experiencing a new sassy attitude from her daughter that really startled her. I spend a lot of time with this little girl and her new attitude startled me too. My friend told me that when she sat down with her little one to get to the bottom of the issue, her daughter began to get very upset and wept that she knew she was being crabby and that she, “really just need to have some time alone.” This mama was surprised to hear this from her girl for two reasons. First, she was startled, yet pleased, that her daughter at only 8 years old, had such a level of self-awareness. Second, as a fairly outgoing person herself, she was taken aback by a child who requires a fair amount of time alone in order to feel like herself.
This really got me thinking about my littles. Brady is so much like me that I feel like I understand her better than I can Ava. She and I both tend toward introverted. We can be in social settings and really enjoy spending time with friends or family but then require a large amount of time alone to recharge.
Ava, however, is the farthest thing from an introvert that I have ever met. She thrives on social interaction, touch and talk. She is fearless, especially in social settings. As I thought about who my girl is, I realize that perhaps part of the reason we have so many sibling fights during school breaks is because her need for social interaction is not being met by her introverted family who all require so much alone time.
At school, Ava is the kind of kid who is friends with everyone. She always has something exciting to tell the teacher, and comes home each day just buzzing energy from the day. We have never really had the meltdowns that come with a change in routine that we have with her sister. Understanding this about Ava should help me to be a better parent to her. Even more, by recognizing this personality trait in her will give me the opportunity to teach both of my girls to recognize, understand and be sensitive to the needs of others as they grow.
I have recognized since Ava was an infant that she and her sister were very individual children with their own unique personalities and needs. Ava needs to understand how and why things work the way that they do, whereas Brady only seems to notice when things aren’t working the way she wants. Brady is creative in very traditional concrete ways, she communicates in a very linear, straightforward way. Ava is so very imaginative and sometimes lacks the focus or vocabulary to communicate the fantastical ideas in her imagination, so instead she creates art and writes stories. Huh, come to think of it, maybe she is a bit more like me than I think.
All parents of multiple children will tell you the same thing, no two kids, despite coming from the same parents and being raised in the same circumstances, are the same. It is our job as parents to recognize the individuality of our children and parent in a way that nurtures their unique personality.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Over the past 15 months that I have been writing these Fishbowl columns, I would hope that I have made it abundantly clear that I have two daughters. I realize that I have spent more of my writing time on Brady, simply because as the older child, she is the one who hits milestones first, providing me with material on which to write. By the time Ava reaches the same milestone, it no longer feels new and like a stage I am unprepared to process. So today, I share with you a realization I had about my precocious, headstrong second child.
I had a conversation yesterday with a mom friend who is experiencing a new sassy attitude from her daughter that really startled her. I spend a lot of time with this little girl and her new attitude startled me too. My friend told me that when she sat down with her little one to get to the bottom of the issue, her daughter began to get very upset and wept that she knew she was being crabby and that she, “really just need to have some time alone.” This mama was surprised to hear this from her girl for two reasons. First, she was startled, yet pleased, that her daughter at only 8 years old, had such a level of self-awareness. Second, as a fairly outgoing person herself, she was taken aback by a child who requires a fair amount of time alone in order to feel like herself.
This really got me thinking about my littles. Brady is so much like me that I feel like I understand her better than I can Ava. She and I both tend toward introverted. We can be in social settings and really enjoy spending time with friends or family but then require a large amount of time alone to recharge.
Ava, however, is the farthest thing from an introvert that I have ever met. She thrives on social interaction, touch and talk. She is fearless, especially in social settings. As I thought about who my girl is, I realize that perhaps part of the reason we have so many sibling fights during school breaks is because her need for social interaction is not being met by her introverted family who all require so much alone time.
At school, Ava is the kind of kid who is friends with everyone. She always has something exciting to tell the teacher, and comes home each day just buzzing energy from the day. We have never really had the meltdowns that come with a change in routine that we have with her sister. Understanding this about Ava should help me to be a better parent to her. Even more, by recognizing this personality trait in her will give me the opportunity to teach both of my girls to recognize, understand and be sensitive to the needs of others as they grow.
I have recognized since Ava was an infant that she and her sister were very individual children with their own unique personalities and needs. Ava needs to understand how and why things work the way that they do, whereas Brady only seems to notice when things aren’t working the way she wants. Brady is creative in very traditional concrete ways, she communicates in a very linear, straightforward way. Ava is so very imaginative and sometimes lacks the focus or vocabulary to communicate the fantastical ideas in her imagination, so instead she creates art and writes stories. Huh, come to think of it, maybe she is a bit more like me than I think.
All parents of multiple children will tell you the same thing, no two kids, despite coming from the same parents and being raised in the same circumstances, are the same. It is our job as parents to recognize the individuality of our children and parent in a way that nurtures their unique personality.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Resolve to set goals
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
I can remember New Year’s Eve celebrations with my older stepsisters when I was a child. We would play card games, have elaborate tea parties with our cat dressed in a coat and top hat while feasting on M&Ms, and we would all write down our resolutions for the new year.
I cannot think of a single resolution I ever made that stuck for very long. I also can’t really think of what a child of 5 or 6 would have to be resolved about. I think one year I resolved to have no library fines in the New Year. Guess what, I couldn’t drive and the library was across town, I broke that one too. Now as a mom myself, I understand why my mom always said I couldn’t tell her of things that required her time on the day of.
That’s just the thing, most of the resolutions we tend to make require us to lean on the support of those around us. Without support, we will most certainly fail. And pretty much everyone I know has some measure of guilt when they fail. So begins the cycle of being disappointed in a behavior, resolving to change it, falling short of your own expectations, feeling guilty and once again being disappointed in the very same behavior. I know people who have resolved to lose 10 pounds this year for the past 15 years. By this time, most of them have actually added much more than the initial ten-pound goal.
A few years ago, I decided that rather than make a resolution I was sure I couldn’t keep, I set goals that I thought I may or may not be able to meet, but anything I accomplished was progress. I set a lot goals that first year, things like I wanted to read 52 books — one for each week of the year; I wanted to make a new wreath for my front door each month, I wanted to read the entire Bible from Genesis to Revelation in order, and I wanted to declutter my closet and remove items I hadn’t worn in a long time.
I achieved complete success in none of these areas. I managed to read over 40 books — since I refused to count books I read to my children, but fell far short of my goal. I was able to create new wreaths for January through May, but we moved that year and by June, all my crafting supplies had already been packed. I managed to get through the first five books of the Old Testament in order, but quickly lost steam, got distracted and found myself back in the Gospels. With moving, I was most successful in the decluttering, but still found several items that didn’t fit right that I just couldn’t part with for one sentimental reason or another.
But I ended that year, proud of my progress. I had managed to force my creativity to spark in the dull winter months. I travelled far and wide in imaginary worlds created by wonderful writers. I was so pleased with my progress that I decided I would set goals each year. I do my best to achieve them, but I also don’t feel the pressure to be perfect.
So here I find myself on New Year’s Eve and I commit to myself, with a great group of witnesses, that I shall attempt the following over the next 366 days. I will read five novels from the BBC’s top 100 books list. These will all be novels I have not previously read, but I will choose them as they strike my fancy. I will eliminate one item of clutter from my home for each day of the year. These items may not be trash, they must be items that can be donated. And I will choose one person I have lost touch with to reconnect with each month.
Dear readers, have a wonderful and safe celebration and be good to yourself and others in 2016.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
I can remember New Year’s Eve celebrations with my older stepsisters when I was a child. We would play card games, have elaborate tea parties with our cat dressed in a coat and top hat while feasting on M&Ms, and we would all write down our resolutions for the new year.
I cannot think of a single resolution I ever made that stuck for very long. I also can’t really think of what a child of 5 or 6 would have to be resolved about. I think one year I resolved to have no library fines in the New Year. Guess what, I couldn’t drive and the library was across town, I broke that one too. Now as a mom myself, I understand why my mom always said I couldn’t tell her of things that required her time on the day of.
That’s just the thing, most of the resolutions we tend to make require us to lean on the support of those around us. Without support, we will most certainly fail. And pretty much everyone I know has some measure of guilt when they fail. So begins the cycle of being disappointed in a behavior, resolving to change it, falling short of your own expectations, feeling guilty and once again being disappointed in the very same behavior. I know people who have resolved to lose 10 pounds this year for the past 15 years. By this time, most of them have actually added much more than the initial ten-pound goal.
A few years ago, I decided that rather than make a resolution I was sure I couldn’t keep, I set goals that I thought I may or may not be able to meet, but anything I accomplished was progress. I set a lot goals that first year, things like I wanted to read 52 books — one for each week of the year; I wanted to make a new wreath for my front door each month, I wanted to read the entire Bible from Genesis to Revelation in order, and I wanted to declutter my closet and remove items I hadn’t worn in a long time.
I achieved complete success in none of these areas. I managed to read over 40 books — since I refused to count books I read to my children, but fell far short of my goal. I was able to create new wreaths for January through May, but we moved that year and by June, all my crafting supplies had already been packed. I managed to get through the first five books of the Old Testament in order, but quickly lost steam, got distracted and found myself back in the Gospels. With moving, I was most successful in the decluttering, but still found several items that didn’t fit right that I just couldn’t part with for one sentimental reason or another.
But I ended that year, proud of my progress. I had managed to force my creativity to spark in the dull winter months. I travelled far and wide in imaginary worlds created by wonderful writers. I was so pleased with my progress that I decided I would set goals each year. I do my best to achieve them, but I also don’t feel the pressure to be perfect.
So here I find myself on New Year’s Eve and I commit to myself, with a great group of witnesses, that I shall attempt the following over the next 366 days. I will read five novels from the BBC’s top 100 books list. These will all be novels I have not previously read, but I will choose them as they strike my fancy. I will eliminate one item of clutter from my home for each day of the year. These items may not be trash, they must be items that can be donated. And I will choose one person I have lost touch with to reconnect with each month.
Dear readers, have a wonderful and safe celebration and be good to yourself and others in 2016.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
May your Christmas memories be lifelong
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It seems we’re not going to have the white Christmas many have hoped for but that’s all right with me. I have plenty of winter wonderland memories from the holidays.
Snow, and sometimes ice, is a part of many of my favorite Christmas memories. Snowball fights as child with cousins and uncles until my hands and feet froze, snow forts and snowmen made with my own children, and an especially sleet-covered Christmas that include sledding with my son, oldest daughter and dad, and even an ice storm that covered southwest Missouri far south into Arkansas that made driving back to grad school in Mississippi treacherous are all well remembered.
Christmas plays at church are a tradition, even more so after Christy started heading up the annual play at our church. For nearly 10 years she took on the challenges of working with children, holiday schedules, costumes and props. This year that tradition changed when instead of directing the play Christy, our daughters and I, and other church members performed skits while someone else ran the show.
When I was much, much younger Christmas church programs meant attending with my grandmother Nerva at Sardis, the church my parents still attend. We sang carols and we children were given small, mesh bags filled with oranges, apples, nuts, candy canes and Brach’s candy. Even today at this time of year I find myself craving citrus fruit and candy canes.
Of course the best Christmas memories contain laughter. The time a live chipmunk climbed a branch on my parents’ Christmas tree while their living room was filled with children and grandchildren is a memory we will never forget.
The annual family Christmas photo at Christy’s parents is always chaotic but entertaining yet rarely completed in a single shot. First Christy’s dad has to remember how to set the timer then rush to find a spot in the group photo while hoping no one bares a stomach or flashes bunny ears on someone else.
Christmas memories, at least mine, have never been about a gift received, unless you count the time my brother wrapped a half-eaten summer sausage as a white elephant gift. Instead those memories include a house filled with aunts, uncles and cousins at grandparents’ homes as a child, youngsters awake early excited by Santa’s visit or watching the wonder of the youngest family member at his or her first Christmas.
Christmas is nostalgia, whether it’s candlelight ceremonies, caroling, baking Christmas cookies with family or just getting together as family or friends for food and fellowship while revisiting times passed.
Last week Jacki shared some Christmas memories from some of our older generations after speaking with them at Vintage Park or Corning Specialty. This week we’re sharing some thoughts about Christmas as a much younger generation writes letters to Santa. Whatever your age, I’m certain you have plenty of Christmas memories of your own as you go about making new ones with those you care about this week.
May this Christmas be one of your best lifelong memories.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It seems we’re not going to have the white Christmas many have hoped for but that’s all right with me. I have plenty of winter wonderland memories from the holidays.
Snow, and sometimes ice, is a part of many of my favorite Christmas memories. Snowball fights as child with cousins and uncles until my hands and feet froze, snow forts and snowmen made with my own children, and an especially sleet-covered Christmas that include sledding with my son, oldest daughter and dad, and even an ice storm that covered southwest Missouri far south into Arkansas that made driving back to grad school in Mississippi treacherous are all well remembered.
Christmas plays at church are a tradition, even more so after Christy started heading up the annual play at our church. For nearly 10 years she took on the challenges of working with children, holiday schedules, costumes and props. This year that tradition changed when instead of directing the play Christy, our daughters and I, and other church members performed skits while someone else ran the show.
When I was much, much younger Christmas church programs meant attending with my grandmother Nerva at Sardis, the church my parents still attend. We sang carols and we children were given small, mesh bags filled with oranges, apples, nuts, candy canes and Brach’s candy. Even today at this time of year I find myself craving citrus fruit and candy canes.
Of course the best Christmas memories contain laughter. The time a live chipmunk climbed a branch on my parents’ Christmas tree while their living room was filled with children and grandchildren is a memory we will never forget.
The annual family Christmas photo at Christy’s parents is always chaotic but entertaining yet rarely completed in a single shot. First Christy’s dad has to remember how to set the timer then rush to find a spot in the group photo while hoping no one bares a stomach or flashes bunny ears on someone else.
Christmas memories, at least mine, have never been about a gift received, unless you count the time my brother wrapped a half-eaten summer sausage as a white elephant gift. Instead those memories include a house filled with aunts, uncles and cousins at grandparents’ homes as a child, youngsters awake early excited by Santa’s visit or watching the wonder of the youngest family member at his or her first Christmas.
Christmas is nostalgia, whether it’s candlelight ceremonies, caroling, baking Christmas cookies with family or just getting together as family or friends for food and fellowship while revisiting times passed.
Last week Jacki shared some Christmas memories from some of our older generations after speaking with them at Vintage Park or Corning Specialty. This week we’re sharing some thoughts about Christmas as a much younger generation writes letters to Santa. Whatever your age, I’m certain you have plenty of Christmas memories of your own as you go about making new ones with those you care about this week.
May this Christmas be one of your best lifelong memories.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Dining room disaster strikes
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
We returned home Sunday following church to discover something of a disaster in the dining room.
You see our daughters and their friends have been getting into the Christmas spirit. Earlier last week Hannah, our 16-year-old, and a couple of her friends bought a gingerbread mini village kit and assembled three small little gingerbread houses. Their houses looked nothing like the ones pictured on the box, partially because they became tired of building them soon after the gingerbread parts where put together with icing and partially because they ate some of the candy used to decorate the houses. Finished, their three small houses looked like plain brown peasant hovels.
On Saturday night Allison, our 13-year-old, had a friend spend the night so the two of them could go Christmas shopping Sunday afternoon with other youngsters from church. About the time they decided what kind of pizza they wanted to order for supper Allison also decided she and her friend wanted to make gingerbread houses too.
While picking up a pizza, Christy also stopped by Dollar General where she found a gingerbread cottage kit, which included plans for a house far larger than that of those built by Hannah and her friends. After pizza, Allison and her friend began putting together their gingerbread house.
Unlike Hannah and her friends, Allison and her pal followed the photo on the front of the gingerbread kit box closely. The two used not just all of the candy decorations that came with their kit but found some Red Vines licorice and other goodies to upscale their house. By the time they were finished their big house looked like a 10,000-square-foot luxury home surrounded by three unadorned shotgun shacks on the dining room table.
The next morning, Sunday, the gingerbread houses were where they had been left, as were the empty kit boxes and uneaten candy. As I read the morning paper and waited for my turn to get into the bathroom I realized the dining room and table were in need of a good cleanup after church.
By time we had returned from church, though, disaster had struck. From the kitchen we could see the luxury gingerbread house had been nocked from the dining room table and was damaged on the floor. The dog had climbed on the table and had eaten half of the roof off of the house, apparently getting her fill because there was still candy and gingerbread pieces scattered across the floor.
It was as if a tornado had swept through the gingerbread village, leaving the tiny tarpaper-like shacks untouched but destroying the biggest, most strongly built house in some strange act of dog.
Don Groves be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
We returned home Sunday following church to discover something of a disaster in the dining room.
You see our daughters and their friends have been getting into the Christmas spirit. Earlier last week Hannah, our 16-year-old, and a couple of her friends bought a gingerbread mini village kit and assembled three small little gingerbread houses. Their houses looked nothing like the ones pictured on the box, partially because they became tired of building them soon after the gingerbread parts where put together with icing and partially because they ate some of the candy used to decorate the houses. Finished, their three small houses looked like plain brown peasant hovels.
On Saturday night Allison, our 13-year-old, had a friend spend the night so the two of them could go Christmas shopping Sunday afternoon with other youngsters from church. About the time they decided what kind of pizza they wanted to order for supper Allison also decided she and her friend wanted to make gingerbread houses too.
While picking up a pizza, Christy also stopped by Dollar General where she found a gingerbread cottage kit, which included plans for a house far larger than that of those built by Hannah and her friends. After pizza, Allison and her friend began putting together their gingerbread house.
Unlike Hannah and her friends, Allison and her pal followed the photo on the front of the gingerbread kit box closely. The two used not just all of the candy decorations that came with their kit but found some Red Vines licorice and other goodies to upscale their house. By the time they were finished their big house looked like a 10,000-square-foot luxury home surrounded by three unadorned shotgun shacks on the dining room table.
The next morning, Sunday, the gingerbread houses were where they had been left, as were the empty kit boxes and uneaten candy. As I read the morning paper and waited for my turn to get into the bathroom I realized the dining room and table were in need of a good cleanup after church.
By time we had returned from church, though, disaster had struck. From the kitchen we could see the luxury gingerbread house had been nocked from the dining room table and was damaged on the floor. The dog had climbed on the table and had eaten half of the roof off of the house, apparently getting her fill because there was still candy and gingerbread pieces scattered across the floor.
It was as if a tornado had swept through the gingerbread village, leaving the tiny tarpaper-like shacks untouched but destroying the biggest, most strongly built house in some strange act of dog.
Don Groves be contacted at [email protected].
Destigmatize mental illness
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
I think sometimes in Corning we can get to feeling a little bit insulated and safe, and yet we can also be frightened by what is going on in the world around us. Things like the events in Paris and San Bernardino are terrifying simply because of their totally unpredictable nature. We are afraid that if even the City of Light can be made a target of extreme violence that nowhere is safe.
To a degree, that is true. Yet, I personally don’t feel afraid that an act of terrorism is in my future. What I find horrifying is that we now live in a country where gun violence is a regular occurrence, where mass shootings no longer shock people and only stay in the news for a few days until another one happens.
I remember as a young child there being a deadly mass shooting in a post office by a postal employee. I was too young to know the facts, but I do remember the reaction of my parents. They were afraid and they were shocked. Here’s the interesting thing. That shooting was nearly 30 years ago. How many of you knew exactly which mass shooting I was referencing? Who remembers the shock? How about the feeling of disgust when “going postal” became a joking way to refer to the tragedy of that day?
I do clearly remember the massacre at Columbine High School. I was a student at a community college at the time, only one year out of high school myself. I remember sitting in the student lounge of the school and seeing the report scrolling across the bottom of the television screen. I remember the mad dash to change the channel to CNN to figure out what in the world was happening. And I remember that nearly every single student in my English Composition class wrote about their thoughts in the aftermath.
I remember shootings at an Amish school in Lancaster County, Penn., and Sandy Hook Elementary in Connecticut, a movie theater in Aurora, Colo., and a church in Memphis, Tenn. I remember the feelings of sadness expressed by thousands across the nation. But these acts are no longer accompanied by the shock and disbelief that this could happen.
I don’t find guns to be terrifying. I come from a family of hunters and have fired guns a few times myself. I appreciate that we have well armed police forces and military to ensure our security. I understand gun enthusiasts and their right to pursue their hobby of collecting firearms. And I understand that there are many people whom I love and respect that disagree with me, and that is OK.
What I do not understand is why anyone outside of those charged with ensuring public safety would ever need an assault rifle or semi-automatic weapon. I don’t understand why anyone opposes safety and security measures of background checks before the purchase of firearms. I can’t believe that there are loopholes such as gun shows and private sales where the limited background checks already in existence can go ignored.
This one thing I know to be sure, this violence is not going to stop simply because of our expressions of sympathy for the victims or because of more regulations on the sale of firearms. We need to address the mental health issues that are present in far more of these events than not. Until mental illness is destigmatized and access to treatment is made readily available, all the gun regulations in the world aren’t going to affect any real and lasting change.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
I think sometimes in Corning we can get to feeling a little bit insulated and safe, and yet we can also be frightened by what is going on in the world around us. Things like the events in Paris and San Bernardino are terrifying simply because of their totally unpredictable nature. We are afraid that if even the City of Light can be made a target of extreme violence that nowhere is safe.
To a degree, that is true. Yet, I personally don’t feel afraid that an act of terrorism is in my future. What I find horrifying is that we now live in a country where gun violence is a regular occurrence, where mass shootings no longer shock people and only stay in the news for a few days until another one happens.
I remember as a young child there being a deadly mass shooting in a post office by a postal employee. I was too young to know the facts, but I do remember the reaction of my parents. They were afraid and they were shocked. Here’s the interesting thing. That shooting was nearly 30 years ago. How many of you knew exactly which mass shooting I was referencing? Who remembers the shock? How about the feeling of disgust when “going postal” became a joking way to refer to the tragedy of that day?
I do clearly remember the massacre at Columbine High School. I was a student at a community college at the time, only one year out of high school myself. I remember sitting in the student lounge of the school and seeing the report scrolling across the bottom of the television screen. I remember the mad dash to change the channel to CNN to figure out what in the world was happening. And I remember that nearly every single student in my English Composition class wrote about their thoughts in the aftermath.
I remember shootings at an Amish school in Lancaster County, Penn., and Sandy Hook Elementary in Connecticut, a movie theater in Aurora, Colo., and a church in Memphis, Tenn. I remember the feelings of sadness expressed by thousands across the nation. But these acts are no longer accompanied by the shock and disbelief that this could happen.
I don’t find guns to be terrifying. I come from a family of hunters and have fired guns a few times myself. I appreciate that we have well armed police forces and military to ensure our security. I understand gun enthusiasts and their right to pursue their hobby of collecting firearms. And I understand that there are many people whom I love and respect that disagree with me, and that is OK.
What I do not understand is why anyone outside of those charged with ensuring public safety would ever need an assault rifle or semi-automatic weapon. I don’t understand why anyone opposes safety and security measures of background checks before the purchase of firearms. I can’t believe that there are loopholes such as gun shows and private sales where the limited background checks already in existence can go ignored.
This one thing I know to be sure, this violence is not going to stop simply because of our expressions of sympathy for the victims or because of more regulations on the sale of firearms. We need to address the mental health issues that are present in far more of these events than not. Until mental illness is destigmatized and access to treatment is made readily available, all the gun regulations in the world aren’t going to affect any real and lasting change.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Simple ways to spread the joy
Fishbowl Parenting
Jackie Bardole
Snow has already fallen and the gratitude of Thanksgiving has already given way to the hustle of holiday shopping. Even the commercial holidays of Black Friday, Small Business Saturday and Cyber Monday — I still can’t wrap my head around a full three to five days of November dedicated to shopping — have come and gone. As December begins we are totally immersed in the cheer and celebration of the season and I can’t help but think of those families that find stress and sorrow instead of joy in the holidays.
We all know that there are families in our own community who struggle to make ends meet no matter the time of year. Early in our marriage, while Andrew was in seminary and the girls were just babies, we were one of those families. Believe me, it can be hard to feel joyful about choosing a gift for your child when you realize that doing so may mean that you won’t be able to pay the doctor’s bill. Some of these families are able and willing to turn to the Christmas families program to aid them in providing gifts for their children at Christmas. That is a wonderful program, and I am so pleased to be part of a community that continues to commit their time and resources to blessing their neighbors.
But imagine with me that you are a child from a family that struggles, or even a family that lives on a carefully planned budget. There isn’t much extra money to be had, and things like name-brand shoes or jeans are a luxury you don’t have. Now imagine that Santa brings you a book and a sled. Christmas morning you are excited and grateful for your Santa gifts. But then you return to school and you hear that Santa brought Susie an iPhone and David got a 4-wheeler. And you can’t help but wonder … did I do something wrong? Why didn’t Santa bring me a fancy gift?
We do keep pretty close track of our budget and the girls have heard many times that there is just not enough money for something they want. They understand Mom and Dad not being able to get them extravagant gifts, but Santa is something else entirely.
I want to encourage you as parents and grandparents or anyone who plays the role of Santa in a child’s life. Keep things simple. Children who have been taught to be grateful will feel the joy in a gift of any value.
And one step further, share the joy of the season in whatever ways your family is able. If you have the funds, adopt a family from the Christmas family program. Or bake a batch of cookies to deliver to the sheriff’s office to thank them for keeping our community safe. Have your kids make cards for residents at the nursing home or other residential facilities. Sing carols for someone experiencing a first holiday without a loved one. Or shovel snow from the sidewalk of an elderly neighbor.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jackie Bardole
Snow has already fallen and the gratitude of Thanksgiving has already given way to the hustle of holiday shopping. Even the commercial holidays of Black Friday, Small Business Saturday and Cyber Monday — I still can’t wrap my head around a full three to five days of November dedicated to shopping — have come and gone. As December begins we are totally immersed in the cheer and celebration of the season and I can’t help but think of those families that find stress and sorrow instead of joy in the holidays.
We all know that there are families in our own community who struggle to make ends meet no matter the time of year. Early in our marriage, while Andrew was in seminary and the girls were just babies, we were one of those families. Believe me, it can be hard to feel joyful about choosing a gift for your child when you realize that doing so may mean that you won’t be able to pay the doctor’s bill. Some of these families are able and willing to turn to the Christmas families program to aid them in providing gifts for their children at Christmas. That is a wonderful program, and I am so pleased to be part of a community that continues to commit their time and resources to blessing their neighbors.
But imagine with me that you are a child from a family that struggles, or even a family that lives on a carefully planned budget. There isn’t much extra money to be had, and things like name-brand shoes or jeans are a luxury you don’t have. Now imagine that Santa brings you a book and a sled. Christmas morning you are excited and grateful for your Santa gifts. But then you return to school and you hear that Santa brought Susie an iPhone and David got a 4-wheeler. And you can’t help but wonder … did I do something wrong? Why didn’t Santa bring me a fancy gift?
We do keep pretty close track of our budget and the girls have heard many times that there is just not enough money for something they want. They understand Mom and Dad not being able to get them extravagant gifts, but Santa is something else entirely.
I want to encourage you as parents and grandparents or anyone who plays the role of Santa in a child’s life. Keep things simple. Children who have been taught to be grateful will feel the joy in a gift of any value.
And one step further, share the joy of the season in whatever ways your family is able. If you have the funds, adopt a family from the Christmas family program. Or bake a batch of cookies to deliver to the sheriff’s office to thank them for keeping our community safe. Have your kids make cards for residents at the nursing home or other residential facilities. Sing carols for someone experiencing a first holiday without a loved one. Or shovel snow from the sidewalk of an elderly neighbor.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Consider facts, not fear
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“If someone who has worldly means sees someone in need and refuses him compassion, how can the love of God remain in him? Children, let us love not in word or speech but in deed and truth.” — 1 John 3:17-18.
When I set out to write this column I had planned to list the many things for which I’m grateful for Thanksgiving. Although my topic has a taken a different turn, I think I am still expressing my gratefulness for what we and this nation have.
Seeking religious freedom, white Europeans found help and refuge when they arrived on a new continent already occupied by Native Americans. From that beginning, those settlers and others like them worked to create a nation unlike any other seen before. Our ideals, rights and freedoms are envied around the world but they are also seen as threats by some who hope to destroy those ideals, rights and freedoms.
Sadly, though, those hoping to destroy our ideals, rights and freedom are receiving help in doing so from fearmongers. Politicians have taken the tragedy orchestrated in Paris by radical jihadists and turned it into such a xenophobic frenzy that Lady Liberty, that great beacon of democracy given as a gift from France, is dimming her torch in shame.
This country — especially those who claim it is a Christian nation — have the responsibility to help refugees from Syria and elsewhere who are fleeing jihadists. That, however, is not what’s happening. Instead U.S. governors are saying their states will not allow refugees, some are saying we should turn away Muslims and accept only Christians as refugees and even one has suggested Syrian refugees should wear special patches so we can identify them, much like the Nazis did with Jews during World War II.
Facts, not fear, are what we need to consider when dealing with a humanitarian crisis. First of all, European Union leaders say the Paris attackers were EU nationals, not Syrian refugees as some suspected. A Syrian passport found near one of the attackers is believed to be fake.
It’s doubtful the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant is embedding jihadists with Syrian refugees as some sort of sleeper cell who later launch attacks. For one, ISIL doesn’t want Syrians fleeing its so-called caliphate. ISIL wants people to believe the nation it’s built is some sort of Islamic utopia, not a place that creates refugees.
Consider, too, the time it would take for ISIL to identify a potential jihadist, train him, have him join the refugees and hope that he is one the few accepted as a refugee in the U.S. or wherever. The U.S. already has a screening process in place for accepting Syrian and Iraqi refugees and it takes nearly two years.
Even France, which lost more than 120 to the Nov. 13 jihadist attacks, is still accepting 30,000 Syrian refugees while some in the U.S. are considering ways to not only stop accepting Syrian refugees but also begin deporting the refugees it already has. Instead of helping the “huddled masses yearning to breathe free” too many want to bar the door and lock up those who are different than us.
Let’s be vigilant but let’s also remember the hysteria of Japanese internment camps and the Jewish refugees from an earlier time of fear in this nation’s history. We need cool heads and clear thinking, not a destruction of our ideals, rights and freedoms. If we lose those, we are handing victory to the jihadists.
Seeking religious freedom, white Europeans received help from some Native Americans who had lived here about 10,000 years before the Pilgrims arrived. As we give thanks for that, let us not forget we are called to help “the least of these brothers and sisters,” turn our thoughts to Advent and remember a child born to a Middle Eastern couple seeking refuge some 2,000 years ago.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“If someone who has worldly means sees someone in need and refuses him compassion, how can the love of God remain in him? Children, let us love not in word or speech but in deed and truth.” — 1 John 3:17-18.
When I set out to write this column I had planned to list the many things for which I’m grateful for Thanksgiving. Although my topic has a taken a different turn, I think I am still expressing my gratefulness for what we and this nation have.
Seeking religious freedom, white Europeans found help and refuge when they arrived on a new continent already occupied by Native Americans. From that beginning, those settlers and others like them worked to create a nation unlike any other seen before. Our ideals, rights and freedoms are envied around the world but they are also seen as threats by some who hope to destroy those ideals, rights and freedoms.
Sadly, though, those hoping to destroy our ideals, rights and freedom are receiving help in doing so from fearmongers. Politicians have taken the tragedy orchestrated in Paris by radical jihadists and turned it into such a xenophobic frenzy that Lady Liberty, that great beacon of democracy given as a gift from France, is dimming her torch in shame.
This country — especially those who claim it is a Christian nation — have the responsibility to help refugees from Syria and elsewhere who are fleeing jihadists. That, however, is not what’s happening. Instead U.S. governors are saying their states will not allow refugees, some are saying we should turn away Muslims and accept only Christians as refugees and even one has suggested Syrian refugees should wear special patches so we can identify them, much like the Nazis did with Jews during World War II.
Facts, not fear, are what we need to consider when dealing with a humanitarian crisis. First of all, European Union leaders say the Paris attackers were EU nationals, not Syrian refugees as some suspected. A Syrian passport found near one of the attackers is believed to be fake.
It’s doubtful the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant is embedding jihadists with Syrian refugees as some sort of sleeper cell who later launch attacks. For one, ISIL doesn’t want Syrians fleeing its so-called caliphate. ISIL wants people to believe the nation it’s built is some sort of Islamic utopia, not a place that creates refugees.
Consider, too, the time it would take for ISIL to identify a potential jihadist, train him, have him join the refugees and hope that he is one the few accepted as a refugee in the U.S. or wherever. The U.S. already has a screening process in place for accepting Syrian and Iraqi refugees and it takes nearly two years.
Even France, which lost more than 120 to the Nov. 13 jihadist attacks, is still accepting 30,000 Syrian refugees while some in the U.S. are considering ways to not only stop accepting Syrian refugees but also begin deporting the refugees it already has. Instead of helping the “huddled masses yearning to breathe free” too many want to bar the door and lock up those who are different than us.
Let’s be vigilant but let’s also remember the hysteria of Japanese internment camps and the Jewish refugees from an earlier time of fear in this nation’s history. We need cool heads and clear thinking, not a destruction of our ideals, rights and freedoms. If we lose those, we are handing victory to the jihadists.
Seeking religious freedom, white Europeans received help from some Native Americans who had lived here about 10,000 years before the Pilgrims arrived. As we give thanks for that, let us not forget we are called to help “the least of these brothers and sisters,” turn our thoughts to Advent and remember a child born to a Middle Eastern couple seeking refuge some 2,000 years ago.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Paris attacks highlight difficult war
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
My father-in-law gave us the news of the terrorist attacks in Paris as he sat scrolling down his iPad in our living room Friday the 13th.
He read us parts of the reports he had found on the Internet — shootings and suicide bombings, attacks at several sites throughout Paris, hostages taken at the Bataclan concert hall, a rising death toll.
The name of the attackers wasn’t immediately given but our suspicions of who they were would be confirmed the next day when the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant claimed responsibility.
Such attacks by ISIS or ISIL have become all too common, although the Paris attacks were larger in scale and more coordinated than most. Still, since January at least 20 attacks claimed by ISIS or inspired by ISIS have taken places in countries other than Syria or Iraq.
The day before the attacks in Paris, Nov. 12, 43 people were killed in two suicide bombings in Beirut. On Oct. 31, 224 people aboard Russian Metrojet Flight 9268 were killed when the plane crashed in Egypt. And in places like Libya, Saudi Arabia, Tunis, Afghanistan, Kuwait and elsewhere shootings, car bombings and suicide attacks have killed dozens of others and injured hundreds.
Following the Nov. 13 attacks in Paris, French President Francois Hollande said his country is committed to “destroying” ISIS and the country stepped up its involvement in the fight against ISIS, which includes such nations as the U.S., Canada, Denmark, Australia, Great Britain and others. And on Nov. 15, Hollande let the Islamic State know he was serious when France conducted an airstrike on ISIS headquarters in Syria.
While the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant has been in existence formally since 2013 its origins can be traced back to 2002 soon after the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq. Citing Islamic apocalyptic prophecies, the jihadist group seeks to establish a “caliphate” — a state governed in accordance with Islamic law, or Sharia, by God’s deputy on Earth, or caliph.
Claiming the establishment of a caliphate, ISIS is telling other jihadist groups they must accept ISIS’s authority and join it in defending the Muslim community against infidels. Many groups have already joined and have shown their allegiance by conducting ISIS inspired attacks of their own.
The violence of ISIS — beheadings, suicide bombings, crucifixions, massacres and even burying victims alive — and its religious claims to authority can, at first glance, lead many to belief the Islamic world is conducting a holy war or jihad against non-Muslims. What we must realize, though, is that it’s the Islamic State and not Muslims at large that is conducting attacks such as the one in Paris.
In March, ISIS killed 137 people when four suicide bombers detonated their explosives in two mosques in Yemen. The mosques were used by supporters of the Shi'ite Muslim Houthi group as well as Sunni worshippers. Killing fellow Muslims is simply ethnic cleansing, not jihad against non-Muslims.
Some 75 years ago the world also saw ethnic cleansings and a leader seeking world domination through the use of violence and terror. And then, like now, nations worked together to end the terror and destroy an evil regime.
The difference now, though, is that the enemy is purposely misleading its fighters with religion instead of politics and that is taking us into a much more difficult war.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
My father-in-law gave us the news of the terrorist attacks in Paris as he sat scrolling down his iPad in our living room Friday the 13th.
He read us parts of the reports he had found on the Internet — shootings and suicide bombings, attacks at several sites throughout Paris, hostages taken at the Bataclan concert hall, a rising death toll.
The name of the attackers wasn’t immediately given but our suspicions of who they were would be confirmed the next day when the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant claimed responsibility.
Such attacks by ISIS or ISIL have become all too common, although the Paris attacks were larger in scale and more coordinated than most. Still, since January at least 20 attacks claimed by ISIS or inspired by ISIS have taken places in countries other than Syria or Iraq.
The day before the attacks in Paris, Nov. 12, 43 people were killed in two suicide bombings in Beirut. On Oct. 31, 224 people aboard Russian Metrojet Flight 9268 were killed when the plane crashed in Egypt. And in places like Libya, Saudi Arabia, Tunis, Afghanistan, Kuwait and elsewhere shootings, car bombings and suicide attacks have killed dozens of others and injured hundreds.
Following the Nov. 13 attacks in Paris, French President Francois Hollande said his country is committed to “destroying” ISIS and the country stepped up its involvement in the fight against ISIS, which includes such nations as the U.S., Canada, Denmark, Australia, Great Britain and others. And on Nov. 15, Hollande let the Islamic State know he was serious when France conducted an airstrike on ISIS headquarters in Syria.
While the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant has been in existence formally since 2013 its origins can be traced back to 2002 soon after the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq. Citing Islamic apocalyptic prophecies, the jihadist group seeks to establish a “caliphate” — a state governed in accordance with Islamic law, or Sharia, by God’s deputy on Earth, or caliph.
Claiming the establishment of a caliphate, ISIS is telling other jihadist groups they must accept ISIS’s authority and join it in defending the Muslim community against infidels. Many groups have already joined and have shown their allegiance by conducting ISIS inspired attacks of their own.
The violence of ISIS — beheadings, suicide bombings, crucifixions, massacres and even burying victims alive — and its religious claims to authority can, at first glance, lead many to belief the Islamic world is conducting a holy war or jihad against non-Muslims. What we must realize, though, is that it’s the Islamic State and not Muslims at large that is conducting attacks such as the one in Paris.
In March, ISIS killed 137 people when four suicide bombers detonated their explosives in two mosques in Yemen. The mosques were used by supporters of the Shi'ite Muslim Houthi group as well as Sunni worshippers. Killing fellow Muslims is simply ethnic cleansing, not jihad against non-Muslims.
Some 75 years ago the world also saw ethnic cleansings and a leader seeking world domination through the use of violence and terror. And then, like now, nations worked together to end the terror and destroy an evil regime.
The difference now, though, is that the enemy is purposely misleading its fighters with religion instead of politics and that is taking us into a much more difficult war.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
There’s always an opportunity to say thanks
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Our youngest was asked to read her Veterans Day essay Nov. 11 at the annual school ceremony honoring those who have served.
I had hoped to share what she had written here in the Free Press as sort of a guest column for the holiday but my daughter didn’t save what she had written and instead printed what bit she had completed, took it to school to finish and surrendered it to her teacher where it remains until after she reads it Nov. 11 and after the deadline for this week’s paper.
One paragraph she did write that she had saved on her computer captures what so many fought for and the importance of Veterans Day:
“Thank you for all you have done whether you were a part of the fight or supporting our troops in the field because you are or have helped to fight for people’s freedoms and dreams. We should never take for granted freedom and the right to express those ideas freely comes at a cost.”
She hit the nail on the head, summing up what Nov. 11 should be. Give thanks, remember not just the sacrifices but also why they were made but do so not just once a year in November but anytime you see a young man or woman in uniform or an older person in civilian clothes wearing a ball cap remembering his service.
I’ve been fortunate to enjoy my freedom through my profession, which has literally opened doors where I could share time with a veteran, learn more about his life and write about it to share with others.
I am grateful to be have written about and thanked veterans and servicemen of all ages, from a recent high school graduate wounded in Afghanistan when his vehicle hit an IED the day before he was to return to the states to a World War II vet who enlisted right after the attack on Pearl Harbor and witnessed Japan’s surrender ceremony.
Nov. 11 has come and gone but, as I have realized, there’s always an opportunity to express gratitude. And as my daughter says in her closing:
“So to those brave men and women in uniform past, present and future, we thank you for all you have done. While we will never be able to fully express our gratitude for your sacrifice, courage and bravery, we can take this day, this moment, to thank you for all you have done for this country.”
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Our youngest was asked to read her Veterans Day essay Nov. 11 at the annual school ceremony honoring those who have served.
I had hoped to share what she had written here in the Free Press as sort of a guest column for the holiday but my daughter didn’t save what she had written and instead printed what bit she had completed, took it to school to finish and surrendered it to her teacher where it remains until after she reads it Nov. 11 and after the deadline for this week’s paper.
One paragraph she did write that she had saved on her computer captures what so many fought for and the importance of Veterans Day:
“Thank you for all you have done whether you were a part of the fight or supporting our troops in the field because you are or have helped to fight for people’s freedoms and dreams. We should never take for granted freedom and the right to express those ideas freely comes at a cost.”
She hit the nail on the head, summing up what Nov. 11 should be. Give thanks, remember not just the sacrifices but also why they were made but do so not just once a year in November but anytime you see a young man or woman in uniform or an older person in civilian clothes wearing a ball cap remembering his service.
I’ve been fortunate to enjoy my freedom through my profession, which has literally opened doors where I could share time with a veteran, learn more about his life and write about it to share with others.
I am grateful to be have written about and thanked veterans and servicemen of all ages, from a recent high school graduate wounded in Afghanistan when his vehicle hit an IED the day before he was to return to the states to a World War II vet who enlisted right after the attack on Pearl Harbor and witnessed Japan’s surrender ceremony.
Nov. 11 has come and gone but, as I have realized, there’s always an opportunity to express gratitude. And as my daughter says in her closing:
“So to those brave men and women in uniform past, present and future, we thank you for all you have done. While we will never be able to fully express our gratitude for your sacrifice, courage and bravery, we can take this day, this moment, to thank you for all you have done for this country.”
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Let go for better learning
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
A new stage has come to the Bardole house this week. We have begun the process of giving our 9-year-old daughter more self-responsibility and are exploring natural consequences.
Let this be my apology now for any instances of stinky kid. It’s not neglect, I promise, I am aware that she didn’t brush her teeth, or eat her breakfast, or tie her shoes for that matter. I am just no longer going to be the one responsible for being sure those things get done each morning before school. She has a checklist on her bedroom wall reminding her of what needs to be done each day. And we wake her up in plenty of time to accomplish all her tasks. But it’s time for her to learn some time management skills.
To be honest, this stage is a difficult one for Andrew and myself. The process of watching her try and occasionally fail is going to be hard on us. The prospect of being judged as poor parents because our kid is less than presentable is only a small part of it. The difficulty comes in knowing that our little girl is growing up and doesn’t actually need us for as many reminders anymore.
She isn’t exactly liking the new program either. At this early stage of the process and being a kid who isn’t really easily embarrassed, we have instituted some additional consequences for not completing the full checklist before it is time to leave for school. She is not a fan of losing after-school privileges, but that is the best way to motivate her on those sluggish mornings that staying in her nice warm bed seems much more attractive than getting dressed and taming her unruly hair.
Some would argue that at 9 she is still a little girl and there is no harm in offering school morning assistance. Be assured, she isn’t being thrown to the wolves to fend for herself. We still wake her, pack her lunch and drive her to school. We feel it is important to give her the opportunity to fail on her own while she has a safety net. Being the kid who didn’t brush her teeth and has bad breath is far less traumatic in fourth grade than it is in high school. Getting to school without your coat so you can’t go to recess is much better than losing your college scholarship because your grades suffered since you missed too many classes.
I fully advocate allowing children to learn from positive and negative experiences. Part of being a parent is training children to function in society without your guidance. It is much harder to learn that if the parent never steps back and allows a kid to fall. Just like in learning to ride a bike, when Mom or Dad finally lets go and quits running along behind, the child will fall. But the real lesson comes in getting back up and trying again until they learn how to balance, steer and pedal all at once. If Mom never lets go, they kid never learns.
Let your kid fall while your voice is still the loudest voice of influence in their world, then be there to help them back up. Encourage them to try again. Before you know it, they will be cruising on their own and you can smile, knowing that they really are going to be OK in life.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
A new stage has come to the Bardole house this week. We have begun the process of giving our 9-year-old daughter more self-responsibility and are exploring natural consequences.
Let this be my apology now for any instances of stinky kid. It’s not neglect, I promise, I am aware that she didn’t brush her teeth, or eat her breakfast, or tie her shoes for that matter. I am just no longer going to be the one responsible for being sure those things get done each morning before school. She has a checklist on her bedroom wall reminding her of what needs to be done each day. And we wake her up in plenty of time to accomplish all her tasks. But it’s time for her to learn some time management skills.
To be honest, this stage is a difficult one for Andrew and myself. The process of watching her try and occasionally fail is going to be hard on us. The prospect of being judged as poor parents because our kid is less than presentable is only a small part of it. The difficulty comes in knowing that our little girl is growing up and doesn’t actually need us for as many reminders anymore.
She isn’t exactly liking the new program either. At this early stage of the process and being a kid who isn’t really easily embarrassed, we have instituted some additional consequences for not completing the full checklist before it is time to leave for school. She is not a fan of losing after-school privileges, but that is the best way to motivate her on those sluggish mornings that staying in her nice warm bed seems much more attractive than getting dressed and taming her unruly hair.
Some would argue that at 9 she is still a little girl and there is no harm in offering school morning assistance. Be assured, she isn’t being thrown to the wolves to fend for herself. We still wake her, pack her lunch and drive her to school. We feel it is important to give her the opportunity to fail on her own while she has a safety net. Being the kid who didn’t brush her teeth and has bad breath is far less traumatic in fourth grade than it is in high school. Getting to school without your coat so you can’t go to recess is much better than losing your college scholarship because your grades suffered since you missed too many classes.
I fully advocate allowing children to learn from positive and negative experiences. Part of being a parent is training children to function in society without your guidance. It is much harder to learn that if the parent never steps back and allows a kid to fall. Just like in learning to ride a bike, when Mom or Dad finally lets go and quits running along behind, the child will fall. But the real lesson comes in getting back up and trying again until they learn how to balance, steer and pedal all at once. If Mom never lets go, they kid never learns.
Let your kid fall while your voice is still the loudest voice of influence in their world, then be there to help them back up. Encourage them to try again. Before you know it, they will be cruising on their own and you can smile, knowing that they really are going to be OK in life.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Glory days pay dividends
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
A 2012 photo my friend and former boss Kent Marts posted the other day brought back some good memories and a time of reflection on a career I’ve been blessed with for more than a quarter century.
The photo includes me and Karen Laskey editing copy in the newsroom of The Benton County Daily News in Bentonville, Ark., with photographer David Kever and page designer Joy Poindexter in the background.
As Kent says in his post, “TBT: Oh, the glory days of newspapering in Benton County. Assistant managing editor Don Groves and copy editor Karen Laskey on July 11, 2002. A staff of 25 or so: 12 reporters, 3 photographers, 5.5 sportswriters, 3 designers.”
And Kent is correct. Those were glory days of newspapering, not just in Benton County but in all of Northwest Arkansas, a time when editorial positions couldn’t be filled quickly enough. News coverage was king in a major newspaper war.
The Daily Record’s parent company, Community Publishers Inc., had recently bought Fayetteville’s Northwest Arkansas Times following a heated legal battle with the Donrey Media Group (later becoming Stephens Media) in an antitrust case. CPI and Donrey were in a major newspaper war in a growing market with Wehco Media, parent company of The Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, looking for ways to not just get a piece of the pie but, ultimately, the entire pie.
Wehco took over the CPI papers in 2005, soon after Christy and I bought The Albany Ledger and moved north. Four years later, Wehco claimed another large slice of the pie when it consolidated with the Stephens group. In January 2015 Wehco claimed the whole pie when it consolidated all of its Northwest Arkansas daily newspapers into one and made it part of the state’s Arkansas-Democrat Gazette.
While the glory days there are gone now I feel privileged to have been a part of them. I faced new challenges and developed new skills in that newsroom, which though miniscule compared to a New York Times or Washington Post was the largest I had ever worked. I learned to meet multiple deadlines daily, handle a variety of projects and special sections, coach young reporters, and share a camaraderie unlike experienced anywhere else.
For Karen, my copyeditor, and Joy, my page designer, our nights were fueled by coffee, jokes, flying Beanie Babies (you never knew who was going to throw one at you) and some manic adrenaline rush to send our final pages to the pressmen. While each evening’s schedule remained basically unchanged we never knew if we would have time to leave the newsroom for supper or if we would have to remind a reporter or photographer he needed to hustle back from a meeting or drug bust so we could meet that midnight deadline.
We became family. Kent’s children were there often. He umpired Little League and dressed in his umpire uniform would stop by following games with his wife Natalie and their youngsters. Hannah, our 16-year-old, was also there often because for a while Christy worked days in the newsroom and when I came into work in the afternoon we would trade parenting duties.
Hannah became the newsroom baby. There were always toys and snacks for her in our co-workers desks and there was never trouble finding a babysitter. Mattie, one of the other page designers, took Hannah to almost every new Disney movie that came out. Nate Dog, our sports editor, taught her how to bark so she could join in with him when he played the Baha Men’s song “Who Let the Dogs Out.”
I’m glad we got to be a part of those glory days and the time we shared. In college I wanted to make a living writing and have done so yet what I learned in college pales to what I learned and experienced in that newsroom.
The skills and memories I gained there still benefit me today.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
A 2012 photo my friend and former boss Kent Marts posted the other day brought back some good memories and a time of reflection on a career I’ve been blessed with for more than a quarter century.
The photo includes me and Karen Laskey editing copy in the newsroom of The Benton County Daily News in Bentonville, Ark., with photographer David Kever and page designer Joy Poindexter in the background.
As Kent says in his post, “TBT: Oh, the glory days of newspapering in Benton County. Assistant managing editor Don Groves and copy editor Karen Laskey on July 11, 2002. A staff of 25 or so: 12 reporters, 3 photographers, 5.5 sportswriters, 3 designers.”
And Kent is correct. Those were glory days of newspapering, not just in Benton County but in all of Northwest Arkansas, a time when editorial positions couldn’t be filled quickly enough. News coverage was king in a major newspaper war.
The Daily Record’s parent company, Community Publishers Inc., had recently bought Fayetteville’s Northwest Arkansas Times following a heated legal battle with the Donrey Media Group (later becoming Stephens Media) in an antitrust case. CPI and Donrey were in a major newspaper war in a growing market with Wehco Media, parent company of The Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, looking for ways to not just get a piece of the pie but, ultimately, the entire pie.
Wehco took over the CPI papers in 2005, soon after Christy and I bought The Albany Ledger and moved north. Four years later, Wehco claimed another large slice of the pie when it consolidated with the Stephens group. In January 2015 Wehco claimed the whole pie when it consolidated all of its Northwest Arkansas daily newspapers into one and made it part of the state’s Arkansas-Democrat Gazette.
While the glory days there are gone now I feel privileged to have been a part of them. I faced new challenges and developed new skills in that newsroom, which though miniscule compared to a New York Times or Washington Post was the largest I had ever worked. I learned to meet multiple deadlines daily, handle a variety of projects and special sections, coach young reporters, and share a camaraderie unlike experienced anywhere else.
For Karen, my copyeditor, and Joy, my page designer, our nights were fueled by coffee, jokes, flying Beanie Babies (you never knew who was going to throw one at you) and some manic adrenaline rush to send our final pages to the pressmen. While each evening’s schedule remained basically unchanged we never knew if we would have time to leave the newsroom for supper or if we would have to remind a reporter or photographer he needed to hustle back from a meeting or drug bust so we could meet that midnight deadline.
We became family. Kent’s children were there often. He umpired Little League and dressed in his umpire uniform would stop by following games with his wife Natalie and their youngsters. Hannah, our 16-year-old, was also there often because for a while Christy worked days in the newsroom and when I came into work in the afternoon we would trade parenting duties.
Hannah became the newsroom baby. There were always toys and snacks for her in our co-workers desks and there was never trouble finding a babysitter. Mattie, one of the other page designers, took Hannah to almost every new Disney movie that came out. Nate Dog, our sports editor, taught her how to bark so she could join in with him when he played the Baha Men’s song “Who Let the Dogs Out.”
I’m glad we got to be a part of those glory days and the time we shared. In college I wanted to make a living writing and have done so yet what I learned in college pales to what I learned and experienced in that newsroom.
The skills and memories I gained there still benefit me today.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Voter apathy evident at all levels
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
The political season is fully upon us and for many that brings about frustration. We get frustrated with the endless stream of phone calls, commercials, and pontificating from both the candidates and big media.
Here’s the thing. I completely understand voter apathy; I really can’t ever recall a time when a political ad on television successfully managed to change my opinion of a candidate, either for the better or the worse. Most ads are muted or skipped entirely with a touch of the fast forward button. I genuinely don’t mind the ads produced by a campaign that talk about who the candidate is and what the candidate stands for, but most only do that with a healthy (unhealthy?) dose of mudslinging. I wouldn’t be terribly surprised to hear a campaign ad say, “vote for me, because unlike my opponent, I am against puppy kicking.” We can look forward to a slowing of the madness once the caucus is behind us, but only long enough to catch our breath before a yearlong onslaught of Republican vs. Democrat.
Voter apathy on a grand scale, especially this far in advance of a national election, is understandable and even sometimes to be expected. But the same apathy has no place in local government.
I was really disheartened last Tuesday when the Free Press held its annual candidate forum. I know that people are busy and at any given time most people have several options for how to spend their evening. But we had a turnout of only about 30 people, only three of which were in the under 40 demographic.
Two years ago, when I participated in my first local candidate forum, we had chairs for 50 prepared before the event and had to add several extra rows to accommodate the crowd that showed up. I understand that part of the low turnout is directly related to the number of uncontested races. But that is also a part of the problem. I have attended quite a few city council meetings in the past several months, and there have been two consistent themes during that time. First, very few citizens actually attend council meetings simply to be informed about the business of the city. Second, residents of Corning are not afraid to tell the council, both at meetings and on social media, what is bothering them.
My frustration stems from the life lesson I was taught as a child — if you see something wrong, don’t just complain, find a way to fix it. I can’t help but think that if more people were interested in fixing the issues they see, every city council seat would have more than one candidate vying for the position, there would be several candidates to choose from for mayor, both time tested and those with new ideas. And people who are not suffering from voter apathy, take advantage of the opportunity to hear directly from the candidates and ask them questions.
I fully believe that in order to make good political decisions, a voter needs two things. First, they need to know what issues are facing their city, county, state or nation and what they believe is most important among those issues. Second, they need to be aware of what each of the candidates available believes about each of the issues and find the one that most closely comes in line with their own personal beliefs. By not taking advantage of opportunities to hear from candidates, finding real, unbiased information becomes very difficult to find.
In matters of the upcoming presidential election, there is a website, www.isidewith.com, that offers a fairly complete quiz that helps you to determine your own position on each of the issues that have surfaced in the election. Once you have answered each question, ranking both how important the issue is to you and how you feel about it, the site calculates which candidate you agree with the most, giving percentage rankings for each candidate and highlighting the issues that you agree on with each candidate. I highly encourage every person to take the quiz, those who are undecided may find it useful to gain some more information and the rest may find it enlightening.
For those of you who were not in attendance at the forum, I have done my best to give you a brief rundown of what each candidate had to say as well as statements prepared by the candidates themselves. Please take the time to make the best, most informed decision possible and be sure to get to the polls on Nov. 3.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
The political season is fully upon us and for many that brings about frustration. We get frustrated with the endless stream of phone calls, commercials, and pontificating from both the candidates and big media.
Here’s the thing. I completely understand voter apathy; I really can’t ever recall a time when a political ad on television successfully managed to change my opinion of a candidate, either for the better or the worse. Most ads are muted or skipped entirely with a touch of the fast forward button. I genuinely don’t mind the ads produced by a campaign that talk about who the candidate is and what the candidate stands for, but most only do that with a healthy (unhealthy?) dose of mudslinging. I wouldn’t be terribly surprised to hear a campaign ad say, “vote for me, because unlike my opponent, I am against puppy kicking.” We can look forward to a slowing of the madness once the caucus is behind us, but only long enough to catch our breath before a yearlong onslaught of Republican vs. Democrat.
Voter apathy on a grand scale, especially this far in advance of a national election, is understandable and even sometimes to be expected. But the same apathy has no place in local government.
I was really disheartened last Tuesday when the Free Press held its annual candidate forum. I know that people are busy and at any given time most people have several options for how to spend their evening. But we had a turnout of only about 30 people, only three of which were in the under 40 demographic.
Two years ago, when I participated in my first local candidate forum, we had chairs for 50 prepared before the event and had to add several extra rows to accommodate the crowd that showed up. I understand that part of the low turnout is directly related to the number of uncontested races. But that is also a part of the problem. I have attended quite a few city council meetings in the past several months, and there have been two consistent themes during that time. First, very few citizens actually attend council meetings simply to be informed about the business of the city. Second, residents of Corning are not afraid to tell the council, both at meetings and on social media, what is bothering them.
My frustration stems from the life lesson I was taught as a child — if you see something wrong, don’t just complain, find a way to fix it. I can’t help but think that if more people were interested in fixing the issues they see, every city council seat would have more than one candidate vying for the position, there would be several candidates to choose from for mayor, both time tested and those with new ideas. And people who are not suffering from voter apathy, take advantage of the opportunity to hear directly from the candidates and ask them questions.
I fully believe that in order to make good political decisions, a voter needs two things. First, they need to know what issues are facing their city, county, state or nation and what they believe is most important among those issues. Second, they need to be aware of what each of the candidates available believes about each of the issues and find the one that most closely comes in line with their own personal beliefs. By not taking advantage of opportunities to hear from candidates, finding real, unbiased information becomes very difficult to find.
In matters of the upcoming presidential election, there is a website, www.isidewith.com, that offers a fairly complete quiz that helps you to determine your own position on each of the issues that have surfaced in the election. Once you have answered each question, ranking both how important the issue is to you and how you feel about it, the site calculates which candidate you agree with the most, giving percentage rankings for each candidate and highlighting the issues that you agree on with each candidate. I highly encourage every person to take the quiz, those who are undecided may find it useful to gain some more information and the rest may find it enlightening.
For those of you who were not in attendance at the forum, I have done my best to give you a brief rundown of what each candidate had to say as well as statements prepared by the candidates themselves. Please take the time to make the best, most informed decision possible and be sure to get to the polls on Nov. 3.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
It’s good to unplug
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
For about three hours the other evening our neighborhood returned to the way things once were.
The power went out shortly after our daughters came home from school Wednesday. I had planned to grill chicken anyway so without electricity I finished up the sides — potato cakes made from leftover mashed potatoes and some beans we also had as leftovers — in a cast iron skillet over charcoal on the grill as we do when we go camping.
There was a salad, too, but since no flame was involved it wasn’t nearly as fun to prepare as the rest of the meal. Afterward we washed the dishes by hand in the sink (of course we’ve been doing it that way for a week or so because our dishwasher finally died and haven’t had the time get a new one but that’s another story).
After supper there was no TV, no iPhones or laptops. Instead Hannah and Christy read, Allison practiced clarinet for a while (which isn’t unusual; she practices almost daily) and then went for a walk and I carried a guitar out on the front porch to entertain myself while I watched a couple of squirrels busy themselves in our front yard.
Christy joined me on the porch after a while, claiming my outside napping spot on the futon cushion I brought outside in the spring. It was pleasant, watching people walking along the sidewalks and youngsters outside playing.
The walks and the youngsters playing outside aren’t really unusual but they’re not as common as they were that evening with power out. It was enjoyable to see so many people up and down the street doing so all at the same time.
And as the sun began to set, it was nice to watch the stars come out instead of losing many of the dimmer ones to streetlights. It seemed quieter, or maybe just more peaceful, without electricity. It was like the pace of life had slowed down despite the normal traffic flow for that time of evening was unchanged.
It gave me time to think about how many of us hurry our lives, how we feel the need to fill our time Netflix and Facebook and major league ball games and cell phones. I’m guilty of such inconsequential business of the rest of us but sometimes doing nothing more than spending time on the front porch enjoying your little spot on the planet is a good refresher.
It was good to unplug, even if it only lasted a few hours.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
For about three hours the other evening our neighborhood returned to the way things once were.
The power went out shortly after our daughters came home from school Wednesday. I had planned to grill chicken anyway so without electricity I finished up the sides — potato cakes made from leftover mashed potatoes and some beans we also had as leftovers — in a cast iron skillet over charcoal on the grill as we do when we go camping.
There was a salad, too, but since no flame was involved it wasn’t nearly as fun to prepare as the rest of the meal. Afterward we washed the dishes by hand in the sink (of course we’ve been doing it that way for a week or so because our dishwasher finally died and haven’t had the time get a new one but that’s another story).
After supper there was no TV, no iPhones or laptops. Instead Hannah and Christy read, Allison practiced clarinet for a while (which isn’t unusual; she practices almost daily) and then went for a walk and I carried a guitar out on the front porch to entertain myself while I watched a couple of squirrels busy themselves in our front yard.
Christy joined me on the porch after a while, claiming my outside napping spot on the futon cushion I brought outside in the spring. It was pleasant, watching people walking along the sidewalks and youngsters outside playing.
The walks and the youngsters playing outside aren’t really unusual but they’re not as common as they were that evening with power out. It was enjoyable to see so many people up and down the street doing so all at the same time.
And as the sun began to set, it was nice to watch the stars come out instead of losing many of the dimmer ones to streetlights. It seemed quieter, or maybe just more peaceful, without electricity. It was like the pace of life had slowed down despite the normal traffic flow for that time of evening was unchanged.
It gave me time to think about how many of us hurry our lives, how we feel the need to fill our time Netflix and Facebook and major league ball games and cell phones. I’m guilty of such inconsequential business of the rest of us but sometimes doing nothing more than spending time on the front porch enjoying your little spot on the planet is a good refresher.
It was good to unplug, even if it only lasted a few hours.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Differences should not bring on madness
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
What I’d planned to write about in my column this week changed a few hours after I heard nine people had been killed by a shooter Oct. 1 at Umpqua Community College in Roseburg, Ore.
My thoughts began to form later that evening as I got into a discussion on Facebook from a post made on the other side of the world. The debate was, for the most part, cordial despite strong opinions from both sides (though I later learned one of the left leaning posters found herself unfriended by a Facebook friend who couldn’t agree to disagree).
What I noticed in the postings, though, was the strong us vs. them mentality that has become so blatantly normal nearly any time any political, religious or social view of any degree is expressed. And after I noticed that mentality, I went back to my posts and copied and pasted them as parts of this column.
As I said in a similar column written back in June following the shootings in a black church in South Carolina I have a difficult time understanding hate. That’s why I feel compelled to write about certain topics — to try to understand what has taken place. I still don’t understand but here a few thoughts that came out as I discussed another mass shooting and the gun debate on Facebook.
Mental health is a big issue in the U.S. but also at issue are the lack of higher education and the us vs. them mentality that runs rampant throughout our country. There’s a heightened xenophobia from many, if not most, who cling strongest to their firearms. Fear, which is politically promulgated nonstop, makes the entire issue even worse.
With that said, I myself own more than a half dozen firearms, most of which were inherited and none that have been fired in more than three years (I enjoyed bird hunting but quail had grown scarce and after my dog was hit by a car I sort of lost interest). With that said I see the argument for such tings as stricter regulations on high capacity firearms and tighter background checks but I also no none of that will stop a person intent on killing one or more people.
The gun debate will continue as will the debate over mental health but what has been absent from these is how well do people know their friends and neighbors nowadays? How often do they speak with one another, on the street, at the grocery store, at school, in church, wherever?
I am grateful to live in a small enough community to know a good number of my neighbors, not just in the friendly wave kind of way but by being invited to their homes, working with them side by side on community projects, sitting next to them at our children’s ball games, knowing enough about their families to ask how their children or grandchildren are doing.
Yet the benefits of a smaller community aren’t available to all and that has me wondering has society at large lost that sense of interconnection that once made a community? Have we grown so focused on ourselves, our wants, that we no longer see the goodness and humanity in others? What created Columbine, Sandy Hook, Virginia Tech?
It isn’t, as many would have us believe, as simple as a gun control issue. It’s far greater than that. Yes, firearms have changed greatly since the Second Amendment was adopted but so too has U.S. culture. Think back to just 30, 40 or 50 years ago about what our society was like and consider the changes that have taken place since. Our society is in a great flux, probably as great a one as it’s ever seen, and there are many who cannot accept it.
We have become very much an us vs. them society in many ways. Differences in beliefs and values have always existed and always will but when such differences go the extreme as they have at Umpqua Community College, Sandy Hook and elsewhere we must find some way to reel in such madness.
I’m not an apologist on either side of the debate. I have no answers to the why of it all, the reason someone decides killing others is acceptable and expedient.
Nor do I have a simple solution as to how to stop it.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
What I’d planned to write about in my column this week changed a few hours after I heard nine people had been killed by a shooter Oct. 1 at Umpqua Community College in Roseburg, Ore.
My thoughts began to form later that evening as I got into a discussion on Facebook from a post made on the other side of the world. The debate was, for the most part, cordial despite strong opinions from both sides (though I later learned one of the left leaning posters found herself unfriended by a Facebook friend who couldn’t agree to disagree).
What I noticed in the postings, though, was the strong us vs. them mentality that has become so blatantly normal nearly any time any political, religious or social view of any degree is expressed. And after I noticed that mentality, I went back to my posts and copied and pasted them as parts of this column.
As I said in a similar column written back in June following the shootings in a black church in South Carolina I have a difficult time understanding hate. That’s why I feel compelled to write about certain topics — to try to understand what has taken place. I still don’t understand but here a few thoughts that came out as I discussed another mass shooting and the gun debate on Facebook.
Mental health is a big issue in the U.S. but also at issue are the lack of higher education and the us vs. them mentality that runs rampant throughout our country. There’s a heightened xenophobia from many, if not most, who cling strongest to their firearms. Fear, which is politically promulgated nonstop, makes the entire issue even worse.
With that said, I myself own more than a half dozen firearms, most of which were inherited and none that have been fired in more than three years (I enjoyed bird hunting but quail had grown scarce and after my dog was hit by a car I sort of lost interest). With that said I see the argument for such tings as stricter regulations on high capacity firearms and tighter background checks but I also no none of that will stop a person intent on killing one or more people.
The gun debate will continue as will the debate over mental health but what has been absent from these is how well do people know their friends and neighbors nowadays? How often do they speak with one another, on the street, at the grocery store, at school, in church, wherever?
I am grateful to live in a small enough community to know a good number of my neighbors, not just in the friendly wave kind of way but by being invited to their homes, working with them side by side on community projects, sitting next to them at our children’s ball games, knowing enough about their families to ask how their children or grandchildren are doing.
Yet the benefits of a smaller community aren’t available to all and that has me wondering has society at large lost that sense of interconnection that once made a community? Have we grown so focused on ourselves, our wants, that we no longer see the goodness and humanity in others? What created Columbine, Sandy Hook, Virginia Tech?
It isn’t, as many would have us believe, as simple as a gun control issue. It’s far greater than that. Yes, firearms have changed greatly since the Second Amendment was adopted but so too has U.S. culture. Think back to just 30, 40 or 50 years ago about what our society was like and consider the changes that have taken place since. Our society is in a great flux, probably as great a one as it’s ever seen, and there are many who cannot accept it.
We have become very much an us vs. them society in many ways. Differences in beliefs and values have always existed and always will but when such differences go the extreme as they have at Umpqua Community College, Sandy Hook and elsewhere we must find some way to reel in such madness.
I’m not an apologist on either side of the debate. I have no answers to the why of it all, the reason someone decides killing others is acceptable and expedient.
Nor do I have a simple solution as to how to stop it.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Parents of colicky babies deserve support
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Today I want to talk about babies, especially colicky ones and their parents. A friend of mine is currently struggling with her dear, sweet son who has so many people fooled. When she is brave enough to take him out in public, he smiles a huge toothless grin and appears to be the happiest baby on the planet. But what Mom isn’t showing everyone is that this baby spends much of his day screeching at the top of his tiny lungs, refusing to be consoled by every trick in Mom and Dad’s arsenal of baby-care tactics. And this friend of mine, she is doing her best to soldier on, knowing that someday it has to get better. Reminding herself that it can’t really always be this hard. But her strength just isn’t there some days. Some days it is easier to cry right along with the babe than try to press on. And like many parents, she doesn’t want to burden anyone else with the task of caring for her boy, so she rarely gets a break.
Anyone who is a parent can think back and remember the physical exhaustion that is the hallmark of the newborn period. But a baby with colic seems like an entirely different species of infant. From my own personal experience of one child with and one without, I’m often amazed we even have a second child, since those months with Brady were so grueling.
Logically, we all know that no two children, even twins, are exactly the same. They don’t respond in the same ways to the same stimuli, they don’t have the same preferences or quirks, and they don’t have the same way of expressing their needs. But somehow, when it comes to babies, colic and advice, we all assume that what caused one case of colic is the same for every baby and we assume that the advice that worked best for one baby is going to work for all babies. I don’t know why this is; I presume it has something to do with our innate desire to soothe crying babies.
One thing is for certain, as a parent of a colicky baby you get a lot of unsolicited advice. Occasionally the advice proves to be helpful. But a good rule of thumb for everyone to remember, unless Mom or Dad ask for your help or you have the letters M.D. behind your name, just offer a smile and a kind word of encouragement. Parents know you are just trying to be helpful, but the brain fog of both physical and emotional exhaustion that comes from listening to your child scream for hours on end, day after day, translates your helpful advice into bitter condemnation.
Here is what I know to be helpful, when you see a parent doing their best to remain calm and soothe their child, offer support instead of advice. If it’s a person you have never met, balancing baby on one hip trying to get through the checkout line at Hy-Vee, smile and let them know they are doing great. Young parents struggling to keep baby content in church, offer to hold her so Mom and Dad can listen to the message. A close friend or family, take the baby for an hour or two so Mom and Dad can get a nap, shower, or grocery shop in silence. Parents of colicky babies don’t need to feel judgment instead they need support and respite. And if, dear reader, you find yourself as the exhausted parent, please know that it will get better, and it is always OK to ask for help when you need it. You are not alone.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Today I want to talk about babies, especially colicky ones and their parents. A friend of mine is currently struggling with her dear, sweet son who has so many people fooled. When she is brave enough to take him out in public, he smiles a huge toothless grin and appears to be the happiest baby on the planet. But what Mom isn’t showing everyone is that this baby spends much of his day screeching at the top of his tiny lungs, refusing to be consoled by every trick in Mom and Dad’s arsenal of baby-care tactics. And this friend of mine, she is doing her best to soldier on, knowing that someday it has to get better. Reminding herself that it can’t really always be this hard. But her strength just isn’t there some days. Some days it is easier to cry right along with the babe than try to press on. And like many parents, she doesn’t want to burden anyone else with the task of caring for her boy, so she rarely gets a break.
Anyone who is a parent can think back and remember the physical exhaustion that is the hallmark of the newborn period. But a baby with colic seems like an entirely different species of infant. From my own personal experience of one child with and one without, I’m often amazed we even have a second child, since those months with Brady were so grueling.
Logically, we all know that no two children, even twins, are exactly the same. They don’t respond in the same ways to the same stimuli, they don’t have the same preferences or quirks, and they don’t have the same way of expressing their needs. But somehow, when it comes to babies, colic and advice, we all assume that what caused one case of colic is the same for every baby and we assume that the advice that worked best for one baby is going to work for all babies. I don’t know why this is; I presume it has something to do with our innate desire to soothe crying babies.
One thing is for certain, as a parent of a colicky baby you get a lot of unsolicited advice. Occasionally the advice proves to be helpful. But a good rule of thumb for everyone to remember, unless Mom or Dad ask for your help or you have the letters M.D. behind your name, just offer a smile and a kind word of encouragement. Parents know you are just trying to be helpful, but the brain fog of both physical and emotional exhaustion that comes from listening to your child scream for hours on end, day after day, translates your helpful advice into bitter condemnation.
Here is what I know to be helpful, when you see a parent doing their best to remain calm and soothe their child, offer support instead of advice. If it’s a person you have never met, balancing baby on one hip trying to get through the checkout line at Hy-Vee, smile and let them know they are doing great. Young parents struggling to keep baby content in church, offer to hold her so Mom and Dad can listen to the message. A close friend or family, take the baby for an hour or two so Mom and Dad can get a nap, shower, or grocery shop in silence. Parents of colicky babies don’t need to feel judgment instead they need support and respite. And if, dear reader, you find yourself as the exhausted parent, please know that it will get better, and it is always OK to ask for help when you need it. You are not alone.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
No need to rush senior year
Kelsey’s Korner
Kelsey Steinbach
As the first month of my senior year starts to wrap up, I find myself at a very indecisive point in my high school career. The usual “You must be excited it’s finally your senior year,” remarks have left me at a loss for words.
Yes, I am excited it’s my senior year. I’m excited to make memories with my friends, to turn 18, and to park in the prestigious senior parking lot. These are all very exciting things trust me, but am I excited for high school to be a thing of the past, to say goodbye to my friends and to this community, to pay $55 just to apply to a college? The answer to that is no.
I understand I am ready to graduate. Sure, high school has provided me with the tools I need to step out into the real world, (does college even count as part of the “real world?”) but I am not ready to have responsibilities that extend beyond studying for my government test. I’m only 17, how can I be expected to know what I plan on doing for the next four years when I can’t even remember to switch my clothes from the washer to the dryer?
I love how the people in the community are interested in my future plans, but I will be honest, I have no idea. I have always been the girl who is so ready to get out of this small town and see the world, but now that it’s here I’m scared. I’m not ready to part ways with the best friend I’ve had almost all my life. I’m not ready to let go of meeting at the Activity Center after every football game. I am not ready to leave a community where I can say, “Let’s go to Free Cookie Tuesday,” and people actually know what I mean.
I will be able to vote in the next presidential election. I just ate popcorn and a spoonful of peanut butter for dinner and I will have a say in who runs our country very shortly. If that’s not crazy I don’t know what is.
Although I’m incredibly excited to see new things, meet new people, and make new memories, it can definitely wait. I may only be speaking for myself, but my time at Southwest Valley has been incredible and I’m not quite ready to let that go.
As far as I’m concerned senior year can take all the time it needs.
Kelsey’s Korner
Kelsey Steinbach
As the first month of my senior year starts to wrap up, I find myself at a very indecisive point in my high school career. The usual “You must be excited it’s finally your senior year,” remarks have left me at a loss for words.
Yes, I am excited it’s my senior year. I’m excited to make memories with my friends, to turn 18, and to park in the prestigious senior parking lot. These are all very exciting things trust me, but am I excited for high school to be a thing of the past, to say goodbye to my friends and to this community, to pay $55 just to apply to a college? The answer to that is no.
I understand I am ready to graduate. Sure, high school has provided me with the tools I need to step out into the real world, (does college even count as part of the “real world?”) but I am not ready to have responsibilities that extend beyond studying for my government test. I’m only 17, how can I be expected to know what I plan on doing for the next four years when I can’t even remember to switch my clothes from the washer to the dryer?
I love how the people in the community are interested in my future plans, but I will be honest, I have no idea. I have always been the girl who is so ready to get out of this small town and see the world, but now that it’s here I’m scared. I’m not ready to part ways with the best friend I’ve had almost all my life. I’m not ready to let go of meeting at the Activity Center after every football game. I am not ready to leave a community where I can say, “Let’s go to Free Cookie Tuesday,” and people actually know what I mean.
I will be able to vote in the next presidential election. I just ate popcorn and a spoonful of peanut butter for dinner and I will have a say in who runs our country very shortly. If that’s not crazy I don’t know what is.
Although I’m incredibly excited to see new things, meet new people, and make new memories, it can definitely wait. I may only be speaking for myself, but my time at Southwest Valley has been incredible and I’m not quite ready to let that go.
As far as I’m concerned senior year can take all the time it needs.
Homecoming is a great week to feel at home
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
With homecoming bearing down on us, this is a week of nostalgia for many Corning natives. I am far from a native, but we have certainly made Corning our home and I am raising a pair of tiny Timberwolves, so I am not immune to the nostalgia myself.
I have found myself reminiscing some about my high school and college years, thinking mostly about how homecoming celebrations have changed through the years (like when did the homecoming dance become so formal?). I remember fondly the madness that was homecoming week as a cheerleader. I think about when my girls were really tiny and realize that as much as I want to think so, they aren’t so little anymore.
Which brings me to our time in Corning. One of my favorite Brady quotes ever has to do with homecoming last year. You see, she spent kindergarten as an Indianola Indian, and first grade as a Corning Red Raider, second grade she was of course a Timberwolf, so last year she so innocently wanted to know, “Who will be our mascot this year Momma?”
I love that we have set down roots in Corning and that the girls are feeling so invested in their school and community. Andrew and I are too. For me, a huge part of that invested feeling comes from this place. The Adams County Free Press came into my world just as I was ready to make the transition from full-time stay at home mom. A position I had held for four solid years.
I had been struggling to get a company to take a gamble on me, since I had “no work experience” in the past years. Frustrated, I decided to take a leap out of my comfort zone and approached J at a Chamber Coffee and outright asked for a job. The next week (which happened to be homecoming week) I met with Don and Christy. They were willing to take a chance that I was a hardworking and capable as I claimed. My first issue as proofreader of the Free Press was Sept. 19, 2013. Since they still let me hang around here and actually promoted me, I assume I have lived up to my word.
My time in the Free Press office has exponentially increased my connection and commitment to Corning and the people who call this place home. Donna Hogan is no longer someone whose face I can’t put with a name, even though I know I should. Mike Grundman is not just a man I see in church, I can always tell what time of morning it is as I see him and Adam pass by on their way to coffee at Kay’s. John Bozwell now heckles me on the street, something I’ve learned only comes when he feels comfortable and familiar with a person.
I feel more at home in Corning than I have in any community since I left my hometown after high school. And much of that stems from the view from this desk and the people who let me tell their stories.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Mind Wanderings
Jacki Bardole
With homecoming bearing down on us, this is a week of nostalgia for many Corning natives. I am far from a native, but we have certainly made Corning our home and I am raising a pair of tiny Timberwolves, so I am not immune to the nostalgia myself.
I have found myself reminiscing some about my high school and college years, thinking mostly about how homecoming celebrations have changed through the years (like when did the homecoming dance become so formal?). I remember fondly the madness that was homecoming week as a cheerleader. I think about when my girls were really tiny and realize that as much as I want to think so, they aren’t so little anymore.
Which brings me to our time in Corning. One of my favorite Brady quotes ever has to do with homecoming last year. You see, she spent kindergarten as an Indianola Indian, and first grade as a Corning Red Raider, second grade she was of course a Timberwolf, so last year she so innocently wanted to know, “Who will be our mascot this year Momma?”
I love that we have set down roots in Corning and that the girls are feeling so invested in their school and community. Andrew and I are too. For me, a huge part of that invested feeling comes from this place. The Adams County Free Press came into my world just as I was ready to make the transition from full-time stay at home mom. A position I had held for four solid years.
I had been struggling to get a company to take a gamble on me, since I had “no work experience” in the past years. Frustrated, I decided to take a leap out of my comfort zone and approached J at a Chamber Coffee and outright asked for a job. The next week (which happened to be homecoming week) I met with Don and Christy. They were willing to take a chance that I was a hardworking and capable as I claimed. My first issue as proofreader of the Free Press was Sept. 19, 2013. Since they still let me hang around here and actually promoted me, I assume I have lived up to my word.
My time in the Free Press office has exponentially increased my connection and commitment to Corning and the people who call this place home. Donna Hogan is no longer someone whose face I can’t put with a name, even though I know I should. Mike Grundman is not just a man I see in church, I can always tell what time of morning it is as I see him and Adam pass by on their way to coffee at Kay’s. John Bozwell now heckles me on the street, something I’ve learned only comes when he feels comfortable and familiar with a person.
I feel more at home in Corning than I have in any community since I left my hometown after high school. And much of that stems from the view from this desk and the people who let me tell their stories.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Gone Cold series begins
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Readers of this week’s Free Press will find a new series that newspapers throughout the state are publishing in conjunction with the Iowa Newspaper Association.
Gone Cold: Exploring Iowa’s Unsolved Murders is a year-long collaborative effort by Iowa news organizations to revisit some of the most brutal and mystifying homicides in Iowa’s history.
The statewide newspaper project began in July after the Des Moines Register spoke with Jody Ewing who launched Iowa Cold Cases (iowacoldcases.org) as a means to help bring justice to some of Iowa’s 438 unsolved homicides.
Ewing’s efforts to bring justice to some these victims is featured in this week’s Free Press. As with other newspapers publishing this series our hope is that by sharing these stories we can help solve these homicides.
Of all the cases there is one in particular we especially want solved: the May 1993 shooting of 21-year-old Chad William White in Corning.
White was killed in the home he shared with his fiancée, Dixie Kinser, whose bridal shower was scheduled for the following day. She, too, had been shot but survived.
In the weeks to come we will publish a story about Chad White’s death and share it with other newspapers taking part in the Gone Cold series. With help from readers of this story, a call to the Adams County Sheriff’s Office could bring a case more than 20 years old to a close.
We’re hoping to help others too, victims like Brown University graduate Adam Lack, who was murdered on the night of July 13, 2008 in Nora Springs, his family’s second casualty in their fight for clean water. And realtor Dorothy Miller, who on Aug. 18, 1969, was raped and stabbed while showing an unoccupied house in Burlington.
Over the next months, the Free Press and other Iowa news organizations will explore cold cases — those that law enforcement no longer has any clues on which to follow up. A case can go cold weeks, months or even years after the death.
And it can be reopened if new evidence is introduced. There is no statute of limitations on murder.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Readers of this week’s Free Press will find a new series that newspapers throughout the state are publishing in conjunction with the Iowa Newspaper Association.
Gone Cold: Exploring Iowa’s Unsolved Murders is a year-long collaborative effort by Iowa news organizations to revisit some of the most brutal and mystifying homicides in Iowa’s history.
The statewide newspaper project began in July after the Des Moines Register spoke with Jody Ewing who launched Iowa Cold Cases (iowacoldcases.org) as a means to help bring justice to some of Iowa’s 438 unsolved homicides.
Ewing’s efforts to bring justice to some these victims is featured in this week’s Free Press. As with other newspapers publishing this series our hope is that by sharing these stories we can help solve these homicides.
Of all the cases there is one in particular we especially want solved: the May 1993 shooting of 21-year-old Chad William White in Corning.
White was killed in the home he shared with his fiancée, Dixie Kinser, whose bridal shower was scheduled for the following day. She, too, had been shot but survived.
In the weeks to come we will publish a story about Chad White’s death and share it with other newspapers taking part in the Gone Cold series. With help from readers of this story, a call to the Adams County Sheriff’s Office could bring a case more than 20 years old to a close.
We’re hoping to help others too, victims like Brown University graduate Adam Lack, who was murdered on the night of July 13, 2008 in Nora Springs, his family’s second casualty in their fight for clean water. And realtor Dorothy Miller, who on Aug. 18, 1969, was raped and stabbed while showing an unoccupied house in Burlington.
Over the next months, the Free Press and other Iowa news organizations will explore cold cases — those that law enforcement no longer has any clues on which to follow up. A case can go cold weeks, months or even years after the death.
And it can be reopened if new evidence is introduced. There is no statute of limitations on murder.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Unsung heroes
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Anyone who knows me very well can assure you that I am pretty passionate and easily riled up. I have been learning when I need to keep my strong opinions to myself, but let me tell you, those close to me sure do get an earful when something gets under my skin. I recently had a conversation with someone that caused this very sort of reaction. I am pleased that I kept my cool through the remainder of the conversation, but weeks later, the comment still feels like rubbing sandpaper on my nerves.
You see, our discussion had been about something else entirely, but somehow it turned to the topic of dads. Particularly dads of young children. And somehow it was suggested that dads don’t play a vital or even all that necessary role in the lives of their young children. Granted, there was a generation gap at play in this conversation, but the comment still made me irritated, and then very sad. I was irritated that someone would assume that what was once the norm should still be good enough for families. I was irritated that anyone would impose their outdated views on parenting on someone else, particularly in a judgmental way.
And I was sad that a whole generation of children grew up without much involvement from their dads who still lived in their homes. I promise you, as a child who spent many of my formative years in a single parent home, I would have loved having a dad in my home. Now as a mom, I can’t even imagine how different my parenting would be if my husband weren’t an involved, loving and caring dad.
We are in a new generation, kids today who grow up in a two-parent home have a wonderful opportunity to grow and learn from the strengths and talents of each parent. Dads have become so much more than simply the disciplinarian to fear. Dads are little league coaches, math tutors, car-pool drivers and first-aid wizards. And that’s just in my house.
Parenting started for Andrew the moment we knew Brady was on the way. He attended all but two prenatal doctor’s appointments through the course of two pregnancies. He studied the pregnancy books right along with me and helped me remember what questions we needed answered.
When Brady struggled with one health issue after another, Andrew insisted that I schedule appointments around his class schedule whenever possible so he could be there too. When he came home from a long day of seminary classes, the first thing he would do was scoop up a baby for cuddles and stories. He has never missed a parent teacher conference, school concert or dance recital. He gives fierce hugs to scared little girls who need to feel safe in both literal and figurative storms.
Andrew is not the only dad I know that parents in this way. I see them in the elementary school drop off lane, at high school volleyball games or at the county fair. Dads are no longer content to let moms be the only driving force in their children’s lives. And we are all better for it. Thank you to all the dads who influence my life and those of my girls.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Anyone who knows me very well can assure you that I am pretty passionate and easily riled up. I have been learning when I need to keep my strong opinions to myself, but let me tell you, those close to me sure do get an earful when something gets under my skin. I recently had a conversation with someone that caused this very sort of reaction. I am pleased that I kept my cool through the remainder of the conversation, but weeks later, the comment still feels like rubbing sandpaper on my nerves.
You see, our discussion had been about something else entirely, but somehow it turned to the topic of dads. Particularly dads of young children. And somehow it was suggested that dads don’t play a vital or even all that necessary role in the lives of their young children. Granted, there was a generation gap at play in this conversation, but the comment still made me irritated, and then very sad. I was irritated that someone would assume that what was once the norm should still be good enough for families. I was irritated that anyone would impose their outdated views on parenting on someone else, particularly in a judgmental way.
And I was sad that a whole generation of children grew up without much involvement from their dads who still lived in their homes. I promise you, as a child who spent many of my formative years in a single parent home, I would have loved having a dad in my home. Now as a mom, I can’t even imagine how different my parenting would be if my husband weren’t an involved, loving and caring dad.
We are in a new generation, kids today who grow up in a two-parent home have a wonderful opportunity to grow and learn from the strengths and talents of each parent. Dads have become so much more than simply the disciplinarian to fear. Dads are little league coaches, math tutors, car-pool drivers and first-aid wizards. And that’s just in my house.
Parenting started for Andrew the moment we knew Brady was on the way. He attended all but two prenatal doctor’s appointments through the course of two pregnancies. He studied the pregnancy books right along with me and helped me remember what questions we needed answered.
When Brady struggled with one health issue after another, Andrew insisted that I schedule appointments around his class schedule whenever possible so he could be there too. When he came home from a long day of seminary classes, the first thing he would do was scoop up a baby for cuddles and stories. He has never missed a parent teacher conference, school concert or dance recital. He gives fierce hugs to scared little girls who need to feel safe in both literal and figurative storms.
Andrew is not the only dad I know that parents in this way. I see them in the elementary school drop off lane, at high school volleyball games or at the county fair. Dads are no longer content to let moms be the only driving force in their children’s lives. And we are all better for it. Thank you to all the dads who influence my life and those of my girls.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Insanity comes slowly
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Girls. They drive me crazy.
I think they’ve always driven me crazy but the girls doing so now happen to be my 13-year-old and 15-year-old daughters. And the way they’re driving me crazy is with one little simple thing at a time.
I would say part of the insanity was age related. Anyone who has ever had to deal with one teenage girl can imagine what having two teens means. But the little things they do that drive me crazy have been taking place since they were old enough to walk.
Take, for instance, the time Allison, our youngest decided it would be a good idea to put a guitar pick in the CD slot of my laptop. For days I swore at my CD reader until she confessed to what she did. Of course that cost me a hundred bucks and two trips to Kansas City, one to drop off the laptop and another to pick it up.
Fortunately my daughters’ most recent actions that have driven my nutty haven’t been quite as expensive or time consuming. Something as simple and as cheap as sugar can do it, as I discovered a couple of weeks ago after Hannah, our older one, discovered a shaving tip on the Internet.
Apparently a sugar scrub as part of the shaving ritual creates silky smooth legs. Hannah, of course, decided to try the sugar scrub. I remember questioning her when she carried a bowl of sugar into the bathroom but what really drove me crazy was she left the sugar bowl in the shower, which, of course, attracted ants. Not just a few ants, mind you, but dozens of ants climbing up and down and around the tub, the shower curtain, the shower walls and the bathroom floor.
Another beauty tip followed by Allison nearly left me lying in the shower wishing I’d been wearing a Life Alert necklace. Again smooth skin was the goal but a bathtub slickened by baby oil can be a dangerous surprise. Fortunately I caught my balance early in my slide but I did share a few choice words.
Teen beauty isn’t always quite so dangerous but it is often frustrating — and not just for the teen. My daughters own a dozen or so different hairbrushes but their favorite brush is none other than mine. I don’t mind sharing but I do mind when my brush disappears from the bathroom. If I’m lucky I’ll find it in the living room or in one of my daughters’ bedrooms but if I’m not I just have to be patient and wait for it turn up in a few days.
It’s the same case with nail clippers and tweezers. Invariably if I get a splinter or want to trim my nails it’s at least a half hour search around the house to find what I need. I’ve even gone out and bought backup clippers and tweezers only to have those too disappear from the bathroom. I finally stashed nail clippers someplace only I know and just started going immediately to Christy when I’ve got a splinter I can’t remove.
There are other little incidents driving me nuts, things like the continual hairball that could be eliminated if my daughters would brush their hair in front of the big mirror instead of over the bathroom sink. Or how I have to remind them almost daily that the first person awake needs to be the first person to take the dog outside.
Yes I think they’re slowly driving me insane but I guess that’s all right. I’m in no hurry and usually once I overcome those short bouts of frustration I get a good laugh from it all.
And humor, I hear, can delay going crazy.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Girls. They drive me crazy.
I think they’ve always driven me crazy but the girls doing so now happen to be my 13-year-old and 15-year-old daughters. And the way they’re driving me crazy is with one little simple thing at a time.
I would say part of the insanity was age related. Anyone who has ever had to deal with one teenage girl can imagine what having two teens means. But the little things they do that drive me crazy have been taking place since they were old enough to walk.
Take, for instance, the time Allison, our youngest decided it would be a good idea to put a guitar pick in the CD slot of my laptop. For days I swore at my CD reader until she confessed to what she did. Of course that cost me a hundred bucks and two trips to Kansas City, one to drop off the laptop and another to pick it up.
Fortunately my daughters’ most recent actions that have driven my nutty haven’t been quite as expensive or time consuming. Something as simple and as cheap as sugar can do it, as I discovered a couple of weeks ago after Hannah, our older one, discovered a shaving tip on the Internet.
Apparently a sugar scrub as part of the shaving ritual creates silky smooth legs. Hannah, of course, decided to try the sugar scrub. I remember questioning her when she carried a bowl of sugar into the bathroom but what really drove me crazy was she left the sugar bowl in the shower, which, of course, attracted ants. Not just a few ants, mind you, but dozens of ants climbing up and down and around the tub, the shower curtain, the shower walls and the bathroom floor.
Another beauty tip followed by Allison nearly left me lying in the shower wishing I’d been wearing a Life Alert necklace. Again smooth skin was the goal but a bathtub slickened by baby oil can be a dangerous surprise. Fortunately I caught my balance early in my slide but I did share a few choice words.
Teen beauty isn’t always quite so dangerous but it is often frustrating — and not just for the teen. My daughters own a dozen or so different hairbrushes but their favorite brush is none other than mine. I don’t mind sharing but I do mind when my brush disappears from the bathroom. If I’m lucky I’ll find it in the living room or in one of my daughters’ bedrooms but if I’m not I just have to be patient and wait for it turn up in a few days.
It’s the same case with nail clippers and tweezers. Invariably if I get a splinter or want to trim my nails it’s at least a half hour search around the house to find what I need. I’ve even gone out and bought backup clippers and tweezers only to have those too disappear from the bathroom. I finally stashed nail clippers someplace only I know and just started going immediately to Christy when I’ve got a splinter I can’t remove.
There are other little incidents driving me nuts, things like the continual hairball that could be eliminated if my daughters would brush their hair in front of the big mirror instead of over the bathroom sink. Or how I have to remind them almost daily that the first person awake needs to be the first person to take the dog outside.
Yes I think they’re slowly driving me insane but I guess that’s all right. I’m in no hurry and usually once I overcome those short bouts of frustration I get a good laugh from it all.
And humor, I hear, can delay going crazy.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Productivity, places lead to understanding
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
An office with a desk, chair and computer isn’t always the most productive place for everyone.
I tend to be most productive, at least when it comes to writing, seated at a table on our front porch where I can work on my laptop, feel the breeze, listen to the birds, and watch the squirrels chase one another through the crab apple and river birch in our front yard.
The porch, rather than my desk, provides a more serene setting, a better place to reflect upon, well, just about everything. Sometimes the porch is the place to be productive and write and other times it’s a place to daydream.
It was during a bit of daydream the other day while reading on the porch when I looked across the street and realized one of the rental houses was empty again. As I looked around at some of the other houses I thought back to who had been living there when we moved hear in 2005 and it hit me — we have been living in one place for 10 years.
Now 10 years in the same home may seem like only a short time to a lot of people but 10 years is the longest I’ve ever lived in one place. I lived in the same county, the same region for most of my childhood and young adulthood but even then not on the same piece of property.
I’ve moved around a lot, beginning as a toddler while Dad was in the Navy in California where I was born but even more so as an adult. Graduate school, promotions in the newspaper business, attempts to get out of the newspaper business, more promotions in the newspaper business and, finally, owning our own business kept us moving.
It’s a wonder Christy kept moving with me because I’m the restless one. She’s long been content to bloom where she’s planted but I get bored too easily. I get bored even today, which is probably why I have so many interests, hobbies and projects to keep me busy.
Christy, the daughter of a pastor, moved around quite a bit as a youngster but because of that she’s never been quite as eager as me to move to a new town, a new state. She and our daughters are what have kept me grounded the last 10 years although it’s done little to lessen my wanderlust. I can’t remember the last time we spent more than two or three days without leaving town for at least a short trip.
Day trips, weekend trips seem to be enough, at least for now. There are still a lot of places I — and Christy too for that matter — would like to go. The reasons now, though, aren’t for a better job or higher education. I think I’ve come to understand Henry Miller when he says “One’s destination is never a place, but a new ways of seeing things.”
And oddly enough, that understanding came to me while reflecting upon where I’ve been and what I’ve done by sitting on my front porch time and time again these last dozen years.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
An office with a desk, chair and computer isn’t always the most productive place for everyone.
I tend to be most productive, at least when it comes to writing, seated at a table on our front porch where I can work on my laptop, feel the breeze, listen to the birds, and watch the squirrels chase one another through the crab apple and river birch in our front yard.
The porch, rather than my desk, provides a more serene setting, a better place to reflect upon, well, just about everything. Sometimes the porch is the place to be productive and write and other times it’s a place to daydream.
It was during a bit of daydream the other day while reading on the porch when I looked across the street and realized one of the rental houses was empty again. As I looked around at some of the other houses I thought back to who had been living there when we moved hear in 2005 and it hit me — we have been living in one place for 10 years.
Now 10 years in the same home may seem like only a short time to a lot of people but 10 years is the longest I’ve ever lived in one place. I lived in the same county, the same region for most of my childhood and young adulthood but even then not on the same piece of property.
I’ve moved around a lot, beginning as a toddler while Dad was in the Navy in California where I was born but even more so as an adult. Graduate school, promotions in the newspaper business, attempts to get out of the newspaper business, more promotions in the newspaper business and, finally, owning our own business kept us moving.
It’s a wonder Christy kept moving with me because I’m the restless one. She’s long been content to bloom where she’s planted but I get bored too easily. I get bored even today, which is probably why I have so many interests, hobbies and projects to keep me busy.
Christy, the daughter of a pastor, moved around quite a bit as a youngster but because of that she’s never been quite as eager as me to move to a new town, a new state. She and our daughters are what have kept me grounded the last 10 years although it’s done little to lessen my wanderlust. I can’t remember the last time we spent more than two or three days without leaving town for at least a short trip.
Day trips, weekend trips seem to be enough, at least for now. There are still a lot of places I — and Christy too for that matter — would like to go. The reasons now, though, aren’t for a better job or higher education. I think I’ve come to understand Henry Miller when he says “One’s destination is never a place, but a new ways of seeing things.”
And oddly enough, that understanding came to me while reflecting upon where I’ve been and what I’ve done by sitting on my front porch time and time again these last dozen years.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Enjoyable end to busy summer
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
What’s become a tradition has also begun to mark summer’s end.
Last week our granddaughters — Callee, Ella and Mallery — spent five nights and six days with us. The annual visit seems to work out for all of us, not just the grandparents and granddaughters but also for my son and daughter-in-law who get a week off as my daughter-in law prepares for her return to teaching duties.
This summer our granddaughters’ visit coincided with middle school/high school band camp so some of our planned activities didn’t take place. Our daughters practice this year’s music for marching band from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. each day so the day trips we had hoped for just didn’t work out.
Even with a hiccup in our schedule we still had plenty of things to keep us busy. There were trips to the pool and the playground at the elementary school as well as almost daily trips to the grocery store. We made homemade pizza and baked cupcakes. There were craft projects, sidewalk chalk and card games.
We took one trip out of town to eat at Old McDoogles, a place the youngest asked to visit. Children everywhere enjoy eating there, although they and their parents probably call it by its official name, McDonald’s.
The best part of having the granddaughters here, at least for me, is to have them back in a small community like the one they experienced while living in Corning. We were able to walk most places — the playground, the post office, the bank, shops downtown, church or just around the neighborhood. That’s something they no longer experience living in Ozark, Mo.
They discovered our walks also included free candy at some places as we ran errands. And if we didn’t find free candy, we bought something we could all agree on such as chocolate donuts or candy corn, which we were excited to discover at an early Halloween display at one store.
It was an enjoyable visit but also tiring. By about Wednesday I was wishing I could go to bed about 8 p.m. but the little ones weren’t always ready for sleep. By Thursday night, though, after a morning at the playground and an afternoon at the pool they were all pretty pooped and ready for bed early.
The granddaughters begin school this week, as do our 15-year-old and 13-year-old. It doesn’t seem like summer is over — and technically it isn’t — but it’s been a busy few months. But as I look around at all the work I need to do on our house, on our yard, on the garden and elsewhere it’s probably good we’re getting back on some sort of routine.
Summer’s over but it couldn’t have ended better.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
What’s become a tradition has also begun to mark summer’s end.
Last week our granddaughters — Callee, Ella and Mallery — spent five nights and six days with us. The annual visit seems to work out for all of us, not just the grandparents and granddaughters but also for my son and daughter-in-law who get a week off as my daughter-in law prepares for her return to teaching duties.
This summer our granddaughters’ visit coincided with middle school/high school band camp so some of our planned activities didn’t take place. Our daughters practice this year’s music for marching band from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. each day so the day trips we had hoped for just didn’t work out.
Even with a hiccup in our schedule we still had plenty of things to keep us busy. There were trips to the pool and the playground at the elementary school as well as almost daily trips to the grocery store. We made homemade pizza and baked cupcakes. There were craft projects, sidewalk chalk and card games.
We took one trip out of town to eat at Old McDoogles, a place the youngest asked to visit. Children everywhere enjoy eating there, although they and their parents probably call it by its official name, McDonald’s.
The best part of having the granddaughters here, at least for me, is to have them back in a small community like the one they experienced while living in Corning. We were able to walk most places — the playground, the post office, the bank, shops downtown, church or just around the neighborhood. That’s something they no longer experience living in Ozark, Mo.
They discovered our walks also included free candy at some places as we ran errands. And if we didn’t find free candy, we bought something we could all agree on such as chocolate donuts or candy corn, which we were excited to discover at an early Halloween display at one store.
It was an enjoyable visit but also tiring. By about Wednesday I was wishing I could go to bed about 8 p.m. but the little ones weren’t always ready for sleep. By Thursday night, though, after a morning at the playground and an afternoon at the pool they were all pretty pooped and ready for bed early.
The granddaughters begin school this week, as do our 15-year-old and 13-year-old. It doesn’t seem like summer is over — and technically it isn’t — but it’s been a busy few months. But as I look around at all the work I need to do on our house, on our yard, on the garden and elsewhere it’s probably good we’re getting back on some sort of routine.
Summer’s over but it couldn’t have ended better.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].

Halftime
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
This past week was what we call in our home “birthday week.” Brady and Ava’s birthdays are back-to-back on the July 29 and 30. This year they turned 9 and 7. I love the nostalgic aspect of my kids’ birthdays. Each year I look back at baby pictures and marvel at how much they have grown. I find myself thinking again of their birth stories and how very different those experiences were for me. I spend a fair amount of time during birthday week thinking about who each of my girls are, what makes each one unique and special. And I think about who they will become in the next year and beyond.
In January, I read an article by Whitney Fleming titled “To my daughter at halftime” on the website Huff Post parents. The article, or more specifically the concept of halftime and the realization that I was almost there, really struck me. The main tenet of the piece is that at 9 years old, a parent has her child halfway to being an adult. The article approaches parenting as being a coach. Eventually, the child has to call his or her own plays, and the parent gets to play the part of cheerleader. I’m very familiar with role of cheerleader, but I’m not ready to quit coaching either.
The first nine years of a child’s life, parenting is intensely focused on survival and skill building. Children learn how to do the things needed to be a member of society, things like basic hygiene, how to talk, read, write and count. After 9, the parenting becomes so much more about the social aspect of being human. How to make good choices, what it means to be a friend and how to know when you should speak up and when you should keep quiet.
To be honest, I am a little bit terrified of parenting in this second half of childhood. I still look at Brady and sometimes see the tiny girl with dandelion seed hair (see photo) and I want to shelter and protect her from the mean girls and thoughtless boys of the world. I want to guard her little heart from ever feeling the pain of rejection. But I know that I need to prepare her to deal with those things on her own when she no longer lives in my home. I can’t even fathom the idea that very few years are between us and a hormone filled teen with a driver’s license who thinks her parents are clueless. But I can feel it coming like a freight train.
So I have started to have little conversations with her to lay the groundwork for these life events. I have told her that she will get her heart broken and it is going to be awful, but that she will get through it and her daddy and I will always be on her side. I have told her that there will be days when she hates us, and that as much as that will hurt for us, we understand and expect it and that it is OK and normal. I have told her that her body is going to change in ways that she will think are weird and sometimes scary and that is normal too. I remind her all the time not to get her information about the nuts and bolts of growing up from her friends, she can always come to us with any question and we will do our best to keep her informed without embarrassing her or making her feel uncomfortable. We have talked about how friendships sometimes change and the person that was your best friend one year may not be your closest friend the next. She understands that as long as she is always herself and doesn’t change who she is to please her peers, we will always be proud of her.
How close are you to halftime? What lessons do you want to be sure your kid knows before he or she has to call their own plays? I suggest laying out a playbook to help navigate the minefield of the teen years early. And find a parent whose older kids you admire and ask them to mentor you. I did and if my kids become anything like the confident, responsible young women that hers are I will feel like a successful parent.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
This past week was what we call in our home “birthday week.” Brady and Ava’s birthdays are back-to-back on the July 29 and 30. This year they turned 9 and 7. I love the nostalgic aspect of my kids’ birthdays. Each year I look back at baby pictures and marvel at how much they have grown. I find myself thinking again of their birth stories and how very different those experiences were for me. I spend a fair amount of time during birthday week thinking about who each of my girls are, what makes each one unique and special. And I think about who they will become in the next year and beyond.
In January, I read an article by Whitney Fleming titled “To my daughter at halftime” on the website Huff Post parents. The article, or more specifically the concept of halftime and the realization that I was almost there, really struck me. The main tenet of the piece is that at 9 years old, a parent has her child halfway to being an adult. The article approaches parenting as being a coach. Eventually, the child has to call his or her own plays, and the parent gets to play the part of cheerleader. I’m very familiar with role of cheerleader, but I’m not ready to quit coaching either.
The first nine years of a child’s life, parenting is intensely focused on survival and skill building. Children learn how to do the things needed to be a member of society, things like basic hygiene, how to talk, read, write and count. After 9, the parenting becomes so much more about the social aspect of being human. How to make good choices, what it means to be a friend and how to know when you should speak up and when you should keep quiet.
To be honest, I am a little bit terrified of parenting in this second half of childhood. I still look at Brady and sometimes see the tiny girl with dandelion seed hair (see photo) and I want to shelter and protect her from the mean girls and thoughtless boys of the world. I want to guard her little heart from ever feeling the pain of rejection. But I know that I need to prepare her to deal with those things on her own when she no longer lives in my home. I can’t even fathom the idea that very few years are between us and a hormone filled teen with a driver’s license who thinks her parents are clueless. But I can feel it coming like a freight train.
So I have started to have little conversations with her to lay the groundwork for these life events. I have told her that she will get her heart broken and it is going to be awful, but that she will get through it and her daddy and I will always be on her side. I have told her that there will be days when she hates us, and that as much as that will hurt for us, we understand and expect it and that it is OK and normal. I have told her that her body is going to change in ways that she will think are weird and sometimes scary and that is normal too. I remind her all the time not to get her information about the nuts and bolts of growing up from her friends, she can always come to us with any question and we will do our best to keep her informed without embarrassing her or making her feel uncomfortable. We have talked about how friendships sometimes change and the person that was your best friend one year may not be your closest friend the next. She understands that as long as she is always herself and doesn’t change who she is to please her peers, we will always be proud of her.
How close are you to halftime? What lessons do you want to be sure your kid knows before he or she has to call their own plays? I suggest laying out a playbook to help navigate the minefield of the teen years early. And find a parent whose older kids you admire and ask them to mentor you. I did and if my kids become anything like the confident, responsible young women that hers are I will feel like a successful parent.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Time to recycle Nigerian e-mails
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It’s been a bit crazy the last couple of weeks at the Free Press.
With our Main Street section on July 23 and this week’s Adams County Fair section we’ve essentially put out four papers in two weeks. While that’s no major accomplishment for a fully staffed daily paper for a weekly it can leave a small staff a bit exhausted. And even a bit disoriented.
On Tuesday morning as were working on this week’s Free Press I asked Jacki if she had written a column for this week. She said no, she was working on one for next week so that left me wondering what I could write about and still take care of everything else before deadline.
Fortunately Jacki and I also spoke about junk e-mail Tuesday morning and the topic turned to messages from Nigeria. Remembering I had written a column about e-mails from Nigeria five or six years ago I recycled it for this week:
Prof. Charles Soludo is still contacting me about the millions of dollars owed to me by the Central Bank of Nigeria.
Prof. Soludo first contacted me back in 2004 to tell me I was owed $12.7 million. He must have felt guilty about my not collecting my money then and that’s why he e-mailed me again last week, even though I never once contacted him in the three times I’ve changed my e-mail address since then. It must be guilt, either that or my money is drawing interest because last week’s e-mail said I’m to receive $18 million.
It’s good to know there are so many people like Prof. Soludo out there who are willing to share their wealth with me. I also recently found out I’ve won 500,000 Euros in the Scientific Game Promo Lottery; will receive a percentage of 3.2 million Euros from a bank in The Netherlands; my $15.5 million payment from Dr. John Emmanuel has been approved; and can expect another $1.2 million from Miss Alice Johnson once I help her transfer some funds from Sierra Leone.
I have never met any of these gracious people but for some reason they were generous enough to contact me via e-mail. It’s heartwarming to know there are so many kind, honest people in this world. I never remembered working with a foreign contractor for the Federal Government of Nigeria but if Prof. Charles Soludo, executive governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria, says his country owes me $18 million who am I to argue? After all, he is a professor. As soon as I send Prof. Soludo my name, phone number, company name, profession, age, marital status and a scanned copy of my international passport he promises to get the money to me immediately. Yes, I know it sounds unusual but he tells me all his computer records were lost in a fire before he took office and I’m sure that’s why he doesn’t have all this info already.
Like Prof. Soludo, Gerald Flanigan, national coordinator for Dayzers Lottery International in Amsterdam, also needed a bit of info from me before he could forward my winnings in the Scientific Game Promo Lottery. I didn’t enter the lottery but I was fortunate enough to be selected randomly. Unfortunately, because I and several other winners are not residents of The Netherlands, we’re “required to pay charges for their non-resident processing/application fee as a prerequisite to the processing of their winnings prior to the pay out and collection of their winning prize.” Sure, it’s somewhat a hassle but Mr. Flanigan promises he can clear up the problem and send me my 500,000 Euros right away.
With people like Prof. Soludo and Mr. Flanigan looking out for my best interests, I almost feel obliged to help Miss Alice Johnson and the Sierra Leone Sisters as much as all these other kind people are trying to help me. Miss Alice (I’ve never met her but she seems such a sweet person I’m sure all her friends call her Miss Alice) was guided by her spirit in asking me to help her execute a business deal. Miss Alice got into a bit of bind after her father met “his untimely death,” leaving $3.5 million in gold stashed away. Miss Alice says “that neither our other polygamous family nor the marketing director of the exporting company knew nothing about this money.” All I have to do is help Miss Alice sell her family’s gold deposit and she’ll give me 35 percent of the funds. I was hesitant at first but then she told me she and her sisters are “intent to continue our education because of our youthfulness and also help us find in your country where to invest this money.” Sounds win-win to me. Further someone’s education and help build the U.S. economy in these times — why would I say no?
Poor Miss Alice isn’t the only one down on their luck asking me to help out. Mr. Anthony Malhope, “an international lawyer and senior advocate based here in South Africa,” is asking me to serve as the next of kin of a client of his who died of heart condition on May 15, 2000. Although he never mention’s his client’s name, Mr. Malhope says we share the same last name and is offering to send me the $6.5 million still being held in a South African bank. I’m afraid I’m going to have to tell Mr. Malhope I can’t send the money he needs for the transfer because I first I have to pay the processing fee for the 500,000 Euros I won in the lottery in The Netherlands. Since we’re in a similar situation I’m sure he’ll understand.
I got another e-mail that might land me some more money but I’m even more suspicious about it. It was signed “A friend that cares” and is a bit vague about what’s involved. The author of the e-mail claims he and his colleagues are in Iraq and have come across some funds believed to have been looted by Uday and Qsay Hussein. He tells me the money is “safely out of Iraq and it’s in a place where only you can get it. Now the problem is none of us here are eligible to claim it. Sorry the reason cant be disclosed because its classified (sic).”
I don’t know about this. My “friend” and his claims seem a little fishy to me. There’s no name, no address, nothing about how much money is involved — I think he’s trying to scam me or something.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
It’s been a bit crazy the last couple of weeks at the Free Press.
With our Main Street section on July 23 and this week’s Adams County Fair section we’ve essentially put out four papers in two weeks. While that’s no major accomplishment for a fully staffed daily paper for a weekly it can leave a small staff a bit exhausted. And even a bit disoriented.
On Tuesday morning as were working on this week’s Free Press I asked Jacki if she had written a column for this week. She said no, she was working on one for next week so that left me wondering what I could write about and still take care of everything else before deadline.
Fortunately Jacki and I also spoke about junk e-mail Tuesday morning and the topic turned to messages from Nigeria. Remembering I had written a column about e-mails from Nigeria five or six years ago I recycled it for this week:
Prof. Charles Soludo is still contacting me about the millions of dollars owed to me by the Central Bank of Nigeria.
Prof. Soludo first contacted me back in 2004 to tell me I was owed $12.7 million. He must have felt guilty about my not collecting my money then and that’s why he e-mailed me again last week, even though I never once contacted him in the three times I’ve changed my e-mail address since then. It must be guilt, either that or my money is drawing interest because last week’s e-mail said I’m to receive $18 million.
It’s good to know there are so many people like Prof. Soludo out there who are willing to share their wealth with me. I also recently found out I’ve won 500,000 Euros in the Scientific Game Promo Lottery; will receive a percentage of 3.2 million Euros from a bank in The Netherlands; my $15.5 million payment from Dr. John Emmanuel has been approved; and can expect another $1.2 million from Miss Alice Johnson once I help her transfer some funds from Sierra Leone.
I have never met any of these gracious people but for some reason they were generous enough to contact me via e-mail. It’s heartwarming to know there are so many kind, honest people in this world. I never remembered working with a foreign contractor for the Federal Government of Nigeria but if Prof. Charles Soludo, executive governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria, says his country owes me $18 million who am I to argue? After all, he is a professor. As soon as I send Prof. Soludo my name, phone number, company name, profession, age, marital status and a scanned copy of my international passport he promises to get the money to me immediately. Yes, I know it sounds unusual but he tells me all his computer records were lost in a fire before he took office and I’m sure that’s why he doesn’t have all this info already.
Like Prof. Soludo, Gerald Flanigan, national coordinator for Dayzers Lottery International in Amsterdam, also needed a bit of info from me before he could forward my winnings in the Scientific Game Promo Lottery. I didn’t enter the lottery but I was fortunate enough to be selected randomly. Unfortunately, because I and several other winners are not residents of The Netherlands, we’re “required to pay charges for their non-resident processing/application fee as a prerequisite to the processing of their winnings prior to the pay out and collection of their winning prize.” Sure, it’s somewhat a hassle but Mr. Flanigan promises he can clear up the problem and send me my 500,000 Euros right away.
With people like Prof. Soludo and Mr. Flanigan looking out for my best interests, I almost feel obliged to help Miss Alice Johnson and the Sierra Leone Sisters as much as all these other kind people are trying to help me. Miss Alice (I’ve never met her but she seems such a sweet person I’m sure all her friends call her Miss Alice) was guided by her spirit in asking me to help her execute a business deal. Miss Alice got into a bit of bind after her father met “his untimely death,” leaving $3.5 million in gold stashed away. Miss Alice says “that neither our other polygamous family nor the marketing director of the exporting company knew nothing about this money.” All I have to do is help Miss Alice sell her family’s gold deposit and she’ll give me 35 percent of the funds. I was hesitant at first but then she told me she and her sisters are “intent to continue our education because of our youthfulness and also help us find in your country where to invest this money.” Sounds win-win to me. Further someone’s education and help build the U.S. economy in these times — why would I say no?
Poor Miss Alice isn’t the only one down on their luck asking me to help out. Mr. Anthony Malhope, “an international lawyer and senior advocate based here in South Africa,” is asking me to serve as the next of kin of a client of his who died of heart condition on May 15, 2000. Although he never mention’s his client’s name, Mr. Malhope says we share the same last name and is offering to send me the $6.5 million still being held in a South African bank. I’m afraid I’m going to have to tell Mr. Malhope I can’t send the money he needs for the transfer because I first I have to pay the processing fee for the 500,000 Euros I won in the lottery in The Netherlands. Since we’re in a similar situation I’m sure he’ll understand.
I got another e-mail that might land me some more money but I’m even more suspicious about it. It was signed “A friend that cares” and is a bit vague about what’s involved. The author of the e-mail claims he and his colleagues are in Iraq and have come across some funds believed to have been looted by Uday and Qsay Hussein. He tells me the money is “safely out of Iraq and it’s in a place where only you can get it. Now the problem is none of us here are eligible to claim it. Sorry the reason cant be disclosed because its classified (sic).”
I don’t know about this. My “friend” and his claims seem a little fishy to me. There’s no name, no address, nothing about how much money is involved — I think he’s trying to scam me or something.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Happy 25th Main Street Corning
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Volunteers can do a lot for a community and nowhere else is this more evident than right here in Corning.
First-time visitors, myself included, are often impressed by Corning’s attractive downtown, its successful businesses, its variety of activities and its friendly people. A big part of what makes such a strong impression is the work done by the volunteers of Main Street Corning. This week marks the 25th anniversary of Main Street Corning and its accomplishments.
Corning is fortunate to have many forward-thinking individuals willing to work together for a greater good. Those leaders see a challenge, come up with a solution, roll up their shirtsleeves and get to work. Nowhere is that more apparent than with Main Street Corning.
According to the National Main Street Center, “Corning's downtown revitalization effort started before the establishment of the Iowa Rural Main Street Program. As a result of the state's Assessment of Services and Community Needs survey, the Retail Development Committee created a long-term comprehensive plan for downtown. A Certified Local Government commission was established to provide guidance in planning, repair, and preservation. Three years later, Corning was accepted as one of the first Rural Main Street communities in the state of Iowa.”
Corning joined Main Street Iowa in 1990 when many rural Iowa communities still suffered from the farm crisis of the 1980s. Corning, however, persevered. Today one only has to look at the businesses along Corning’s streets, the improved facades and the various other improvements completed or ongoing right now.
When Lazy Days of Summer arrive this week and you’re sampling barbecue, admiring a classic car or taking a tour of one of many places the community has to offer, remember Main Street Corning and the work its volunteers have done. Better yet, if you see one of those volunteers thank him or her personally. There will be a free cupcake celebration at 2 p.m. at the Central Park Pavilion and the volunteers themselves will be recognized there at 2:30 p.m. Also be sure to take the façade improvement tour and check out the vintage photo display.
Congratulations Main Street Corning and happy 25th anniversary. I’m certain the next 25 years will be even better.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Volunteers can do a lot for a community and nowhere else is this more evident than right here in Corning.
First-time visitors, myself included, are often impressed by Corning’s attractive downtown, its successful businesses, its variety of activities and its friendly people. A big part of what makes such a strong impression is the work done by the volunteers of Main Street Corning. This week marks the 25th anniversary of Main Street Corning and its accomplishments.
Corning is fortunate to have many forward-thinking individuals willing to work together for a greater good. Those leaders see a challenge, come up with a solution, roll up their shirtsleeves and get to work. Nowhere is that more apparent than with Main Street Corning.
According to the National Main Street Center, “Corning's downtown revitalization effort started before the establishment of the Iowa Rural Main Street Program. As a result of the state's Assessment of Services and Community Needs survey, the Retail Development Committee created a long-term comprehensive plan for downtown. A Certified Local Government commission was established to provide guidance in planning, repair, and preservation. Three years later, Corning was accepted as one of the first Rural Main Street communities in the state of Iowa.”
Corning joined Main Street Iowa in 1990 when many rural Iowa communities still suffered from the farm crisis of the 1980s. Corning, however, persevered. Today one only has to look at the businesses along Corning’s streets, the improved facades and the various other improvements completed or ongoing right now.
When Lazy Days of Summer arrive this week and you’re sampling barbecue, admiring a classic car or taking a tour of one of many places the community has to offer, remember Main Street Corning and the work its volunteers have done. Better yet, if you see one of those volunteers thank him or her personally. There will be a free cupcake celebration at 2 p.m. at the Central Park Pavilion and the volunteers themselves will be recognized there at 2:30 p.m. Also be sure to take the façade improvement tour and check out the vintage photo display.
Congratulations Main Street Corning and happy 25th anniversary. I’m certain the next 25 years will be even better.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Summertime and the livin’ is easy
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
One of my goals this summer was to have the best garden ever.
I’ve failed miserably.
Too much rain and too little time have left me struggling to keep up with mowing, let alone staying on top of a vegetable garden.
I started this spring with good intentions. I weeded all the beds, started some tomato seeds indoors and planted spinach, lettuce, radishes and beets. I thought I was off to a good start.
Things went well at first. We had asparagus and leeks and even had plenty of strawberries this year, although I had to beat the slugs to them and fight mosquitoes to get them.
Then Hannah began playing summer basketball in St. Joseph and we found ourselves there every Wednesday for a month. One day a week doesn’t sound like much but that was only part of it. A couple of days (or more) each week in Corning, overnight guests, a concert here and there, a wedding, a few weekends out of town and the next thing I knew was what began as a garden became a jungle.
The peas I had planted and tended all came on at the same time we were out of town for a few days. Except for a few early peas I sampled as they matured all I’ve got now is dried peas to plant later this fall or next spring.
The tomatoes I started from seed indoors this spring are nothing like the ones I started last year. They’re gangly like they’ve been grown in too little light while the volunteers, which have popped everywhere, look like they should be on the cover of a gardening magazine.
My spinach and lettuce were good while they lasted but that bolted way sooner than I expected. The hens, though, enjoyed them.
I’m hoping this week I can tackle the weeds. Somewhere underneath it all I’ve still got some beets. The leeks and garlic need to come out and the blueberries I planted a couple of years ago are starting to get big enough to produce more than a handful.
I blame the weather for part of the problem but I know the real issue is myself. I’ve got a Mañana mentality and would rather lie down on the front porch, read a book and take a nap. I still have a bargain rhubarb plant on the porch awaiting its permanent home (I did, however, get my bargain hostas in the ground right away).
To be honest I’m a bit lazy. I’ve kind of adopted island time and I don’t get into too big a hurry to do things too quickly. I even had to force myself to write this because tomorrow I’ve got a half dozen things I need to finish. One of those things, I hate to say, is mowing the lawn again.
Oh yeah, and the garden. I’ve got to get back on top of that. I’ll get to it eventually but right now I’ve got a George Gershwin song stuck in my head I’ve got to hear.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
One of my goals this summer was to have the best garden ever.
I’ve failed miserably.
Too much rain and too little time have left me struggling to keep up with mowing, let alone staying on top of a vegetable garden.
I started this spring with good intentions. I weeded all the beds, started some tomato seeds indoors and planted spinach, lettuce, radishes and beets. I thought I was off to a good start.
Things went well at first. We had asparagus and leeks and even had plenty of strawberries this year, although I had to beat the slugs to them and fight mosquitoes to get them.
Then Hannah began playing summer basketball in St. Joseph and we found ourselves there every Wednesday for a month. One day a week doesn’t sound like much but that was only part of it. A couple of days (or more) each week in Corning, overnight guests, a concert here and there, a wedding, a few weekends out of town and the next thing I knew was what began as a garden became a jungle.
The peas I had planted and tended all came on at the same time we were out of town for a few days. Except for a few early peas I sampled as they matured all I’ve got now is dried peas to plant later this fall or next spring.
The tomatoes I started from seed indoors this spring are nothing like the ones I started last year. They’re gangly like they’ve been grown in too little light while the volunteers, which have popped everywhere, look like they should be on the cover of a gardening magazine.
My spinach and lettuce were good while they lasted but that bolted way sooner than I expected. The hens, though, enjoyed them.
I’m hoping this week I can tackle the weeds. Somewhere underneath it all I’ve still got some beets. The leeks and garlic need to come out and the blueberries I planted a couple of years ago are starting to get big enough to produce more than a handful.
I blame the weather for part of the problem but I know the real issue is myself. I’ve got a Mañana mentality and would rather lie down on the front porch, read a book and take a nap. I still have a bargain rhubarb plant on the porch awaiting its permanent home (I did, however, get my bargain hostas in the ground right away).
To be honest I’m a bit lazy. I’ve kind of adopted island time and I don’t get into too big a hurry to do things too quickly. I even had to force myself to write this because tomorrow I’ve got a half dozen things I need to finish. One of those things, I hate to say, is mowing the lawn again.
Oh yeah, and the garden. I’ve got to get back on top of that. I’ll get to it eventually but right now I’ve got a George Gershwin song stuck in my head I’ve got to hear.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Camping’s the best down time
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Disconnect. Unwind. Decompress. Chill out. Disengage. Take it easy.
Call it what you will but stepping away from daily responsibilities, email, phone calls, the gloom and doom of TV talking heads, and everything else that fuel society’s malaise provides a respite that can benefit anyone.
We got our chance a couple of weeks ago when the idea of a camping trip that began before school was out finally came to fruition. Four nights — Wednesday through Saturday — spent largely unplugged at Nine Eagles State Park east of Lamoni. And it was just what the doctor ordered.
Allison, our youngest, and I rolled into camp mid-Wednesday afternoon as older sister Hannah finished her schedule at the swimming pool after which she and Mom would meet us. Al, loyal dog Daisy and I set up camp, gathered firewood, shared fried egg sandwiches for supper and played cards as the only tent campers at the campground while waiting. Christy and Hannah arrived about 9:30 that night and after a bit of campfire time we settled in for the evening.
I don’t know if it was the cool evening, the fresh air that filled the tent or just the fact we had gotten away from everything for a while but I don’t believe I slept so soundly in quite some time. With no schedule and no clock our only plans were to explore a trail or two and cool off with a dip in the lake. About the most ambitious thing I did that morning was cook pancakes in a cast iron skillet over a fire while sitting in a camp chair.
Thursday brought more campers to the park, which was something I expected as the weekend neared. Two young boys with their grandparents and two dogs put up a tent near the showers but they didn’t stay long. After we crawled into our tent rain came down steady most of the night. The next morning our fellow campers were bad mouthing a tent and tossing everything in the back of their truck to head out.
Friday morning Christy, Allison and I had oatmeal for breakfast as we let Hannah sleep in and try to light wet firewood. We got the fire going, began frying bacon and about halfway through the rain opened up again. We grabbed the cooked bacon, covered everything else up as well as we could and retreated to the tent. When the rain stopped, we gathered our wet and muddy clothes and sleeping gear for a trip to Lamoni to wash and dry clothes and pick up more ice.
That evening more campers arrived, this time a father and daughter. Like the first campers they stayed only one night but probably had a better camping experience because the rains had passed through the area.
Saturday morning we hiked around the lake, picking up a few ticks along the way. It was muddy, wet and exhausting at times but enjoyable. On Saturday the parked began to fill up too, but with day visitors instead of tent campers. Saturday night we were again the only campers at the campground.
We got rain again Sunday morning, just enough to wet the tent and some of our gear so that we had to hang it out to dry once we got home. Cleanup is just one of those chores that come with camping.
It was a good few days away from everything. My greatest accomplishment — other than a nap or two —was finishing a Cormac McCarthy novel, thanks largely to a bit of tent time because of rain. The flies were bad at times but the mosquitoes were few. We had enough food left to last two or three more days but Mondays mean the beginning of a deadline.
I’m already looking at the schedule, though, hoping to get in at least another weekend camping before the girls head back to school but it is and continues to be a busy summer. That’s all right, though. It just makes that down time that much more enjoyable when it does come.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Disconnect. Unwind. Decompress. Chill out. Disengage. Take it easy.
Call it what you will but stepping away from daily responsibilities, email, phone calls, the gloom and doom of TV talking heads, and everything else that fuel society’s malaise provides a respite that can benefit anyone.
We got our chance a couple of weeks ago when the idea of a camping trip that began before school was out finally came to fruition. Four nights — Wednesday through Saturday — spent largely unplugged at Nine Eagles State Park east of Lamoni. And it was just what the doctor ordered.
Allison, our youngest, and I rolled into camp mid-Wednesday afternoon as older sister Hannah finished her schedule at the swimming pool after which she and Mom would meet us. Al, loyal dog Daisy and I set up camp, gathered firewood, shared fried egg sandwiches for supper and played cards as the only tent campers at the campground while waiting. Christy and Hannah arrived about 9:30 that night and after a bit of campfire time we settled in for the evening.
I don’t know if it was the cool evening, the fresh air that filled the tent or just the fact we had gotten away from everything for a while but I don’t believe I slept so soundly in quite some time. With no schedule and no clock our only plans were to explore a trail or two and cool off with a dip in the lake. About the most ambitious thing I did that morning was cook pancakes in a cast iron skillet over a fire while sitting in a camp chair.
Thursday brought more campers to the park, which was something I expected as the weekend neared. Two young boys with their grandparents and two dogs put up a tent near the showers but they didn’t stay long. After we crawled into our tent rain came down steady most of the night. The next morning our fellow campers were bad mouthing a tent and tossing everything in the back of their truck to head out.
Friday morning Christy, Allison and I had oatmeal for breakfast as we let Hannah sleep in and try to light wet firewood. We got the fire going, began frying bacon and about halfway through the rain opened up again. We grabbed the cooked bacon, covered everything else up as well as we could and retreated to the tent. When the rain stopped, we gathered our wet and muddy clothes and sleeping gear for a trip to Lamoni to wash and dry clothes and pick up more ice.
That evening more campers arrived, this time a father and daughter. Like the first campers they stayed only one night but probably had a better camping experience because the rains had passed through the area.
Saturday morning we hiked around the lake, picking up a few ticks along the way. It was muddy, wet and exhausting at times but enjoyable. On Saturday the parked began to fill up too, but with day visitors instead of tent campers. Saturday night we were again the only campers at the campground.
We got rain again Sunday morning, just enough to wet the tent and some of our gear so that we had to hang it out to dry once we got home. Cleanup is just one of those chores that come with camping.
It was a good few days away from everything. My greatest accomplishment — other than a nap or two —was finishing a Cormac McCarthy novel, thanks largely to a bit of tent time because of rain. The flies were bad at times but the mosquitoes were few. We had enough food left to last two or three more days but Mondays mean the beginning of a deadline.
I’m already looking at the schedule, though, hoping to get in at least another weekend camping before the girls head back to school but it is and continues to be a busy summer. That’s all right, though. It just makes that down time that much more enjoyable when it does come.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Independence means responsibility
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
It’s hard to live in the United States and not be aware that this week is when we celebrate our nation’s independence from foreign control. Thinking about that independence had gotten me thinking about my children and their growing need for independence and self-reliance.
At nearly 9 and 7 the girls have their own ideas about how their lives should be governed. Gone are the days of our children complying with rules without question. “Because I said so” no longer satisfies Brady’s need for an explanation. Any consequence must be planned and agreed upon by both parents in order to withstand the incessant pleading and prodding that will ensue.
The problem is that the world is not the same as it was when Andrew and I were kids. It’s a scary place, full of dangers that I want to protect the girls from. Dangers that they are blissfully ignorant to the existence of, and I’d like to keep it that way. The world has also changed in not so scary ways. When I was 9, the only phone number I knew besides my own and 911 was for my friend Shea. She lived across the street, so I often didn’t even bother to call. But when I did, I called her from the phone in the kitchen, the one with the 10-foot cord. The one that ensured no conversation held on that line would be confidential from my parents. The most telephone privacy I had was if I sat under the dining room table. Now kids (not mine, but many of their peers) have their own phones that are rarely used to hold actual voice conversations. Most kids are texting their friends, or even using apps that don’t keep record of messages sent. For these and several other reasons, Andrew and I have decided that our girls will not have their own phones until they have demonstrated the level of maturity required to own such a device. For the most part, they don’t complain about that decision.
But that doesn’t mean they don’t still yearn for their independence. As parents we are learning to gauge their maturity in order to dole out more freedom. That means that Ava does not get all of the same liberties as Brady does, but they both have far more as a pair than they do individually. Our girls are different people and it is our responsibility to determine what is the best course of action for each individual child. And each freedom only comes after their individual responsibilities have been met.
I strive each day to remember that my No. 1 job as a parent is to raise children who grow into responsible, productive, socially aware adults. It would be so easy just to shelter them from all the difficult parts of life and keep them dependent on me for their very survival until the time comes to send them out into the world. But that wouldn’t do justice to my role as mother and it would be a great disservice to my kids. Instead, I choose to give my kids opportunities for independence and freedom to experience the world in small pieces, while I am still able to guide them to make good choices and help them learn from the consequences of poor ones. As a parent, you have the ability to teach your child about consequences before the world does it for you. Not only can you grant freedom to your child, you have the power to revoke those freedoms when they don’t demonstrate the maturity maintain them.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
It’s hard to live in the United States and not be aware that this week is when we celebrate our nation’s independence from foreign control. Thinking about that independence had gotten me thinking about my children and their growing need for independence and self-reliance.
At nearly 9 and 7 the girls have their own ideas about how their lives should be governed. Gone are the days of our children complying with rules without question. “Because I said so” no longer satisfies Brady’s need for an explanation. Any consequence must be planned and agreed upon by both parents in order to withstand the incessant pleading and prodding that will ensue.
The problem is that the world is not the same as it was when Andrew and I were kids. It’s a scary place, full of dangers that I want to protect the girls from. Dangers that they are blissfully ignorant to the existence of, and I’d like to keep it that way. The world has also changed in not so scary ways. When I was 9, the only phone number I knew besides my own and 911 was for my friend Shea. She lived across the street, so I often didn’t even bother to call. But when I did, I called her from the phone in the kitchen, the one with the 10-foot cord. The one that ensured no conversation held on that line would be confidential from my parents. The most telephone privacy I had was if I sat under the dining room table. Now kids (not mine, but many of their peers) have their own phones that are rarely used to hold actual voice conversations. Most kids are texting their friends, or even using apps that don’t keep record of messages sent. For these and several other reasons, Andrew and I have decided that our girls will not have their own phones until they have demonstrated the level of maturity required to own such a device. For the most part, they don’t complain about that decision.
But that doesn’t mean they don’t still yearn for their independence. As parents we are learning to gauge their maturity in order to dole out more freedom. That means that Ava does not get all of the same liberties as Brady does, but they both have far more as a pair than they do individually. Our girls are different people and it is our responsibility to determine what is the best course of action for each individual child. And each freedom only comes after their individual responsibilities have been met.
I strive each day to remember that my No. 1 job as a parent is to raise children who grow into responsible, productive, socially aware adults. It would be so easy just to shelter them from all the difficult parts of life and keep them dependent on me for their very survival until the time comes to send them out into the world. But that wouldn’t do justice to my role as mother and it would be a great disservice to my kids. Instead, I choose to give my kids opportunities for independence and freedom to experience the world in small pieces, while I am still able to guide them to make good choices and help them learn from the consequences of poor ones. As a parent, you have the ability to teach your child about consequences before the world does it for you. Not only can you grant freedom to your child, you have the power to revoke those freedoms when they don’t demonstrate the maturity maintain them.
Jacki Bardole can be contacted at [email protected].
Hate brings few answers
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
How does hate arise?
The fatal shooting of nine at the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, S.C., has me asking that question once again.
What makes a young man enter a house of worship and sit among worshipers during a prayer meeting before calmly shooting 13 people, stopping to reload his pistol five times?
There are clues, posts and photos online that tell us more about alleged church shooter Dylann Roof’s beliefs but none of those justifies such hatred. His white supremacist racist rants and disrespect for his country are delusional excuses for cold-blooded killings.
“We have no skinheads, no real KKK, no one doing anything but talking on the internet,” Roof reportedly posted on one website. “Well someone has to have the bravery to take it to the real world, and I guess that has to be me.”
There seems little doubt our nation’s most recent domestic terrorism was racially motivated but race is but one way tragedy follows hatred. Religion and politics also far too often lead to mass mourning.
The tragedies of Oklahoma City, Columbine, Sandy Hook Elementary School or Sept. 11 remind us that hatred is misguided for many reasons. They also, unfortunately, remind us that hate can be expressed in ways far more deadly than at the barrel of a firearm.
I don’t understand how an individual or group of individuals can believe the only way to express their differences is through violence. But it has be to those differences, the fear of the unfamiliar, those of a different race, religion, ethnicity or political belief that give rise to hatred.
We — all of humanity — must realize we have far more in common with one another than we do differences. We share not just the same planet, the same air and the same water but we also share the same values. We care for our family and friends, we want a clean, safe environment to raise our families, we want to live happy, healthy and productive lives.
At times, such as with Charleston, I sometimes briefly believe humanity is doomed because of such all too prevalent hatred. I find myself asking why and have yet to find an answer. And yet I remain hopeful because of the human spirit that overflows following such pointless tragedies.
That spirit soared in Charleston following the church shooting as victims’ families shared statements of forgiveness and mercy on Roof even as they mourned the victims’ deaths.
I guess if there is any understanding of it at all it can be found in the words of Arthur Hurd, the husband of shooting victim Cynthia Hurd:
“I would love to hate you but hate’s not in me. If I hate you I’m no better than you.”
Don Groves can be contacted a [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
How does hate arise?
The fatal shooting of nine at the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, S.C., has me asking that question once again.
What makes a young man enter a house of worship and sit among worshipers during a prayer meeting before calmly shooting 13 people, stopping to reload his pistol five times?
There are clues, posts and photos online that tell us more about alleged church shooter Dylann Roof’s beliefs but none of those justifies such hatred. His white supremacist racist rants and disrespect for his country are delusional excuses for cold-blooded killings.
“We have no skinheads, no real KKK, no one doing anything but talking on the internet,” Roof reportedly posted on one website. “Well someone has to have the bravery to take it to the real world, and I guess that has to be me.”
There seems little doubt our nation’s most recent domestic terrorism was racially motivated but race is but one way tragedy follows hatred. Religion and politics also far too often lead to mass mourning.
The tragedies of Oklahoma City, Columbine, Sandy Hook Elementary School or Sept. 11 remind us that hatred is misguided for many reasons. They also, unfortunately, remind us that hate can be expressed in ways far more deadly than at the barrel of a firearm.
I don’t understand how an individual or group of individuals can believe the only way to express their differences is through violence. But it has be to those differences, the fear of the unfamiliar, those of a different race, religion, ethnicity or political belief that give rise to hatred.
We — all of humanity — must realize we have far more in common with one another than we do differences. We share not just the same planet, the same air and the same water but we also share the same values. We care for our family and friends, we want a clean, safe environment to raise our families, we want to live happy, healthy and productive lives.
At times, such as with Charleston, I sometimes briefly believe humanity is doomed because of such all too prevalent hatred. I find myself asking why and have yet to find an answer. And yet I remain hopeful because of the human spirit that overflows following such pointless tragedies.
That spirit soared in Charleston following the church shooting as victims’ families shared statements of forgiveness and mercy on Roof even as they mourned the victims’ deaths.
I guess if there is any understanding of it at all it can be found in the words of Arthur Hurd, the husband of shooting victim Cynthia Hurd:
“I would love to hate you but hate’s not in me. If I hate you I’m no better than you.”
Don Groves can be contacted a [email protected].
Teen driving a challenge for parents
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
With a teen driver in the household again I find myself somewhere I haven’t been in almost 20 years.
I survived the teen years of my son and oldest daughter but they learned to drive back in the late ‘90s when if they wanted to call home from somewhere they usually had to pay a quarter to do so.
I’m a bit more concerned with our daughter Hannah learning to drive than I was back then. That wonderful thing called technology has made things more convenient but it’s also created distractions behind the wheel that seem a lot more dangerous than just a loud radio and a passenger.
My concerns about Traffic and other drivers have changed since I survived the first set of teen driving years. Jon and Tiff, my to oldest, learned to drive in Branson, Mo., for the most part. They learned to drive on hilly, curvy roads in a lot more traffic than around these parts. Hannah, though facing far less traffic, needs to be concerned with slow moving tractors and Amish buggies unseen over the next hilltop or around the next corner.
Deer, in fact wildlife of all sorts, is a greater concern in this part of the country. While we have a fair amount of deer in the Ozarks they just don’t seem to dart across the highway unexpectedly as often as they do here. Add to that the frequency of turkey, raccoon, coyote, opossum and occasional cow on the road and the chance of an accident involving wildlife is much greater.
Despite my concerns Hannah is doing well as a driver. There have been only a few fear-inducing events as I’ve been a passenger and she’s been the driver. To be honest Hannah’s worst two vehicle-involved incidents happened while Christy was in the passenger’s seat and I was safe inside the house.
The first incident happened while Hannah was trying to back my truck into the garage. Granted, the truck is much bigger than the little Saturn she typically drives but it wasn’t the size that was the problem. Instead it was my daughter’s backing skills.
I was at me desk as I heard the garage door open and a bit of discussion between Christy and Hannah. Seconds later I heard what sounded like loud instruction from Christy, an engine’s rev and a metal crunch. In the garage I discovered a trash can mangled against the wall. That incident quickly earned Hannah the nickname “Drives Like Mom.”
The second incident was a bit more expensive. Christy was helping with the high school play and she and our youngest daughter Allison were riding with Hannah on their way to pick up another student for play practice that evening. A few minutes after I left I got call telling me they had a flat tire and needed help replacing it. I tossed a floor jack in the back of the truck and drove over to help.
When I arrived I discovered not just a flat tire but a tire whose sidewall had been popped because our teen driver had gotten too far to the side of the road and hit a metal drain in somebody’s driveway. Apparently Hannah had met an oncoming driver and had given up far more of the roadway than needed.
Of course the donut-sized spare tire required air so it wasn’t a quick and easy fix. If there was a good part to the whole deal it came after the tire repair shop told me they were able to straighten the dented rim and the new tire was holding air. Driving practice that day cost us $100 and we’ve still got to find a replacement wheel cover.
This October, Hannah will likely graduate from learner’s permit to full driver’s license. When she does she’ll be handed a ’97 Saturn with more 300,000 miles on it so if there are other driving incidents they’ll happen to a beater. As long as there are no injuries I think we’ll be all right. Then, in two more years, we’ll start the teen driving process again with the youngest.
I imagine I’ll survive teen driving years again. I’ve lived through it before. And my hair can’t get much grayer than it already is anyway.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
With a teen driver in the household again I find myself somewhere I haven’t been in almost 20 years.
I survived the teen years of my son and oldest daughter but they learned to drive back in the late ‘90s when if they wanted to call home from somewhere they usually had to pay a quarter to do so.
I’m a bit more concerned with our daughter Hannah learning to drive than I was back then. That wonderful thing called technology has made things more convenient but it’s also created distractions behind the wheel that seem a lot more dangerous than just a loud radio and a passenger.
My concerns about Traffic and other drivers have changed since I survived the first set of teen driving years. Jon and Tiff, my to oldest, learned to drive in Branson, Mo., for the most part. They learned to drive on hilly, curvy roads in a lot more traffic than around these parts. Hannah, though facing far less traffic, needs to be concerned with slow moving tractors and Amish buggies unseen over the next hilltop or around the next corner.
Deer, in fact wildlife of all sorts, is a greater concern in this part of the country. While we have a fair amount of deer in the Ozarks they just don’t seem to dart across the highway unexpectedly as often as they do here. Add to that the frequency of turkey, raccoon, coyote, opossum and occasional cow on the road and the chance of an accident involving wildlife is much greater.
Despite my concerns Hannah is doing well as a driver. There have been only a few fear-inducing events as I’ve been a passenger and she’s been the driver. To be honest Hannah’s worst two vehicle-involved incidents happened while Christy was in the passenger’s seat and I was safe inside the house.
The first incident happened while Hannah was trying to back my truck into the garage. Granted, the truck is much bigger than the little Saturn she typically drives but it wasn’t the size that was the problem. Instead it was my daughter’s backing skills.
I was at me desk as I heard the garage door open and a bit of discussion between Christy and Hannah. Seconds later I heard what sounded like loud instruction from Christy, an engine’s rev and a metal crunch. In the garage I discovered a trash can mangled against the wall. That incident quickly earned Hannah the nickname “Drives Like Mom.”
The second incident was a bit more expensive. Christy was helping with the high school play and she and our youngest daughter Allison were riding with Hannah on their way to pick up another student for play practice that evening. A few minutes after I left I got call telling me they had a flat tire and needed help replacing it. I tossed a floor jack in the back of the truck and drove over to help.
When I arrived I discovered not just a flat tire but a tire whose sidewall had been popped because our teen driver had gotten too far to the side of the road and hit a metal drain in somebody’s driveway. Apparently Hannah had met an oncoming driver and had given up far more of the roadway than needed.
Of course the donut-sized spare tire required air so it wasn’t a quick and easy fix. If there was a good part to the whole deal it came after the tire repair shop told me they were able to straighten the dented rim and the new tire was holding air. Driving practice that day cost us $100 and we’ve still got to find a replacement wheel cover.
This October, Hannah will likely graduate from learner’s permit to full driver’s license. When she does she’ll be handed a ’97 Saturn with more 300,000 miles on it so if there are other driving incidents they’ll happen to a beater. As long as there are no injuries I think we’ll be all right. Then, in two more years, we’ll start the teen driving process again with the youngest.
I imagine I’ll survive teen driving years again. I’ve lived through it before. And my hair can’t get much grayer than it already is anyway.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Carpet installers nailed it
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Last month I added a couple of new nap areas around the house in out of the way places for an afternoon snooze.
The first one is in the basement, where we moved Allison’s old bed after getting her a new bed. It’s quiet, out of the way and cool when summer’s heat hits.
The second one is on the porch, where I laid out the cushion from a futon that’s long been uncomfortable. It’s a great place to read, feel the breeze and get in a quick nap as long as lawnmowers are at a minimum in the neighborhood.
With that in mind one Thursday I had the choice of taking a nap or tackling a little home improvement project Christy has had in mind for a while: tear up the carpet in the living room and dining room and see just how damaged our wood floors are.
I must have been feeling ambitious that day because I opted for pulling carpet. It wasn’t long before I was asking myself what had I been thinking.
We started in the living room, or at least I did, but after Christy saw a corner of the living room was pulled up she realized we where committed and reminded me we needed to think through our plan of demolition. A quick trip to the hardware store, the purchase of a couple of tools and we were in business.
The first section we removed went fairly quickly. The carpet and backing came right up to reveal a floor covered in years of dust and two layers of plaster and plywood used to level low spots of the 100 year old floor.
The wood and the plaster also came up relatively quickly but the cleanup took longer than expected. The dust and dirt, for one thing, were thick but pulling nails used on the plywood was almost overwhelming. Scraps of plywood, not sheets, had been used on the floor and someone had gone insane with a nail gun. It wasn’t unusual for a 2 by 2 foot square of plywood to have 20 or 30 nails in it.
With a truck load of debris, a section of the living room largely free of nails and a couple of good scrubbings of the floor we called it a day, showered off and rested up for day two. Our plan was to make a quick trip to a nearby removal transfer station, unload the truck and start back on the project first thing Friday morning.
We woke up a little stiff but no worse than after a good workout. Using what we had learned our first day of demolition we made quick work of the second portion of the living room except for one thing — the nails. It was as if whoever had installed the carpet had a found a bargain on a couple of boxes of nails and was trying to use every one of them on just this one project.
Of course the nails weren’t easily removed. The hammers and pry bar more often bent the nail heads rather than remove them. Instead we resorted to pulling nails using Vice Grips and pliers, which made for a long day. As soon as we could clear a spot large enough to sit without being poked by nails we would pull nails as far as we could reach, scoot to the next section and start pulling again.
With a truck filled with carpet, plywood, nails and plaster again and in need of a break, we drove to the transfer station Friday afternoon, returned home and began pulling nails again. Finally, around 7 that night, we called it a day, hit the shower rested up for the dining room.
Saturday morning found us a bit stiffer than Friday morning. Our hands were swollen from pulling nails, our backs and legs ached as if we had just finished a month on a backpacking trip. It was slow going and far more tedious than the previous days but we continued our project, which lasted well into the night.
By Sunday we felt aches in muscles we never realized we had. Neither of us could fully close our hands after pulling so many nails. And on our final trip to the transfer station we learned we had hauled off at more than 1,300 pounds of carpet, plywood, plaster and tack strips.
The floor itself will need resurfacing but we decided we need a bit of a break before finishing. We also need to have someone come in and replace about a 3 by 3 foot section of the floor that’s been repaired with plywood.
I’m still wondering about who originally installed the carpet and their love of the nail gun. I’ve joked with some of my friends I imagine it was Alf and Ralph of Green Acres fame. Whoever it was, they certainly saved a few dollars with their use of scrap plywood but probably made up for it in the number of nails they used.
Even now, a week and a half later, I’m still finding nails.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Last month I added a couple of new nap areas around the house in out of the way places for an afternoon snooze.
The first one is in the basement, where we moved Allison’s old bed after getting her a new bed. It’s quiet, out of the way and cool when summer’s heat hits.
The second one is on the porch, where I laid out the cushion from a futon that’s long been uncomfortable. It’s a great place to read, feel the breeze and get in a quick nap as long as lawnmowers are at a minimum in the neighborhood.
With that in mind one Thursday I had the choice of taking a nap or tackling a little home improvement project Christy has had in mind for a while: tear up the carpet in the living room and dining room and see just how damaged our wood floors are.
I must have been feeling ambitious that day because I opted for pulling carpet. It wasn’t long before I was asking myself what had I been thinking.
We started in the living room, or at least I did, but after Christy saw a corner of the living room was pulled up she realized we where committed and reminded me we needed to think through our plan of demolition. A quick trip to the hardware store, the purchase of a couple of tools and we were in business.
The first section we removed went fairly quickly. The carpet and backing came right up to reveal a floor covered in years of dust and two layers of plaster and plywood used to level low spots of the 100 year old floor.
The wood and the plaster also came up relatively quickly but the cleanup took longer than expected. The dust and dirt, for one thing, were thick but pulling nails used on the plywood was almost overwhelming. Scraps of plywood, not sheets, had been used on the floor and someone had gone insane with a nail gun. It wasn’t unusual for a 2 by 2 foot square of plywood to have 20 or 30 nails in it.
With a truck load of debris, a section of the living room largely free of nails and a couple of good scrubbings of the floor we called it a day, showered off and rested up for day two. Our plan was to make a quick trip to a nearby removal transfer station, unload the truck and start back on the project first thing Friday morning.
We woke up a little stiff but no worse than after a good workout. Using what we had learned our first day of demolition we made quick work of the second portion of the living room except for one thing — the nails. It was as if whoever had installed the carpet had a found a bargain on a couple of boxes of nails and was trying to use every one of them on just this one project.
Of course the nails weren’t easily removed. The hammers and pry bar more often bent the nail heads rather than remove them. Instead we resorted to pulling nails using Vice Grips and pliers, which made for a long day. As soon as we could clear a spot large enough to sit without being poked by nails we would pull nails as far as we could reach, scoot to the next section and start pulling again.
With a truck filled with carpet, plywood, nails and plaster again and in need of a break, we drove to the transfer station Friday afternoon, returned home and began pulling nails again. Finally, around 7 that night, we called it a day, hit the shower rested up for the dining room.
Saturday morning found us a bit stiffer than Friday morning. Our hands were swollen from pulling nails, our backs and legs ached as if we had just finished a month on a backpacking trip. It was slow going and far more tedious than the previous days but we continued our project, which lasted well into the night.
By Sunday we felt aches in muscles we never realized we had. Neither of us could fully close our hands after pulling so many nails. And on our final trip to the transfer station we learned we had hauled off at more than 1,300 pounds of carpet, plywood, plaster and tack strips.
The floor itself will need resurfacing but we decided we need a bit of a break before finishing. We also need to have someone come in and replace about a 3 by 3 foot section of the floor that’s been repaired with plywood.
I’m still wondering about who originally installed the carpet and their love of the nail gun. I’ve joked with some of my friends I imagine it was Alf and Ralph of Green Acres fame. Whoever it was, they certainly saved a few dollars with their use of scrap plywood but probably made up for it in the number of nails they used.
Even now, a week and a half later, I’m still finding nails.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
That’s not my job
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
My kids have been hearing these words from my mouth more and more frequently, especially since school is out for the summer. “That’s not my job.”
Sometimes it is in reference to certain household chores, since I firmly believe in making them learn how to manage a home and that being part of a family means pulling your own weight. Often times though, these four words come tumbling from my mouth in response to a whiney “I’m bored, I don’t know what to do.” You see, while I think that making memories is a vital part of my role as parent, I also understand that not every single moment in my child’s life is going to be memorable. Some days are boring.
And I downright refuse to make entertaining their little selves my responsibility. When they were younger, I would offer reminders of all the things they could do to keep their minds busy and bodies active. But at nearly 9 and 7, they know all the options and it’s on them to choose something. Now if one of those little ladies came and asked me to read with her or if we could make something together in the kitchen, I would certainly make time for that. It’s just not my job to make the suggestion.
As a product of our society and the way the education system is run, children are used to constantly having a schedule that is packed full of activities and often lacking in free time. I’m not here to argue that this is right or wrong; I just take it as fact. Kids don’t know how to fill their own time, or better yet, not fill their time and just be kids. I don’t know that I was much better as a kid, though I do know that I had the distinct advantage of living in a neighborhood that had six other girls my age to play with. It’s a lot harder to be bored when you have other kids helping you think up a new game to play. My mom didn’t believe in making memories for me out of each day either. To be downright honest, she didn’t have time for that. She had a full-time job and my baby sister to care for. I do have some amazing memories of the family road trip vacations we took each summer. But better than that, I fondly remember being shipped off to each of my grandparents for a week, hanging out in Robbie Neely’s tree house for what seems like weeks, climbing the apple tree in the backyard to pick apples and grapes from the nearby vines, hiding out in the walk-in closet turned reading nook pouring over book after book and taking over the whole basement and creating a Barbie doll city, complete with a high-rise apartment building formerly known as my step-dad’s pool table. Some of my best childhood memories come from the unstructured time, that is when I learned how to be a friend, or that my small stature didn’t mean I can’t do things, that is where I met Matilda, Charlotte and the March sisters.
This summer, I encourage you to make your children deal with their discomfort and boredom. Make them come up with their own entertainment. Be there for them when they want you to interact, but don’t supply all the answers. They just may thank you for it later. I think I’ll go call my mom and offer her a long overdue thank you for making my childhood great.
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
My kids have been hearing these words from my mouth more and more frequently, especially since school is out for the summer. “That’s not my job.”
Sometimes it is in reference to certain household chores, since I firmly believe in making them learn how to manage a home and that being part of a family means pulling your own weight. Often times though, these four words come tumbling from my mouth in response to a whiney “I’m bored, I don’t know what to do.” You see, while I think that making memories is a vital part of my role as parent, I also understand that not every single moment in my child’s life is going to be memorable. Some days are boring.
And I downright refuse to make entertaining their little selves my responsibility. When they were younger, I would offer reminders of all the things they could do to keep their minds busy and bodies active. But at nearly 9 and 7, they know all the options and it’s on them to choose something. Now if one of those little ladies came and asked me to read with her or if we could make something together in the kitchen, I would certainly make time for that. It’s just not my job to make the suggestion.
As a product of our society and the way the education system is run, children are used to constantly having a schedule that is packed full of activities and often lacking in free time. I’m not here to argue that this is right or wrong; I just take it as fact. Kids don’t know how to fill their own time, or better yet, not fill their time and just be kids. I don’t know that I was much better as a kid, though I do know that I had the distinct advantage of living in a neighborhood that had six other girls my age to play with. It’s a lot harder to be bored when you have other kids helping you think up a new game to play. My mom didn’t believe in making memories for me out of each day either. To be downright honest, she didn’t have time for that. She had a full-time job and my baby sister to care for. I do have some amazing memories of the family road trip vacations we took each summer. But better than that, I fondly remember being shipped off to each of my grandparents for a week, hanging out in Robbie Neely’s tree house for what seems like weeks, climbing the apple tree in the backyard to pick apples and grapes from the nearby vines, hiding out in the walk-in closet turned reading nook pouring over book after book and taking over the whole basement and creating a Barbie doll city, complete with a high-rise apartment building formerly known as my step-dad’s pool table. Some of my best childhood memories come from the unstructured time, that is when I learned how to be a friend, or that my small stature didn’t mean I can’t do things, that is where I met Matilda, Charlotte and the March sisters.
This summer, I encourage you to make your children deal with their discomfort and boredom. Make them come up with their own entertainment. Be there for them when they want you to interact, but don’t supply all the answers. They just may thank you for it later. I think I’ll go call my mom and offer her a long overdue thank you for making my childhood great.
Eating habits undergo changes
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Now that my daily visit to the office involves a trip through the kitchen, my — our — eating habits have changed, some for the better and some for the worse.
Christy and I are eating fewer lunches at restaurants. Before, when we spent five days a week actually commuting to work, we typically ate out for lunch at least five times a week (commuting is sort of loose term here — it was only about a two and half block walk to work).
We still eat out for lunch, or at least order our lunch from a restaurant, but now only a couple of times a week. Instead I’ve been making almost daily trips to Hy-Vee and making more meals at home.
I’ve long enjoyed making meals, turning on some music, gathering vegetables from the garden, and seeing how excited my daughters are when I tell them to come and get it. It’s satisfying, relaxing, as long as I have a craving for something in particular or learn about a certain dish I want to try to create.
With the girls out of school on Mondays — and now out of school everyday — I’ve been trying to make a nice big meal on Mondays. But the meals I enjoy making aren’t just meat and potatoes, even though I like a good, home cooked meal. No, I like trying new foods from different cultures.
For a while I was on a Thai food kick with lots of noodles, fresh vegetables and plenty of spices. It was just one of those cravings I get from time to time and fortunately the family wasn’t disappointed.
I became infatuated with South America for a time, probably because I got a hankering for beef. Uruguay and Argentina, where the gauchos are as serious about their beef as Iowans, became my inspiration. Grilled sirloin, chimichurri sauce and corn on the grill satisfied that craving. Quick, simple and tasteful and again, no complaints from those I served.
For the last few days I’ve been craving empanadas, particularly meat and potato empanadas. Years ago when I worked a convenience store a Hispanic couple would stop by with some tasty little fried beef and potato turnovers about the size of fried fruit pie. Now it’s time to see if can recreate something similar and, thanks to the Internet, I think I can get relatively close.
Trying new recipes has been only one of benefits of being home more often. The other is that we have fewer wasted leftovers. The refrigerator is organized and what is in there is easy to find and identify. There are no more moldy mystery cottage cheese cartons or guessing what caused the petri dish bacteria growth, no more asking “Did this used to be guacamole?”
Those are the benefits of more time to eat at home but as I said there have been changes for the worse, too. There are, I’m afraid, times when we still don’t have the time or inclination to make a meal and convenience becomes key. And when convenience takes over, that usually means a stop at a convenience store here town that makes fried chicken.
Yet even when our meal comes home in Styrofoam boxes and plastic bags there are few complaints from those being served, mainly because fried chicken is one of my family’s favorites and I have no desire to learn how to make it.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Now that my daily visit to the office involves a trip through the kitchen, my — our — eating habits have changed, some for the better and some for the worse.
Christy and I are eating fewer lunches at restaurants. Before, when we spent five days a week actually commuting to work, we typically ate out for lunch at least five times a week (commuting is sort of loose term here — it was only about a two and half block walk to work).
We still eat out for lunch, or at least order our lunch from a restaurant, but now only a couple of times a week. Instead I’ve been making almost daily trips to Hy-Vee and making more meals at home.
I’ve long enjoyed making meals, turning on some music, gathering vegetables from the garden, and seeing how excited my daughters are when I tell them to come and get it. It’s satisfying, relaxing, as long as I have a craving for something in particular or learn about a certain dish I want to try to create.
With the girls out of school on Mondays — and now out of school everyday — I’ve been trying to make a nice big meal on Mondays. But the meals I enjoy making aren’t just meat and potatoes, even though I like a good, home cooked meal. No, I like trying new foods from different cultures.
For a while I was on a Thai food kick with lots of noodles, fresh vegetables and plenty of spices. It was just one of those cravings I get from time to time and fortunately the family wasn’t disappointed.
I became infatuated with South America for a time, probably because I got a hankering for beef. Uruguay and Argentina, where the gauchos are as serious about their beef as Iowans, became my inspiration. Grilled sirloin, chimichurri sauce and corn on the grill satisfied that craving. Quick, simple and tasteful and again, no complaints from those I served.
For the last few days I’ve been craving empanadas, particularly meat and potato empanadas. Years ago when I worked a convenience store a Hispanic couple would stop by with some tasty little fried beef and potato turnovers about the size of fried fruit pie. Now it’s time to see if can recreate something similar and, thanks to the Internet, I think I can get relatively close.
Trying new recipes has been only one of benefits of being home more often. The other is that we have fewer wasted leftovers. The refrigerator is organized and what is in there is easy to find and identify. There are no more moldy mystery cottage cheese cartons or guessing what caused the petri dish bacteria growth, no more asking “Did this used to be guacamole?”
Those are the benefits of more time to eat at home but as I said there have been changes for the worse, too. There are, I’m afraid, times when we still don’t have the time or inclination to make a meal and convenience becomes key. And when convenience takes over, that usually means a stop at a convenience store here town that makes fried chicken.
Yet even when our meal comes home in Styrofoam boxes and plastic bags there are few complaints from those being served, mainly because fried chicken is one of my family’s favorites and I have no desire to learn how to make it.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Think, read, write, repeat
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“Don’t assume that bad English can still be good journalism. It can’t.” — William Zinsser
William Zinsser, a writer, editor and teacher, died last week at age 92.
More than 1.5 million copies of his book “On Writing Well,” from which the above quote came, have been sold. Anyone who writes will benefit from reading his book.
Until his death last week and his obituary I knew little about Zinsser other than his book. A college professor recommended “On Writing Well” as well Strunk and White’s “The Elements of Style.” Those two books and my college mentors helped me realize writing — good writing, at least — is more than just stringing together words.
When I entered college I had been out of high school for about three years. Though I got good enough grades in my early college writing courses I soon came to realize precision could improve my writing.
When I once padded my writing to meet a three-page, double-spaced assignment I soon learned, from Zinsser and my professors, “to strip every sentence to its cleanest components.” The act of writing didn’t become any easier but the finished product improved. I learned to think, realizing that the biggest part of good writing is the time spent thinking.
I learned also to do more with less. Zinsser says be precise, eliminate clutter, use active verbs. Write with the reader in mind. After all, writing is communication and knowing what to live out is important.
I still re-read “On Writing Well” and “The Elements of Style” from time to time and encourage other writers to do the same. I’ve given both books to those who express interest in writing. Reading, like thinking, is a big part of writing.
Zinsser's death will likely bring more sales of “On Writing Well.” At least I hope so. His words, his ideas and some self-discipline can go a long way for any writer.
Zinsser believed in writing for the sake of writing. Writers shouldn’t get caught up in focusing on publishing. A book can’t be planned in advance, he says. There’s a process of discovery involved in writing. Good stories never turn out as imagined.
So often when I begin writing, whether it’s sports, a column or even a short story, I find it’s best to sit down at the laptop with a cup of coffee or a glass of iced tea and get to work. There’s always time later to edit, rewrite and tighten up things. As Zinsser says, “Forget the final product and start writing the damned story.”
Publisher Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
“Don’t assume that bad English can still be good journalism. It can’t.” — William Zinsser
William Zinsser, a writer, editor and teacher, died last week at age 92.
More than 1.5 million copies of his book “On Writing Well,” from which the above quote came, have been sold. Anyone who writes will benefit from reading his book.
Until his death last week and his obituary I knew little about Zinsser other than his book. A college professor recommended “On Writing Well” as well Strunk and White’s “The Elements of Style.” Those two books and my college mentors helped me realize writing — good writing, at least — is more than just stringing together words.
When I entered college I had been out of high school for about three years. Though I got good enough grades in my early college writing courses I soon came to realize precision could improve my writing.
When I once padded my writing to meet a three-page, double-spaced assignment I soon learned, from Zinsser and my professors, “to strip every sentence to its cleanest components.” The act of writing didn’t become any easier but the finished product improved. I learned to think, realizing that the biggest part of good writing is the time spent thinking.
I learned also to do more with less. Zinsser says be precise, eliminate clutter, use active verbs. Write with the reader in mind. After all, writing is communication and knowing what to live out is important.
I still re-read “On Writing Well” and “The Elements of Style” from time to time and encourage other writers to do the same. I’ve given both books to those who express interest in writing. Reading, like thinking, is a big part of writing.
Zinsser's death will likely bring more sales of “On Writing Well.” At least I hope so. His words, his ideas and some self-discipline can go a long way for any writer.
Zinsser believed in writing for the sake of writing. Writers shouldn’t get caught up in focusing on publishing. A book can’t be planned in advance, he says. There’s a process of discovery involved in writing. Good stories never turn out as imagined.
So often when I begin writing, whether it’s sports, a column or even a short story, I find it’s best to sit down at the laptop with a cup of coffee or a glass of iced tea and get to work. There’s always time later to edit, rewrite and tighten up things. As Zinsser says, “Forget the final product and start writing the damned story.”
Publisher Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
There’s a fine line between collector and hoarder
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Christy is beginning to fear I’m a hoarder.
I, however, disagree. I’m a collector, one who happens to enjoy books and music. But if others are to be the judge I’ll let you know how Christy’s fear began.
About a month ago Christy and I played hooky from the office one Friday morning to pick up a few final items she needed for help with producing the high school musical. On our way to the store, we came upon a garage sale. Well, not just any garage sale but a sale held by a friend of ours who shares my taste in music so I felt more than inclined to stop.
Monica, our friend who has since moved to Lawrence, Kan., to be near her son while he’s in college, wasn’t at the sale but her daughter Katherine was. Katherine babysat our two daughters when they were younger. After a bit of small talk with Katherine I wandered over to a table stacked with CDs and began exploring.
It wasn’t long before I discovered a half dozen keepers — Mavis Staples, Warren Zevon, Towne Van Zandt, Sonny Rollins, all for a buck apiece. I felt good about my score but as we were walking out from the sale I saw two big tubs of cassettes all for $10. Christy saw me eye the cassettes, gave me “that look” and tersely said, “No!”
Little did we realize Katherine saw my interest in the cassettes so when Monica called me as she tried to wrap up the garage sale I was surprised. Would I be interested in the remaining CDs and cassettes, she asked. Why of course, I said, despite stern looks from Christy and her telling me no repeatedly.
Because Christy, Hannah and Allison had to head to the high school to prepare for the musical, I jumped in the car, ran over to the garage sale and returned home with two boxes of CDs and the tubs of cassettes. I brought the CDs inside next to my desk and for about a week reviewed the music, copied the ones I wanted on iTunes and separated the rest.
A few days later I ran into Monica and we shared a few laughs. She said right after I had picked up the CDs and cassettes she saw Christy driving toward the garage sale. Monica said she quickly ducked inside the garage, fearing I had gotten into trouble for accepting the music and Christy was returning it.
The cassettes are still in the garage, as are the 50 or so LPs I inherited from another person who knew I was one of the few who still have a working record player. There’s some Lou Rawls, Marvin Guy, Gladys Knight, Donovan and a few other LPs I’ll add to my collection if they are in good enough shape. I plan take the rest to a store in Kansas City that accepts LPs and CDs.
I’m not sure what to do with the cassettes, though, maybe just offer them for sale cheap on eBay. I’ve also discovered a few websites dedicated to cassette collectors.
Whatever I do, I need to get rid of the music I don’t want. I can’t just leave it all stacked up in the garage.
That would make me a hoarder instead of a collector.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Christy is beginning to fear I’m a hoarder.
I, however, disagree. I’m a collector, one who happens to enjoy books and music. But if others are to be the judge I’ll let you know how Christy’s fear began.
About a month ago Christy and I played hooky from the office one Friday morning to pick up a few final items she needed for help with producing the high school musical. On our way to the store, we came upon a garage sale. Well, not just any garage sale but a sale held by a friend of ours who shares my taste in music so I felt more than inclined to stop.
Monica, our friend who has since moved to Lawrence, Kan., to be near her son while he’s in college, wasn’t at the sale but her daughter Katherine was. Katherine babysat our two daughters when they were younger. After a bit of small talk with Katherine I wandered over to a table stacked with CDs and began exploring.
It wasn’t long before I discovered a half dozen keepers — Mavis Staples, Warren Zevon, Towne Van Zandt, Sonny Rollins, all for a buck apiece. I felt good about my score but as we were walking out from the sale I saw two big tubs of cassettes all for $10. Christy saw me eye the cassettes, gave me “that look” and tersely said, “No!”
Little did we realize Katherine saw my interest in the cassettes so when Monica called me as she tried to wrap up the garage sale I was surprised. Would I be interested in the remaining CDs and cassettes, she asked. Why of course, I said, despite stern looks from Christy and her telling me no repeatedly.
Because Christy, Hannah and Allison had to head to the high school to prepare for the musical, I jumped in the car, ran over to the garage sale and returned home with two boxes of CDs and the tubs of cassettes. I brought the CDs inside next to my desk and for about a week reviewed the music, copied the ones I wanted on iTunes and separated the rest.
A few days later I ran into Monica and we shared a few laughs. She said right after I had picked up the CDs and cassettes she saw Christy driving toward the garage sale. Monica said she quickly ducked inside the garage, fearing I had gotten into trouble for accepting the music and Christy was returning it.
The cassettes are still in the garage, as are the 50 or so LPs I inherited from another person who knew I was one of the few who still have a working record player. There’s some Lou Rawls, Marvin Guy, Gladys Knight, Donovan and a few other LPs I’ll add to my collection if they are in good enough shape. I plan take the rest to a store in Kansas City that accepts LPs and CDs.
I’m not sure what to do with the cassettes, though, maybe just offer them for sale cheap on eBay. I’ve also discovered a few websites dedicated to cassette collectors.
Whatever I do, I need to get rid of the music I don’t want. I can’t just leave it all stacked up in the garage.
That would make me a hoarder instead of a collector.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Time to scale back
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Coming on the tail end of Prom season has me a bit nostalgic and a lot worried about the future. I don’t remember Prom being nearly the spectacle that it has become.
I went to Prom four times. Two of those were during my Senior year, so I wore the same dress. One I had purchased on clearance in August from the year before. Just a rough estimate, but I think that my total expenses for all four Prom night experiences is about $400. Granted, that was in the 90’s, and only once did I go to a salon for my hair and makeup. But still.
Can you believe that Visa released a study saying that the average family spends $1,139 on Prom? Imagining that I spent that $400 in just one year, Prom this year is a 184 percent increase in expense. Here is where the worry comes in to play. By the time my girls are in High School, we could be looking at families spending over $2000. Presuming both girls only go to Prom their Junior and Senior years, we are already looking at four straight years of Prom dresses. Should I tell them now that they will not be having that kind of budget? Maybe I can add it to the list of things we have gotten them to agree to in their sleep.
More than just the money, I can’t believe how over the top Prom has become. I don’t remember the whole town showing up for Grand March (our version of Walk-in), there were no party buses or rented cars and the whole date thing was really no big deal.
This brings me to the recent Prom trend that I find most distressing. Who in the world came up with the idea of a Promposal? I would like to just shake him (or her). From what I understand, the majority of Prom couples are not real-life couples. Why should there need to be a grand gesture simply to ask someone out on a date. Prom is one night, often with someone you don’t have a pre-existing relationship with and won’t continue to date after the big dance. A real marriage proposal is one person asking another to commit to a life-long relationship. By making a big deal of one night, a genuine proposal and the commitment it symbolizes are cheapened.
Prom should be a night of fun and celebration, for kids and for their families. If we continue to allow this night to grow in both expense and drama, that celebration will come with an unhealthy dose of stress and anxiety for all those involved. Just like with holidays and birthdays, we have allowed ourselves to feel pressured by social media expectations to make every event bigger, fancier and more outrageous than the last. It’s time we remember that bigger does not always mean better. Simple and elegant are no less memorable than extravagance.
Create memories, make your daughters feel like princesses for the night, show off that handsome son in his suit, enjoy the moment. But remember that it is just that, one moment in their entire childhood. I can honestly say if I’d had to make a choice between being given thousands of dollars for Prom during High School or the same amount for tuition in college, it would have been the easiest choice I ever made.
Fishbowl Parenting
Jacki Bardole
Coming on the tail end of Prom season has me a bit nostalgic and a lot worried about the future. I don’t remember Prom being nearly the spectacle that it has become.
I went to Prom four times. Two of those were during my Senior year, so I wore the same dress. One I had purchased on clearance in August from the year before. Just a rough estimate, but I think that my total expenses for all four Prom night experiences is about $400. Granted, that was in the 90’s, and only once did I go to a salon for my hair and makeup. But still.
Can you believe that Visa released a study saying that the average family spends $1,139 on Prom? Imagining that I spent that $400 in just one year, Prom this year is a 184 percent increase in expense. Here is where the worry comes in to play. By the time my girls are in High School, we could be looking at families spending over $2000. Presuming both girls only go to Prom their Junior and Senior years, we are already looking at four straight years of Prom dresses. Should I tell them now that they will not be having that kind of budget? Maybe I can add it to the list of things we have gotten them to agree to in their sleep.
More than just the money, I can’t believe how over the top Prom has become. I don’t remember the whole town showing up for Grand March (our version of Walk-in), there were no party buses or rented cars and the whole date thing was really no big deal.
This brings me to the recent Prom trend that I find most distressing. Who in the world came up with the idea of a Promposal? I would like to just shake him (or her). From what I understand, the majority of Prom couples are not real-life couples. Why should there need to be a grand gesture simply to ask someone out on a date. Prom is one night, often with someone you don’t have a pre-existing relationship with and won’t continue to date after the big dance. A real marriage proposal is one person asking another to commit to a life-long relationship. By making a big deal of one night, a genuine proposal and the commitment it symbolizes are cheapened.
Prom should be a night of fun and celebration, for kids and for their families. If we continue to allow this night to grow in both expense and drama, that celebration will come with an unhealthy dose of stress and anxiety for all those involved. Just like with holidays and birthdays, we have allowed ourselves to feel pressured by social media expectations to make every event bigger, fancier and more outrageous than the last. It’s time we remember that bigger does not always mean better. Simple and elegant are no less memorable than extravagance.
Create memories, make your daughters feel like princesses for the night, show off that handsome son in his suit, enjoy the moment. But remember that it is just that, one moment in their entire childhood. I can honestly say if I’d had to make a choice between being given thousands of dollars for Prom during High School or the same amount for tuition in college, it would have been the easiest choice I ever made.
We tweak an ongoing adventure
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Nearly 10 years ago my wife and I pushed our then 3-year-old and 5-year-old daughters and us way past the comfort zone into a full leap of faith.
We left Northwest Arkansas, a place we had lived for nearly six years, sold our home and most of our household items, loaded the rest in U-Haul truck and headed north to Albany, Mo.
We left Arkansas about 7 p.m. on a Friday, arriving about 5 a.m. Saturday at a Bethany motel after signing over the deed to our house in Rogers to a couple we had never met and without a check for payment for the sale of our house.
We were to become new owners of The Albany Ledger.
There were a lot of unknowns and a lot of challenges just even getting to Albany. Our pickup had a blowout, Hannah and I were unsure where Christy and Allison were on the highway, and I was low on gas in the U-Haul without cash or a credit card because I had left them in the pickup.
I’m sure I’ve told this story before but Christy and I decided we should just as well own our own newspaper instead of working for others and since Hannah was to begin kindergarten that fall we decided 2005 was the time.
We sold a house when the housing market was high in Northwest Arkansas, just before the housing bubble popped. That wasn’t timed. That was just luck. Just a couple of years later many of our newspaper friends we had worked with in Arkansas found themselves out of jobs when two large dailies that had been in a newspaper war since 1993 merged. We would have been two more of the unemployed had we stayed. Again, luck worked in our favor.
Timing hasn’t always worked in our favor, though. Boredom, ambition or maybe just plain restlessness grabbed ahold of me in 2008 and I convinced Christy it would be a good idea for us to own another newspaper and as Wall Street and the entire world financial system came crashing down we bought The Adams County Free Press in Corning, Iowa.
Those were dicey, uncertain times for us. Each week as Christy and I traveled to Corning we listened on the truck’s radio to worse and worse news about the financial system. We found ourselves questioning our decision and wondering just when and how hard the bottom would finally hit. Out of our comfort zone? Far more than we cared to admit but we clung to the leap of faith we had taken and survived.
This week we find ourselves once again taking a leap of faith. We are selling The Albany Ledger and focusing our efforts on the Free Press in Corning. It wasn’t an easy decision and one we found ourselves making more quickly than we had imagined. Matt Pearl, the owner of the Tri-County News in King City, is buying the Ledger and we are glad that is remaining under local ownership.
We’re not leaving Albany, at least not any time soon except maybe for whatever vacation or traveling we can do. Christy was emphatic in 2005 when I convinced her we should sell all we could, leave Arkansas and buy a newspaper of our own that we would stay wherever we settled so our daughters would never have to change schools.
Our plans are to build the Free Press while, hopefully, enjoying a bit of free time and fewer deadlines. Again timing, though not by our plan, seems to be working in our favor. On the same day we told our Corning staff we would be visiting them more often because we planned to sell the Ledger we discovered our help there was most likely to be needed. Our editor there, J Wilson, told us he was almost certain to be offered a job with the Iowa Brewers Guild. Two weeks later he accepted the new job.
(A beer man at heart, J is getting to do something he enjoys far more than journalism. While we hate to lose him, we are glad for his opportunity. And for those of you who don’t know J Wilson, Google his name and the word beer and you’ll realize he’s not just an aficionado he lives beer in a positive way.)
Although we have mixed feelings about selling the Ledger we believe we’re personally making the right decision. We’ll have time to relax for a change instead of putting four days of work all into one day for a brief couple of days off. We’ll have more time to visit granddaughters and family and reconnect with old friends, which is something I’ve realized after a couple of get-togethers I miss — especially after a few dear ones have met untimely deaths the last few years.
And even more importantly, we’ll have time to make some more family memories before our two youngest graduate high school, head off to college and into the adult world.
We’ll still be close to the friends we’ve made in Albany while we tweak our ongoing adventure and take our newest leap of faith.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Don’s Drafts
Don Groves
Nearly 10 years ago my wife and I pushed our then 3-year-old and 5-year-old daughters and us way past the comfort zone into a full leap of faith.
We left Northwest Arkansas, a place we had lived for nearly six years, sold our home and most of our household items, loaded the rest in U-Haul truck and headed north to Albany, Mo.
We left Arkansas about 7 p.m. on a Friday, arriving about 5 a.m. Saturday at a Bethany motel after signing over the deed to our house in Rogers to a couple we had never met and without a check for payment for the sale of our house.
We were to become new owners of The Albany Ledger.
There were a lot of unknowns and a lot of challenges just even getting to Albany. Our pickup had a blowout, Hannah and I were unsure where Christy and Allison were on the highway, and I was low on gas in the U-Haul without cash or a credit card because I had left them in the pickup.
I’m sure I’ve told this story before but Christy and I decided we should just as well own our own newspaper instead of working for others and since Hannah was to begin kindergarten that fall we decided 2005 was the time.
We sold a house when the housing market was high in Northwest Arkansas, just before the housing bubble popped. That wasn’t timed. That was just luck. Just a couple of years later many of our newspaper friends we had worked with in Arkansas found themselves out of jobs when two large dailies that had been in a newspaper war since 1993 merged. We would have been two more of the unemployed had we stayed. Again, luck worked in our favor.
Timing hasn’t always worked in our favor, though. Boredom, ambition or maybe just plain restlessness grabbed ahold of me in 2008 and I convinced Christy it would be a good idea for us to own another newspaper and as Wall Street and the entire world financial system came crashing down we bought The Adams County Free Press in Corning, Iowa.
Those were dicey, uncertain times for us. Each week as Christy and I traveled to Corning we listened on the truck’s radio to worse and worse news about the financial system. We found ourselves questioning our decision and wondering just when and how hard the bottom would finally hit. Out of our comfort zone? Far more than we cared to admit but we clung to the leap of faith we had taken and survived.
This week we find ourselves once again taking a leap of faith. We are selling The Albany Ledger and focusing our efforts on the Free Press in Corning. It wasn’t an easy decision and one we found ourselves making more quickly than we had imagined. Matt Pearl, the owner of the Tri-County News in King City, is buying the Ledger and we are glad that is remaining under local ownership.
We’re not leaving Albany, at least not any time soon except maybe for whatever vacation or traveling we can do. Christy was emphatic in 2005 when I convinced her we should sell all we could, leave Arkansas and buy a newspaper of our own that we would stay wherever we settled so our daughters would never have to change schools.
Our plans are to build the Free Press while, hopefully, enjoying a bit of free time and fewer deadlines. Again timing, though not by our plan, seems to be working in our favor. On the same day we told our Corning staff we would be visiting them more often because we planned to sell the Ledger we discovered our help there was most likely to be needed. Our editor there, J Wilson, told us he was almost certain to be offered a job with the Iowa Brewers Guild. Two weeks later he accepted the new job.
(A beer man at heart, J is getting to do something he enjoys far more than journalism. While we hate to lose him, we are glad for his opportunity. And for those of you who don’t know J Wilson, Google his name and the word beer and you’ll realize he’s not just an aficionado he lives beer in a positive way.)
Although we have mixed feelings about selling the Ledger we believe we’re personally making the right decision. We’ll have time to relax for a change instead of putting four days of work all into one day for a brief couple of days off. We’ll have more time to visit granddaughters and family and reconnect with old friends, which is something I’ve realized after a couple of get-togethers I miss — especially after a few dear ones have met untimely deaths the last few years.
And even more importantly, we’ll have time to make some more family memories before our two youngest graduate high school, head off to college and into the adult world.
We’ll still be close to the friends we’ve made in Albany while we tweak our ongoing adventure and take our newest leap of faith.
Don Groves can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“The biggest break of my career was getting into the Beatles in 1962. The second biggest break since then is getting out of them.”
-George Harrison
Eighteen-year-olds are not well known for making good decisions, and if directed toward my own youth, this broad generalization certainly would have held true. However, there are times when youth demonstrate great wisdom in their actions, and even I pulled this off from time to time. Occasionally, one must linger for decades to know whether or not shrewdness is the case, and this has come to pass for me.
My younger self hastily departed southwest Iowa not long after my high school graduation. I visited only occasionally until I returned with some semblance of a plan for permanence a little over a decade and a half later. It didn’t take long for me to confirm that returning to my familial headwaters a few years ago had been a lousy idea. I’ve made the most of it both personally and professionally, and have harvested much from this ground that I might not have otherwise.
Though I’m occasionally sensational, I’m rarely sensationalistic. This in mind, I see I have long ignored an important self-discovery I ingested about halfway through college: I am a writer, not a journalist. I identify too strongly with Henry David Thoreau, who wrote, “To a philosopher all news, as it is called, is gossip, and they who edit and read it are old women over their tea. Yet not a few are greedy after this gossip.”
Because I’m disinterested in who got arrested and who’s sleeping with whom, because I’m disinterested in the self-important and the sacred cows and because sometimes I don’t want to ask a follow-up question about topics I don’t care about, journalism is a difficult task for me to play at, whether in a small community or a large one.
Like Sylvester Stallone taking multiple stabs at portraying Rocky Balboa to pay the bills, we do what we must do. Too many times in this vein of caution, I have compromised for the sake of security. This is a death march through a field of hemlock, and recently I resolved to hold myself accountable for my work and my happiness. Life is too short, and the time has come for me to return to my transient path and the more idealist ways of my youth.
Though I love writing for a living as this job has allowed, appreciate my bosses in the deepest of ways and could easily run out the clock in my present capacity as newspaper editor, I would die unfulfilled. While this would be a safe and secure track, it is not the example I want to set for my kids. “So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind,” wrote Chris McCandless. “But in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future.”
And so it is that I encourage my two boys to pursue their challenging, teenage dreams and commit to parchment my final column for the Adams County Free Press.
Former Free Press Editor J. Wilson cannot be reached at [email protected].
J Wilson
“The biggest break of my career was getting into the Beatles in 1962. The second biggest break since then is getting out of them.”
-George Harrison
Eighteen-year-olds are not well known for making good decisions, and if directed toward my own youth, this broad generalization certainly would have held true. However, there are times when youth demonstrate great wisdom in their actions, and even I pulled this off from time to time. Occasionally, one must linger for decades to know whether or not shrewdness is the case, and this has come to pass for me.
My younger self hastily departed southwest Iowa not long after my high school graduation. I visited only occasionally until I returned with some semblance of a plan for permanence a little over a decade and a half later. It didn’t take long for me to confirm that returning to my familial headwaters a few years ago had been a lousy idea. I’ve made the most of it both personally and professionally, and have harvested much from this ground that I might not have otherwise.
Though I’m occasionally sensational, I’m rarely sensationalistic. This in mind, I see I have long ignored an important self-discovery I ingested about halfway through college: I am a writer, not a journalist. I identify too strongly with Henry David Thoreau, who wrote, “To a philosopher all news, as it is called, is gossip, and they who edit and read it are old women over their tea. Yet not a few are greedy after this gossip.”
Because I’m disinterested in who got arrested and who’s sleeping with whom, because I’m disinterested in the self-important and the sacred cows and because sometimes I don’t want to ask a follow-up question about topics I don’t care about, journalism is a difficult task for me to play at, whether in a small community or a large one.
Like Sylvester Stallone taking multiple stabs at portraying Rocky Balboa to pay the bills, we do what we must do. Too many times in this vein of caution, I have compromised for the sake of security. This is a death march through a field of hemlock, and recently I resolved to hold myself accountable for my work and my happiness. Life is too short, and the time has come for me to return to my transient path and the more idealist ways of my youth.
Though I love writing for a living as this job has allowed, appreciate my bosses in the deepest of ways and could easily run out the clock in my present capacity as newspaper editor, I would die unfulfilled. While this would be a safe and secure track, it is not the example I want to set for my kids. “So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind,” wrote Chris McCandless. “But in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future.”
And so it is that I encourage my two boys to pursue their challenging, teenage dreams and commit to parchment my final column for the Adams County Free Press.
Former Free Press Editor J. Wilson cannot be reached at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“What I do is I write mainly about very personal and rather lonely feelings, and I explore them in a different way each time. You know, what I do is not terribly intellectual. I’m a pop singer for Christ’s sake. As a person, I’m fairly uncomplicated.”
-David Bowie
I received a compliment from a ninetysomething this week, which should make some of my forty and fiftysomething readers who occasionally whine about my topics or opinions feel spectacularly dull. This flattering remark wasn’t an anomaly. I’ve had compliments from at least four nonagenarians, and when I say that, I’m not hinting that Margaret Penfold only returns kind words for the pie compliments I toss her way every chance I get.
Occasionally, my musings are complicated while at other times, they are very simple. Sometimes, I build a whole column around a single word, phrase or idea. You might think that this week’s rambling is based on that David Bowie quote up above or perhaps my love of Margaret’s pie-baking skills, but if you did, you’d be wrong. I wanted a Bowie quote because he represents such a mutability and passage of time, which I see all around me as I strive toward living an authentic life. The Bowie words that I really wanted to refer to on this day are these:
“Tomorrow belongs to those who can hear it coming.”
But that’s not why I’m prattling in this direction this week. The thing I really wanted to talk about was this: Things change. Those telegraph operators were on the cutting edge of technology back in the nineteenth century, and guess what? Their jobs are obsolete now. Sure, there are a few hobbyist Morse Code speakers like my gramps was in his amateur radio days. Those individuals know far more than my unimpressive ability to tap out “hi” simply because it sounds like the music that precedes the roar, “Charge!” at baseball games (dit-dit-dit-dit. dit-dit).
And what made me think of that? My mom accidentally called me on the phone a year or two ago.
“Oops! I must have butt-dialed you,” she said.
I thought that sounded funny, and it was certainly a sentence that marked the passage of time. Nobody in the nineteenth century, or the 1970s for that matter, would have thought that they’d ever “butt-dial” someone. But you never know. My mom and I chatted politely since we were connected, and then hung up.
Can you hear tomorrow coming? Are you listening? Are you making plans? I hope so. We only have so much time on this mean little marble.
“As you get older, the questions come down to about two or three,” Bowie said. “How long? And what do I do with the time I’ve got left?”
When I was five, I didn’t expect anything to replace vinyl records. I didn’t think I’d explore any career options beyond replacing Frank White at second base for the Kansas City Royals. And I didn’t expect my mom to ever butt-dial me.
But those things happened. Though hitting ninety is a minor goal of mine, I hope that no matter when the bus knocks me down I can look back and feel I’ve treated people decently, had a little fun with the time I was allotted and caught a few fish along the way. “I don’t know where I’m going from here,” said Bowie. “But I promise it won’t be boring.”
Because I love music, occasionally wear crazy pants and am always thinking about what to do with the time I’ve got left, I’m with Bowie on this strategic planning business.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“What I do is I write mainly about very personal and rather lonely feelings, and I explore them in a different way each time. You know, what I do is not terribly intellectual. I’m a pop singer for Christ’s sake. As a person, I’m fairly uncomplicated.”
-David Bowie
I received a compliment from a ninetysomething this week, which should make some of my forty and fiftysomething readers who occasionally whine about my topics or opinions feel spectacularly dull. This flattering remark wasn’t an anomaly. I’ve had compliments from at least four nonagenarians, and when I say that, I’m not hinting that Margaret Penfold only returns kind words for the pie compliments I toss her way every chance I get.
Occasionally, my musings are complicated while at other times, they are very simple. Sometimes, I build a whole column around a single word, phrase or idea. You might think that this week’s rambling is based on that David Bowie quote up above or perhaps my love of Margaret’s pie-baking skills, but if you did, you’d be wrong. I wanted a Bowie quote because he represents such a mutability and passage of time, which I see all around me as I strive toward living an authentic life. The Bowie words that I really wanted to refer to on this day are these:
“Tomorrow belongs to those who can hear it coming.”
But that’s not why I’m prattling in this direction this week. The thing I really wanted to talk about was this: Things change. Those telegraph operators were on the cutting edge of technology back in the nineteenth century, and guess what? Their jobs are obsolete now. Sure, there are a few hobbyist Morse Code speakers like my gramps was in his amateur radio days. Those individuals know far more than my unimpressive ability to tap out “hi” simply because it sounds like the music that precedes the roar, “Charge!” at baseball games (dit-dit-dit-dit. dit-dit).
And what made me think of that? My mom accidentally called me on the phone a year or two ago.
“Oops! I must have butt-dialed you,” she said.
I thought that sounded funny, and it was certainly a sentence that marked the passage of time. Nobody in the nineteenth century, or the 1970s for that matter, would have thought that they’d ever “butt-dial” someone. But you never know. My mom and I chatted politely since we were connected, and then hung up.
Can you hear tomorrow coming? Are you listening? Are you making plans? I hope so. We only have so much time on this mean little marble.
“As you get older, the questions come down to about two or three,” Bowie said. “How long? And what do I do with the time I’ve got left?”
When I was five, I didn’t expect anything to replace vinyl records. I didn’t think I’d explore any career options beyond replacing Frank White at second base for the Kansas City Royals. And I didn’t expect my mom to ever butt-dial me.
But those things happened. Though hitting ninety is a minor goal of mine, I hope that no matter when the bus knocks me down I can look back and feel I’ve treated people decently, had a little fun with the time I was allotted and caught a few fish along the way. “I don’t know where I’m going from here,” said Bowie. “But I promise it won’t be boring.”
Because I love music, occasionally wear crazy pants and am always thinking about what to do with the time I’ve got left, I’m with Bowie on this strategic planning business.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“I just sort of go along and say what I think—and that’s all you can do in life really.”
-Karl Pilkington
Whoa!
That was my first response. I saw one of those sensationalistic, side-by-side photo albums of porn stars (fully clad, I should add) with and without their make-up on. The difference between the on-screen and off-screen versions of those featured in this hoedown of online click-bait was stark, and it brought me to an opinion I’ve carried for far longer than I’ve understood it existed in me.
It’s not that I’ve historically preferred people with crooked teeth or girls who go light on the makeup so one can have a clearer perception of reality. I haven’t. Some of these people are jerks. But I do have a lot of respect for them at first sight, even if it’s on a purely superficial level. Unlike those with choppers straight enough to earn a job as a toothpaste model, I know that my initial impression of the incisor-bent is based on honesty. If you won’t be truthful to me about your appearance, what other lies will you bring my way?
At one point in my life—I was a junior in college inspired by a couple of professors to cease my academic walkabout and settle in on an English major—I duped myself into several years of lies. Getting a little uppity about my newfound education, I decided that all my cussing showed bad form. Rather than follow heroes like Richard Pryor, I turned to Shakespearean insults, calling people a “rooting hog,” a “fusty nut” or a “canker blossom” instead of, well, you can imagine.
In time, I noticed on my own that this all sounded silly. As I had reminded myself in those same college days that I would not forget from whence I came nor what it was like to be a teenager, I returned to my earthier verbal style when necessary and without shame.
However, I found that one can speak honestly without lowering one’s standards. And so it is that I say “nuclear” over “nucular,” “library” instead of “libary” and “escape” rather than “excape.”
While I admire Karl Pilkington for his insight candid rhetoric on any number of topics, I don’t always follow in his footsteps as I’d like to do. Though I have refrained from botoxing my thin, unsexy lips and seldom spout off at the people that jump up and down on my nerves, I’ve been writing these columns for over five years and not used a single f-word, and this week, I bought a blue shirt simply because I knew that it would make my eyes pop.
Like crooked teeth, the truth doesn’t always hurt, and, I suppose, neither does manipulating your burdens just a little. Do I think you’re a terrible person if you’ve worn braces? No. As Ricky Gervais said, “People confuse the subject of the joke with the target of the joke, and they’re very rarely the same.”
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“I just sort of go along and say what I think—and that’s all you can do in life really.”
-Karl Pilkington
Whoa!
That was my first response. I saw one of those sensationalistic, side-by-side photo albums of porn stars (fully clad, I should add) with and without their make-up on. The difference between the on-screen and off-screen versions of those featured in this hoedown of online click-bait was stark, and it brought me to an opinion I’ve carried for far longer than I’ve understood it existed in me.
It’s not that I’ve historically preferred people with crooked teeth or girls who go light on the makeup so one can have a clearer perception of reality. I haven’t. Some of these people are jerks. But I do have a lot of respect for them at first sight, even if it’s on a purely superficial level. Unlike those with choppers straight enough to earn a job as a toothpaste model, I know that my initial impression of the incisor-bent is based on honesty. If you won’t be truthful to me about your appearance, what other lies will you bring my way?
At one point in my life—I was a junior in college inspired by a couple of professors to cease my academic walkabout and settle in on an English major—I duped myself into several years of lies. Getting a little uppity about my newfound education, I decided that all my cussing showed bad form. Rather than follow heroes like Richard Pryor, I turned to Shakespearean insults, calling people a “rooting hog,” a “fusty nut” or a “canker blossom” instead of, well, you can imagine.
In time, I noticed on my own that this all sounded silly. As I had reminded myself in those same college days that I would not forget from whence I came nor what it was like to be a teenager, I returned to my earthier verbal style when necessary and without shame.
However, I found that one can speak honestly without lowering one’s standards. And so it is that I say “nuclear” over “nucular,” “library” instead of “libary” and “escape” rather than “excape.”
While I admire Karl Pilkington for his insight candid rhetoric on any number of topics, I don’t always follow in his footsteps as I’d like to do. Though I have refrained from botoxing my thin, unsexy lips and seldom spout off at the people that jump up and down on my nerves, I’ve been writing these columns for over five years and not used a single f-word, and this week, I bought a blue shirt simply because I knew that it would make my eyes pop.
Like crooked teeth, the truth doesn’t always hurt, and, I suppose, neither does manipulating your burdens just a little. Do I think you’re a terrible person if you’ve worn braces? No. As Ricky Gervais said, “People confuse the subject of the joke with the target of the joke, and they’re very rarely the same.”
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“…Singles is about exploitation of fear. It’s my job to find out what it is that scares the hell out of you when we play and make you shake in your boots to make beating you easier.”
-Todd Loffredo
It was just lip service, but I truly didn’t mean it that way.
With the help of my mom, dad and grandfather, I grew up a fairly committed Cub Scout. I learned how to fold a flag, how to knot a tie and how to handle a knife. A lover of all the outdoors activities involved in the programming, I firmly embraced the “Be Prepared” motto. I’ve always made copious lists in preparation for camping trips. If a fire needs built, I’ll volunteer to make it happen. If you need to borrow a knife, I probably have one in my pocket, and I’ll even hand it to you properly.
To this day, I’m proud to be prepared for most tasks or challenges. But it was many years after I’d finished my stint as a scout that I truly embraced one specific element of the Cub Scout Promise.
“To do my best.”
“To do my best.”
“To do my best.”
I’d said that phrase over and over, and while I was happy to apply it to camping, hiking and playing second base, I didn’t really go out of my way to do my best toward God, my country or math class. I was a good camper but played basketball for fun rather than domination. I was a strong hiker, a loyal friend, a quick wit and a competent middle infielder, but I didn’t stretch myself until much later in life.
There are times for restraint, however.
Michelle and I went to a brewery so I could taste this special, fancy, limited edition, new brew that really focused beer drinkers would want to seek out. We were doing our best to have a conversation and doing our best to plan the rest of the day and doing our best to remember what we needed to pick up at the grocery store when we noticed that there was a foosball table around the corner. Rather than sitting around drinking beer boringly like the old people we refuse to be, we decided to do our best by drinking beer and exercising at the same time.
Though I won’t be curing cancer anytime soon, being conscientious and doing my best has worked out pretty well for me. So even though it was just a silly foosball duel with my wife, I did my best to emulate all the really good foosball players throughout history. You know: Johnny Horton, Frédéric Collignon, Todd Loffredo and the like.
Todd Loffredo would have exploited my fear of having a foosball lodged in my eye socket and defeated me soundly without the least effort, but I slammed that ball home authoritatively enough a few times to feel good about the session. I’d broken a sweat, and my right hand felt like a giant, invisible fisherman was filleting my fingers, so I knew it was time to call it a day.
Skiing injuries: glamorous. Rock climbing injuries: cool. Foosball injuries: lame.
Still in pain from the exertion three days later, I realized that doing your best isn’t always the best policy. Sometimes, like when you haven’t touched a foosball table in a decade, one should take it easy. This time, I’m prepared to do my best to learn this lesson.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“…Singles is about exploitation of fear. It’s my job to find out what it is that scares the hell out of you when we play and make you shake in your boots to make beating you easier.”
-Todd Loffredo
It was just lip service, but I truly didn’t mean it that way.
With the help of my mom, dad and grandfather, I grew up a fairly committed Cub Scout. I learned how to fold a flag, how to knot a tie and how to handle a knife. A lover of all the outdoors activities involved in the programming, I firmly embraced the “Be Prepared” motto. I’ve always made copious lists in preparation for camping trips. If a fire needs built, I’ll volunteer to make it happen. If you need to borrow a knife, I probably have one in my pocket, and I’ll even hand it to you properly.
To this day, I’m proud to be prepared for most tasks or challenges. But it was many years after I’d finished my stint as a scout that I truly embraced one specific element of the Cub Scout Promise.
“To do my best.”
“To do my best.”
“To do my best.”
I’d said that phrase over and over, and while I was happy to apply it to camping, hiking and playing second base, I didn’t really go out of my way to do my best toward God, my country or math class. I was a good camper but played basketball for fun rather than domination. I was a strong hiker, a loyal friend, a quick wit and a competent middle infielder, but I didn’t stretch myself until much later in life.
There are times for restraint, however.
Michelle and I went to a brewery so I could taste this special, fancy, limited edition, new brew that really focused beer drinkers would want to seek out. We were doing our best to have a conversation and doing our best to plan the rest of the day and doing our best to remember what we needed to pick up at the grocery store when we noticed that there was a foosball table around the corner. Rather than sitting around drinking beer boringly like the old people we refuse to be, we decided to do our best by drinking beer and exercising at the same time.
Though I won’t be curing cancer anytime soon, being conscientious and doing my best has worked out pretty well for me. So even though it was just a silly foosball duel with my wife, I did my best to emulate all the really good foosball players throughout history. You know: Johnny Horton, Frédéric Collignon, Todd Loffredo and the like.
Todd Loffredo would have exploited my fear of having a foosball lodged in my eye socket and defeated me soundly without the least effort, but I slammed that ball home authoritatively enough a few times to feel good about the session. I’d broken a sweat, and my right hand felt like a giant, invisible fisherman was filleting my fingers, so I knew it was time to call it a day.
Skiing injuries: glamorous. Rock climbing injuries: cool. Foosball injuries: lame.
Still in pain from the exertion three days later, I realized that doing your best isn’t always the best policy. Sometimes, like when you haven’t touched a foosball table in a decade, one should take it easy. This time, I’m prepared to do my best to learn this lesson.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“The elegance of honesty needs no adornment.”
-Mary Browne
While it has its advantages, it’s really hard on me. I probably complain about living in small town Iowa every single day of my life.
I could outline a few of my grievances here, but I don’t really like to dwell on them. They are what they are, and I make the most of the good elements of small town living, of which there are many. I tested one of them this week.
Wednesdays are busy days at our newspaper office. While the pressure of our deadline will have just passed, and we can breathe easy, we have paperwork to complete and newspapers to deliver when they arrive from our printer. And since those freshly inked pages have just arrived, we contend with increased foot traffic from those picking up their weekly injection of local news.
This traffic is largely hands-off for us, though we look up from our computers and say “hello” an awful lot. People come in and make use of our self-serve, orange change bucket, which hangs at the ready on our newspaper rack. They drop in seventy-five cents and help themselves to a paper. Some drop in a dollar bill and take out a quarter. Before departing, many offer a greeting, a comment on the weather or the same wisecrack they use every week.
Sally Hensley is always cheerful. Mac McKay is always full of baloney. And I’m never sure if I can really trust Jim Ruppert to make correct change for himself. Like gossip and the high school athletic calendar, it’s all a part of the small town rhythm of life.
This was a week when our skeleton staff stood to undermine our availability and cheerful customer service goal. Teri was out. Jacki was delivering papers to newsstands around town. And I held down the fort. The phone rang. It was Jacki. Her car had died. Since she had one more stop on her delivery route, I agreed to pick up those papers from her while she sorted out her automotive issue.
What a dilemma! Some people really like getting their newspapers on Wednesday morning. They set their clocks by our newspaper’s arrival. They make a special trip to town. If our office was locked tight at 10:30 in the morning, we stood to have a real PR nightmare on our hands. I mulled it over and decided to bank on one of the good things you hear about small towns: honest people.
I put 17 newspapers and 75 cents in change on the front step, along with a note that read: “Honor system. I’ll be right back!”
When I returned from my errand just a few minutes later, I found 16 newspapers and six quarters. I’m not particularly strong in math, but I was able to calculate that my faith in my small town brethren was well placed. I can’t complain.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“The elegance of honesty needs no adornment.”
-Mary Browne
While it has its advantages, it’s really hard on me. I probably complain about living in small town Iowa every single day of my life.
I could outline a few of my grievances here, but I don’t really like to dwell on them. They are what they are, and I make the most of the good elements of small town living, of which there are many. I tested one of them this week.
Wednesdays are busy days at our newspaper office. While the pressure of our deadline will have just passed, and we can breathe easy, we have paperwork to complete and newspapers to deliver when they arrive from our printer. And since those freshly inked pages have just arrived, we contend with increased foot traffic from those picking up their weekly injection of local news.
This traffic is largely hands-off for us, though we look up from our computers and say “hello” an awful lot. People come in and make use of our self-serve, orange change bucket, which hangs at the ready on our newspaper rack. They drop in seventy-five cents and help themselves to a paper. Some drop in a dollar bill and take out a quarter. Before departing, many offer a greeting, a comment on the weather or the same wisecrack they use every week.
Sally Hensley is always cheerful. Mac McKay is always full of baloney. And I’m never sure if I can really trust Jim Ruppert to make correct change for himself. Like gossip and the high school athletic calendar, it’s all a part of the small town rhythm of life.
This was a week when our skeleton staff stood to undermine our availability and cheerful customer service goal. Teri was out. Jacki was delivering papers to newsstands around town. And I held down the fort. The phone rang. It was Jacki. Her car had died. Since she had one more stop on her delivery route, I agreed to pick up those papers from her while she sorted out her automotive issue.
What a dilemma! Some people really like getting their newspapers on Wednesday morning. They set their clocks by our newspaper’s arrival. They make a special trip to town. If our office was locked tight at 10:30 in the morning, we stood to have a real PR nightmare on our hands. I mulled it over and decided to bank on one of the good things you hear about small towns: honest people.
I put 17 newspapers and 75 cents in change on the front step, along with a note that read: “Honor system. I’ll be right back!”
When I returned from my errand just a few minutes later, I found 16 newspapers and six quarters. I’m not particularly strong in math, but I was able to calculate that my faith in my small town brethren was well placed. I can’t complain.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“The opposite for courage is not cowardice, it is conformity. Even a dead fish can go with the flow.”
-Jim Hightower
Eager for the warming weather of spring and all its many gifts—burgers on the grill, wildflowers at the roadside and sitting on the lawn chair—I ignored a recent cold snap to ensure my supplies are fully stocked and my skills are sharpened. This meant a trip to the grocery store spice aisle and a little flirting with a riff on a delightful picnic staple.
At the end of the night, I’d secured for myself an ample supply of my top-secret barbeque rub, quality time with my son Tom and two wonderful takes on the tried-and-true deviled eggs. I’m sure both of my grandmas would be weirded out at the idea of inserting curry powder or barbeque rub into a batch of deviled eggs, but as I have learned over the years, tasting is believing. Case in point: Grandma Wilson used to make bread, cookies and cake out of zucchini, and while each sounded goofier than the next to a small boy growing up, they were actually quite wonderful once I mustered the courage to give them a try.
For many years, I’ve been teaching my offspring about the importance of courage and nonconformity. As they grow out their plume and peer over the edge of the nest toward their impending departure, I find myself digesting reality checks as they navigate life. Like many of us, they take the easy path now and again, but I can see that they’re always thinking, always questioning and always looking for something that’s just out of reach or which is placed ever-so-delicately on the precipice of disaster. They come by that honestly.
Like me, they are fabulous yet imperfect, intelligent yet foolish. They do a lot of good things, and they make some of the oddest choices a parent might ever hope to witness. Taking the long view, I try not to worry when they don’t think as I think, when they don’t do as I do, when they determine that, despite my advice, learning the hard way is really the best way.
They’re human, and they’re normal, but that knowledge doesn’t always make it easy for a parent to watch. I should have seen it coming, because they’re the knuckleheads I designed and built. My encouragement and absurdity and philosophical ridiculousness is more than the trombone drone of Miss Othmar. I’ve been preaching nonconformity and independent thought for so long that I’d forgotten what this truly meant.
All the while, they internalized that teaching. They began living it. And I had the nerve recently to be annoyed that they’re not conforming to my idea of nonconformity!
That was an unexpected epiphany. They’d gone in a completely new direction. They’d sought out tougher paths. And in so doing, they’d challenged me to keep thinking and to beware of the downward flow of the stream.
“There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children,” said Hodding Carter. “One of these is roots; the other, wings.”
Schooling my boys in the ways and wonders of both Grandma Wilson and Grandma Johnston has helped to provide roots for my progeny. Giving me something to watch in the years to come, that schooling has helped to sprout wings, as well. As I’ve seen of late, my encouragement of them to think for themselves has done far more than cause Tom to declare that though he’s willing to help me make them, he’s really not a fan of eating deviled eggs. Whether or not they’ve been injected with curry powder.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“The opposite for courage is not cowardice, it is conformity. Even a dead fish can go with the flow.”
-Jim Hightower
Eager for the warming weather of spring and all its many gifts—burgers on the grill, wildflowers at the roadside and sitting on the lawn chair—I ignored a recent cold snap to ensure my supplies are fully stocked and my skills are sharpened. This meant a trip to the grocery store spice aisle and a little flirting with a riff on a delightful picnic staple.
At the end of the night, I’d secured for myself an ample supply of my top-secret barbeque rub, quality time with my son Tom and two wonderful takes on the tried-and-true deviled eggs. I’m sure both of my grandmas would be weirded out at the idea of inserting curry powder or barbeque rub into a batch of deviled eggs, but as I have learned over the years, tasting is believing. Case in point: Grandma Wilson used to make bread, cookies and cake out of zucchini, and while each sounded goofier than the next to a small boy growing up, they were actually quite wonderful once I mustered the courage to give them a try.
For many years, I’ve been teaching my offspring about the importance of courage and nonconformity. As they grow out their plume and peer over the edge of the nest toward their impending departure, I find myself digesting reality checks as they navigate life. Like many of us, they take the easy path now and again, but I can see that they’re always thinking, always questioning and always looking for something that’s just out of reach or which is placed ever-so-delicately on the precipice of disaster. They come by that honestly.
Like me, they are fabulous yet imperfect, intelligent yet foolish. They do a lot of good things, and they make some of the oddest choices a parent might ever hope to witness. Taking the long view, I try not to worry when they don’t think as I think, when they don’t do as I do, when they determine that, despite my advice, learning the hard way is really the best way.
They’re human, and they’re normal, but that knowledge doesn’t always make it easy for a parent to watch. I should have seen it coming, because they’re the knuckleheads I designed and built. My encouragement and absurdity and philosophical ridiculousness is more than the trombone drone of Miss Othmar. I’ve been preaching nonconformity and independent thought for so long that I’d forgotten what this truly meant.
All the while, they internalized that teaching. They began living it. And I had the nerve recently to be annoyed that they’re not conforming to my idea of nonconformity!
That was an unexpected epiphany. They’d gone in a completely new direction. They’d sought out tougher paths. And in so doing, they’d challenged me to keep thinking and to beware of the downward flow of the stream.
“There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children,” said Hodding Carter. “One of these is roots; the other, wings.”
Schooling my boys in the ways and wonders of both Grandma Wilson and Grandma Johnston has helped to provide roots for my progeny. Giving me something to watch in the years to come, that schooling has helped to sprout wings, as well. As I’ve seen of late, my encouragement of them to think for themselves has done far more than cause Tom to declare that though he’s willing to help me make them, he’s really not a fan of eating deviled eggs. Whether or not they’ve been injected with curry powder.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“My ideal prom date would have to be cute, funny, sweet, nice.”
-Kendall Jenner
I was sitting there getting my hair cut when I heard this cute, funny, sweet, nice and familiar voice approach me from behind. It was Mrs. Jones, my junior high reading teacher, and our ensuing conversation made me both happy and sad as can be. Let me explain.
I was happy because Mrs. Jones is awesome. She’s friendly. She sweet. She’s not just the doughnut; she’s the jelly on the inside. I see her from time to time, and never tire of her smile and her genuine interest in what one of her former ne’er-do-wells is up to all these years later. I always get a report on what her boys, Justin and Shane, are up to, and sometimes even an update on Miss Nook.
“‘Late bloomer’ is another way of saying, ‘slow learner,’” said Ben Fountain, and it was nearly 30 years after I had Mrs. Jones as a teacher that this late bloomer realized how stupid he was. Let me explain.
In my sluggish brain, I’ve always put elementary teachers into a category of their own. They like little kids and chose to teach that age because it suits them. God bless those patient, necessary people. I sure couldn’t do it. Until this week, I’d tossed all other (non-college) educators in a second category. But I had sub-categories: high school teachers are the major leaguers, and junior high teachers are the minor leaguers (though obviously, some of the former shouldn’t really get much playing time).
Honestly, I don’t think that I’m the only moron that has thought in this silly way. For years and years and years, my fellow pupils and I (at least those a few years above and below me in age) have deified Miss Nook while doling out credit judiciously to the rest of the herd. After all, who would choose to teach seventh graders?
Now, I’m not even kidding when I say that less than an hour before Mrs. Jones turned up over my shoulder, I’d just shared aloud an amusing junior high story in which she was a minor character. And then I strayed from the topic to consider how unfair I’d been to her. Let me explain.
She was nice. Really nice. And I’ll admit this: I didn’t trust her. I wasn’t used to such nice people at that time period, and I just kept waiting for her head to start spinning and for reality to dawn with a shower of blood and hellfire. She seemed too good to be true. Nobody could be that nice.
Eventually, even before I graduated from high school, I realized that Mrs. Jones was indeed that nice. I was still too thick-pated to give her all the credit she deserved, but at least I was making progress. When I’d told that story about her the other day, I felt warm and fuzzy inside. I realized that she was terribly important to me and that I’d branded her as some kind of second-class citizen simply for teaching junior high. I was sad for giving her the shaft.
But then Karma scheduled our haircuts back-to-back, and I was made glad again! I had a chance to apologize for my mistrust. She said she was human and had a couple of faults, but I’m not sure I believe her. Which proves she is right, since I just caught her in a lie.
I forgive her. Mom-like to so many undeserving creeps like me, her generosity, support and sweetness are too deep to ignore. Heroes, mentors and inspirations come in many shapes and sizes. Some teach high school, some sing in rock bands, and yes, some teach junior high reading.
Unlike Mrs. Jones, Miss Nook was only cute, funny, sweet and nice once you figured her out. She’s like chemotherapy. She basically killed all the bad crap in you and then brought you back to life. I have a lot of respect for that and am thankful to Miss Nook for giving me a new lease on life.
But Mrs. Jones. She’s not chemo. Cute, funny, sweet and nice every moment of the day, she’s the jelly in the doughnut that makes every day better, whether you’re sick or not. Loving, committed doughnut jellies like her deserve respect for all the good they bring to the world. Mrs. Jones wasn’t a second-stringer. She chose junior high reading class as her platform in life. Today, finally, I appreciate her greatness.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“My ideal prom date would have to be cute, funny, sweet, nice.”
-Kendall Jenner
I was sitting there getting my hair cut when I heard this cute, funny, sweet, nice and familiar voice approach me from behind. It was Mrs. Jones, my junior high reading teacher, and our ensuing conversation made me both happy and sad as can be. Let me explain.
I was happy because Mrs. Jones is awesome. She’s friendly. She sweet. She’s not just the doughnut; she’s the jelly on the inside. I see her from time to time, and never tire of her smile and her genuine interest in what one of her former ne’er-do-wells is up to all these years later. I always get a report on what her boys, Justin and Shane, are up to, and sometimes even an update on Miss Nook.
“‘Late bloomer’ is another way of saying, ‘slow learner,’” said Ben Fountain, and it was nearly 30 years after I had Mrs. Jones as a teacher that this late bloomer realized how stupid he was. Let me explain.
In my sluggish brain, I’ve always put elementary teachers into a category of their own. They like little kids and chose to teach that age because it suits them. God bless those patient, necessary people. I sure couldn’t do it. Until this week, I’d tossed all other (non-college) educators in a second category. But I had sub-categories: high school teachers are the major leaguers, and junior high teachers are the minor leaguers (though obviously, some of the former shouldn’t really get much playing time).
Honestly, I don’t think that I’m the only moron that has thought in this silly way. For years and years and years, my fellow pupils and I (at least those a few years above and below me in age) have deified Miss Nook while doling out credit judiciously to the rest of the herd. After all, who would choose to teach seventh graders?
Now, I’m not even kidding when I say that less than an hour before Mrs. Jones turned up over my shoulder, I’d just shared aloud an amusing junior high story in which she was a minor character. And then I strayed from the topic to consider how unfair I’d been to her. Let me explain.
She was nice. Really nice. And I’ll admit this: I didn’t trust her. I wasn’t used to such nice people at that time period, and I just kept waiting for her head to start spinning and for reality to dawn with a shower of blood and hellfire. She seemed too good to be true. Nobody could be that nice.
Eventually, even before I graduated from high school, I realized that Mrs. Jones was indeed that nice. I was still too thick-pated to give her all the credit she deserved, but at least I was making progress. When I’d told that story about her the other day, I felt warm and fuzzy inside. I realized that she was terribly important to me and that I’d branded her as some kind of second-class citizen simply for teaching junior high. I was sad for giving her the shaft.
But then Karma scheduled our haircuts back-to-back, and I was made glad again! I had a chance to apologize for my mistrust. She said she was human and had a couple of faults, but I’m not sure I believe her. Which proves she is right, since I just caught her in a lie.
I forgive her. Mom-like to so many undeserving creeps like me, her generosity, support and sweetness are too deep to ignore. Heroes, mentors and inspirations come in many shapes and sizes. Some teach high school, some sing in rock bands, and yes, some teach junior high reading.
Unlike Mrs. Jones, Miss Nook was only cute, funny, sweet and nice once you figured her out. She’s like chemotherapy. She basically killed all the bad crap in you and then brought you back to life. I have a lot of respect for that and am thankful to Miss Nook for giving me a new lease on life.
But Mrs. Jones. She’s not chemo. Cute, funny, sweet and nice every moment of the day, she’s the jelly in the doughnut that makes every day better, whether you’re sick or not. Loving, committed doughnut jellies like her deserve respect for all the good they bring to the world. Mrs. Jones wasn’t a second-stringer. She chose junior high reading class as her platform in life. Today, finally, I appreciate her greatness.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“I’d love to do a character with a wife, a nice little house, a couple of kids, a dog, maybe a bit of singing, and no guns and no killing, but nobody offers me those kind of parts.”
-Christopher Walken
Poor Bob Denver.
Beloved as he is to many like me, those who grew up in the 1970s and 1980s on a relentless diet of “Gilligan’s Island” reruns, Denver was nearly denied the role of Gilligan because he’d already earned a touch of typecasting for his portrayal of Maynard G. Krebs on “The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis.” While he worked past Krebs, he never shook the Gilligan persona to develop a career that someone like Anthony Hopkins might envy.
I thought of Bob Denver this week when I recently encountered one of the Midwest’s many burqa-clad women. It was not an “enveloping outer garment” as we see so many subjugated Muslim women wearing on the news day after day. It was the way she signed her name: Mrs. Bob Ewell.
Every time I see a woman like this—always one from something nearer my grandmothers’ generation—I cringe. “If you meet a woman in a burqa, she can’t reply to your smile,” said Jean-Francois Cope. “It’s a denial of identity.”
While the sweet woman I saw the other day—and the many others like her that I’ve encountered over the last few years—could indeed reply to my smile, her identity was somewhat obscured. Denied by different thinking from a different time, these women have lived for decades as drops of water in a pond—in service of and in the shadow of another.
Serving others, of course, is a great honor. Like my wife, I take pleasure in preparing a special meal (or even an ordinary one) for my family. I don’t mind doing laundry. I feel satisfaction when I have jumper cables handy when someone needs assistance.
Occasionally I answer to—and I don’t mind—“Jake’s Dad” or “Bonnie’s Son,” but I am first and foremost me. My wife is Michelle. We have been a team for more than two decades and have big plans for our future together. But if I’m killed off in the second rather than third act of her life, I’ll die pleased that she can manage without me.
Skilled, educated and independent women are no threat. They are assets, and sad is the mindset—now and in the past—that thinks differently.
We hypocritical Americans gasp that Muslim women are covered head to toe and treated like property. We gasp at the notion of Chinese binding the feet of young girls. We gasp at genital mutilation of girls in Africa.
But in certain parts of our country, Mrs. Bob Ewell is still Mrs. Bob Ewell and not Sally, Lucy, Linda or Gayle. The United States is supposed to be this “shining city on a hill,” but we still run low-wattage bulbs and much work must be done before all in our fold are truly equal.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“I’d love to do a character with a wife, a nice little house, a couple of kids, a dog, maybe a bit of singing, and no guns and no killing, but nobody offers me those kind of parts.”
-Christopher Walken
Poor Bob Denver.
Beloved as he is to many like me, those who grew up in the 1970s and 1980s on a relentless diet of “Gilligan’s Island” reruns, Denver was nearly denied the role of Gilligan because he’d already earned a touch of typecasting for his portrayal of Maynard G. Krebs on “The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis.” While he worked past Krebs, he never shook the Gilligan persona to develop a career that someone like Anthony Hopkins might envy.
I thought of Bob Denver this week when I recently encountered one of the Midwest’s many burqa-clad women. It was not an “enveloping outer garment” as we see so many subjugated Muslim women wearing on the news day after day. It was the way she signed her name: Mrs. Bob Ewell.
Every time I see a woman like this—always one from something nearer my grandmothers’ generation—I cringe. “If you meet a woman in a burqa, she can’t reply to your smile,” said Jean-Francois Cope. “It’s a denial of identity.”
While the sweet woman I saw the other day—and the many others like her that I’ve encountered over the last few years—could indeed reply to my smile, her identity was somewhat obscured. Denied by different thinking from a different time, these women have lived for decades as drops of water in a pond—in service of and in the shadow of another.
Serving others, of course, is a great honor. Like my wife, I take pleasure in preparing a special meal (or even an ordinary one) for my family. I don’t mind doing laundry. I feel satisfaction when I have jumper cables handy when someone needs assistance.
Occasionally I answer to—and I don’t mind—“Jake’s Dad” or “Bonnie’s Son,” but I am first and foremost me. My wife is Michelle. We have been a team for more than two decades and have big plans for our future together. But if I’m killed off in the second rather than third act of her life, I’ll die pleased that she can manage without me.
Skilled, educated and independent women are no threat. They are assets, and sad is the mindset—now and in the past—that thinks differently.
We hypocritical Americans gasp that Muslim women are covered head to toe and treated like property. We gasp at the notion of Chinese binding the feet of young girls. We gasp at genital mutilation of girls in Africa.
But in certain parts of our country, Mrs. Bob Ewell is still Mrs. Bob Ewell and not Sally, Lucy, Linda or Gayle. The United States is supposed to be this “shining city on a hill,” but we still run low-wattage bulbs and much work must be done before all in our fold are truly equal.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“Like books and black lives, albums still matter.”
-Prince
I shared a beer with an old friend the other day, and re-discovered how interesting the memories are that others recall about us.
I say re-discovered because while I wasn’t surprised at my 20-year class reunion when several of my classmates brought up my graduation oration, I was astonished to learn how many chatted incessantly about the absurd English class speech I improvised simply to shock the instructor we all detested so much (not the demigod Miss Nook, the other one). I’d forgotten that story, but it came streaming back quickly like the water pouring down from the showerhead onto our repulsed protagonist, looking down at the bar of soap in his hand.
The story I heard more recently revealed a wiser Wilson teenager.
My earliest memories of life contain music, whether Lawrence Welk at my grandparents’ house or Jim Croce and Starland Vocal Band on the car radio with my dad or mom. By the time I hit Kindergarten, I’d joined the Kiss Army, and had a particular affinity for the first album I ever owned: “Rock and Roll Over.” I can be truthful here and admit that for some reason I spent more time on side one: “I Want You,” “Take Me,” “Calling Dr. Love,” “Ladies Room,” and “Baby Driver.”
By the time I acquired a drivers license at the age of 16, I’d crafted a strict policy for those riding in my car. One, the driver controlled the music selections. This meant that if you rode with me, you listened to a lot of AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith and Jimi Hendrix.
Two, once an album went in the tape deck, we listened to the whole album. This meant that when “Appetite for Destruction” began, there was no such thing as listening to “Welcome to the Jungle” and then simply fast-forwarding to “Paradise City” and “Sweet Child O’ Mine.” There was one slight caveat: we always listened to side two of “Back in Black” first, and side one second—that recording works better that way.
Albums are important, I apparently stressed to underclassmen privileged to ride with me. If we were listening to Guns N’ Roses debut album, by golly you were going to hear every note of Izzy, Slash, Axl, Duff and Steven’s genius—all the way to “Rocket Queen.”
This lesson stuck with at least one of them, I’m pleased to report.
In a burst of nostalgia driven both by hearing this story and because I recently read Joe Perry’s autobiography, “Rocks,” I spent a full week listening over and over to Aerosmith’s gritty and superior early stuff. Not just “Toys in the Attic” and “Rocks,” but the self-titled debut album and “Get Your Wings” as well. I worked my way to 1987’s “Permanent Vacation,” which was the release marking the first concert I ever attended.
Muscle memory, I noticed during this binge, applies to more than athletic pursuits. It translates to music as well, whether one is banging out “Crocodile Rock” for the thousandth time on the piano or simply wailing on the air guitar to Joe’s “Walk This Way” solo. Every chord change, every cymbal crash—they stay with you forever.
I bounced all around my musical memory lane, dumbfounded at how prepared I’d be to do karaoke to songs from not just Twisted Sister’s seminal “Stay Hungry” album but also to the less commercially successful, “You Can’t Stop Rock ‘n Roll.” Wow! They were so much more than “S.M.F.,” but unless you made it to the end of “Stay Hungry,” you wouldn’t know what that means.
There’s some good music out there today, and there’s no harm in downloading the occasional Iggy Azalea single, but if we’re going to take the time to teach our kids about the importance of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” the 13th Amendment and the Civil Rights Movement, shouldn’t we also work them over, track by track, with a little “High Voltage,” “Dark Side of the Moon” and “Physical Graffiti”?
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“Like books and black lives, albums still matter.”
-Prince
I shared a beer with an old friend the other day, and re-discovered how interesting the memories are that others recall about us.
I say re-discovered because while I wasn’t surprised at my 20-year class reunion when several of my classmates brought up my graduation oration, I was astonished to learn how many chatted incessantly about the absurd English class speech I improvised simply to shock the instructor we all detested so much (not the demigod Miss Nook, the other one). I’d forgotten that story, but it came streaming back quickly like the water pouring down from the showerhead onto our repulsed protagonist, looking down at the bar of soap in his hand.
The story I heard more recently revealed a wiser Wilson teenager.
My earliest memories of life contain music, whether Lawrence Welk at my grandparents’ house or Jim Croce and Starland Vocal Band on the car radio with my dad or mom. By the time I hit Kindergarten, I’d joined the Kiss Army, and had a particular affinity for the first album I ever owned: “Rock and Roll Over.” I can be truthful here and admit that for some reason I spent more time on side one: “I Want You,” “Take Me,” “Calling Dr. Love,” “Ladies Room,” and “Baby Driver.”
By the time I acquired a drivers license at the age of 16, I’d crafted a strict policy for those riding in my car. One, the driver controlled the music selections. This meant that if you rode with me, you listened to a lot of AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith and Jimi Hendrix.
Two, once an album went in the tape deck, we listened to the whole album. This meant that when “Appetite for Destruction” began, there was no such thing as listening to “Welcome to the Jungle” and then simply fast-forwarding to “Paradise City” and “Sweet Child O’ Mine.” There was one slight caveat: we always listened to side two of “Back in Black” first, and side one second—that recording works better that way.
Albums are important, I apparently stressed to underclassmen privileged to ride with me. If we were listening to Guns N’ Roses debut album, by golly you were going to hear every note of Izzy, Slash, Axl, Duff and Steven’s genius—all the way to “Rocket Queen.”
This lesson stuck with at least one of them, I’m pleased to report.
In a burst of nostalgia driven both by hearing this story and because I recently read Joe Perry’s autobiography, “Rocks,” I spent a full week listening over and over to Aerosmith’s gritty and superior early stuff. Not just “Toys in the Attic” and “Rocks,” but the self-titled debut album and “Get Your Wings” as well. I worked my way to 1987’s “Permanent Vacation,” which was the release marking the first concert I ever attended.
Muscle memory, I noticed during this binge, applies to more than athletic pursuits. It translates to music as well, whether one is banging out “Crocodile Rock” for the thousandth time on the piano or simply wailing on the air guitar to Joe’s “Walk This Way” solo. Every chord change, every cymbal crash—they stay with you forever.
I bounced all around my musical memory lane, dumbfounded at how prepared I’d be to do karaoke to songs from not just Twisted Sister’s seminal “Stay Hungry” album but also to the less commercially successful, “You Can’t Stop Rock ‘n Roll.” Wow! They were so much more than “S.M.F.,” but unless you made it to the end of “Stay Hungry,” you wouldn’t know what that means.
There’s some good music out there today, and there’s no harm in downloading the occasional Iggy Azalea single, but if we’re going to take the time to teach our kids about the importance of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” the 13th Amendment and the Civil Rights Movement, shouldn’t we also work them over, track by track, with a little “High Voltage,” “Dark Side of the Moon” and “Physical Graffiti”?
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“There is always a period when a man with a beard shaves it off. This period does not last. He returns headlong to his beard.”
-Jean Cocteau
It was without judgment or complaint when my wife said this week, “Are you growing a beard?”
“No,” I replied. “I’m just behind.”
My phone beeped in my pocket. The subject line of an incoming email read: “Confirming your next shipment.” I sighed. I was failing, and I knew it.
I don’t like shaving, getting haircuts or running a comb across my infrequently-trimmed pelt. Some of this is because I’m lazy, some of this is because I’m frugal, and some of this is because I don’t mind looking like I’ve been camping for a few days. Much as I try to get my money’s worth out of my contact lenses by trading them out only when my eyeballs feel as if they are encrusted in gravel, I tend to milk razor blades for all they’re worth. While the handle to a razor is relatively inexpensive, the replacement blades, to me, are more spendy than I can abide.
This scam also plays out with the economical printers the computer store has on offer. Purchasing a printer is no trouble, while replacing an ink cartridge feels a genuine financial burden. In an exercise in thrift, I once tried to curb this expense by printing fewer and fewer documents, only to be kicked in the teeth with the realization that ink cartridges will dry out if you don’t use them in a timely manner.
While I may not have much control over the amount of gasoline I buy to meet the demands of my work commute, I certainly can skip shaving to manage my budget just a little. In search of a solution to my Lazy Shaver Syndrome, I recently signed up for an online service called the Dollar Shave Club. On one hand, my goal was to not look homeless so often, and the other hand, I wanted to stop giving Gillette so much money for so little whisker cutting. For just a few dollars, they sent me a new razor and handful of replacement blades. And each month moving forward, they’ll send replacement blades straight to my mailbox.
This is a great idea, I thought, since once I cede that my final blade has reached the end of its lifespan (which occurs when my bathroom looks like a crime scene after a shaving session), it takes me at least another month to buy some fresh chin-knives.
Joining this club will force my hand at a fraction of my current expense, I thought. People won’t recognize me!
I felt like a child on Christmas morning when my box of razors—the new me—arrived in the mail that day. I shaved. Two days later, I shaved again. And by week’s end, I’d shaved a third time! At that point, I was considering the extravagant act of switching to a fresh blade. But my schedule turned busy. I “didn’t have time” to shave. Day after day after day.
Hilariously labeled “time sensitive material,” a new box of replacement blades arrived this week, and far from being clean-shaven, I look worse than ever. I have nine replacement blades in my drawer, and I really must pause my membership. It will take ages to work through this stockpile.
“I am sure of nothing so little as my own intentions,” said Lord Byron. And so it is with me. I’m a nice guy doing my best in so many ways, but these razor-of-the-month clubs, clearly, are not for me.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“There is always a period when a man with a beard shaves it off. This period does not last. He returns headlong to his beard.”
-Jean Cocteau
It was without judgment or complaint when my wife said this week, “Are you growing a beard?”
“No,” I replied. “I’m just behind.”
My phone beeped in my pocket. The subject line of an incoming email read: “Confirming your next shipment.” I sighed. I was failing, and I knew it.
I don’t like shaving, getting haircuts or running a comb across my infrequently-trimmed pelt. Some of this is because I’m lazy, some of this is because I’m frugal, and some of this is because I don’t mind looking like I’ve been camping for a few days. Much as I try to get my money’s worth out of my contact lenses by trading them out only when my eyeballs feel as if they are encrusted in gravel, I tend to milk razor blades for all they’re worth. While the handle to a razor is relatively inexpensive, the replacement blades, to me, are more spendy than I can abide.
This scam also plays out with the economical printers the computer store has on offer. Purchasing a printer is no trouble, while replacing an ink cartridge feels a genuine financial burden. In an exercise in thrift, I once tried to curb this expense by printing fewer and fewer documents, only to be kicked in the teeth with the realization that ink cartridges will dry out if you don’t use them in a timely manner.
While I may not have much control over the amount of gasoline I buy to meet the demands of my work commute, I certainly can skip shaving to manage my budget just a little. In search of a solution to my Lazy Shaver Syndrome, I recently signed up for an online service called the Dollar Shave Club. On one hand, my goal was to not look homeless so often, and the other hand, I wanted to stop giving Gillette so much money for so little whisker cutting. For just a few dollars, they sent me a new razor and handful of replacement blades. And each month moving forward, they’ll send replacement blades straight to my mailbox.
This is a great idea, I thought, since once I cede that my final blade has reached the end of its lifespan (which occurs when my bathroom looks like a crime scene after a shaving session), it takes me at least another month to buy some fresh chin-knives.
Joining this club will force my hand at a fraction of my current expense, I thought. People won’t recognize me!
I felt like a child on Christmas morning when my box of razors—the new me—arrived in the mail that day. I shaved. Two days later, I shaved again. And by week’s end, I’d shaved a third time! At that point, I was considering the extravagant act of switching to a fresh blade. But my schedule turned busy. I “didn’t have time” to shave. Day after day after day.
Hilariously labeled “time sensitive material,” a new box of replacement blades arrived this week, and far from being clean-shaven, I look worse than ever. I have nine replacement blades in my drawer, and I really must pause my membership. It will take ages to work through this stockpile.
“I am sure of nothing so little as my own intentions,” said Lord Byron. And so it is with me. I’m a nice guy doing my best in so many ways, but these razor-of-the-month clubs, clearly, are not for me.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“I have something in
common with Sandy [Koufax]. He can’t pitch on Yom Kippur. I can’t pitch.”
-President Barack Obama
I go out of my way to eat curry and naan as well as chicken Tikka Masala and Vindaloo every chance I get, but I’ll be honest, I’m not so deep into Indian culture or the Hindu religion, which originated there, that until this week I’d heard of Diwali, the festival of lights symbolizing the victory of good over evil.
Rajan Zed, the Universal Society of Hinduism President, is pushing for both Iowan public and private schools with a significant number of Hindu students to include this important Hindu holy day as a school holiday beginning with the 2015-16 school year. Though I love eating kitchiri, I think this is a lousy idea.
The First Amendment of the United States Constitution established the freedom of religion and a separation between Church and State, and I’m in favor of both of these. Religious persecution caused many Europeans to emigrate to what would become the United States of America, and though these newcomers were quick to scoff (and worse) at the beliefs of the indigenous people they encountered here, the freedom of religion was an important sticking point when it came time for the self-government of a new country.
Like so many elements of the American way, this church thing is complicated. We are not formally a Christian nation, but the coins in my pocket say, “In God We Trust,” not “In Ganesh We Trust,” and Christmas is a federal holiday while a moderately intelligent and well-rounded person like myself only ingested Diwali for the first time this week.
To be fair and transparent about our country’s stance on both religious freedom and the separation of Church and State, I think that we should not only avoid adding Diwali to the school calendar as a day off but also strike Christmas from the same list. It’s hard enough for school officials to craft a viable calendar each year. If they added a day for the Hindus, then they’d need to take a look at Yom Kippur and who knows how many other special days for the 4,200 religions and belief systems around the world. Do you think the Satanists are ever going to get a holiday of their own added as a day-off? The answer to that question is somewhere between “no” and “hell, no.”
Rather than blacken days off the calendar to accommodate everyone’s religious beliefs (and rather than call “Christmas Break” “Winter Break” for the sake of political correctness in the same way we call “Easter Break” “Spring Break” to not appear leaning in favor of Christianity like this country does despite our often cesspoolian un-Christian behavior here, there and everywhere), our students should simply be permitted to take excused days off when their religious calendars command it.
Though he was a fierce competitor, Sandy Koufax set a good example for us all in 1965 when he refused to pitch in Game One of the World Series. The respectful observance of his faith didn’t stop him from winning his second Hickok Belt, earning his second World Series Most Valuable Player nod and being named Sports Illustrated’s Sportsman of the Year.
As Koufax did, let’s stop worrying about what other people think and what other people do with regard to their beliefs or ours. Practice your religion and move on. While you might not get a day off at work or school, here in the United States, the Constitution guarantees that you can worship how you like. Go ahead. Take a day off to meet that purpose; I won’t persecute you.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“I have something in
common with Sandy [Koufax]. He can’t pitch on Yom Kippur. I can’t pitch.”
-President Barack Obama
I go out of my way to eat curry and naan as well as chicken Tikka Masala and Vindaloo every chance I get, but I’ll be honest, I’m not so deep into Indian culture or the Hindu religion, which originated there, that until this week I’d heard of Diwali, the festival of lights symbolizing the victory of good over evil.
Rajan Zed, the Universal Society of Hinduism President, is pushing for both Iowan public and private schools with a significant number of Hindu students to include this important Hindu holy day as a school holiday beginning with the 2015-16 school year. Though I love eating kitchiri, I think this is a lousy idea.
The First Amendment of the United States Constitution established the freedom of religion and a separation between Church and State, and I’m in favor of both of these. Religious persecution caused many Europeans to emigrate to what would become the United States of America, and though these newcomers were quick to scoff (and worse) at the beliefs of the indigenous people they encountered here, the freedom of religion was an important sticking point when it came time for the self-government of a new country.
Like so many elements of the American way, this church thing is complicated. We are not formally a Christian nation, but the coins in my pocket say, “In God We Trust,” not “In Ganesh We Trust,” and Christmas is a federal holiday while a moderately intelligent and well-rounded person like myself only ingested Diwali for the first time this week.
To be fair and transparent about our country’s stance on both religious freedom and the separation of Church and State, I think that we should not only avoid adding Diwali to the school calendar as a day off but also strike Christmas from the same list. It’s hard enough for school officials to craft a viable calendar each year. If they added a day for the Hindus, then they’d need to take a look at Yom Kippur and who knows how many other special days for the 4,200 religions and belief systems around the world. Do you think the Satanists are ever going to get a holiday of their own added as a day-off? The answer to that question is somewhere between “no” and “hell, no.”
Rather than blacken days off the calendar to accommodate everyone’s religious beliefs (and rather than call “Christmas Break” “Winter Break” for the sake of political correctness in the same way we call “Easter Break” “Spring Break” to not appear leaning in favor of Christianity like this country does despite our often cesspoolian un-Christian behavior here, there and everywhere), our students should simply be permitted to take excused days off when their religious calendars command it.
Though he was a fierce competitor, Sandy Koufax set a good example for us all in 1965 when he refused to pitch in Game One of the World Series. The respectful observance of his faith didn’t stop him from winning his second Hickok Belt, earning his second World Series Most Valuable Player nod and being named Sports Illustrated’s Sportsman of the Year.
As Koufax did, let’s stop worrying about what other people think and what other people do with regard to their beliefs or ours. Practice your religion and move on. While you might not get a day off at work or school, here in the United States, the Constitution guarantees that you can worship how you like. Go ahead. Take a day off to meet that purpose; I won’t persecute you.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“Progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering.”
-Dolores Umbridge, from J.K. Rowling’s “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix”
Disgusted with both sides of our hapless governmental conflict, I watched the 2015 State of the Union Address without the partisan blinders of so many Americans last Tuesday night.
Elected for his speaking skills, President Obama was successful in the one talent we know he’s able to perform on a consistent basis. Whether you like that he was in a position to present positive economic growth numbers, care for his interest in making education more accessible or scoff at his last-ditch effort to establish some semblance of legacy for his presidency, one must admit that the guy is a good public speaker.
Almost more than watching the president’s speech so that I may stay informed and frame my own opinions on political matters, I looked forward to hearing the speech that followed. I’ve heard it called both the Republican “Address” and “Response.” Call it what you want, this year, the evening’s speech number two featured the newly sworn in junior senator from Iowa. I was interested because it’s always fun to watch one speaker completely contradict another, because Sen. Joni Ernst is from Iowa and because I thought Ernst was a terrible choice for the job.
Though she has proven herself a loyal Republican puppet from the earliest moments of her senate campaign (this was easy to see on her televised campaign ads, but was even easier from the view of my editor’s email inbox), Ernst was set up for failure with this speech. Only a professional actor or speaker would have any business performing such a task on but their fifteenth day on the job. I’m impressed that she took on the challenge, and in that she earned some respect from me. Laughing and cringing in turn, I watched as her nerves shown through, as she read the party-approved copy from her teleprompter, as she labored to hold that smile for just a little bit longer.
After introducing herself in her trademarked style as a mother and soldier (neither is a guarantee of competence in my experience), Ernst worked her forced sugar while changing the subject to how out of touch she is with the American people and how much she hopes to continue the divisive rhetoric at the heart of Washington, D.C.’s, gridlock.
I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror after delivering a speech of that caliber to the nation, but though she earned ribbing for some of its content, I think the pessimistic, deceitful speech reflected less poorly on her than on her party’s judgment.
Ernst trended online and inspired a RAYGUN t-shirt design with her hyperbolic Bread Bags Over Her Shoes story, one which I can attest is most assuredly made up since I grew up during the same time period in a smaller town than she did only 20 miles east of her beloved Red Oak. I can say that I never saw a single kid ride our bus with bread sacks on their hooves, and certainly not “rows and rows” of these unembarrassed youngsters.
While I’m skeptical to believe this self-righteous politician’s story at face value from personal bus-riding experience, I’m even more doubtful when the Washington, DC-based District Sentinel’s Sam Knight reports that Ernst’s grandfather, father and uncle received over $460,000 in farm subsidies between 1995 and 2009.
Could I have delivered a better speech in this situation? Probably. More importantly, I would have admitted it if I’d turned in a lousy performance. Oblivious to her shoddy delivery and sob story-laced attempt to connect with the American public while overinflating a post-election high for Republicans, Ernst told journalist Kevin Cooney the next morning that “it went very well.”
No it didn’t. You embarrassed many of us. We Iowans may be uncool, but we do have standards.
“The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you’re uncool,” said Philip Seymour Hoffman as Lester Bangs in “Almost Famous.” And so, utilizing the words of Muhammad Ali to embellish my own, I come to you with constructive criticism, Sen. Ernst: “If they can make penicillin out of moldy bread, they can sure make something out of you.”
Your political bosses have picked you well for their cause, but leaning too heavily on all the participation ribbons that your allies and the post-speech pundits so graciously handed out Tuesday night will not help you grow.
I watched you closely as my Iowa senator, I watched you closely on the campaign trail, and I continue watching. What I’ve seen is that, like Obama, you have all the makings of a Washington, D.C., politician.
What a shame. I think you could be more.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“Progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering.”
-Dolores Umbridge, from J.K. Rowling’s “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix”
Disgusted with both sides of our hapless governmental conflict, I watched the 2015 State of the Union Address without the partisan blinders of so many Americans last Tuesday night.
Elected for his speaking skills, President Obama was successful in the one talent we know he’s able to perform on a consistent basis. Whether you like that he was in a position to present positive economic growth numbers, care for his interest in making education more accessible or scoff at his last-ditch effort to establish some semblance of legacy for his presidency, one must admit that the guy is a good public speaker.
Almost more than watching the president’s speech so that I may stay informed and frame my own opinions on political matters, I looked forward to hearing the speech that followed. I’ve heard it called both the Republican “Address” and “Response.” Call it what you want, this year, the evening’s speech number two featured the newly sworn in junior senator from Iowa. I was interested because it’s always fun to watch one speaker completely contradict another, because Sen. Joni Ernst is from Iowa and because I thought Ernst was a terrible choice for the job.
Though she has proven herself a loyal Republican puppet from the earliest moments of her senate campaign (this was easy to see on her televised campaign ads, but was even easier from the view of my editor’s email inbox), Ernst was set up for failure with this speech. Only a professional actor or speaker would have any business performing such a task on but their fifteenth day on the job. I’m impressed that she took on the challenge, and in that she earned some respect from me. Laughing and cringing in turn, I watched as her nerves shown through, as she read the party-approved copy from her teleprompter, as she labored to hold that smile for just a little bit longer.
After introducing herself in her trademarked style as a mother and soldier (neither is a guarantee of competence in my experience), Ernst worked her forced sugar while changing the subject to how out of touch she is with the American people and how much she hopes to continue the divisive rhetoric at the heart of Washington, D.C.’s, gridlock.
I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror after delivering a speech of that caliber to the nation, but though she earned ribbing for some of its content, I think the pessimistic, deceitful speech reflected less poorly on her than on her party’s judgment.
Ernst trended online and inspired a RAYGUN t-shirt design with her hyperbolic Bread Bags Over Her Shoes story, one which I can attest is most assuredly made up since I grew up during the same time period in a smaller town than she did only 20 miles east of her beloved Red Oak. I can say that I never saw a single kid ride our bus with bread sacks on their hooves, and certainly not “rows and rows” of these unembarrassed youngsters.
While I’m skeptical to believe this self-righteous politician’s story at face value from personal bus-riding experience, I’m even more doubtful when the Washington, DC-based District Sentinel’s Sam Knight reports that Ernst’s grandfather, father and uncle received over $460,000 in farm subsidies between 1995 and 2009.
Could I have delivered a better speech in this situation? Probably. More importantly, I would have admitted it if I’d turned in a lousy performance. Oblivious to her shoddy delivery and sob story-laced attempt to connect with the American public while overinflating a post-election high for Republicans, Ernst told journalist Kevin Cooney the next morning that “it went very well.”
No it didn’t. You embarrassed many of us. We Iowans may be uncool, but we do have standards.
“The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you’re uncool,” said Philip Seymour Hoffman as Lester Bangs in “Almost Famous.” And so, utilizing the words of Muhammad Ali to embellish my own, I come to you with constructive criticism, Sen. Ernst: “If they can make penicillin out of moldy bread, they can sure make something out of you.”
Your political bosses have picked you well for their cause, but leaning too heavily on all the participation ribbons that your allies and the post-speech pundits so graciously handed out Tuesday night will not help you grow.
I watched you closely as my Iowa senator, I watched you closely on the campaign trail, and I continue watching. What I’ve seen is that, like Obama, you have all the makings of a Washington, D.C., politician.
What a shame. I think you could be more.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
It’s easy to write a good column if you’ve got good information. It’s hard if you have to depend on style alone. I suppose there are people who can get away with styling on a regular basis. I’m not one of them. You’re probably not, either.”
-Allan Sloan
Though I read his stuff to kill time and avoid homework during study hall when I was in high school, I’m not at all writing under the influence of longtime Des Moines Register columnist Chuck “Iowa Boy” Offenburger. But I think about him every now and again.
I think of him on weeks like this when I have seventeen other things distracting me from writing a column and zero ideas prompting me to bang on my keyboard. For 21 years, Offenburger wrote not one column per week as I so meagerly achieve; he wrote four. I beat myself up when I think of this on an idea-deficit week, but then I remind myself that he was a paid columnist first and foremost while I have other duties. I deal with news, obituaries, sports, photography and taking out the trash among other duties that may or may not be of interest.
I’m not alone in my awe of some writers’ prolific output. “I used to write a monthly column for the New York Times syndicate. But I stopped because I found it really hard to have one extreme opinion a month,” said Salman Rushdie. “I don’t know how these columnists have two or three ideas a week; I was having difficulty having 12 things to say a year.”
While I occasionally anger my readers because I don’t always write about pie, I receive many compliments as well. On the weeks where I stir controversy and scowls, I usually receive at least twice as many expressions of approval, a phenomenon I always enjoy. But, I remind myself as well as my flatterers, if I take seriously their kind words I must also take seriously my detractors. I’m always pleased to be on my side and am also happy that, whether we are right or wrong, there are several of us banded together.
Opinionated or not, folks ask me questions about what I do.
Whether I’ve taken a week to delve into a serious topic or simply tell funny stories about my kids, people ask how I do it, and I often truly respond with a simple, “I don’t know.” Somehow, something always comes up.
Whether I’ve taken a week to challenge myself with a stylistic departure that most won’t notice, get or care about, or take a moment to mention how good Margaret Penfold’s pies are, people ask me this somewhat paraphrased question: what comes first, the quote at the beginning of my inky shindig or the column itself? In another moment of absolute clarity, I respond: “It depends.”
What I can say about the quote I depend on each week is this that this stylistic choice was inspired not by a writer per se, but by a brewmaster whose journey I followed closely back in 2007. In search of a career transition, Teri Fahrendorf hitched up her trailer and traveled 12,656 miles across the United States over the course of 20 weeks. She visited friends and colleagues at 71 breweries and pulled on her pink rubber boots to brew at 38 of those locations. All the while, she blogged about her experience, which I found quite interesting. I followed her exploits daily, and while Teresa Nook, Lord Byron, Ernest Hemingway, Eddie Vedder and Robert Plant are bigger influences on my own writing, I was drawn to her habit of starting each post with a quote. If I ever have the opportunity to write a column, I told myself, I’ll steal this little nuance.
I tell you this because many people ask me questions. Today, with no other bright ideas about which I might put ink to paper, I answer a few (while sneaking in references to beer, literature, music, my critics who don’t know what they’re talking about and the deliciousness of Margaret Penfold’s pie).
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
It’s easy to write a good column if you’ve got good information. It’s hard if you have to depend on style alone. I suppose there are people who can get away with styling on a regular basis. I’m not one of them. You’re probably not, either.”
-Allan Sloan
Though I read his stuff to kill time and avoid homework during study hall when I was in high school, I’m not at all writing under the influence of longtime Des Moines Register columnist Chuck “Iowa Boy” Offenburger. But I think about him every now and again.
I think of him on weeks like this when I have seventeen other things distracting me from writing a column and zero ideas prompting me to bang on my keyboard. For 21 years, Offenburger wrote not one column per week as I so meagerly achieve; he wrote four. I beat myself up when I think of this on an idea-deficit week, but then I remind myself that he was a paid columnist first and foremost while I have other duties. I deal with news, obituaries, sports, photography and taking out the trash among other duties that may or may not be of interest.
I’m not alone in my awe of some writers’ prolific output. “I used to write a monthly column for the New York Times syndicate. But I stopped because I found it really hard to have one extreme opinion a month,” said Salman Rushdie. “I don’t know how these columnists have two or three ideas a week; I was having difficulty having 12 things to say a year.”
While I occasionally anger my readers because I don’t always write about pie, I receive many compliments as well. On the weeks where I stir controversy and scowls, I usually receive at least twice as many expressions of approval, a phenomenon I always enjoy. But, I remind myself as well as my flatterers, if I take seriously their kind words I must also take seriously my detractors. I’m always pleased to be on my side and am also happy that, whether we are right or wrong, there are several of us banded together.
Opinionated or not, folks ask me questions about what I do.
Whether I’ve taken a week to delve into a serious topic or simply tell funny stories about my kids, people ask how I do it, and I often truly respond with a simple, “I don’t know.” Somehow, something always comes up.
Whether I’ve taken a week to challenge myself with a stylistic departure that most won’t notice, get or care about, or take a moment to mention how good Margaret Penfold’s pies are, people ask me this somewhat paraphrased question: what comes first, the quote at the beginning of my inky shindig or the column itself? In another moment of absolute clarity, I respond: “It depends.”
What I can say about the quote I depend on each week is this that this stylistic choice was inspired not by a writer per se, but by a brewmaster whose journey I followed closely back in 2007. In search of a career transition, Teri Fahrendorf hitched up her trailer and traveled 12,656 miles across the United States over the course of 20 weeks. She visited friends and colleagues at 71 breweries and pulled on her pink rubber boots to brew at 38 of those locations. All the while, she blogged about her experience, which I found quite interesting. I followed her exploits daily, and while Teresa Nook, Lord Byron, Ernest Hemingway, Eddie Vedder and Robert Plant are bigger influences on my own writing, I was drawn to her habit of starting each post with a quote. If I ever have the opportunity to write a column, I told myself, I’ll steal this little nuance.
I tell you this because many people ask me questions. Today, with no other bright ideas about which I might put ink to paper, I answer a few (while sneaking in references to beer, literature, music, my critics who don’t know what they’re talking about and the deliciousness of Margaret Penfold’s pie).
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“You can safely assume that you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.”
-Anne Lamott
When the 9/11 terrorist attacks descended on American soil, I worked as a Teaching Parent in a group home facility on the East Coast. Working closely within the context of dysfunctional families lacking social and problem solving skills, I couldn’t help but quickly draw a correlation between the conduct of the youth I worked with and the terrorists who’d executed such a horrific attack.
Making no excuses for either, I could see that both my delinquent youth and the world’s growing brigade of terrorists possessed what might be construed as a valid point or two. Desperate for attention, they handled their complaints poorly. My “rascals” earned probation, stints in the detention center, counselors, medication and out of home placement in facilities like the one I worked for, while the terrorists scared, angered and killed innocent people (and started a war or two).
Some of the rest of us quiver at what might be the next attack, and others dig their heels in against their misunderstood enemy, spewing hatespeak and doing nothing to solve the problem, evidence that the terrorists are successfully dividing our country with a series of well-conceived distractions.
And then we have the court jesters, those clever fellows possessing a rare ability to offer comedic yet dead-serious constructive criticism to their king without losing their heads as so many of the rest of us would. In a blow to freedom of expression, four of our world’s most daring jesters—Charlie Hebdo cartoonists Stéphane Charbonnier, Georges Wolinski, Jean Cabut and Bernard Verlhac—along with eight others, including two policemen, were slain at their Paris office this week.
While satire has been acting in a humorous fashion with us for centuries, exposing misguided political, religious and other brands of thinking, not all people have a sense of humor or the ability to take a deep inward look at themselves or their belief systems. As we have come to know all too well in recent years, extremist Muslims don’t have much of a sense of humor when it comes to the topic of religion. Charlie Hebdo committed one of the ultimate no-nos in religious satire when it chose to publish images of Muhammad. Even reverent depictions of the prophet are illegal under Islamic law, and, of course, these images were irreverent in nature. To its credit, Charlie Hebdo has been an equal opportunity offender, poking fun at Christians, Jews and Muslims alike, but to the accused gunmen, brothers Chérif and Saïd Kouachi, this reality provided no consolation. Following France’s biggest manhunt in decades, the brothers were themselves gunned down following a Jan. 9 standoff. This swift justice will save the expense of trials and imprisonment, but will it provide a catalyst for peace?
Looking a little deeper into their backgrounds, we’ve learned that the brothers and colleague Amedy Coulibaly, who was killed in a separate incident on the same day, were a band of troubled youth easily taken advantage of and radicalized. Brainwashing the young, simple and vulnerable is an easy business as many organizations, political parties and religions have proved over the years. These misguided fellows could have been my group home clients. This is a peculiar reality to consider as I think back on the positive and negative outcomes of some of the kids I worked with.
What is the problem in today’s society, and what is the solution? The problem is that we are plagued by too many selfish and intolerant jerks. These pigheaded zealots, whether Muslim, Christian or godless, are so often ignorant and hypocritical and have been carefully raised to be so. They want it cut-and-dried, black and white, good and evil. And that’s not the way it is. So insistent to have their superior point-of-view heard and acted on, they fail to listen to the other side. Without listening, there is no learning. And so we live in a gray world, a dark place.
Trading blow-for-blow is a well-documented policy failure in the Middle East and in so many other conflicts across the globe, but, fists swinging and tongues wagging, this bluster keeps on keeping on to no positive effect. With all the decades and centuries of transgressions, mistrust makes the simple solution to all our problems, communication, a tenuous enterprise. “We shouldn’t negotiate with terrorists,” spit those pious xenophobes here in our own neighborhood. But let me tell you: there’s a difference between negotiation and communication. We needn’t negotiate with terrorists, but if we are ever to make forward progress, we must—we simply must—sit down and have a conversation. You know the old adage: keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Personal experience forces me to admit that this doesn’t always work, but I believe we must try.
Solving problems is a scary business. Posturing is so much easier. If we don’t have enemies, we can’t be the good guys. We’re locked into our roles, and so are they, and, as a result, we spin our wheels in a dangerous power struggle in which cartoonists are killed for forcing people to think. Dangerous is the pen!
Did Charlie Hebdo push freedom of expression too far? Are they martyred journalists or racist blasphemers? This is a new discussion thrust into our laps. No matter the answer, Charlie Hebdo will have done its job. Like it or not, clean or dirty, living or dying, the cartoonists of Charlie Hebdo forced us to think, that most powerful of actions.
Their brand of teaching used humor to shed light on many uncomfortable topics. Some smiled and some seethed. In the end, I’ve observed, if you’re not willing to laugh at yourself, everyone else will do the laughing for you. They’ll also cringe for you. And, unfortunately, they’ll live in a little bit of fear because of you, which is now our sad and unavoidable, unfunny truth.
We live today in a New Wild West, a bloodbath of flagrant fouls that will only be tamed by improved parenting, statesmanship and communication. Who’s confident in our prospect for a brighter future?
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“You can safely assume that you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.”
-Anne Lamott
When the 9/11 terrorist attacks descended on American soil, I worked as a Teaching Parent in a group home facility on the East Coast. Working closely within the context of dysfunctional families lacking social and problem solving skills, I couldn’t help but quickly draw a correlation between the conduct of the youth I worked with and the terrorists who’d executed such a horrific attack.
Making no excuses for either, I could see that both my delinquent youth and the world’s growing brigade of terrorists possessed what might be construed as a valid point or two. Desperate for attention, they handled their complaints poorly. My “rascals” earned probation, stints in the detention center, counselors, medication and out of home placement in facilities like the one I worked for, while the terrorists scared, angered and killed innocent people (and started a war or two).
Some of the rest of us quiver at what might be the next attack, and others dig their heels in against their misunderstood enemy, spewing hatespeak and doing nothing to solve the problem, evidence that the terrorists are successfully dividing our country with a series of well-conceived distractions.
And then we have the court jesters, those clever fellows possessing a rare ability to offer comedic yet dead-serious constructive criticism to their king without losing their heads as so many of the rest of us would. In a blow to freedom of expression, four of our world’s most daring jesters—Charlie Hebdo cartoonists Stéphane Charbonnier, Georges Wolinski, Jean Cabut and Bernard Verlhac—along with eight others, including two policemen, were slain at their Paris office this week.
While satire has been acting in a humorous fashion with us for centuries, exposing misguided political, religious and other brands of thinking, not all people have a sense of humor or the ability to take a deep inward look at themselves or their belief systems. As we have come to know all too well in recent years, extremist Muslims don’t have much of a sense of humor when it comes to the topic of religion. Charlie Hebdo committed one of the ultimate no-nos in religious satire when it chose to publish images of Muhammad. Even reverent depictions of the prophet are illegal under Islamic law, and, of course, these images were irreverent in nature. To its credit, Charlie Hebdo has been an equal opportunity offender, poking fun at Christians, Jews and Muslims alike, but to the accused gunmen, brothers Chérif and Saïd Kouachi, this reality provided no consolation. Following France’s biggest manhunt in decades, the brothers were themselves gunned down following a Jan. 9 standoff. This swift justice will save the expense of trials and imprisonment, but will it provide a catalyst for peace?
Looking a little deeper into their backgrounds, we’ve learned that the brothers and colleague Amedy Coulibaly, who was killed in a separate incident on the same day, were a band of troubled youth easily taken advantage of and radicalized. Brainwashing the young, simple and vulnerable is an easy business as many organizations, political parties and religions have proved over the years. These misguided fellows could have been my group home clients. This is a peculiar reality to consider as I think back on the positive and negative outcomes of some of the kids I worked with.
What is the problem in today’s society, and what is the solution? The problem is that we are plagued by too many selfish and intolerant jerks. These pigheaded zealots, whether Muslim, Christian or godless, are so often ignorant and hypocritical and have been carefully raised to be so. They want it cut-and-dried, black and white, good and evil. And that’s not the way it is. So insistent to have their superior point-of-view heard and acted on, they fail to listen to the other side. Without listening, there is no learning. And so we live in a gray world, a dark place.
Trading blow-for-blow is a well-documented policy failure in the Middle East and in so many other conflicts across the globe, but, fists swinging and tongues wagging, this bluster keeps on keeping on to no positive effect. With all the decades and centuries of transgressions, mistrust makes the simple solution to all our problems, communication, a tenuous enterprise. “We shouldn’t negotiate with terrorists,” spit those pious xenophobes here in our own neighborhood. But let me tell you: there’s a difference between negotiation and communication. We needn’t negotiate with terrorists, but if we are ever to make forward progress, we must—we simply must—sit down and have a conversation. You know the old adage: keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Personal experience forces me to admit that this doesn’t always work, but I believe we must try.
Solving problems is a scary business. Posturing is so much easier. If we don’t have enemies, we can’t be the good guys. We’re locked into our roles, and so are they, and, as a result, we spin our wheels in a dangerous power struggle in which cartoonists are killed for forcing people to think. Dangerous is the pen!
Did Charlie Hebdo push freedom of expression too far? Are they martyred journalists or racist blasphemers? This is a new discussion thrust into our laps. No matter the answer, Charlie Hebdo will have done its job. Like it or not, clean or dirty, living or dying, the cartoonists of Charlie Hebdo forced us to think, that most powerful of actions.
Their brand of teaching used humor to shed light on many uncomfortable topics. Some smiled and some seethed. In the end, I’ve observed, if you’re not willing to laugh at yourself, everyone else will do the laughing for you. They’ll also cringe for you. And, unfortunately, they’ll live in a little bit of fear because of you, which is now our sad and unavoidable, unfunny truth.
We live today in a New Wild West, a bloodbath of flagrant fouls that will only be tamed by improved parenting, statesmanship and communication. Who’s confident in our prospect for a brighter future?
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“I don’t make the best movies in the world, but at times, I do feel like I’m adding something to the cinematic community.”
-Seth Rogen
My high school principal once gave me two choices: turn my “offensive” shirt inside out or go home. Because I thought free speech was a good thing, I chose the latter. My minor stand made no headlines, and in the intervening couple of decades, I haven’t really done much protesting.
On Christmas Day this year, I was afforded a new opportunity for defiance.
North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un had apparently succeeded in suppressing American freedom by goading Sony Pictures Entertainment into ditching the release of the new Seth Rogen/James Franco film, “The Interview,” but I was pleased to learn on Christmas Eve that the satire would indeed illuminate the screens of some 300 independent theaters across the United States. While that was a fraction of the planned launch in 3,000 nationwide theaters, the film was also released on a number of digital platforms for streaming or purchase online. The successful circumvention of distribution costs for Sony in this situation might be the real story moving forward, but on the day of the release, North Korean threats of violence existed for theatergoers.
A movie buff opposed to tyranny, I saw this as a rare opportunity to rebel once again. This time, my family and I would be a defiant quartet in the midst of an unfolding international incident. And so it was that we simply walked into Mordor. We stood in a snaking line not in Middle Earth but at The Loft Cinema in Tucson, Arizona. It was the late show, it was packed, and when the screen lit up, Seth Rogen offered up a short, Thank-You-And-Long-Live-Freedom-type of St. Crispin’s Day speech, which was shot cheaply in poor light, apparently on that very day.
Though it was fine, dandy and funny enough, the quality of the film is perhaps the biggest moot point on the planet. Packed with all the Rogen/Franco crudity one would expect to nudge an entire country into an outrage and watching it with Kim Jong Un’s fit in the backdrop made a fun little ride all the more dagger turning.
The least little morsel of nonconformity is so powerful, isn’t it? Thank goodness for art, and especially the crass elements that appear superficial while offering great depth and a basis for thought. I’m sure if Kim Jong Un hadn’t been so worked up over this silly fictional premise that one or another prude group of Americans would have gotten amped instead. I shake my head at these folk.
Of course, a day may come when the courage of men fails, but it was not on Dec. 25, 2014. Jake, Tom, Michelle and I raised our one-finger salute to Kim Jong Un and attended one small battle for freedom. “The world is indeed full of peril,” wrote J.R.R. Tolkien. “And in it there are many dark places.”
Our dark place was a movie theater and as it turned out, North Korea launched no bombs our way. With popcorn on our breath, we emerged unscathed from that darkened movie theater feeling proud to have stood up to oppression in our humble way. It was no great battle won or lost by us and scarcely more important that a curse word on a Motley Crue t-shirt, but it was the point of being on the right side, I suppose, that made us feel like we’d added something to the community.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“I don’t make the best movies in the world, but at times, I do feel like I’m adding something to the cinematic community.”
-Seth Rogen
My high school principal once gave me two choices: turn my “offensive” shirt inside out or go home. Because I thought free speech was a good thing, I chose the latter. My minor stand made no headlines, and in the intervening couple of decades, I haven’t really done much protesting.
On Christmas Day this year, I was afforded a new opportunity for defiance.
North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un had apparently succeeded in suppressing American freedom by goading Sony Pictures Entertainment into ditching the release of the new Seth Rogen/James Franco film, “The Interview,” but I was pleased to learn on Christmas Eve that the satire would indeed illuminate the screens of some 300 independent theaters across the United States. While that was a fraction of the planned launch in 3,000 nationwide theaters, the film was also released on a number of digital platforms for streaming or purchase online. The successful circumvention of distribution costs for Sony in this situation might be the real story moving forward, but on the day of the release, North Korean threats of violence existed for theatergoers.
A movie buff opposed to tyranny, I saw this as a rare opportunity to rebel once again. This time, my family and I would be a defiant quartet in the midst of an unfolding international incident. And so it was that we simply walked into Mordor. We stood in a snaking line not in Middle Earth but at The Loft Cinema in Tucson, Arizona. It was the late show, it was packed, and when the screen lit up, Seth Rogen offered up a short, Thank-You-And-Long-Live-Freedom-type of St. Crispin’s Day speech, which was shot cheaply in poor light, apparently on that very day.
Though it was fine, dandy and funny enough, the quality of the film is perhaps the biggest moot point on the planet. Packed with all the Rogen/Franco crudity one would expect to nudge an entire country into an outrage and watching it with Kim Jong Un’s fit in the backdrop made a fun little ride all the more dagger turning.
The least little morsel of nonconformity is so powerful, isn’t it? Thank goodness for art, and especially the crass elements that appear superficial while offering great depth and a basis for thought. I’m sure if Kim Jong Un hadn’t been so worked up over this silly fictional premise that one or another prude group of Americans would have gotten amped instead. I shake my head at these folk.
Of course, a day may come when the courage of men fails, but it was not on Dec. 25, 2014. Jake, Tom, Michelle and I raised our one-finger salute to Kim Jong Un and attended one small battle for freedom. “The world is indeed full of peril,” wrote J.R.R. Tolkien. “And in it there are many dark places.”
Our dark place was a movie theater and as it turned out, North Korea launched no bombs our way. With popcorn on our breath, we emerged unscathed from that darkened movie theater feeling proud to have stood up to oppression in our humble way. It was no great battle won or lost by us and scarcely more important that a curse word on a Motley Crue t-shirt, but it was the point of being on the right side, I suppose, that made us feel like we’d added something to the community.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
Penslinger
J Wilson
“I’m still a geek on the inside; that’s the important thing.”
-Weird Al Yankovic
Sometimes during this time of year, I find myself projecting the attitude of a really nice person, saying, “Merry Christmas!” over and over again with a big smile on my face.
But this year has been different. I’m more cynical than ever, but that’s not the reason why. After ten years, we’re finally paying a long-overdue visit to friends and family in some of our old stomping grounds, Arizona. Both my vocation and an overabundance of self-awareness have caused me to be extra careful of tossing around my good cheer. I’ll explain: as it works out, my big deadline, the drop-deadness of what I must accomplish each week, falls on Tuesday. For me, though I show up and accomplish a little of this and a little of that on the intervening days between My Friday and Real Saturday, my week is essentially over. Which is why I’ve caught myself telling people to have a nice weekend well before Hump Day has even dawned.
Since I knew that I had a special holiday trip I was looking forward to and in spite of the ugly fact that stores have been shoving Christmas decorations and deals down our throats since the middle of October, I simply decided to stifle my since-July Christmas enthusiasm so as not to bring everybody down. They, after all, don’t get to drink beer in Flagstaff with old friends, hike among the saguaros, climb rocks on a sunny December afternoon, drink beer in Tucson, eat fresh tortillas, drink fresh-squeezed orange juice and spend long overdue time with a well-liked branch of the family tree.
These are the things I was thinking about when I didn’t say, “Merry Christmas!” to you in September and November and even just last week. Time flies and all of the sudden it was time to depart. I was carefully non-festive until it was time to pack my suitcase and hit the pavement. I’m sorry.
While I have been filled with joy to embark on a long awaited vacation, I was reminded once again that life can’t be all chocolate and backrubs. With great enthusiasm I announced recently to my odd family that in addition to the now customary road trip mix of music I’d be compiling to accompany our route, I thought it would be a perfect time to download every single polka medley that Weird Al Yankovic ever recorded. What fun road music! They disagreed with frowns and harrumphs all around. So while you’re reading your newspaper today, know this: I’m having fun in the sun. But not too much fun.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].
J Wilson
“I’m still a geek on the inside; that’s the important thing.”
-Weird Al Yankovic
Sometimes during this time of year, I find myself projecting the attitude of a really nice person, saying, “Merry Christmas!” over and over again with a big smile on my face.
But this year has been different. I’m more cynical than ever, but that’s not the reason why. After ten years, we’re finally paying a long-overdue visit to friends and family in some of our old stomping grounds, Arizona. Both my vocation and an overabundance of self-awareness have caused me to be extra careful of tossing around my good cheer. I’ll explain: as it works out, my big deadline, the drop-deadness of what I must accomplish each week, falls on Tuesday. For me, though I show up and accomplish a little of this and a little of that on the intervening days between My Friday and Real Saturday, my week is essentially over. Which is why I’ve caught myself telling people to have a nice weekend well before Hump Day has even dawned.
Since I knew that I had a special holiday trip I was looking forward to and in spite of the ugly fact that stores have been shoving Christmas decorations and deals down our throats since the middle of October, I simply decided to stifle my since-July Christmas enthusiasm so as not to bring everybody down. They, after all, don’t get to drink beer in Flagstaff with old friends, hike among the saguaros, climb rocks on a sunny December afternoon, drink beer in Tucson, eat fresh tortillas, drink fresh-squeezed orange juice and spend long overdue time with a well-liked branch of the family tree.
These are the things I was thinking about when I didn’t say, “Merry Christmas!” to you in September and November and even just last week. Time flies and all of the sudden it was time to depart. I was carefully non-festive until it was time to pack my suitcase and hit the pavement. I’m sorry.
While I have been filled with joy to embark on a long awaited vacation, I was reminded once again that life can’t be all chocolate and backrubs. With great enthusiasm I announced recently to my odd family that in addition to the now customary road trip mix of music I’d be compiling to accompany our route, I thought it would be a perfect time to download every single polka medley that Weird Al Yankovic ever recorded. What fun road music! They disagreed with frowns and harrumphs all around. So while you’re reading your newspaper today, know this: I’m having fun in the sun. But not too much fun.
Free Press Editor J. Wilson can be contacted at [email protected].