Here’s the Rest of Tracy Pyles’ Remarks from Augusta Board of Supervisors Meeting

At Wednesday night’s Augusta County Board of Supervisors meeting, during “Matters to Be Presented By the Public,” former Board Chairman Tracy Pyles approached the podium to address the seven supervisors.

His subject: residents should not be held to three minutes to address their elected representatives because, as he noted, it wasn’t enough time to allow an adequate presentation of an issue. He was nearing the end of his remarks when the big-screen timer on the wall went off, signifying his three minutes were up.

Mr. Pyles continued speaking. He was interrupted by current Chairman Mike Shull who told him his time was up. Tracy said he wanted to finish and picked up where he left off. He was again reminded that his time had expired. Members of the audience encouraged the Board to allow him to finish and applauded that he was refusing to stop.

They were ignored.

There were three deputies in the room and two went to the podium and stood on either side of Mr. Pyles. He told the Board he was not going to leave until he finished his remarks. That went back and forth a bit more.

And so three deputies surrounded him and perp-walked the former four-term supervisor out of the room into the hallway. Tracy left the building, climbed into his car, and drove home.

In my opinion, several things could have happened to make this turn out better.

1. Chairman Shull could have waived the time limit since there were only four or five speakers and allowed his predecessor the courtesy of finishing his remarks.
2. A Board member could have made a motion to allow Mr. Pyles to finish.
3. Since the Board suspended the rules two weeks ago during the meeting that censured Dr. Scott Seaton, and tonight they talked about suspending bylaws for the County Planning Commission (I never knew that was a thing and suspect it probably isn’t), why couldn’t they suspend the public speaking time limit rule to allow Mr. Pyles the opportunity to finish?

I emailed Mr. Pyles to ask if he would let me publish his remarks. Here is what he said:

“Sure. Hope it made the case for 1st Amendment protections. I had worked on this piece today and had just reread it prior to going up. The last section hit me emotionally. I relate to the sacrifices that have been made for our freedoms.”

Here are Tracy Pyles’ remarks addressing the Board. The part that he was not allowed to say because he was over his three-minute time limit is in bold.

“Proverbs 15:1 tells us, ‘A gentle answer turns away wrath but a harsh word stirs up anger.’

“I had a humdinger of an angry screed ready to go tonight but a Supervisor’s gentle conversation and a staffer’s nice smile at the fair last night has lanced my boiling and leaves me deflated. Though chastened, I will still speak my piece but hopefully a bit kinder and gentler.

“James Madison in writing the Federalist Paper #51 shared why the rules of government are not only top-down but also bottom-up.

“He wrote, ‘But what is government itself but the greatest of all reflections on human nature? If men were angels, no government would be necessary. If angels were to govern men, neither external nor internal controls on government would be necessary. In framing a government which is to be administered by men over men, the great difficulty lies in this: You must first enable the government to control the governed; and in the next place, oblige it to control itself.’

“Recent events involving this governing Board prove Madison’s assertion: men are less than angels. Not every person chosen to lead is fit to lead. Sometimes the people send dirt sandwiches when even a PB&J would seem heaven-sent.

“Jefferson, Madison, and Hamilton knew it wouldn’t be easy to get the men who think themselves best suited to lead, to also be humble enough to listen. So, they enshrined the people’s protections from government in the Bill of Rights.

“The First Amendment was one of the controls Madison felt would oblige the government to temper itself.

“ ‘Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof, or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.’

“Historically, the Augusta County Board of Supervisors stood firm in providing merely what was promised. Prior to you, over-regulated farmers, over-burdened taxpayers, angry neighbors, and worried parents could come before their chosen leaders and speak their piece. No more.

“Limiting speech to 3 minutes is to impose a law that hampers the freedom of speech and the redressing of grievances.

“That this Board should think no Supervisors before you wanted to quiet unpleasantness, wanted shorter meetings, or believed they had heard it all before, you would be wrong. What should have entered your minds was, ‘What stopped past Boards from muting citizens before now?’

“And it should shame you, to realize all the Boards before you concluded that a little inconvenience was worth holding Augusta County up as a place where government remained by, for, and of the people. The people, our people. (emphasis added)

“If it’s still there, I would ask you to read Douglas Bruce Cole’s obituary in the News Leader. Before he became a Viet Nam war hero, he was an often-barefooted kid I grew up with in Deerfield. The paper reveals as a young Marine, meaning not long past the peace and joy of Buffalo Gap, he was off to Viet Nam where ‘he received
two Purple Hearts, two Navy Achievement Medals with Combat Valor, a Combat Action Ribbon, and a Republic of Vietnam Gallantry Cross.’

“What it doesn’t reveal is Bruce died of a form of leukemia. Nor does it note the causal relationship of exposure to Agent Orange to that disease.

“I have known heroes and known of heroes. Viet Nam veteran Judge Victor Ludwig’s cousin Graham Ludwig, once my best friend, he too, was a Viet Nam combat veteran who died too young from a neurological disease also associated with Agent Orange. He rests in Thornrose Cemetery.

“My son Weston is named for my Godfather, Weston Hoy, who was killed in action in Korea. My mother was left a 20-year-old single mom and widow, when Private Bruce Peters was felled by Nazi fire on D-Day.

“War takes its toll. It has victims and long-term pain. To go to war takes a belief that the cause is great, of greater value than one’s own life. The sacrifices of these men, and their families, in defense of our way of life, was for us.

“You dismiss the importance of their courage, when your weakness, decides how many grievances you are comfortable with. That is not how the Constitution is written nor intended.

“Please reverse yourself. Limit public comments only when needed so that all who are peacefully assembled to be heard, may be heard.

“And give thanks for a county son, Sgt. Bruce Cole, my friend, for his service and the freedom he fought and now died to secure. May he rest in his earned peace.”

I should have signed up to speak because I would gladly have ceded my three minutes to allow the rest of that message to be heard.

Cross-posted at BearingDrift.com

First Day of Summer … Shrimping in South Carolina

It’s the first day of summer on the calendar but we all know summer began as soon as school was out.

As I looked at today’s date on this rainy, 62-degree mid-day in the Shenandoah Valley, my mind drifted back to another first day of summer when my husband and I, along with our 16-month-old son, drove to Charleston, S.C., to visit Virginia friends who were living there at the time.

On that first day of summer we started our day early, piling into our friend’s boat to explore Charleston Harbor and visit historical Fort Sumter on a small piece of land in the Atlantic Ocean. We spent the morning walking its pathways, exploring fortifications, and satisfying my inner history nerd by taking in the stories of the past.

Keeping an eye on the time, we left Fort Sumter and pointed the boat toward the South Carolina coastline, making our way into one of the delta inlets for some shrimping, a great pastime for our friends, and something that was about to become a new experience for us. It was time for the tide to go out so we needed to be in place.

We found a nice spot with no one around and anchored the boat to wait in the summer heat and humidity for the tide to go out as the sun baked down on us. The next few hours were spent slathering on suntan lotion to fend off the sun’s rays, picnicking on deck, swimming with our little boy in his life jacket, and waiting for the water to recede as the time for low tide approached.

The age-old delta flats have canals tunneling through them, channels where the water rushes out with low tide … and that is where we turned our attention. Jumping overboard with nets in hand, we stretched them across those channels to block escape and catch the shrimp that were being dragged out to sea by the tide.

Shrimp were plentiful and it didn’t take long to quickly load our nets, empty them into five-gallon buckets on deck, and repeat as we eventually hauled in enough shrimp to fill all the buckets. With the boat’s hull resting on the muddy flat, we had plenty of time to wait until the tide slowly returned to once again float us. During that time, under the broiling sun, we removed shrimp heads before icing them down for the ride back to dock.

The experience made an impression on me because we commented several times throughout the day that it was the first day of summer, the longest day of the year, and it was very hot on the salt water — mid 90s with no breeze. Thank goodness for all that water to cool off with frequent dips overboard.

It was a memorable event that I recalled yet again today on our first day of summer in western Virginia where the forecast is calling for a rainy week with temps in the 60s and 70s. Both memories, today and the day shrimping years ago in Charleston, are keepers.

Happy summer!

It’s National Library Week … Thank a Librarian!

It’s National Library Week! Local libraries across the nation will celebrate in various ways all week.

When I was a kid, I devoured books … the library was one of my favorite places. Books took me around the world and introduced me to other centuries and lifestyles, to history and geography, and to my favorite – biographies.

When educating my children at home for 16 years, the local library was like another room of our house. The kids not only loaded down LL Bean bags full of books, but they also participated in summer reading programs and other offerings.

National Library Week was first held in 1958 as a country-wide observance highlighting the role of libraries in our communities, with a different theme each year. This year’s theme is, “There’s more to the story.”

While many still think of libraries mainly as a depository for books, there is much more behind those walls, and perhaps the most impressive is that libraries have remained viable in the age of computers and the internet.

My local library has a section of cake pans that can be checked out. If your child wants a Ninja Turtle birthday cake, there’s no need to buy an expensive baking pan. Instead, check it out of the library! There’s also a seed library … check out a packet of seeds, plant them, and if possible, when the plant is grown, return some seeds to the library for the next patron. In an extraordinary partnership with the Augusta County Genealogical Society, there is a collection of local and family histories for public use right there at the library.

In Staunton, there is the Talking Book Center that provides free audio books for patrons who are blind, print disabled, or need audio for other reasons such as the older population who may have declining eyesight. In a city that houses the Virginia School for the Deaf and Blind, it should be no surprise this offering is very popular. They also offer the free use of braille eReaders.

But books and talking books are not all that are offered in today’s libraries. Each library differs in their offerings, but they may include computer use, musical instruments, games, CDs, and movies. There are meeting rooms for use by the community; library staff offers story time, movie nights, homework help, and much more. If you haven’t been to the library in a while, stop by and see what they have to offer.

Thank you to the librarians, staff, and volunteers who make it possible for us to continue to utilize this valuable resource today because, in 2023, the library isn’t just books anymore!

Happy National Library Week!

Jennifer Rubin Is Among the Best Center-Right Political Writers

Washington Post political opinion writer Jennifer Rubin is among the best when it comes to writing about the craziness that is today’s politics from a center-right point of view.

Her sensible, reasoned responses to the constant daily upheaval are a pleasure to read, and her Friday afternoon live columns where she answers questions in real time are informative and, again, reasonable.

For example, today she was asked, “What will Republicans learn about the Michigan State University shootings? What if anything can be done?”

Her response: “Vote out Republicans. It is the only way to make meaningful change, such as banning semi-automatic weapons. Republicans are dependent on the support of resentful, angry voters who think they need these weapons if the government ‘comes for them.’ “

She nailed the reasons I’ve heard from Republicans about their reasons for needing a stockpile of weapons at their homes: it’s their defense against the United States government. Paranoia runs rampant on the far-right side of the political aisle.

There are very few I trust and believe anymore when it comes to politics and reporting the facts, and Ms. Rubin is at the top of the list, utilizing the Washington Post byline: “Democracy dies in darkness.”

‘Love Actually Is All Around’

“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere.

“Often, it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there — fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, and old friends.

“When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge — they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion… love actually is all around.”

-Hugh Grant as the Prime Minister in 2003 British film “Love Actually”

‘Twas the Day Before Thanksgiving … Virginia Family Traditions

[Editor’s note: When this was posted in 2015, my stepdad left a comment: “Well, it was all worth all of y’all’s efforts, since we now just sit back, enjoy the company and food, and the always birthday fun with granddaughter Emily who had the good sense to be born always just before, after, or on Thanksgiving day, depending on the year. This year it was ON (11/26), and turning 20 makes her no longer a teenager. Where has the time gone??? Thank you both for all the labor, being the ‘hands that prepare’ all the vittles. Keep on experimenting, and we’ll keep on testing, knowing that time-tested ‘traditionals’ are always going to be presented too. YLSF”

“YLSF” was his sign-off in emails that stood for “Your Loving StepFather.” We lost him on April 24, 2020, at the age of 93, to Covid-19. Those empty chairs, he and my mom, are ever-present as we all gather together again this year.]

‘Twas the day before Thanksgiving and all through the house
Lots of goodies were cooking (but not the mouse). 
The pies were all set on the counter to cool
While Ma in her apron was a holiday-cooking fool.

That’s my sad attempt at putting a poetic spin on the holiday as I swirl around the house on Thanksgiving Eve.

Like many, I’m in the kitchen today prepping for tomorrow’s big meal with family. My sister Lori and I traditionally take on the cooking and baking, something we both enjoy, as we incorporate old favorites along with the occasional new dish.

We broke tradition three years ago when we roasted a chicken, a new idea that carried over last year and will continue this year. Lori’s cooking the bird along with a spiral ham, and she and her husband Jon are adding their own side dishes including sweet potato casserole. As for me, I make passed-down family favorites from aunts who are no longer with us: macaroni and cheese, and chocolate pies. This year I’ve added a very veggie garden salad and dressing, fresh steamed kale, mashed potatoes, and crustless pecan tart ramekins.

It’s comforting to stay in touch with family and Southern traditions by using familiar recipes. My Aunt Ola made the best baked mac and cheese you’ve ever wrapped your lips around. It’s a lot of cheese and many memories, a reminder of fun family dinners at her house when there were so many of us that we barely fit, and we had a children’s table in the kitchen and a grown-up table in the dining room. I think I was in my 30s before ever graduating from the children’s table which, sadly, meant the grown-ups were growing older and leaving us. There’s many happy memories of those years at the children’s table especially after I had my own children and we were all sitting in there together.

The chocolate pies were always anticipated at holidays from my Aunt Ruth. These aren’t pudding-from-a-box pies. These are — pardon my language — “stir-your-damn-arm-off” real chocolate filling (as it was deemed by my sisters and me because it took forever to thicken and you couldn’t leave it unattended or it would stick to the bottom of the pan and burn) that was poured into a homemade crust. I fudge on the crust — I don’t like making it and really don’t want to spend the time after being at the stove so long stirring — and one year I made phyllo pastry crust for something new and a little — emphasis on “little” — healthier. The pie is a meringue-topped decadent chocolate fantasy so after Aunt Ruth passed away 19 years ago, I carried on the chocolate pie tradition.

That’s what holidays are — traditions carried on by families from generation to generation. My aunts were fantastic cooks from a large family and my sisters and I learned their tricks of the trade. One slice of pie or a serving of macaroni and cheese unlocks special memories, and tomorrow that will be going on all over America.

The food is delicious, the baking is fun, but the best part of Thanksgiving is being with family. Though my father passed away years ago leaving behind daughters who were 13, 20, and 22 at the time, another dad came into our lives when Cal married our mother, and so we are grateful to celebrate with the two of them who are now at the youthful ages of 88 and 89.

To the military members who are stationed around the world and away from their families, a special thanks and prayers for them and their loved ones. We can never repay their dedication, sacrifice, and service to our country which allows us the freedom to celebrate Thanksgiving in a peaceful land.

As I head back to the kitchen to finish food prep, here’s wishing a Happy Thanksgiving with gratitude for our friends … and to those who are traveling for the holiday, be safe out there.

Silver Days

“Once upon a time those older folks were you. They were busy, they had work, they had children, and they were able. Today, they are just in an older body that is not going as fast as it used to and this busy life is confusing. They deserve our utmost respect and consideration. One day it will be you, it will be us. I wish more people cared more about them and acknowledged them for their admirable existence and jeez I hope someday, not that far away, someone does it for me.” -Adele Barbaro- The Real Mumma

I have often admired the Asian community’s respect for their elders. Their place as the head of families is cemented; their lifelong experiences and wisdom and knowledge of family traditions are sought out; the genuine admiration and love that younger generations have for their older population is something not always seen in America.

Driving home yesterday to the Shenandoah Valley from Richmond, there were temporary electronic signs along I-64 west of Charlottesville before the Crozet exit, and again in the Valley at the Fishersville exit, that said simply in large letters: SENIOR ALERT.

I wondered about the older person who was missing somewhere between Charlottesville and Fishersville with the Blue Ridge Mountains in between. That’s such a large area to get lost in, and last night’s temps were dropping into the freezing range. Would he or she be found? Would they spend the night outdoors alone in the cold and dark?

Who would be waiting for them to return? Children? Grandchildren? Great-grandchildren? Spouse? Neighbors? Friends?

I am not immune to being thoughtless in this department. Assisting a struggling seasoned citizen reach a top-shelf item is incredibly helpful to them and to us. Call it paying it forward. Think of all they’ve done for us over the years – parents, grandparents, sports coaches, teachers, church leaders, and all the leadership roles that adults play in our lives – now is our chance to pay it back.

Mentor young people. They keep you sharp. Love on grandkids. They keep you busy. Help pack boxes at a food pantry. It makes you humble and grateful to have enough. Volunteer. It keeps you moving. Tudor children. It shoves around those brain cells. Live!

I’m left wondering about yesterday’s Senior Alert and if the missing person was safely found. It was so cold last night.

Embrace the silver citizens. One day it will be us … if we are fortunate enough.

Mollie and John Married August 21, 1904

There’s a narrow gold wedding band I wear on my left hand along with my own. It is my grandmother’s wedding ring that was left to me when she passed away many years ago.

Inside is engraved* my grandparents’ initials and the date of their wedding … August 21, 1904 … 118 years ago.

John Francis Osborne was from Grayson County in southwestern Virginia. Mollie Beatrice Kennedy lived just across the state line, on the other side of the New River, in Allegheny County, N.C.

The two young lovers met at an all-night dance, a tradition during those days in the mountains where young people would meet at someone’s house for a dance party. The social gatherings would last all night because folks lived such long distances from one another, and it was difficult and dangerous to travel through the mountains after dark.

I don’t know how long they courted but my grandmother, whose father was a prominent store keeper and farmer in the Turkey Knob community outside Sparta, NC, consented at some point to become my grandfather’s wife, and moved away from her family. Because John was such a stern man in his older years, I have tried to imagine him as a star-crossed teenager smitten with Mollie.

The marriage license was obtained in Virginia so my grandparents, along with the wedding party, walked to the Virginia-North Carolina state line and were married in the middle of the road, according to one of my late aunts, probably where it crossed the New River. There is no one left to tell us all about that special day.

Did Mollie pick wildflowers along the way to hold during the brief ceremony? Was it a hot, humid mountain day? Or did the clouds roll in and they found themselves dodging thunderstorms? My mother said those types of weddings were common at that time, and certainly a lot cheaper than the opulent occasions that are so popular these days.

As two teenagers beginning life together like generations had before them in those isolated, hard-scrapple mountains, John and Mollie didn’t have money for a fancy wedding. It would be needed for the tough days ahead as they settled into a small cabin on the side of a mountain near an area known as Mouth of Wilson, located in the shadow of Grayson Highlands and Mt. Rogers in the days before those scenic areas became part of the state and national park systems.

Their property was sloped and rocky … the elevation was over 3,500 feet … and to walk it today makes me wonder how they were able to survive in the harsh winters and difficult summers. With only two uninsulated rooms to live in, they began raising their family that would eventually include 10 children. My mother, who passed away two years ago at the age of 90, was the youngest and last surviving of her immediate family.

My grandfather farmed with a mule and plow, piling rocks on the hillside under the trees, and to this day the rocks are still in the same place he piled them over a hundred years ago. For me, to touch those stones is almost to touch him.  It was extremely hard manual labor for the tall, lanky man who had a growing family to feed. Below the remnants of the cabin, a small creek still tumbles down the mountain, a source of water during the days they lived in those cramped, sparse conditions.

They were surrounded by family. Our relatives are all through those hills, most staying close as they grew into adulthood, married, and raised families of their own. My grandfather’s parents lived in a log cabin on the Knob, the family place near a mountain top. The hand-hewn logs included two rooms and a fireplace on the ground floor, and one large room upstairs, just a short distance from John and Mollie’s cabin.

Because my grandparents were tough and made their own way, they set a work ethic that continues to this day for those of us who followed. And, as I once again look at the gold band on my ring finger, I think about how it all began 118 years ago when John and Mollie became man and wife.

*My grandmother lost her wedding ring when I was a baby so my mother replaced it and had the initials and date engraved; that would not have been on the original. My grandmother left the ring to me, the oldest of her youngest child’s children.

Cross-posted at Bearing Drift

America Is Mourning Again

“I’m so tired of getting up here and offering condolences to devastated families that are out there. I’m tired of excuses. I’m tired of moments of silence. Enough. There’s 50 senators who refuse to vote on HR-8, which is a background check rule that the House passed two years ago.” -Golden State Warriors Coach Steve Kerr (5/24/2022, press conference)

“Most of us are appalled. But not enough of us are sufficiently appalled to cast our votes to halt it.” -David Frum, The Atlantic (5/24/2022)

America is mourning once again because of yet another mass shooting.

This toll from Tuesday’s mass shooting stands at 19 children – 2nd, 3rd, and 4th graders – and two teachers slaughtered at an elementary school in Texas. The 18-year-old gunman is dead.

Families in Buffalo, NY, are still burying their loved ones who were killed by another teen shooter who gunned them down in a supermarket 10 days ago because of their skin color. They were parents and grandparents and neighbors. And that shooting had already faded from the headlines.

Are guns that precious to us that we continue to put up with this? Or have we misinterpreted (or purposely abused) the intent of the Second Amendment that was probably never meant to be a free-for-all in the modern world?

Golden State Warriors coach Steve Kerr spoke for many at his pre-game press conference last night as he angrily addressed the shooting that had taken place just hours earlier, and advocated for the passage of a background check gun law that has sat in Congress for two years waiting for a vote.

How many more bodies do we need to sacrifice to the gun gods before sensible gun reform laws are enacted amid the growing number of mass shootings in America? And, no … no one is coming to take away anyone’s guns.

I’m not being hysterical. I’m tired. This goes on and on and on … and nothing happens. We all become outraged for 30 seconds after each shooting incident … and then return to our lives, while those affected by each tragedy are left to deal with shattered lives.

Many of my fellow Republicans think anyone who dares to call for any kind of gun reform is hysterical. You know how children put their fingers in their ears and say, “La-la-la-la-la-la,” when they don’t want to hear something? That’s what the GOP reminds me of every time the issue is raised about actually doing something with gun laws.

I’m a 2A supporter. I grew up with guns, learned how to responsibly handle and shoot them while young, took the NRA gun safety course while attending school in Chesterfield County, and have enjoyed target shooting over the years. My dad was a hunter. I have nothing against reasonable gun ownership. Nothing. But I’m met with anger from Republicans when in discussions about any curtailment of laws. A wall goes up; they don’t want to discuss it, or they present a series of whataboutisms.

In 1999, as part of leadership in the local homeschool group, the most calls I ever received from parents asking how to pull their kids out of public school came when the Columbine High School shooting occurred in Colorado. They were frightened and concerned. I wonder if homeschool leaders are fielding such calls again today. Sadly, Columbine wasn’t the last school shooting.

“When in God’s name are we going to stand up to the gun lobby?” -President Joe Biden (5/24/2022)

Republican lawmakers are afraid of the gun lobby and they are afraid of their one-issue gun constituents who would turn on them in a heartbeat and vote them out of office. Two years ago I had a Republican angrily say to me that he would shoot anyone who tried to take his guns. That’s how ingrained this issue is in the GOP.

I’m a mom before I’m a Republican. I’m an American before I’m a Republican. It is time to find our way out of this dark place in America, hopefully in a bipartisan manner. Or we could just wait until the next mass shooting and do this charade all over again.

Enough is enough.

Background:

-The Atlantic: Robb Elementary Shooting: America’s Hands Are Full of Blood
-Austin American-Statesman: Live: Uvalde, Texas school shooting updates on victim names, suspect
-Moms Demand Action: About – Moms Demand Action (started by Shannon Watts after Sandy Hook)
-CBS: Texas school shooting: At least 19 children, 2 adults killed at Robb Elementary School
-ABC: Texas school shooting live updates: Nation mourns ‘carnage’

Loss of Naomi Judd to Suicide: It’s Not as Infrequent as You May Think

“Be free, my beautiful mother. Be free.” -Ashley Judd after the death of Naomi Judd

The country music world was rocked Saturday with news that superstar and Grammy award winner Naomi Judd, the mom from the singing duo “The Judds” with daughter Wynonna, had died at the age of 76.

A survivor of Hepatitis C that she contracted early in life through her job as an RN, my first thought was that it had somehow affected her health and was the cause of her death.

But as I read her daughters’ statement, my heart sank.

“Today we sisters experienced a tragedy. We lost our beautiful mother to the disease of mental illness. We are shattered. We are navigating profound grief and know that as we loved her, she was loved by her public. We are in unknown territory.”

We lost our beautiful mother to the disease of mental illness.

I immediately thought, suicide. But surely not … not with Naomi. Not this strong woman who had been a single working mom who raised two daughters on her own, broke into the music industry and sailed to the highest success with daughter Wynonna, and survived Hepatitis C while battling everything else life threw at her.

What I didn’t know was that she had been battling depression for years.

Her death was one day before she and Wynonna were to be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. They also had plans to take The Judds back on the road in September.

Daughter Ashley, in her public remarks at Sunday’s induction ceremony, lamented through tears that she was sad her mother couldn’t hang on one more day.

The timing of suicide is theirs alone.

I remember hearing Joan Rivers talk years ago about the suicide of her husband Edgar who, if I remember correctly, was packing his suitcase and told her he was going on a business trip. Only he didn’t go on a business trip. He went to a hotel where he downed pills to end his life.

It hits all facets of life. Locally, a forty-something friend’s twin sister committed suicide more than 20 years ago when they were 15 years old.

More recently, a political friend who had been instrumental in volunteering at the local GOP headquarters and serving as precinct captain committed suicide in 2015, likely because cancer had returned.

A year ago, a twenty-something young man who had volunteered at local GOP headquarters as a kid with his older sister during the George W. Bush years was lost to mental illness.

Many other families have also been touched by suicide. Including my own.

Over a decade ago, as I was blindsided at being falsely accused by a leader in the Sixth Congressional Republican Committee of something that never happened (and was later exonerated after the intended anguish and loss of reputation had been accomplished), my brother-in-law committed suicide in RVA.

My husband’s brother. The funny one who was always cracking jokes.

Interesting how the funny ones are often those most in pain but silent about it to the world. Robin Williams comes to mind.

We never had a clue.*

So I missed a Sixth District meeting (which inflamed the accusations since I wasn’t there to defend myself) because my family had a funeral to attend and a broken family to embrace.

But politics marched on….

With all the political turmoil going on at the time, I’ve never completely processed that suicide. And I’ve never talked about it.

Just be kind. You have no idea what is going on with people you attend church with or work with or volunteer with or see every day. Who knows … you could be their lifeline.

If you or someone you know needs help, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) or text Crisis Text Line at 741741.

Background:

–‘River of Time: My Descent into Depression and How I Emerged with Hope‘ by Naomi Judd

*I read this post to my husband who gave permission to expose a very private part of our lives.

‘We Are the World, We Are the Children’

The news out of Ukraine becomes grimmer by the day as Russian missiles pound cities and towns. Kyiv. Kharkiv. Odessa. Dnipro. Mariupol. Donestk. Kherson. Mykolaiv. Voznesensk.

We are now on Day 24 of war. Or is it Day 25? A little over three weeks ago Ukrainians were still living their normal lives – work, school, church, soccer, ballet, opera.

As the bombs drop, casualties grow. There is widespread destruction with some areas facing mass graves, no food, no water, no heat at a time when temps are sub-freezing (some sub-zero) with snow. The toll on Ukrainian civilians is growing into the thousands. Among the casualties are children.

Each day brings more video – injured children, dying children, dead children, and children buried in mass graves. The number of deaths and injuries of the most innocent in all of this is increasing. News coverage shows heartbreaking images of mourning parents, grandparents, doctors.

In Kyiv, rows of empty baby carriages were lined up in a town square to signify the dead children. Addressing members of the U.S. Congress Wednesday, President Zelensky noted sadly, “Now I’m almost 45 years old. Today my age stopped when the heart of more than 100 children stopped beating. I see no sense in life if it cannot stop the deaths.”

At some point my mind flashed back to the 1980s and the first line in the video, “We Are the World,” a vehicle used to raise money to feed the hungry in Africa: “We are the world, we are the children.”

At Clarksville Elementary School in Indiana, students recorded the tune last year and it now seems very appropriate at this time of war as the world nervously watches Russian forces bomb the hell out of Ukraine, killing innocent victims – young and old, alike.

Sit back for five minutes and listen to these talented kids because, as the saying goes, from the mouths of babes….

Famine in Africa, war in Ukraine … Americans have always been generous, and it’s going to be a long haul during this latest assault on civility and peace.

Listening to the students at Clarksville Elementary sent me down memory lane so I then pulled up the original “We Are the World” video with the original cast of top vocalists from 1985.

Go ahead … take a listen and see how many of these artists you remember.

Just as the musicians raised over $100 million for the African famine, today Ukraine needs our help. My husband and I have been making donations to World Central Kitchen because we like the way they are first on the ground for disasters and the way they work with local resources wherever they are for whatever disaster. WKC are in numerous locations around Ukraine and neighboring areas as well as delivering meals and food into the country where it’s needed including Kyiv, Kharkiv, and today they were sending food to Odessa.

There’s also the Red Cross, Doctors Without Borders, and many religious organizations helping Ukraine.

While we’re at it, that brings to mind a song from the 1960s, that violent decade that the 2020s appear to be trying to emulate….

And from 1971 as the world escaped from the 1960s and hoped for peace and love comes “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing (In Perfect Harmony)”….

Which of course reminded of Hands Across America.

On May 25, 1986, for 15 minutes at 3:00pm, Americans from the Atlantic to the Pacific formed a human chair, hand to hand, for “Hands Across America” – a plea for us to come together as a country, and to raise money to help in the battle for domestic hunger and the homeless – that was joined by President and Mrs. Reagan at the White House.

My husband and I traveled from RVA to our appointed location in northwest Washington, D.C., standing in front of Vice President George H.W. Bush’s residence on Massachusetts Avenue and clasping hands with hundreds along Embassy Row. My sisters, living in Colorado, joined the human chain in the middle of the country. The journalist sister covered it from Tucumcari, N.M., for the Washington Post, describing the efforts in sparse populations of the country to keep the chain unbroken.

At 3pm EST everyone across the land “We Are the World,” “Hands Across America,” and ended with “America the Beautiful.”

America. Generous with all we have, and willing to share with the world and those less fortunate. There is yet anothe wave of that generosity we’ve seen throughout the years going on now as Ukraine continues to suffer death and destruction, both from the U.S. government and from U.S. citizens.

Sadly, we seem to be slipping backward and repeating history that some have already lived through. Where is the off exit to repeating the 1960s….?

Background:

–Russians are using VPNs to access the truth about Ukraine. It’s leading to fights between friends and families – The Washington Post

–Hands Across America might have been the most Eighties thing to happen in the 1980s – The Washington Post

–Hands Across America … 30 years later (I was there) | LynnRMitchell.com

George W. Bush, Bill Clinton Lay Sunflowers at Ukrainian Church in Solidarity with People of Ukraine

Former U.S. Presidents George W. Bush (R) and Bill Clinton (D) visited Sts.Voloymyr and Olha Ukrainian Catholic Church in Ukrainian village in Chicago on Friday, March 18, 2022. Bipartisan … working together … leaders. This is America.

President George W. Bush: America stands in solidarity with the people of Ukraine as they fight for their freedom and their future. pic.twitter.com/AOBbR4hvh5

— George W. Bush Presidential Center (@TheBushCenter) March 18, 2022

America stands united with the people of Ukraine in their fight for freedom and against oppression. pic.twitter.com/O7INc9S1tq

— Bill Clinton (@BillClinton) March 18, 2022

Background:

–Former Presidents Bill Clinton, George W. Bush pay secret visit to Ukrainian church in Chicago in social media video – ABC7 Chicago

–Bush and Clinton visit Ukrainian church in Chicago to show “solidarity” (axios.com)

First Day of Spring. Get Your Hands in the Dirt.

It’s the first day of spring. Get your hands in the dirt … time to plant spring flowers and garden vegetables.

It’s an opportunity to escape from the drama of politics and enjoy the solitude of the outdoors.

Dirt … spring … planting … sunshine … outdoors.

Window box choices.

You can never have too many clay pots.

Lavender and rosemary.

It’s spring … time for hands in the dirt.

Photos by Lynn R. Mitchell

National Random Acts of Kindness Day

“If we all do one random act of kindness daily, we might just set the world in the right direction” -Martin Kornfeld

Today is National Random Acts of Kindness Day. I suspect many do little acts of kindness all the time.

I’ve heard of numerous people who have picked up the check for someone in a restaurant – often a military person in uniform, pay at a toll booth for the vehicle behind you, pay at an event venue for those behind (we once had someone pay for our entry to Tweetsie Railroad at Halloween when my kids were little) …

… giving way more tip with meals and services is another way, take someone’s grocery cart back with your own, paying for the Starbucks customer behind you …

… let someone behind you in line go ahead of you, stop by a small business and pick up an item or two, pass along coupons that weren’t used to someone just starting to shop …

… pay for that young person’s pizza, help by reaching an item on the top shelf, pick up an item someone with full arms has dropped, hold the door for a mom with littles or pushing a stroller … and perhaps one of the easiest of all: smile. It’s amazing how a smile can brighten someone who is feeling down.

“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” -Aesop

A Valentine’s Day Message for My Children

A Valentine for my children…

“If ever there is a tomorrow when we’re not together … there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.

“But the most important thing is, even if we’re apart … I’ll always be with you.” – Christopher Robin to Winnie the Pooh (A.A. Milne)