Do you remember career day in junior high? I recall being dismissed to the gymnasium, where we were able to meet with potential future employers in almost a speed dating fashion. I already knew I was going to be the next Oprah Winfrey, so I’m not sure how seriously I took the day. More likely than not, it was a great social hour for me and my friends.

A few months ago, the counselor at my son’s middle school reached out to me to see if I’d be interested in sharing my career with her students. I jumped at the opportunity, especially knowing that this would give me a chance to check on my son and see a few of his teachers (you can never do this often enough with teenagers).

I put career day in the back of my mind for a while, but last week, as Friday approached, I became a little bit nervous. How can I make being a journalist, and writing for a newspaper, sound interesting to these kids? Talking about my job with kids who spend majority of their days texting and snapchatting, I wasn’t sure how I would keep their attention.

So, Thursday evening, I gathered newspapers (one for each student) and candy and gathered my thoughts. I decided to engage the students in interviews, asking them about their passions, their hobbies, their interests and their lives, which, surprisingly, seemed to work.

These kids are talented. I spoke with future artists, doctors, writers, athletes, engineers, and musicians. One girl wants to be a veterinarian, with a focus on helping elephants. One boy is determined to play in the NFL, but if that doesn’t work out, he’s also a pretty good singer.

I also learned that these kids have been through some tough things. Some have seen violence. Others have witnessed death, or suicide, or traumatic events that have surely left some invisible scars.

I learned more from these kids than I could ever teach them about me. Sure, I explained my day-to-day, and what it’s like to work at the newspaper. But, in a short amount of time (I had roughly 20 minutes with each group of around 20 kids), I learned what makes these kids who they are.

After one of my sessions, a teacher came up to me and said, “I learned more about my students in five minutes with the questions you asked them than I’ve learned about them all school year.”

A seventh-grade girl approached me after another session. “Thank you for inspiring me. I didn’t ever think that being a journalist could be cool, but you made it sound like such a fun job. Maybe I could be a journalist like you one day,” she said.

My job was done. I went into the day thinking that if I could reach just one kid, and inspire them to write a little more, or maybe take a journalism class in high school, then I would consider the day a success. It was definitely more than that.

I learned so much at career day. I learned that despite their backgrounds, their race or their social status, these kids are all going to be something great. I learned that our kids all have a story to tell. You just have to ask the right questions.

I’ve spent the better part of the last week or so watching videos on YouTube and looking up articles. No, I’m not researching for a big story. My son started wrestling, and it’s probably the one sport that I know pretty much nothing about.

Give me a sport with a ball, and I can figure it out pretty quickly. I’m by no means an expert on any of them, though. There’s a reason we pay someone else to write the sports stories in the paper. But, I can usually get by and cheer our teams on with the best of them. But wrestling? That’s a whole different ballgame (and, once again, there’s no ball. Go figure.).

Michael has tried to explain things to me, and has even tried to practice some moves on me (for just over 100 pounds, that kid is strong). But, during his first meet on Monday night this week, I was finally able to “get” it. At least enough to know that Michael won a few of his matches.

It may not be baseball. Or tennis. Or even bowling. He picked wrestling for his first school-related sport. As his mom, I’ll be in the bleachers cheering him on, biting my nails, and trying to follow along as much as I can. Then, I’ll look forward to bats, gloves and sunshine again in the spring.

As you start to run out of ways to eat leftover turkey, and your kitchens start to return to their pre-Thanksgiving states, I’ll be in my own kitchen making a homemade apple pie. You see, in my family, the celebration of Thanksgiving is always followed by my favorite day of the year: my son’s birthday.

This Saturday, as Michael turns 14, we’ll go from turkey to catching shrimp in our mouths at the Japanese steakhouse. His birthday will always be extra special to me, and provides me with an opportunity to reflect on the years since the day he came into this world.

I wasn’t ready for him. In fact, the day before he was born, I was on a ladder painting his bedroom walls a light blue. I still had a month to go, I thought. I had a doctor’s appointment that day, too, and as I was leaving, I recall my obstetrician saying, “I’ll see you next week, but it’ll probably be sooner.” I remember thinking she was nuts! There’s no way he would be here before that!

Sure enough, later that evening, I began to feel weird. With this being my first baby, I didn’t really know what that “weirdness” was. So, around five in the morning, off to the hospital we went. I was wheeled in, and was greeted by nurses who said, “There’s no way she’s in real labor; she’s smiling too much.”

At about six, I called my mom and told her I was at the hospital, knowing she would be getting up for work around that time. She came as quickly as she could, and when she got there, was told that they were getting ready to send me home. No baby was coming today.

Surprise! Less than an hour later, while the nurses were preparing the paperwork to send me on my way, Michael made his grand appearance. At only five pounds, he was small but mighty, and he came into the world wiggling and moving (and he hasn’t stopped since).

When I was a little girl, I imagined myself being the mom of daughters: little dolls I could dress up, fix their hair, and show off to the world. They would look just like me, and be as sweet as can be. Life had other plans, though, and made me a boy mom. Full of dirt, bugs, blood and all things gross, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My son is my world. He is wickedly smart, more handsome all the time, compassionate and strong. He keeps his parents on our toes, and he continues to amaze me with the person he is becoming.
I got really, really lucky. My cup overflows, and my blessings all seem to be wrapped up in the love I have for this kid. For 14 years, my heart has swelled, and my pride and joy has grown right along with it. I have many things to be thankful for each year, but Michael always seems to top my list.

In the middle columns of this page, Gerald Caldwell writes about a true American hero. A man who, when confronted literally head on with serious challenges, he trudged on. Every year, when Veterans Day comes around, I look forward to reading and hearing the stories of the men and women who have sacrificed so much for this great country of ours.

I think we’d be hard-pressed to find a family without someone who has served or is currently serving in our military. Each of us has likely been affected, either directly or indirectly, by service for the country. Men and women who are willing to put service above self, who are honorable and almost fearless, and who are much braver than I, are the true heroes and they should be celebrated.

My grandfathers were all in the service. My brother served in the Marine Corps, as did my fiancé. Our family is no stranger to the selflessness it takes to be a part of our military, and I’m personally grateful to each of these men in my life who put on their uniforms in the name of America while they did.

To all of our area veterans, we salute you. We honor you. We thank you. Thank you for your service and your sacrifice. We see you. We recognize you. We owe you more than we can give. Happy Veterans Day to all who have served. And may God bless America.

I’ll begin my column this week with a sincere apology to all of our subscribers. We have received an abundance of calls and visits regarding last week’s delivery of the Jackson County Advocate. The paper was delivered on-time to area post offices on Wednesday, October 23 for delivery on Thursday, October 24, just as it usually is. Once the papers left our possession, it is unclear what happened.

Since taking ownership of the Advocate in 2012, we have never missed a printing deadline, and we work diligently to complete the paper on time each week. I can assure you we won’t in the future. We will do our best to work with the post office to ensure timely deliveries (as this is not the first time we have had a widespread miss).

We work hard to deliver a product each week that we can be proud of, and frankly, there’s nothing to be proud of if no one is reading what we wrote. We ask for your patience, and cross our fingers that this will be remedied soon.

In the meantime, if you do not receive a paper for whatever reason on your normal delivery day, please feel free to stop by our office during our normal business hours to grab a copy. I’d hate for more in our community to not have their news that they have come to rely on since 1953.

Conversation with the Congressman

It’s not everyday that I receive an invitation to have a one-on-one with our government leaders. However, on Friday afternoon, over pizza and soda, I sat down with Congressman Emanuel Cleaver, II. When I received the phone call on Thursday afternoon requesting the meeting, after accepting (one does not turn down an offer from a Congressman like that), my first thought was, “Oh no, what did I do to make him mad?”

I racked my brain, trying to remember if there was anything over the past few weeks that we have printed that might be of concern. Drawing a blank, I woke up Friday and got myself ready for the day as if I were meeting a celebrity. And, to be honest, Cleaver is a bit of a celebrity in the most Kansas City way. He even has a boulevard named after him.

From the moment Cleaver walked into Providence Pizza on Friday, though, my mind was put at ease (he wanted to meet there because that’s where he brought the Grandview High School basketball team after their state championship earlier this spring). After some brief chit-chat, he dove right into the elephant in the White House.

“The only reason he’s (President Trump) not going to get indicted is if he wins the election,” Cleaver said. “If he loses the election, he’ll be indicted. He’s in trouble. This is a weird moment in time, probably for the whole country.”

He talked about how farmers across America have started to rebel in a sense, and that farmers in Missouri have had a tough time with both tariffs and flooding. He said 70% of farmers in the country voted for Donald Trump. And while he won their votes at the time, Cleaver said that some are now saying that because of the administration and decisions that have been made since Trump took office, they are at risk of losing their farms and having trouble selling their crops.

“Some people think that if the President is impeached in the House, that that’s it and he packs up and goes home,” said Cleaver. “That’s not how it works. I’ve realized that a lot of Americans believe that when you say impeachment that the President leaves.”

Even with the latest developments in the impeachment process, including two arrests last week, Cleaver doesn’t believe that President Trump will be impeached. He added that there is speculation that Rudolph Giuliani, who currently serves as President Trump’s personal attorney, will also be indicted.

“I’m a simple preacher. I didn’t go to a fancy, nice school,” said Cleaver, “but I would not sit and have lunch in a public restaurant with two Russian-born believed-to-be mafia people like Giuliani. I mean, geez. He could have been anything.”

Cleaver said he thinks the country is at the tip of the iceberg, and that more things will come forth in the next few months (he even said it might give us all headaches).

Bringing the conversation home, Cleaver said he would like to be included in conversations that affect our community. He has seen growth and good things from Grandview and looks forward to seeing the Gateway Village soccer project come to fruition (don’t we all?).

“That project is a game-changer,” Cleaver said. He serves on a Congressional Modernization committee and has noted that the Gateway project is something that they have agreed to earmark funds in order to see it get underway. “I would be able to help with the financing piece.”

He asked me how business is going, and whether we’ve seen any hits either due to tariffs or the political discussions taking place across the country regarding the press.

“The attack on your industry is being felt across the globe,” said Cleaver. “If we lose our newspapers, we are in trouble. Most of the things everyone hears about in Washington was found out by newspapers. I don’t know what needs to be done, but you guys can fix things.”

We finished our talk with local school districts, elected officials, and other entities that we cover on a weekly basis. He reiterated that he’d like to keep the lines of communication open.

So, I’m not in trouble. That’s a relief. It was nice to actually sit down and just chat for a while with him. No agenda. No list of questions. Just a conversation. I’m always open to those sorts of invites. Maybe next time we can grab tacos.

This week, newspapers across the country are celebrating. From the dailies, to the monthlies, and all those in between, for 79 years we have all collaboratively honored our craft with a week commemorating everything that our industry stands for. As we celebrate National Newspaper Week, we recognize the service we provide our communities, and we emphasize the importance of our role, as both a forum and a voice.

“The power of the press rests in the ability of journalists to hold government accountable, to mobilize public opinion on matters that are important to individuals, communities or the nation, and to provide necessary information of value,” says Gene Policinski, a founding editor of USA Today, and chief operating officer of the Freedom Forum Institute and of the Institute’s First Amendment Center.

Holding government, locally, regionally, and nationally, accountable is at the core of what we do. But, at least at this paper, we are much more than government watchdogs. We live in the community we work in. We celebrate state wins right along with you. We mourn the losses of lifelong residents just as you do. And, we visit the same businesses and eat at the same restaurants as most of you.

Our hearts are poured into our pages week after week, whether we’re writing good news or bad. We consider our work a privilege, and we understand that our job here is never really done. As long as there are stories to tell, and as long as there are people to read them, we’ll be here keeping a watchful eye on things, and cheering our community along with each of you.

Over the weekend, along with celebrating my birthday on the 28th, I also had the opportunity to celebrate good journalism with my friends at the Missouri Press Association’s annual banquet and Better Newspaper Contest awards luncheon. The Jackson County Advocate brought home some accolades, too.

Two first-place plaques will be hanging on the wall in our office soon, one for best story about religion (for the feature on Flourish Furnishings) and one for best story about history (for the piece on the forgotten cemetery in South Kansas City). We also received second, third and honorable mention awards for: best coverage of government (I took second and honorable mention in this category); best story about rural life or agriculture (feature on the Terrace Lake community garden); best sports feature story; best business story; and best sports news story or package.

Of course, we don’t do what we do for the awards. But, being recognized for a job well done is always nice, and is very much appreciated. I look forward to celebrating more journalism next week, as it is National Newspaper Week. I love what I do. I love being able to tell the stories of the community; your stories. I love getting to know the people and places in my hometown, and I love uncovering the nitty gritty when necessary, too.

It’s not about the awards. It’s about telling the story of us. And that’s what matters most. So, celebrate with me this week. Cheers to a newspaper that remains an award-winning hometown news source since 1953. Cheers to the Turnbaugh family, who I hope are still proud of their little family business. And, finally, cheers to each of you, who continue to support local journalism simply by subscribing or picking up a copy of this paper week after week. We couldn’t do it without you. Thank you.

Be kind. Two little words painted by little hands that truly made my day. A day that I was sort of dreading, knowing before I even woke up that it would be a long one, I arrived to work with weight on my shoulders and an overall grumpy attitude.

Putting pictures on the page, I began to get excited for the kids over at Meadowmere Elementary School in Grandview to see their story on the kindness rocks they made last week. Then I thought: what if there’s a rock outside my office and I missed it? So, I headed outside.

I looked all around the front of our building. There weren’t any in the bushes. There were none near the newspaper stand. And I didn’t see anything in the flower boxes. A little bummed, I headed back inside. That’s when I saw it. The small, colorful rock was sitting in the corner of door frame. Somehow, I missed it (as did my coworkers) when I walked through it this morning.

I picked it up, smiled big, and read the words: be kind. A nice little reminder to be kind to myself and others. Who knew a little rock could have such an impact on a person’s day?

I plan to take the kindness rock I found to another location, and I look forward to watching the Facebook page to see where it ends up. Maybe it’ll make someone else’s day just a little bit better and brighter, too.

I was in my dorm room at Northwest Missouri State when it happened. My roommate had just come in from the showers, and she said that everyone was telling her to turn on the news. That’s when we saw the second plane hit. In just a few minutes on the morning of September 11, 2001, the world as I knew it was forever changed.

Nearly 3,000 people did not come home that Tuesday night. Countless family members spent hours, days or weeks waiting for the dreaded inevitable news of their loved ones. Of the 2,977 killed in the attacks on September 11, 343 firefighters of the New York City Fire Department died while fulfilling their duties at the World Trade Center.

Since 2011, 343 firefighters annually from all across the metro have participated in the Kansas City 9-11 Memorial Stair Climb. This past Sunday, Sept. 8, 13 members of the Grandview Fire Department embarked on the 110-story climb at the Town Pavilion downtown. In full gear, the firefighters were supported by members of the community, coming together for a day of extreme physical challenge and intense reflection in a truly inspirational setting.

Together, the first responders honor New York’s bravest who sacrificed their lives on September 11, 2001, and they support the families in Kansas City who have suffered a line of duty death. Proceeds from the stair climb benefit S.A.F.E., the Surviving Spouse and Family Endowment Fund, which provides the comfort of financial support for the surviving spouses and dependents or, in their absence, the parents of sworn law enforcement officers, firefighters and emergency services personnel who lose their life in the performance of their duties.

Grandview Assistant Fire Chief Jim Toone participated in the climb for the first time this year. Upon arrival, each climber receives the name and description of one of the 343 fallen firefighters. On Sunday, Toone climbed in memory of Michael Roberts.

“It’s an honor to get to climb for another firefighter who didn’t get to come home on 9-11,” said Toone. “It brings, at least in part, a physical reminder of the lengths that 343 public servants took to reach those needing rescue. The event is physically exhausting and worth every step.”

Toone estimates that he, along with the other 342 participants, climbed 2,640 stairs. Almost a stair for each life lost on that horrific day. A sobering reminder of just how fortunate we are, and how grateful we should be to those who put their lives on the line for us each and every day. We will not forget. 

It’s been a number of years since I remember first meeting Carol Stark, editor of the Joplin Globe. It was sometime after the catastrophic and deadly tornado ripped through the quiet, small city that she called home, killing 161 people and causing billions of dollars worth of damage. Yet Carol Stark moved forward, she had a job to do.

As a young journalist, I was a little awestruck at first, not knowing what to say or how to act in front of this woman whom I admired and desired to emulate. I recall sitting in a room at a Missouri Press convention, where the movie Deadline in Disaster played, and watching Carol out of the corner of my eye. The movie, a documentary based on her newspaper at the time of the tornado, was heart wrenching and motivating at the same time. But, I remember keeping an eye on Carol, who sat with a look on her face that could only be described as pride as she watched her team work through their emotions and forge on. They had a job to do.

Not long ago, I was selected to serve alongside Carol Stark on the Missouri Press Association’s Board of Directors. Still a little bit awestruck, but with a few more years under my belt, I realized that Carol was warm and inviting and had one of the biggest hearts of anyone in the room. She loved newspapers to her core, and she wasn’t shy about giving advice or speaking her mind when it came to defending her passion. She became not only someone I looked up to, but also a dear friend.

After a lengthy, ugly battle with cancer, Carol Stark left this world and headed to the next last week, undoubtedly with her byline at the ready to record her next series of columns. How I wish I could read what she writes next. Carol taught me many things in the years I got to know her, but most importantly, she helped to remind me to love what I do and make sure every word comes from a place of passion and love, regardless of the subject at hand.

Carol Stark was, in my mind, royalty in the world of Missouri journalism. I will miss her wit, her guidance, her criticisms and her warmness. But, I will do my best not to dwell, because, as she’d remind me, I have a job to do.

Some people don’t like change. My son, for instance, is the first to notice something out of place at home, and seems to have an attachment to most things that he’s grown up with (cars, furniture, etc.). For me, though, change can be exciting. Like, the start of a new school year, for instance. Though my calendar no longer coincides with that of the schools, I still feel a sense of new beginning this time of year.

Transitions happen many times throughout our lives, whether through personal changes or taking on new challenges in our careers. We’re in the process of transition here at the Advocate. As you may have read a few weeks ago, our sports editor has moved on to a new industry, and we began our search for someone to join our family business.

We’ve found a new member for our team, and I’ll let her introduce herself to you all next week. In the meantime, though, we are busy filling the pages with the local news and sports you’ve come to expect from our paper, and we look forward to having a new set of eyes and fresh ideas brought to the table. I’m excited about this change, and I’m hopeful that we’ll be able to bring you an even better product each week (and maybe a few extras here and there, too).

With the new school year comes some new possibilities. I can’t wait to get started.

Can you say heat wave? Just the other day, I was talking with someone about how my summer tan is usually a lot further along by now. This year, on the days that I have some time, it seems that we’ve had rain and clouds and cooler temps.

This week, though, everything changes. If you need me, and I’m not at the office, chances are I’ll be poolside, with my kindle in one hand and a cold drink in the other. I knew it was coming. On Sunday, I was already receiving weather alerts on my phone, warning me of the upcoming heat indexes and high temperatures.

Of course, this is normal for July. Though, I think a lot of us tend to forget with the seasons. In the winter, we want summer. In the summer, we’re looking forward to winter. Typical temperatures for our neck of the woods this time of year hover around 90.

In fact, the highest temp on record, according to the National Weather Service, for July 16 was set back in 1954. It was 111 degrees. Notwithstanding the heat index calculation, I can’t even imagine what that felt like outside. Actually, I can. Because, to me, hot is hot. Once it gets to be 90 out, it can be 95, 100, or 105, it all feels the same to me.

So, with the heat wave this week, I plan to work on my tan, finish a book, and maybe even write a story or two. Summertime is spent best when we can relax and enjoy the sunshine, and I plan to do just that.

I came into the office this morning with my column, for the most part, written out in my head. I was awake early writing in my thoughts, and was eager to sit at my desk and put the words down. That was, until, I received an email that would change the course of my day.

Once again, I sit here in disbelief and heartbreak after the news came through of a shooting in Grandview that took the life of a 14-year-old teenager. A boy, slightly older than my own, who will never have the chance to step foot through Grandview High School as a freshman, won’t be able to ask anyone to prom, and won’t see the remake of The Lion King next month. Gun violence took everything from this boy, from his family, and it makes me sick.

It’s getting tougher and tougher to put my personal feelings aside, stick on my press badge and write these stories. I’m a person before I’m a journalist, and the human side of me types through tears more often than I care to admit.

I’ve written this before. I’ve pleaded and begged and wept, hoping for change. Praying for our children. Waiting for action. Yet, here we are.

Another mother is incomplete. Our community is heartbroken again (or still). Our police are seeking answers, and our kids have lost a friend. At what point do we wake up from this nightmare?
What will it take? How many need to die at the hands of senseless people with guns? I surely don’t have the answers. I wish I did. Until then, I will continue to write, and I will continue to love.

Tonight, when I finally head home after a long day with deadlines and meetings, and I can crawl into my bed knowing (hoping) my own Grandview teen is safely in his. I will close my eyes and I will see this other boy’s face. His smile from the photos that were shared on social media will shine bright in my thoughts. And I will wake up tomorrow. Something this boy will never do again.

I consider myself pretty lucky to have had so many loving, caring men in my life. From uncles and grandfathers, to my brother and, of course, my own dad, I’ve had the influence of men who work hard, love their families, treat women with respect and are always there to fix things when needed.

I have limited space this week, but wanted to take a few lines to wish all of our male readers a Happy Father’s Day this weekend. Whether you are a dad, or make a difference in the life of a child who is not yours biologically, I thank you and I honor you this Sunday.

My dad has always been one of my strongest supporters. He is someone who always has my back, but would also teach me some hard lessons if he thought it was needed. He has always put his family first, and we can usually count on him for a corny “dad joke” to make us laugh (or roll our eyes).

Happy Father’s Day to you, Dad. Thank you for everything, and I love you the sky.

I hope I’m not too late in wishing all of the mothers a Happy Mother’s Day. I know from experience that, as moms, we don’t get near the right amount of recognition we deserve, so I suppose that seeing this a few days late won’t bother most of you. If your Mother’s Day was anything like mine, it was likely just an ordinary day with a little bit of acknowledgment sprinkled in.

I celebrated with my own mom a day early this year. We went on one of our “mother-daughter adventures,” visiting the birthplace of Ginger Rogers for tea and pastries in Independence. It’s possible that we were unaware that she was even born here, let alone how influential her own mother was on the careers of many stars like Lucille Ball and Betty Grable. Having served as Ginger’s manager throughout her career, Lela Rogers sought the best for her daughter, who became the highest paid actor in the 1940s.

Learning of this tight mother-daughter relationship was appropriate for a Mother’s Day outing with my own mom. We have always had a close bond, and I consider her one of my best friends. Like any great mother, she loves her kids (and her grandson) with abandon, and she would do anything to protect her family. I have learned from the best.

When I’m with my mom, our conversations typically turn to the hilarious. She’s the type of person who doesn’t take life too seriously, and can usually find the humor in most situations. She’s probably the smartest person I know, and is my favorite gossip buddy.

Moms are some of the most important people in our lives. Whether by blood, marriage, or friendship, they can come in many different forms. To all those who mother others, I salute you this week. Thank you for sharing your hearts, your time, your talents and your laughter with the people in your lives, whether they are your children or not. I appreciate you all the days, not just on Mother’s Day.

Do you believe in coincidences? Some folks may believe that coincidences are the act of a higher power, while others may shrug off any sort of instance of significance.

Recently, I experienced a little bit of a coincidence. When I was a little girl, I recall visiting the home of a beekeeper in Grandview. I’m not sure if it was a field trip through school, or something we did as Daisy Scouts, but I remember walking with the group over to this older man’s house, where he invited us into his backyard. There he had what I remember being sort of a bee hotel, and he explained to us how the bees made their honey, what the job of each one was, and why they are important to our ecosystem.

He showed us, with big gloves, how he handles the bees. And he taught us to not be afraid of them. I remember being so mesmerized by this, because I certainly was one terrified little girl when it came to being stung. But, he was so gentle and calm and those bees seemed to know that he meant them no harm.

I have never forgotten this, though it’s probably been 30 years ago now. Just last week, as I received a press release about our bees being in danger, I was reminded of my trip to the man’s house as a little girl. Since then, I have driven by where I thought the house to be, and peeked through to the yard to see if I could see any sign of the bees or my old friend. I wasn’t ever really sure that he was still there or whether or not I had dreamed the whole thing.

On a whim, I responded to the emailed press release. I asked the Missouri State Beekeepers Association if there were any beekeepers in my area, and if so, if they’d be interested in talking with me for a story. This was on Wednesday, May 1. I didn’t hear back from them, which is fairly common in my line of work. I knew it was a long-shot anyway, and apart from knocking on the door of the home, I figured this was my best chance at finding him.

Over the weekend, like most weekends, I received a couple of obituaries in my inbox to run in this week’s issue. As I was scanning through one, I paused. Bill Bandy was a beekeeper in Grandview. I did some quick research and discovered that the man I had been hoping to find, the beekeeper I remember meeting nearly three decades ago, had passed away at 97 years old.

Mr. Bandy died on the same day that I inquired about him to the state beekeepers association. I wish I had reached out to him sooner. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know that pretty much anyone that you take the time to sit down with has a story to tell. I wish I could have told Mr. Bandy’s story.

Despite my regrets, I know he lived a long life. I hope he knew that he made an impact on at least one little girl who will forever think of him when she hears a little buzz in her ear. He taught me that bees are our friends, and that with a little patience and a gentle hand, life’s stings won’t hurt so bad.

Disappointed. There really is no other word to describe how I felt waking up on Tuesday morning to the news that Missouri District 36 Representative DaRon McGee resigned from his position the night before, after allegations of sexual harassment came to light.

According to his letter of resignation, however, McGee has accepted an employment position in Kansas City, “which will, unfortunately, cause me to return to my district full-time as of May 3, 2019.” The letter was received by the Speaker of the House at 6:55 p.m. on Monday evening.
Apparently, McGee was the subject of a Committee on Ethics investigation, and Chairman Eggleston reported those findings following the submission of the resignation letter.

In the report, the committee indicated that in early January, a mandated reporter contacted the Missouri House of Representatives Division of Administration to report allegations that McGee attempted to engage in an amorous relationship with a House employee whom he supervised. The report goes on to say that McGee repeatedly delayed and obstructed the proceedings, impeding resolution of the matter.

“Respondent’s actions demonstrate disrespect of the House of Representatives and a failure to acknowledge the severity of his actions towards the Employee,” the report says. “The Committee on Ethics, having given full consideration to this complaint, including hearing the evidence and testimony presented at the preliminary hearing, and in light of the Respondent’s repeated attempts to delay the proceedings and obstruct the authority of this Committee, concludes that the actions of the Respondent constitute a moral and legal wrong and hereby issues this report, containing an enumerated list of recommended sanctions, as a final resolution of this matter.”

This report, adopted by a unanimous vote of the Committee on Ethics, was filed the same day that McGee resigned.

According to the report, McGee did his best to shut this investigation down. The committee, as part of its investigation, was given a series of text messages between McGee and the employee, which indicated that McGee attempted to engage in a sexual relationship with the employee, despite rejection. McGee then took matters into his own hands by taking actions that resulted in the employee losing her job.

This just a year after former Governor Eric Greitens resigned amid his own sexual misconduct. The list of men in power facing these types of allegations is ever growing. And ever disappointing.

We deserve representation with values and morals. We deserve to have men and women in power positions who do not take advantage of that power. We deserve to hold our elected officials accountable, and we deserve to hold those same men and women in high esteem. We deserve better.

Happy springtime! It’s finally starting to feel a bit more like spring nowadays, and I’ve seen some tulips popping up all over town. This time of year always puts a smile on my face: the grass is turning green, the sludge and gunk from a snowy winter are now just a memory, and I’m waking up to the sound of birds chirping outside my window.

Warmer weather also means that the neighborhood kids (and adults who act like kids) are out playing, walking, running, or riding their bikes. Spring for me means, while driving, I’ve got my sunglasses on, my windows down, and my music turned a little louder. I’m the first to admit that I’m not always the most responsible when it comes to driving, I do my best to put my phone down.

According to the Missouri Department of Insurance, while texting is most often associated with distraction in the car, other distractions include eating, drinking, grooming, DWI and passengers in the car. Some of these actions seem more innocuous than others, but all forms of distracted driving are reckless, cost money and endanger lives. The MO Eyes on the Road campaign encourages precautionary measures to curb the number of vehicle accidents due to distracted driving.

I urge you all to keep your phones away, keep your hands on the wheel, and keep your eyes on the road. That text message can wait. It’s not worth a life.

Ahhh, can you smell that? The grass is finally starting to perk up, the bulbs are starting to show their faces, and the sunshine is warming my skin. Spring is in the air, but that’s not what has me sniffing around so much lately. It’s election season, and the aroma of some good, quality, old-fashioned competition for our local seats is in the air for a change.

Of course, the competition can make some people nervous, but I think that it’s what makes the election process so great (and more fun to cover for the paper). A little rivalry, in my opinion, helps keep our elected officials at the top of their game.

As I write this, it is Tuesday: Election Day. I don’t know the results yet, and won’t even pretend to speculate on who wins what races. I remain hopeful, however, that whomever is selected to serve Grandview and South Kansas City will do so with pride.

Tonight, as I watch the results trickle in from home and finish the front page of this paper, I’ll be thinking about the issues we face on a day-to-day basis in this part of the Kansas City metro. Our priorities remain the same: quality education, housing, businesses and infrastructure in order to lead healthy, happy lives in our community.

Whether we see changes made, or more of the same, I think we will be victorious, as those who we select to serve our communities will have our interests at heart. Now, do you smell it? Smells like a win.

The Midwest is ugly in the winter time. Especially this year. With our seemingly unending spells of snow and ice, we are left with a mess sludge and mud. Add to that the litter that James Stark refers to in the letter above, and our city just looks gross.

I agree with you, Mr. Stark. As a community, we need to take more pride in our town. Whether we get our own hands dirty, or employ the help of other institutions, we do have some work that needs to be done. Over the last six years since I’ve been working at the paper here in Grandview, I’ve witnessed, written about, and been a part of different groups and organizations who wish to make our home a better place to live.

The City of Grandview agrees, too. They offer the Trash Busters Program to citizens and businesses. In conjunction with Missouri Department of Transportation’s (MODOT)No MOre Trash campaign, the city allows the opportunity for volunteers to earn money while beautifying Grandview.
Class II safety vests, pick-up sticks, and trash bags are provided by the city. The bags are then placed along the roadside that has been cleaned and will be picked up for disposal by MODOT. Invoices (also provided by the City of Grandview) must be completed for each collection date and submitted for payment. Organizations or individuals will then receive $5.00 per bag collected.

In the past, organized groups have gotten together for clean-up days, and the money raised has been donated to local nonprofits, like Grandview Assistance Program or the Grandview Education Foundation.

If interested, or for additional information on the city’s Trash Busters Program, contact the Public Works Department at 816-316-4856.

With spring finally on the horizon, and it looks like we’ll finally be thawing out, we can begin to put in a little effort to clean up our little corner of the Midwest. Let’s make Grandview and South Kansas City shine.

It’s finally getting close to election season, which just happens to be my favorite time of year. Lucky for me, it comes around a few times each year. However, locally, the April elections are the cherry on top of my election-time sundae.

This April, I don’t envy voters in Kansas City at all. Eleven candidates have thrown their hats into the election circus ring, which should prove to make for interesting news coverage, no doubt. However, it’ll be up to the voters to sift through the pool to find the candidates who really have what it takes. Personally, I’d be happy with a handful of those who are seeking KCMO’s highest office, but unfortunately, I don’t have the opportunity to make that decision.

The community where I do vote, though, has, for the first time in several years, some opposition for a real election. From school board candidates to Board of Aldermen hopefuls, we will finally be able to see some new ideas brought forth in Grandview. I’m happy to work with whomever wins, incumbent or otherwise, but I’m sure anxious to see what happens when some of our elected officials will have to, for the first time in some cases, run a real election.

With races also happening in Hickman Mills and Center school districts, our pages will likely be filled with all the information you could possibly need to make informed decisions come April 2.
I’m looking forward to getting to know each of the candidates, and I can’t wait to savor the cherries this spring.

In case you haven’t read it yet, my front-page story from Mayor’s State of the City address last week in Grandview refers to the reduction in crime in our beloved city. Not a slight reduction, either. Crime in Grandview has plummeted by 12 percent. This is huge. For a community that, for years, received a bad rap in the metro and was considered one of the fastest dying cities not all that long ago, Grandview has made tremendous strides.

It’s hard to sit through presentations, like the Mayor’s State of the City address, or Grandview school board meetings, or even a Chamber of Commerce networking event, and not get excited about the things happening in our town.

Grandview has a lot to be proud of. In recent years, plans have been implemented and dollars have been spent to help improve the image of this great city. Now, as Mayor Jones alluded to last week, it is in the hands of us, the citizens of Grandview, to keep the talk positive.

I’m proud to be from Grandview, and I’m even more proud to work alongside some of the metro’s finest men and women each day, telling the good stories of what is going on around here.
The Grandview School District’s leadership has dubbed this school year as a year of momentum.

Grandview Mayor Leonard Jones said that Grandview is a place where dreams can begin and come true for those who live here. If I had to sum up my thoughts on Grandview for the foreseeable future, I think I’d say we are pursuing hope - not just in planning for the future, but in preserving our rich community history.

President Harry S Truman walked the streets of Grandview, the same streets we frequent today. He cultivated the family farm and dreams of his own during his time here. He helped to create a momentum for this city to prosper, and despite our ups and downs, we continue to walk down his path.

He was quoted once as saying, “Prosperous farmers make for a prosperous nation, and when farmers are in trouble, the nation is in trouble.”

When Grandview is successful and thriving, the community benefits in many ways. We can thank the police department, city leadership, and others for the reduction in crime in our city. And, I do. Very much so. However, I think we also need to look inward, and pat ourselves on the back for a job well done. It truly does take a village, and I’m lucky to be a part of this one.

Many years ago, when Michael (now 13) was just barely walking, I remember making him snow ice cream for the very first time. I sent him outside, bundled up like the little brother from A Christmas Story, with a wooden spoon in one hand and a big, plastic bowl in the other, telling him to find the cleanest snow he could find.

The first time he did this, I remember how excited he was to make something out of the snow in our yard. And, I’m sure, he was thrilled that I was actually allowing him to put something from the ground in his mouth.

Of course, while he was young, I had to pick dried leaves and sticks out of the bowl before I deemed it edible. Michael would help pour in the ingredients, and I let him think he was doing most of the mixing while I went behind him and stirred it up.

Snow ice cream is a simple treat. We make it with a can of sweetened condensed milk and a little bit of vanilla extract. As time has passed, I have made sure to keep the ingredients on hand every winter.
This last snow, I though, would surely be the one where Michael didn’t ask for his snow ice cream.
But, sure enough, as soon as the forecast showed snow early last week, Michael asked if we’d be carrying on the tradition.

“Of course,” I told him, checking the cabinet to ensure nothing was expired (past-date sweetened condensed milk is no good; trust us on this). My teenage son, armed with bowl and spoon, headed out to scoop up some white snow for our treat. I watched from the window, remembering when he was just a little bitty thing, and was reminded that while he has grown and so much has changed, some things have remained the same.

“It’s not as good as I remember it being,” he told me, after we’d mixed and put the latest batch of snow ice cream in our bowls.

“It’s not the flavor of the ice cream, but the novelty of it, that you remember being so good,” I told him. He nodded, and took his bowl of snow ice cream with him to his room to continue playing video games.

Alone I sat, in my living room with the blinds open, watching as snow continued to fall last Saturday, with the sound of Fortnite coming from the other room, the taste of cold, sweet vanilla on my tongue, and a warmth in my heart for ongoing traditions with my son.

Last year, around this time, I had a lot of hope for 2018. I looked forward to closing some doors, and opening others wide open to see what was on the other side. I glimpsed back on 2017 with a smile, knowing I gave it my all, and looked at 2018 with eagerness and joy. And, 2019 looks to be full of the same hopes and dreams, and a little more love for me.

I found new love, and new dreams, in 2018. Back in April, I met a guy online (because, that’s simply how you have to meet people nowadays, though it certainly wasn’t my favorite, and I could probably write a book on my online dating experiences). However, immediately, I knew that he was different. I could tell from the first time I met him that this was going to be something special.

Over the next several months, we went out as often as possible. In the beginning, it was tough, because dating with kids and jobs and responsibilities proved to be a challenge. But, we continued to make time for each other and get to know one another as much as possible. Somewhere along the way, we both fell in love.

We went through the motions of introducing our kids, first to us, then to one another. Then we met the parents on both sides. It all seemed natural, exciting, and as each day and week passed, I found myself caring more and more about this man.

He is a true gentleman, handsome, caring and funny. He makes me smile all the time and he truly feels like home. So, it was inevitable, then, that on December 22, eight months after our first date, he asked me to marry him. It wasn’t a surprise to me, because we had talked about our future since the beginning, and I got to a point where I couldn’t imagine one without him in it.

In 2018, this Mary found her Joseph, quite literally. I’m heading into 2019 with a lot of love in my heart, a beautiful ring on my hand, and the promise of forever from a man who will hold my hand through whatever life throws my way. It’s going to be a Happy New Year for me, indeed.