Last week, in the quiet stillness of her home, I held my grandma’s hand as she took her last breath. My grandma was my favorite person. She was there when I was born, undoubtedly one of the first to hold me and tell me she loved me. From the very beginning, we shared a special bond that only grandmothers and granddaughters share, especially those who have the same name.

My grandma Mary Ann was the one who taught me how to swim in the freezing cold water of the lake place in early summer…because grandma and I would never say the water was too cold. We’d sip on sun tea and watch the sunset with lightning bugs dancing around us and the sound of cicadas keeping me up way past my bedtime.

Grandma was my favorite shopping buddy. We would shop-’til-we dropped, and Grandma would spoil me with “regular-priced” goodies that kept me looking pretty cool. And Grandma always looked pretty cool herself. She had the best wardrobe and always looked so put together, no matter where she was going. With those big, brown eyes, gorgeous white hair and sweet demeanor, she turned heads wherever she went.

We attended numerous ballets, and saw many productions together. For a few years when I was little, we had a tradition of seeing The Nutcracker at Christmastime. We were frequent visitors of the Nelson-Atkins and expert ice cream connoisseurs, spending way too much time picking out our favorite flavor at Baskin Robins when we’d both always settle on the same thing we’d always get. We went to high tea dressed in our fanciest clothes, and we picked blueberries until we were purple from head to toe. She was kind, loving and would do anything for me.

Grandma was at every dance performance, every game, every school musical, every birthday celebration and every important day of my life. She was my biggest cheerleader and supporter. If I didn’t think I could do something or wouldn’t be very good at this or that, she had a way of convincing me otherwise.

She knew no stranger. She loved to talk, and anyone who was in her presence for any given amount of time would quickly become a friend. I definitely got the gift of gab from my grandma, and even when she couldn’t have a conversation with me any longer because of Alzheimer’s, I knew she loved listening to me talk to her when she’d smile in response or tell me I was pretty.

As I got older, my grandma was the one to send me postcards and care packages while I was away at school. When I became an adult, the birthday cards came in the mail and eventually, they would come a few days late until they stopped coming altogether. It is heartbreaking to watch someone you love so much, someone you have so many memories with, struggle to even remember your name – our name.

She loved with her whole heart and thought the world of her family. She was there when my baby boy was born, and she was so proud and happy to be a great-grandma. That little boy could do no wrong in her eyes…she even willingly held his hand as he gave her a tour of the backyard dog poop at my parent’s house when he was about two. It didn’t matter that they were looking at poop; what mattered to her was that little Michael was so excited to tell her all about it.

When I was a little girl, I remember my mom telling me that there was no one in this world who loved me like my grandma loved me. I never forgot that. She was there for my beginning and I was there for her end. We have a bond that surely will carry on, as I know she is still my cheerleader, still my supporter and still my best friend. I will cherish the memories I have of her, and I will do my best to live up to our name.

“Government can be a force for good, just like the press. That was true 150 years ago when this organization began and it is especially true today, in this age where many have lost faith in their government and the process and also lost faith in the press. It hasn’t been that long ago that a Missourian from St. Joseph, journalist Walter Cronkite, was the most trusted man in America. That’s a goal that everybody in the press should constantly work to be in your communities for all of us. Trusting,” Governor Jay Nixon said as he addressed a room full of journalists at the 150th Annual Missouri Press Convention last Friday.

The work of journalists is more important now than ever, as is the opinion of journalists, along with the ability to recognize and celebrate the positive and the good news happening in our communities each and every day. As we celebrate National Newspaper Week this week, I’m reminded of my duty and my privilege to cover this community.

Through good times and bad, through ribbon cuttings and destructive fires, through it all, the community newspaper is there. For me, this industry is more than just a job. It’s my calling. I’m passionate about telling stories. This community is where I grew up, and it’s where my son now calls home. In my 33 years of life, I’ve seen tremendous change that is now amounting to progress, and I’m continuously excited for the future of this part of the world.

We wouldn’t be able to do this without you. Each week, we pour our hearts out on these pages. We tell the stories of your neighbors, your leaders, your friends and your colleagues. We believe in our duty to be fair and just, and we believe in the truth. We truly have our readers’ best interests at heart.
So, each week, as I attempt to scrub the ink from my knuckles and step out into this community, I am reminded of good ole’ Mr. Cronkite. Am I the most trusted person in Grandview and South Kansas City? If not, that is my goal. If nothing else is accomplished, I can at least attempt to be just that: trusting.

Last week, we had two stories regarding resignations from individuals in public offices. One school board member supposedly moved out of district, and one alderman resigned for apparent health reasons. I’m beginning to see a trend where our local politics are concerned.

Medical issues and other emergency situations aside, if you can’t serve the term, don’t run for the office. If you are interested in dipping your toes into the political arena, I urge you to educate yourself on what it is you’re getting into, what is expected of you, the commitments and the processes. Maybe attend some meetings to get a feel for what actually goes on. I can’t even begin to estimate how many school board meetings, public hearings, city aldermen meetings or otherwise I’ve covered where I am the sole community member in attendance.

Time and again I have seen people run for different offices whom I’ve never seen at a meeting, who don’t have any experience in government or education, and who are simply in over their heads from the get go.

Those who are committed elected officials end up feeling the burden of those vacancies. Running for office, in whatever capacity, is not a status symbol, a social experiment or a popularity contest and should not be taken lightly. A public office is a job, with deadlines, homework, expectations and commitment. It requires leadership, organization, time-management and people skills. Most importantly, it requires someone who will take the job seriously.

Our local governments deserve better. Our elected officials deserve better colleagues. Our community deserves better. Being elected to public office isn’t akin to winning a game. Elected terms are marathons, not foot races. If you cannot stand that simple test, don’t put your name on the ballot.

Journalism has always been part of my life. When I was little, my mom was the yearbook advisor for Grandview High School. I remember being barely six years old and poring over photos of teenagers I didn’t know, picking up on everything that was discussed by my mom and her students. As years went by, and I went through different grades in school, the yearbook was always my favorite part of the end of the year.

I used to study it. Page after page, name after name, class after class, I’d memorize it. For me, I felt like I was a part of something that would sit on someone’s shelf for years to come, and they’d open it every once in a while to reminisce. The first chance I had, I joined that same yearbook staff that my mom had managed years before.

Mr. Brown took over where learning from my mom had left off. I learned new editing software, layout design, practiced my photography skills and wrote story after story for the four years of my high school career. I loved everything about the journalism classes I took. I loved the people, I loved my teacher and I loved my product.

My junior year, I became editor of the yearbook. It seemed to me to be my destiny. I took other classes, too, to work on my skills before college. Ms. Wall taught desktop publishing and public relations. I joined Quill and Scroll, took pictures at Homecoming and got the yearbook out on time for the first time in years. I was proud.

Today, I’m still just as proud. Each week, I pour my heart and soul into this paper. I’m privileged to be out in the community on a daily basis, meeting some amazing people and telling their stories. I have (knock on wood) never missed a deadline and I still believe that a newspaper and journalism are vital to this and any community. Through no other medium can you get the stories of your neighbors, the latest on city government, school district information, features on businesses you frequent and obituaries on those community members who have passed on.

I believe wholeheartedly in the profession of journalism. I live it and I breathe it everyday, in everything that I do; I always have. The Missouri Press Association also believes in this work, and they believe in me, too. I was recently selected to be on the ballot for the association’s Board of Directors to serve as its treasurer. I am very humbled and greatly honored to be considered to serve with a group of distinguished journalists from across the state, journalists who no doubt are more qualified and more experienced than I am.

Either way, I will continue to pursue my dream of telling stories, your stories, each week. I will work passionately and diligently to get the message out that Grandview and South Kansas City are home to some of the most welcoming, loving and neighborly people around. Thank you for letting me serve you.

Restaurants. Retail. Nightlife. Entertainment. Arts. Offices. Housing. Those of us who have lived in the area for a while all have our vision for the future of Grandview’s downtown corridor. And, much of that vision is the same from one person to the next. Whether we are looking for more dining options, a place or two to buy some unique gifts, or a one-stop-shop where we can live, work and play, I think we can all agree that our downtown is currently lacking.

Recently, on a Friday night at 9 p.m., I walked to my car with my son after eating a quick dinner at the newer taqueria on our Main Street. 9:00 on a Friday and there was not a soul in sight. I snapped a quick picture, and posted it to Grandview Main Street’s Facebook page with a simple question: who would like to see more nightlife in our downtown?

Every response was positive. The simple fact that our downtown essentially shuts down at 5 p.m. every day isn’t what our community wants. We want parades and festivals. We want places to shop and have a cold drink. We want to be able to park a car on one end and spend hours walking up and down a bustling district.

As president of Grandview Main Street, that is exactly what I’m working on, along with a board who also has that vision. With all of the great things happening in Grandview, let’s work together to make the heart of our city - our downtown - great again, too. Downtowns are the lifeblood, the core, the heartbeat of cities across the globe. Wouldn’t it be fantastic if ours had a pulse again?

With Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, LinkedIn and countless others, social media has become a norm in our society. Businesses use various platforms to drive sales, news outlets push their stories to the top of your feeds and it can be a way to keep up with friends whom you haven’t seen in years or decades.

Whether or not you like using social media, I think we can all admit that it is a technology that likely won’t be going away for quite some time. We want to be able to quickly and easily keep in touch with those we love. I use social media for various things. On my personal page, I post a lot about my son and my relationship, along with promotion of local businesses.

A few weeks ago, an older gentleman stopped by the office to run an anniversary announcement in the paper (it was published last week). He explained to me that on their 40th anniversary, he got in big trouble because he didn’t make a big deal about it, so this year, for their 50th, he’s planning to celebrate and show her how much he loves her, including putting a little announcement in my paper, to make up for it. His eyes lit up when he told me about their wedding and how happy she makes him still to this day.

Unfortunately, his wife passed away four years ago, but this quiet, gentle, sweet man is still doing whatever he can to put a smile on his late wife’s face. I posted this story on my own Facebook account, and within hours, it caught the attention of nearly 200 of my friends, two of whom decided to purchase flowers for him when he came to pick up copies of the newspaper last week.

Mr. Martin came, and I handed him his bouquet, with the note that read “In Memory of Darlene.” I was touched almost as much as he was. A simple Facebook post can make someone’s day. That’s the power of social media

It’s that time again: back to school. Next week, my own kiddo will be heading into his last year of elementary school in Grandview. Fifth grade for him means being a leader in the school. For us, we’re looking forward to student council elections (Win With Wilson - I already have his posters designed in my head), a final year of recess and, in Michael’s mind, a year to still goof off without the responsibilities that come with middle school.

This year, though, school shopping has been a bit different than I’m used to. Suddenly, my son is more interested in the type of shoes he has rather than who his teacher is going to be. Whether they are LeBrons, Jordans or plain Nikes, I’m already cringing at what I’ll have to dole out for his sneakers. But, that’s what boys are into.

We spent too long in the school supply section of Target last weekend as Michael had to make sure he had only “cool” notebooks. And black pens? I never realized there were so many choices, as I’m pretty sure I just had plain Bic stick pens when I was a kid.

Without even thinking, I threw several boxes of crayons in my shopping cart. Checking the list to mark them off, I sadly realized that fifth graders don’t need crayons anymore. No more coloring? I guess my son truly is growing up. We have matured from a superhero lunchbox to hair gel and cologne.

I’m looking forward to this last year of elementary school. I’m nervous about what the future for my son holds, but I’m excited at the same time. He’s got a good head on his shoulders and some great people in his corner rooting for him every step of the way.

Fifth grade gives me at least one more year with my baby boy. One more year of surprise school visits from Mom that are still considered cool. One more year of getting hugs from my son as he leaves the car when I drop him off. One more year before girls, friends and sports become more important than I am. I’ll take what I can get.