Each day, I take my son to school. For just a few minutes every morning, we have time to ourselves to talk about what’s happening in his life, at school, with baseball, etc. In the years that he’s been in school, I have learned more about my son as a person in those minutes. He is open and honest and sometimes blunt about things that matter to him. I drop him off in the mornings in front of the school, tell him to have a good day, and tell him I love him.

Each day, as my son enters that building, I put my trust in his teachers and in the school district as a whole. For the better part of the day, my whole heart lies in the hands of the Grandview C-4 School District. For the most part, I don’t even think about what could happen during the course of a school day. But, I’m also not naive enough to believe that it couldn’t happen here.

Last week, I was given the opportunity to have a conversation with my son, and his response to my question took me completely by surprise. I asked him, pointedly, what he would do if he saw someone that had a gun in their backpack. He answered that if he knew the gun was unloaded,
he probably wouldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t say anything. My son, who has honest and difficult conversations with his parents, who has practiced gun safety and understands their dangers, who is a
straight-A student and has great relationships with authority, probably wouldn’t say anything. To say I was shocked is an understatement. His lack of concern and willingness to look the other way obviously prompted further discussion from this parent.

Last week, I spoke with administration from a school district who had just witnessed an incident that could have been tragic, and could have been prevented, if someone would have spoken up. They discussed their plans to begin conversations with students, to open up a dialog with parents, to create an environment where students do not tolerate weapons of any kind in their learning environments. I nodded along, eagerly receptive to their ideas and concerns. All the while, my own son probably wouldn’t tell anyone.

As a community, we have to figure out a way to keep guns and other weapons out of the hands of our kids. As a community, we have to be better than this. We are better than this. Our kids deserve better. And our kids need to understand the severity of the consequences, the long-term effects this could have on the lives of those involved, and the impact for change that they can have on a situation. The conversation needs to start at home. We’re talking about it in my house, and we will continue to do so until I’m comfortable with the responses I receive from my own son.

When Michael was about four, we were driving along the access road in Grandview when he suddenly told me to stop. He wanted me to pull into the driveway of a building on the corner of 140th Street and 71. This rundown, small place with overgrown weeds, grass and trees in the yard to me looked like a place that should be bulldozed, much less somewhere I should be stopping with my little boy in tow.

But, that little boy saw something completely different. He saw a future, where one day, he told me, he’d open an Italian restaurant in that building. He talked of cleaning it all up, and having tables with umbrellas and chairs outside. As I sat in the car, with the little boy in the backseat stretching to see through the window to his dream, I remember thinking how, in that moment, I realized that anything is possible for my son.

Last week, as all of Grandview felt their homes shake and heard what sounded like bombs going off, I headed to work. When the reality of the situation was in front of me, I took out my phone (as the camera was at the office and time seemed to be of the essence that night), I started snapping photos. Through thick smoke, I tried to photograph what I was seeing happen before me, but due to the darkness, the smoke, the flames and the water and lights shining from our first responders, my photos simply didn’t amount to much.

I felt the heat, despite the freezing temperatures. I heard the sounds that were, at the time, believed to be ammunition going off inside the building. And, I saw a little boy’s dream of opening an Italian restaurant in that particular building go up in flames.

That night, I went home, wreaking of what smelled like a bonfire, and I told Michael that it was the old lawnmower building, his building, that exploded. He was sad, but only briefly and said that he’ll just have to find a different spot for his restaurant.

I realized, then, that a little fire, explosion or other things out of his control won’t stop him from opening a restaurant, becoming a baseball star or even running for President of the United States someday. The sky is the limit when you’re a kid, and that is an innocence that goes missing as we grow older.

Happy New Year! I, for one, am glad for a new beginning. 2016 was not my favorite. But, it had some good times, as well. I began 2016 with a blank slate, a fresh outlook and a positive mindset. And, for the most part, it was a pretty decent year.

I could choose to focus on the times that soured 2016, or I can decide to take those life lessons and use them to become a better reporter, a better mother, a better friend and a better person.

Both of my grandmas passed away in 2016, both at the age of 83. Despite the overwhelming sense of loss and sadness, I am blessed to know that I have two additional guardians keeping watch over my family and me. This year, I have learned the importance of family, of creating a legacy and the value in nurturing relationships with those who make up my DNA.

As a country, we witnessed one of the most unusual presidential election cycles that any of us can remember seeing. Divided on social media, divided around our dinner tables and divided at the polling booths, our country in 2017 will see a change of leadership, from our local offices all the way to the White House.

In 2016, my son entered into his last year of elementary school. Every year before that, I have dropped him off for his first day and gone onto work without much thought. Last August, though, was a different story. Michael got out of the car and walked inside like normal. Only this mom watched him take every step. I cried an ugly cry, complete with sobs and hiccups. There’s nothing more emotional than watching your baby grow up right before your eyes. It seems like yesterday I was taking him to his first day of kindergarten; now he has his hair spiked, his cologne on and texts from girls on his cell phone.

I spent New Year’s Eve with my family: my mom, dad, brother and son. We toasted to a better 2017. We toasted to memories of those we love. We toasted to health and we toasted to prosperity. Most of all, we toasted to family. And, this year, I’ve learned that I have the best one.

More than ever, I’m ready for the new year to start. This year hasn’t been the best. I lost both of my grandmas this year, one in October, and the second one just a week and a half ago. Christmas in our family was a little bittersweet this year, as we laid my dad’s mom to rest on December 23, then had our annual Davis Family Christmas Eve Extravaganza on Saturday.

Normally, Christmas is full of joy and celebration. And, while we still did that as much as we could, there were definitely two people missing this time around. When I was a kid, we always had Christmas Eve with my dad’s family, and then Christmas dinner with my mom’s family. I suppose I always knew at some point that would change, I just wasn’t ready for it quite yet.

My grandma Ina, my dad’s mom, left us quickly and suddenly, and for that, I am thankful. She was spunky, she was opinionated, she was true to herself and she was a lot of fun. When I would want to stay home from school as a kid, my parents always knew when I was faking it when I asked to stay at Grandma Ina’s. She’d take me to lunch and we’d goof around all day.

Together, we saw movies, went to Worlds of Fun and Oceans of Fun, we traveled and we laughed - a lot. I learned all I could about my German heritage from her, even visiting the country with her after I graduated high school. Seeing Grandma in her element was the best gift I could have received. It was the trip of my lifetime. I’ll miss her, but I’ll also hang onto the memories I have.

As the new year approaches, I’m thankful for the good times I’ve had with family members who have passed on. They have helped mold me into who I am today and I hope to make them proud.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, in many ways. Christmastime has always been my favorite time of year to cover news in this community. Each week, from Thanksgiving through New Years, there seems to be magic in the air that transcribes over to the pages in this newspaper.

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to take photos of our uniformed officers volunteering their time to help children from Grandview fulfill their Christmas wishes. Armed with $100 and a shopping cart, each officer was paired with a new friend and their families to take part in this memory-making tradition.

One officer, who told me it was his first experience with Christmas with Cops, said that it was one of the most humbling things he’s witnessed. This year, I personally saw socks and underwear being tossed into carts, along with a little something for one girl’s mom. I saw police officers opening their own wallets to pay for the small difference when their shopping buddies went a little over budget. I saw parents walking behind their children, with wide smiles and tears in their eyes, as they realized Christmas was indeed going to come.

I overheard one girl tell the officer she was shopping with that she “needs a phone so when Mom works late I can let her know when my homework is done, what I’ve had for dinner, and when I’m going to bed.” Phones, electronics, music and DVDs were the popular items for the teens, while one little boy ran (I don’t think I saw him slow down once) through the toy aisles, grabbing a small chair, monster trucks and robots.

Each kiddo, from the smallest little guy to the oldest teenager, beamed at the officers with grins of delight. Christmas, this year, will be celebrated with a bit more cheer in each of their homes. And when they are older, I have no doubt that these kids will pay it forward, maybe even some of them will become Christmas-shopping cops, too.

Every year around this time, we Americans are somewhat forced to reflect on all that we have to be thankful for. This week, many of us sat around a table surrounded by those we love (and some we may just tolerate on holidays), and likely shared, either out loud to the group or to a close friend, all the things that make our lives great. Some of us have a little more than others to be thankful for this year. Others will just be thankful to have warm food in their bellies.

No matter what our situation is, I believe we can all find a little joy to celebrate. For me, the past year has been both full of adventure and fun as much as it has been bittersweet. Even through tough times, I have still remained focus on every glimmer of hope and love that I can grasp.

It’s a tough time to raise children. My son watches the news and reads stories about brutal killings, a national divide, crises and more. And he still has hope and dreams and aspirations, mostly to do well and be a decent human. Part of that is how he is raised, but a large portion of that outlook on life has to do with his personality and his genuine heart.

We can teach our kids to be reactive, or we can teach them to be proactive. In our house, we love and respect everyone, no matter their faith, desires or race. In our house, we practice kindness and giving. In our house, we do not tolerate anything less. And for that, I’m extremely thankful. I was raised to be a caring, loving, respectful person and I expect the same from my child.

This year, I’m thankful for parents who taught me how to be decent. I’m thankful that I’m still open-minded enough to hear all sides of a story and come to my own conclusions on what I believe to be true. I’m thankful that I have a son who can teach me new ways of thinking. I’m thankful that he can grow up in a world where kindness matters. And, I’m thankful that I have the opportunity to help influence my own little portion of this community with positive news stories and features on some of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.

When we stop looking for the good in life, we start focusing on the bad. Positive messages and loving words can truly have an impact. I only hope I can be a part of that ripple of compassion.

It’s finally over. The fat lady has finished her song. The curtain has come to a close. Everyone has taken their bows and gone home. This political season has been a roller coaster, to say the very least. And, whether or not my candidate(s) are in the offices I selected for them, I’m glad it’s come to an end.

In a country that has become dependent on technology, social media, for better or for worse, played an integral part in the election process this go-round.

From my vantage point on Facebook and Twitter, I saw hatred. I saw swastikas. I saw threats. I saw bullying. I saw hurt. I saw negativity. I saw opinions. I saw this side and I saw that side, all from those whom I call my friends. I saw just the same amount of anger, bitterness and nastiness from candidates running for various offices; local or otherwise.

No matter what happened last Tuesday night, we all woke up Wednesday morning still on the same team: the team that bleeds red, white and blue; the team that believes in prosperity and freedom. That’s the team I want to be on. With every election, I’ll support those who will soon take the seat to become powerful leaders in our society, because, frankly, in my career and in my personal beliefs and values, I have no choice but to respect the offices and the people that inhabit them.

I have so much to be thankful for: I have clothes to put on my body, food to put in my belly, words to put on paper and a little boy who calls me Mom. I am able to put differences aside and hope, pray and wish for the betterment of our community, of our country. I believe that this country is the greatest country on earth, no matter who is in charge.