They Were Watching And Tracking, For Us

Almost two weeks ago, I was very upset about the severe weather coverage that had taken place. I felt like KAIT had let us down by dropping coverage while we were still in the midst of the storm, and I wasn't quiet about expressing my displeasure.

We've had bad weather here again tonight, and I could not be more pleased with KAIT. They promised to stick with the weather coverage until the bad weather was "completely out of Region 8," and I admit, I wondered if they meant it.

They did. They were on frequently tonight. They mentioned Mississippi County. They mentioned Gosnell and Blytheville. They shocked me speechless by acknowledging two areas across the river in Tennessee that weren't in Region 8, but that were in their viewing area. Therefore, they also warned those folks of the impending storms.

It's not about getting our name on air. It's about being aware that the storms are still here, and we are depending on them, even though we are at the river's edge. We've depended on them before, and I've not been sure of their commitment.

Tonight, they kept their promise. They tracked. They watched. And they stayed on, until the storms crossed through Mississippi County and over the river. I expressed my displeasure last time, so it's only fair that this time I give praise where praise is due.

Thanks, Ryan. I was counting on you. I appreciate you keeping me, and my county, updated and aware of the situation. I know it wasn't all that bad, even though it sounded horrible a few times. I truly did feel like you were watching out for us.

Spring Break

Quick, someone make school start. I can’t survive this version of a “break.” Tomorrow, Logan will be back at his desk. And I will be at home, recovering from the so-called Spring Break.

It may have been a break for some folks. It was more like work-release for Logan. That’s because he spent the first part of his week with his Nana and Papa down near Marion, at the retirement home they have built.

Papa Decanter rests by working. He may be the “Poor Old Elderly Papa” (his term, not mine) but he works like three strong men half his age. And Logan worked right along with him.

They are so much alike, this somewhat older man and this growing boy. Neither like to be bored. Neither can tolerate sitting around. Both are happier outdoors. Both are the happiest when they have something to do; happier still when that something is outside, working together.

Logan’s young back and willing hands were put to good use down at Haefer, three miles from the middle of nowhere, Arkansas. It’s a peaceful place. We have 12 acres of land that Logan can run or ride free on between us, my parents and my aunt.

Logan shoveled dirt on to a trailer, hauled dirt in a wheelbarrow, picked up wood and other debris, cleared land, filled in holes, did a little mechanical work, did a lot of yard work, and basically fetched, carried, ran, lifted, hauled and did everything else a Nana, Papa, Mom, and Aunt asked him to do.

Mom and I mainly watched. Except Mom cooked. A lot. And then she cooked some more. Logan has started eating all of the time. Every other hour he is hungry again. He is eating everything on the plate and then scraping the glaze off the plate. The kid that we had to beg to eat for 11 years is making up for lost time.

After two days, Logan was bruised, scratched, aching, sunburned, and windblown. He was not hungry, though. He had the time of his life. I brought him home Wednesday, concerned that any more fun would put him at risk for injury. Actually, I was more concerned that any more fun would put our checkbook at risk.

I’ve heard that fresh air, hard work and sunshine are good for you. At the rate Logan is growing, that boy can’t stand too much more of anything that is good for him. He’s bursting out of clothing faster than we can keep up already. Another day or two in the fresh air with Papa and he would have been wearing rags home to Blytheville.

I’m not sure how much of a “break” we got, but we had a great time all the same. Dad got some help and some Papa and Papa’s Pal bonding time; Logan got some exercise with a little work ethic thrown it, and my Mom and I; well, we did our part too.

We rocked on the front porch and swung on the back porch. We read books and watched movies and ate by the fireplace. We handed out back rubs and Tylenol to the wounded warriors and made the appropriate appreciative noises. It was a tough job, but somebody had to do it.

The Anniversary of a Nightmare

Today is the anniversary of the day my life changed. Ten years ago on this day, horror came into my peaceful town, and killed innocence. Evil took the lives of four children and one adult, an angel shielding her charges. Evil came in and did something that had never been done before, and our lives changed. A barrier was broken, and now it gets crossed, time and time and time again. Evil came in that day, and it has never left.

This is the anniversary of the Westside school shootings. It was both a private and a public nightmare. Private, because our nephew was there. In the chaos that reigned, we couldn't find him. For us, among so many dead, hurt, and terrified; we searched for our one. The authorities were entirely too busy to find one child among so much horror. We were on our own. So, we did what families do. We spread out, and we searched, and finally, we found him. Safe, scared, and sound.

It was a public nightmare because almost instantly we were national news. Within minutes network news was there, in our yards and our restaurants and our hospitals and our schools. Cameras were everywhere you turned. We were grieving and shocked and still trying to make sense of just what had happened, and someone wanted to know how we felt about what had happened. How did they think we felt? We felt horrible.

It wasn't the local media that was the problem. For the most part, they treated the situation with respect. But the national media was ridiculous. They trespassed, they filmed places and things inappropriately and caused all manner of things that made the situation even worse.

Westside was the first. But sadly, they weren't the last. Each time there is another school shooting, the events of that day come rushing back to me. I will never forget that day. It changed something in my soul, scarred something in my heart, etched something in my brain.

Ten years have come and gone. The murderers are out of jail with a clean record, free to live their lives as if March 24, 1998 never happened. But it did happen. Four familes who no longer have their daughters know it happened. One man and one little boy who no longer have their wife and mother know it happened. A community whose life was changed that day know it happened. And a writer who has scars that will never heal knows it happened.

With No Warning

Spring is finally here, bringing warmer temperatures, budding flowers, and Mother Nature’s fury. Around here, spring is not just about beauty, it can also be about disaster.

Spring doesn’t always come gently to Arkansas, and we have to be ready to take shelter from the storms. That means having a safe place, keeping an eye on the weather, staying informed, and when the severe weather sirens sound, being ready to take cover.

We seem to be having a problem in Blytheville with one of those things, though. Our weather sirens are not functioning the way they should be, and it is putting our citizens at risk.

I understand the problems. The sirens are old. The city is trying, most likely doing the best they can. The sirens are constantly being worked on by Public Works. It’s hard to get parts for the sirens because of their age. I get it. And, I don’t get it.

If this is the system we have chosen to use, it has to work. If it is beyond working, we must get a new system. During the last two severe weather events, the tornado sirens failed to work properly. An earlier power outage caused the latest failure. I don't know what caused the other one. The back up plan was for our law enforcement officers to go slowly down the streets of our city, warning our citizens of the severe weather.

While any plan is better than no plan at all, this just isn’t going to work as a routine measure. It is inherently dangerous. We’ve been lucky the last few times we have had severe weather. Mother Nature is not always in such a good mood.

In a true severe weather emergency, our officers would literally be putting their own lives on the line by going out trying to warn our citizens. In order for the warnings to be effective, they must move up and down the streets slowly. Storms move quickly.

There is absolutely no way the officers could warn every citizen of our community before the storm hit. In addition, people leave their safe spots to come to a window or door to see what the commotion with the lights and sirens are about. They should stay in their safe spot, not come out of them.

A tornado can pick up those police vehicles and toss them around like toys. Do we really want to risk our officer’s lives like that? I personally don’t. I have friends that work for the Blytheville Police Department and the Mississippi County Sheriff’s Office. Some of those friends are like family to me. I don’t want to lose them because they were being used in place of outdated equipment.

We must address this issue, and do whatever it takes to get a warning system that works each and every time. If the sirens are beyond repair, we need a new system. I don’t know what the answer is, I just know we need one.

It’s spring in Arkansas. That means beauty will come to our state. It also means more storms are coming. We must do something, now, before we risk losing the most valuable thing we have as a community: the people that live here.

Storm Surge

My goodness. I get upset about weather coverage in my corner of the world, and I in turn upset a whole bunch of other people. Okay. Well, I expressed my opinion. They have the right to express theirs.

A few bits of housekeeping: Regarding Ryan Vaughn. He has a blog, and you should read it. It's at http://ryansmorningblog.blogspot.com. It tells his side of the story. He is correct in most of it, but a little off in a few things. I have no intention of writing about this for an article in the paper. The blog is a separate thing entirely, one where I freely express my opinion. I'm sorry he thought I would write an article that would negatively portray him, his station, and his weather coverage. Believe it or not, I'm more of a professional than that.

Both of us were upset that night. He was overwhelmingly busy, I was overwhelmingly frustrated. Several things went into my frustration, including that this isn't the first time Mississippi County has gotten the short end of the stick when it comes to severe weather coverage. Ryan could see the storms were diminishing. We couldn't. Our sirens weren't working, and our officers were doing their best to warn our citizens. Our problem. Yes, I know. But we could have used a little help.

I could have expressed myself more rationally to him, stated the problem more clearly. If I had made it more clear that our sirens were down and that law enforcement were the ones spotting the funnel clouds, perhaps we would have had a better conversation.

I trust KAIT's weather coverage. Which is precisely why I wanted to continue watching it. They have saved lives, and will continue to. I just want to be included in that weather coverage, even though I live on the fringes.

Not Always Watching, At Least For Us

I'm furious. It doesn't happen often, so you might want to step back. I'm easy going about a lot of things. But this thing happens, each and every time, over and and over again. Each time, I think it will be different this time. Each time, it's the same thing.

Once again, last night, we had severe weather here. Once again, the supposedly "regional" news channel covered the weather only until it got past their city borders, then dropped coverage and returned to regular programming. Seven minutes later, our law enforcement officers spotted rotation in two separate locations in our area.

We continued to have severe weather for hours. The regional channel continued to ignore us, for hours.

It has happened before, often enough that it shouldn't suprise me. I keep hoping our "good neighbors" over at KAIT 8 will take that title seriously, but apparently they take it too seriously. If you aren't, quite literally, their neighbor, they just don't care.

Their new tag line these days is "Always Watching, Always Tracking, Always On." Well, maybe for some people. Not for those of us in Mississippi County. It was a Memphis channel that was telling me what was happening with the weather last night. Channel 8 thought a sitcom was more important.

The reason this upset me particularly last night is that some of our tornado sirens weren't operating. Our officers were literally having to go street by street, warning our citizens of the severe weather. Wouldn't it have been nice if some regional channel that was watching, tracking, and on would have helped our residents out by doing just that and letting us know about the severe weather in our area? Guess the sitcom and the dancing stars were more important that the continual rotation that kept developing.

I was upset enough that I called Ryan Vaughn last night. I identified myself as being with the Blytheville Courier News, because insanity reigns during bad weather. I wanted him to know that I wasn't the regular "I just saw aliens in the tornado" person that bad weather brings out.

I told him some of our sirens were down, that law enforcement officers had spotted rotation, and that I was upset they had dropped coverage even though Mississippi County was still under the gun. I added Memphis stations were telling us to take cover, while they were doing their regular programming.

His response? He wanted to know if we had damage. He told me he would not go on the air with the storms in Mississippi County unless I had damage to report. It's nice to know he's not concerned with the storms beforehand, only the damage after the fact. He told me they had been on the air for hours already, and if the Memphis station was telling us about the storms in our area, they were "just trying to scare us."

I swear to you I am not making this up. I know he was tired. I know he was busy. But this doesn't make sense. If it is so vitally important to get the news out in Jonesboro and the surrounding area, how can it be so unimportant when the bad weather gets over here? They get sufficiently warned, but we don't because warning us will just scare us?

Oh, I don't think so. I'm glad there were other news channels out there willing to look out for us, even though we are in a different state. I just wish the channel that claims us as being in their region thought that region extended to being included in severe weather coverage.

A Chance Romance

I have an announcement to make. I am going to be a grandmother. Yes, I am much too young. No, I am not in denial about my age, not at all.

It’s not my 12-year-old that is making me a grandmother, it’s my other baby. My three year old fur baby, Chance. He’s a small black Pomeranian. We have a friend that has a Pomeranian named Shrimp Scampi. Shrimp because she is tiny, Scampi because she scampers everywhere she goes.

She’s a girly baby doll, about half the size of Chance. But when she decides she’s had enough foolishness, she can bare her teeth at you with the best of them.

Scampi is a smart little thing too. Her big brother is a Lab. If Scampi wants to bark at something larger than her (which is pretty much everything) she first runs under the legs of her big brother. Then she tells the world her opinion, safe and protected.

Our friends wanted puppies, and thought Chance was, well, the man for the job. So now Chance is going to be a daddy.

I’m not sure the dog that cowers under the bed in fear of the vacuum cleaner, growls at thunder, and walks around with a pink teddy bear in his mouth is father material. He still has some growing up to do himself.

The dog that is having babies is addicted to his own baby. Chance absolutely, positively must have his little pink bear in his sight at all times. Most of the time, it is in his mouth. When he isn’t chewing on it, he is laying on it.

When Baby gets a bath, Chance goes spastic until Baby is safe and sound back in Chance’s possession. And when Baby is finally worn out from too much love, we have to go to the only store in town that sells Baby clones, and buy another one just exactly like it. In fact, we keep duplicate Baby’s on hand, in case Baby meets a fatal accident on nights or weekends.

I can ask Chance "Where’s Baby?" or tell him "Go get your Baby" and he will go get the bear. When we need Chance to get in his crate, go to a certain room, come in from outside, or do something he doesn’t particularly want to do; the fastest way to get him to obey is to grab Baby. That dog will go anywhere or do anything if the bear is there.

I’m not sure what to think about my own fur baby having babies. Our friends told us we could have pick of the litter, to which we immediately replied no thanks. One human child and one doggie child is enough for our family. I love Chance, more than I ever thought I would, but our lives are such that one dog is all we need.

However, I am very excited to meet these little ones when they come along. I’m anxious to see what they look like and see what characteristics they have of their mom and dad.
Chance and Scampi are both funny, loving, sweet little doggies. I can’t wait to meet my grandpuppies. With their parents, there is a good "Chance" the new little "Shrimps" are sure to be the cutest, most interesting little fluff balls ever.

Troubles Abound

My cousin Bobby, who has been in the hospital in Hot Springs, has brain cancer. He is the son of my aunt, Sister. Her husband is recovering from heart surgery. Sigh.

My family seems to have been bitten by the bad health bug. We just lost my uncle to cancer, and now this. Bobby is younger, and a fighter. There is hope, where there simply was none with my Uncle Tom.

I'm not sure how we managed to get on this particular merry-go-round, but I want this one to stop. I want off of this ride.

A Sad Update

I wrote Troubled Times last Thursday, for my regular deadline of noon on Thursday. It appeared as my regular column in the Sunday morning edition of Courier News. My Uncle Tom died Sunday night around 6:30 p.m.

Please keep his family in your prayers.

Troubled Times

They say misery loves company. I’m thinking trouble doesn’t like being lonely either. Trouble has come to my family, and has brought grief and turmoil with it.

Last Monday was a long day for us. We spent part of it at a hospital in Memphis. My Uncle Harold, my mother’s brother-in-law, is there with heart problems. Despite procedures and medications, nothing seems to be working.

My aunt, the woman we have called "Sister" all of our lives, was by his side. But her mind was also on her son, who was in a hospital in Hot Springs. My cousin Bobby was in Intensive Care, from complications after brain surgery. Sister came from the hospital in Hot Springs to the hospital in Memphis when Harold started having chest pains. They are still there, weeks later.

We also spent some time in Tupelo, Mississippi. My dad’s brother-in-law, my Uncle Tom, was in the hospital there. He has cancer. In his liver, his spleen, his spine, his lungs, and his brain. He has eight tumors in his brain. There is no hope.

Three weeks ago, my Uncle Tom and my Aunt Linda were on vacation at the Grand Canyon. All was well, and they had no idea he was sick. Then he spilled his coffee, and his balance seemed a little off. He got lost at the airport. My aunt was mildly concerned, so she scheduled a doctor’s appointment. The bottom of their world simply dropped out from beneath them.

A month ago he was fine, or so we thought. And in a month or so, he will no longer be with us.
We know life has no guarantees. We know people die. Yet it is still a shock, each time. As we drove through Tupelo, we passed the hotel we had stayed in when my grandmother was sick. We went to the same hospital, walked the same halls.

We drove through New Albany, passed the hospital both my grandmother and my grandfather died at. We passed the hotel we stayed in, the restaurant we ate most of our meals at. Although it has been six years since we lost my Mom Decanter and not quite two years since we lost my Pop, the grief was still fresh as we retraced some of those same steps.

Now, here we are again, on the brink of losing another that we love. To that murdering beast that has already stolen part of my family. Cancer. I hate that word. It is the filthiest of words, the vilest of all of the curse words in the human language.

My Aunt Linda is devastated, as you would expect. They have been married more than 45 years. They have three children, two grandchildren; a life built together since she was teenager. She simply does not know how she will function alone when she always had her partner by her side.

We, her family, have and will continue to surround her with love. It won’t be enough, of course, but perhaps it will help as much as anything can help in such horrible circumstances.
If you see my mom, my dad, or me around in the next little while, we might be a little distracted. We might be thinking about my cousin Bobby in Hot Springs; my Uncle Harold in Memphis, or my Uncle Tom in Tupelo.

We are a family, and when one part of us has trouble, we all have trouble. Our hearts are hurting, because we can’t be everywhere we need to be each and every time we need to be there.

My Aunt Linda told me she wished I lived in Mississippi, so I could help her get through this. I will help her, in any way I can. We all will, with each of them. It’s what we do, when trouble comes to family.