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.