2015 goals…for the 4-year-old


If our children made New Year’s resolutions and goals like we do as adults, I would imagine they would look as ridiculous as ours a few months into the year.

Not because they are unattainable or irrational. They come each year with good intentions, each of us promising and striving and yearning to achieve something we didn’t in the previous year; to leave something behind that may have been negative and hope beyond hope that the New Year will bring only positive growth and outcomes.

As I entered the 2015 with Addy, I started to think about what this crazy kid is going to be “resolving” to do in the future. Not that I want to think about her teenage years…but I know it’s coming. Lord, before I know it, she will be on Facebook. If there is such a thing. And then I will have to answer for all those photos I posted.

So what does my 4-year-old want to accomplish in 2015?

Addy would like to eat less veggies. A lot less. Like, none, would be a great start.

She would like me to stop eating anything green, too, as witnessed by her incessant need to always inform me that she would, indeed, “not eat” whatever she deems undesirable on my plate.

And, like any 4-year old girl, Addy would resolve to: play more, sleep less, watch Frozen, watch Strawberry Shortcake, go to grandma’s house more often, dance daily, eat cookies, eat cake, eat ice cream, eat pancakes, play nonstop.

But here’s the thing: Addy’s goals are real. They’re worthy and honest.

While I want to challenge myself to do more one-on-one volunteerism, be a better father and friend and hit the gym more often, things we “want” to do in the next 365 days should perhaps be a better place to start on Dec. 31 or Jan. 1. When we shoot for “what I should become” or “I wish I could have the courage to do this” we set ourselves up for failure.

When I asked Addy what is one thing she would like to get done this year, she said, “Go to Paradise Park.”

Simplicity. You have to appreciate that.

My kiddo isn’t hard on herself. She doesn’t linger on the negative. She’s either always happy or looking for something that she can laugh about.

Perhaps, then, my outlook for 2015 is simple: take more lessons from someone that’s be alive less time than I spent in college.

Oh, and write more. You’ll be hearing a lot from me in 2015.


From rough to rational to respect

When I was 22, I had a bit of a problem.

I thought I knew it all.

While that’s not uncommon for type-A folks, it sure didn’t bode well for my entry into the workforce.

At this point in my life, I was (I thought) an accomplished collegiate and semi-pro writer, professional student, waiter, bartender and known cynic.

On my first day at The Examiner newspaper, I met my match.

Dick Puhr didn’t care what I had written. Or who I knew. Or what I thought was interesting. He knew stats. He knew copy. He knew infinitely more than I did. Sadly, it took me years to realize that.

As the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, any newspaper team worth its salt will start to work better as a unit. That happened at The Examiner, certainly.

As we transitioned away from longtime sports editor Huey Counts to the new boss on the block, Karl Zinke, we had to learn styles, quarks and strengths. A sports writing team that ranged from creative features to award-winning game coverage and compelling column writing became the norm around Eastern Jackson County. We did it better than anyone. And, without always acknowledging it, we did it that good because Dick Puhr was a walking encyclopedia of high school and prep sports knowledge.

As I learned to better pick my battles and do more listening than talking, I started to hear things from Dick that I hadn’t ever processed before.

Connections between coaches and schools. Records and historical data. And just the off-the-wall stories that rattled around in his head that he would, quite randomly, throw out. I caught myself more than once asking to hear a Dick story about a coach that got booted from a high school basketball game or an athlete’s inspiring performance in the face of adversity.

As my role at The Examiner changed over the years, I heard less and less stories and that familiar pecking of the typewriter at the desk right next to me. Still, when Dick was in the office, you knew it. He was a proud Rotarian. A staunch stat keeper. A fair journalist.

When I left for Iowa, Dick flat out asked me if I was ready for this new role as a newspaper publisher. That stopped me in my tracks. And I remember we ended up just sitting at our adjacent desks and talking about it for a while.

Years later, when I returned to run the Lee’s Summit Journal, Dick called to welcome me back. And to tell me about an error that was on my sports page. In fact, that turned into a routine. And really, I didn’t mind at all. It was good to hear from him and getting that still-stern “correction” from him all these years later just made me smile.

The last few conversations this year with Dick helped solidify the respect I have for him. First, he called to congratulate me on hiring a former colleague of his, Dave McQueen, to the sports editor position at my papers. Months later, he called to wish me well after he had heard I was laid off from the newspaper industry. That meant far more than I could have even communicated to him.

Dick is an example of why we should tell people they appreciate them in their living years.

I began this column around 8:30 on Nov. 22, a few hours after getting home from visiting Dick in hospice care. I was able to tell him about my new job, my 4-year old daughter Addy, read him some of his cards and just talk to him. I woke up around 3 a.m. Nov. 23 to the news that he had passed away around 11 p.m.

So, I finish this column after his passing. Thank you for a half-century of sports coverage Dick.

Some use the “there will never be another” adage here. In all honesty, there cannot be.

What Dick did in all those years and weeks of hours of journalism is, though, thankfully recorded for all to read for the next 50 years and beyond. He was as much a historian as a writer.

That contribution is timeless.

The speed of truth

What happened on the streets of the Canfield-Green Apartments in Ferguson or during a recent car stop in Independence has been the product of much debate.

And rightfully so.

In an age where we can find out the population of Greenland in 1944 or the latest Iggy Azalea video with JLo with just the push of a few buttons, it somehow vexes us that we don’t know exactly what happened, blow by blow, second by second, with the events in Ferguson or the car-stop turned Taser incident in Independence.

I am wondering why the hell we feel so entitled to know these things immediately?

While the truth is an ever-unfolding process, what happened between Ferguson Police Officer Darren Wilson and Michael Brown truly should not be a topic of ongoing debate. Just because we don’t know every moment of that encounter doesn’t make the event itself any less truthful or real. And it doesn’t lessen the gravity of either event, or any police encounter that comes into question, when we don’t have instant access to every moment of it.

Instant gratification has obviously spoiled us beyond recognition.

And caught up in our irrational need to know immediately and our rush to judgment, frankly, the truth. As well as the lives that we are putting under the microscope.

I will defend the media all day, it seems. I always tell people news is news. We don’t get to decide what is news and what is not. Sometimes there is bad news. Somethings people kill other people, houses catch on fire and elderly are scammed out of their life savings.

The media, in all its forms, still largely distributes information in a responsible way. Yes, outlets strive to be first. But there is always an eye on being accurate. The media may be seen as dangerous to some. But the flood of speculation that follows is far more threatening.

With every acknowledgement that I am a part of the media, and having done a little coverage in Ferguson and of police activity for many years in Independence, I can speak with a little knowledge on the subject.

First, the car stop where Tim Runnels, an Independence officer, found himself in a situation where he deployed a Taser to Bryce Masters.

Short of all of standing right there when it happened, this immediate call to investigate the police is as asinine as condemning Masters.

And that logic goes in Ferguson, too.

Asking for an immediate trial of Wilson for the Brown shooting makes no sense. It may satisfy some in the short term, but it as irresponsible as calling Brown a “thug.”

I think much of this comes down to one simple thing: we are all highly impatient. We want and expect answers.

The phones and the web have increased that anxiety on all of us.

The truth is out there. We can surely set out to seek it. Patiently.

It is just as brave to be cautious and controlled, willing to let the facts unfold before rushing to judgment.

Hope, forgiveness, dancing and the carnival


The time spent with my nearly-4-year-old becomes more and more important to me. For whatever reason, I seem to make constant note of it now.

Perhaps that’s a symptom of being a single dad. Or that I incessantly hear from others to “enjoy the time now because it flies by.” That’s a truth I am still learning.

My daughter is a very “scheduled” individual. And, again, part of that is growing up in two different households. If she could write (or had a iPhone) I could very well see her taking down her social, school and grandma schedules throughout the day. She often asks me, multiple times, where we are headed, what we are doing and whom we might see along the way.

On the particular Saturday, her social father had set a rigorous schedule – the Lee’s Summit Farmers Market for pumpkins, Blue Springs Fall Fun Fest and then to New Longview for the art festival. One of those events, in Blue Springs, included the word “carnival.” So, of course, that was the topic of the week leading up to Saturday.

Sept. 13 was an absolutely gorgeous day to be outside doing anything. That I got to spend it with a kiddo that, at the mere mention of games and rides goes berserk, made it even better.

Of course, as with any 3-turning-4-year-old, there are challenges. For her and for me.

Listening in a big crowd is secondary to just darting off and looking at the next shiny, new thing in front of you. Oh to be that age and mesmerized so easily again. I should learn to embrace that rather than be as much of a helicopter dad.

A few minutes (or more like 15 or better) in the bouncy house cures a lot of father-daughter ills, however. Addy went in like a tornado and held her own against the older boys. She even stopped occasionally to press her face against the mesh, call out for my attention, and tell me she loved me. I don’t know how long I get to have those moments with her, but I will take every single one.

A few rides and games of popping balloons with dull darts later, and we were off to our next stop in New Longview.

Taking a child to an art fair is probably not on the top of the list for some parents, but the music and creativity are always something I want to expose Addy to.

Before we could take it in, she spotted the Poppy’s Ice Cream truck. So, three bucks later, she had her chocolate scoop on a cone. As she devoured her treat, A.J. Young was entertaining the sparse crowd with some catchy jams. As soon as the ice cream disappeared, the music took over Addy’s soul.

“Dada, dance with me. Dance with me!”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears for a minute or two. As I was talking to Summit Theatre Group President Ben Martin, I was content with watching Addy dance while the adults sat by and watched. But I couldn’t say no for long.

Addy dragged me to the area in front of the stage and we proceeded to incorporate some of my best moves, twirls, leg kicks and other “dancing” arrangements.

What’s amazing about my daughter, and in watching the other children, was that they simply didn’t care. The music moved them, so they moved back. I just love that about her. Her spirit. Her ability to be carefree.

I began to feel like my irritation with some of the petty things I called her on throughout the day just melt away. How do I balance being a dad, having fun and still parenting with a purpose?

I’m still a work in progress in that regard.

And my Addy, she just loves me unconditionally. She gives me hope that I will always take her hand to dance and always be able to be her protector and her guardian.

Even through the time-outs, stern talks and a few tears, she reaches out to hug me and asks if I am OK.

She gives me hope like no other. Through carnival smiles, public displays of dancing and simple gestures of love.

My Adaline Sophia turns 4 next week. Happy birthday. You’ve given me 2,190 days of of adventure and I can’t wait to see what is to come.

All that’s different since 9/11

I often think of how we would have looked at the Sept. 11, 2001 attack on our country had we been immersed with social media websites like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and others.

Information, right, wrong or speculative, certainly would have been in front of us in a much quicker fashion. We would have most likely had many more angles of the planes hitting the towers and probably even better footage of Flight 77 that crashed into the Pentagon. With that flow of information, however, would have come even more images that were agonizing for many of us.

Even with the flow of information that day, we were mostly sparred the really graphic images of those caught up in the carnage. Today, it would likely be a lot different. What we consumed on a tragedy of that scale would be 10-fold today. And it would be even tougher to erase those images from our conscious.

How we record history is just one of many ways we look at the world differently after 9/11.

Tall buildings, air travel, security – all of it took on a completely different meaning in our minds from Sept. 12, 2001 through today and beyond.

I went to Facebook this week to ask people what has changed in their worlds and I got some fascinating responses.

Briefly, for me, travelling by air has been the toughest change of all for me.

My anxiety regarding flying the friendly skies has skyrocketed since 9/11.

Katy Kelly Lautzenhiser can relate: “Today, I get extremely anxious flying, to the point of taking Dramamine before boarding to escape sickness-induced fear. Simply approaching TSA Security evokes a panic of harassment, or unjustified guilt.”

The little things annoy us – TSA, liquid containers, longer lines, pat-downs.

And then there are those things we are not supposed to openly discuss or question, things that make us uneasy at the airport, or on the plane, or, quite simply, just a vibe we get.

Every person that stands up during a flight is looked at a little longer. Every interaction with a fellow passenger a little less cordial.

The change in air travel procedures ranked on many lists as a big post-9/11 change.

“Even 13 years later, every day air travelers are impacted by the increased security measures that took effect due to 9/11, whether it be the shoes you choose to wear because you’ll have to take them off, the liquids/lotions in your suitcase, whether you put something in a carry-on bag or in checked baggage, etc., not to mention the TSA agents, the random bag checking, earlier check-in, increased emphasis on correct documentation … ” – Darla Hall

Referencing Martha Boyd, a trauma expert with TMC-Lakewood Counseling Services in Lee’s Summit, Lee’s Summit resident Sage Norbury agreed the visual trauma has stuck with us, noting: “I believe that we are suffering from ‘societal PTSD.’ Our subconscious minds couldn’t tell the difference between the first time the plane hit the building and the 389th time (when we incessantly watched the replays). I see trauma signs in the majority of my patients, but most of them never even think of it like that.”

Friend and fellow journalist James Dornbrook, a reporter with the Kansas City Business Journal, noted his increased appreciation for what our fire and police do on a daily basis. A wise observation amid the travel talk.

Chris Drake, a childhood friend, said: “I am even more cautious of my surroundings than I ever was no matter the date, time or area. Always on alert. It occasionally gets tiresome but I refuse to be a victim or caught off guard. Can’t let evil win. I have people who depend on me.”

Another childhood friend, Jim McCollum, noted his caution when he sees a plane overhead, wondering if that aircraft is in control and will it land. I would have thought that unreasonable pre-9/11. Not now.

I was particularly moved by this statement from Pat Larkin from Blue Springs. Pat really brings it back to what is important, saying: “Coming from New Jersey, right across the river, I think of my family more and more. I now never end a conversation without saying I love you. It was a scary day for all of us, had one nephew ready to get on a plane to California, friends in NY. I grew up watching those towers being built, it broke my heart to see them go down.”

A fellow journalism peer and now a fantastic teacher of future journalists, Christina Paulsell Geabhart brought an interesting point of view on the history of 9/11 and her students: “For my seniors, it was their sophomore year, some saw it classrooms. For others, It happened during their upper elementary and middle school years. They watched that news unfold uncensored by parents oftentimes.
Now students don’t seem to grasp the magnitude. They were infants or toddlers and never knew it happened between Elmo and Dora. It’s just another note in the history books for them.”

And mirroring that love for her family, my friend Shannan Godley Cunniffe had a particularly astute look at it: “Our lives are so fragile – they could turn on a dime in an instant. I think about my children, and how as their steward – their protector – it is my duty to shelter them as much as possible, to let them know they are loved unconditionally, to try as much as possible to give them the kind of childhood that I had – filled with innocence and joy and laughter – not the worry and stress and horror that comes with an event like 9/11. Who would have ever imagined? How could we have?”

Amen Shann. And thank you all for sharing.

I believe that in that sharing, we all continue to heal.

9/11 coverage probably keeps the wounds open

Everyone recognizes the anniversary of the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks on our country in different ways. The emotions run the gamut.

Some hit the gym. Others go about their work day with some notice of the news. And a few of us watch the re-broadcast of the day “as it happened” on MSNBC and subsequent 9/11 specials on The History Channel and NatGeo.

The commercial airplanes, Flights 11 and 175, careening into the towers, over, and over, and over, and over. Then the towers crumbling into lower Manhattan. The Pentagon. Americans with no options left, above the impact zones, jumping to their deaths 90 stories below.

I began to ask myself, “why do I put myself through this every year?”

The story was powerful to me, as it was to all Americans, in the minutes, hours and days after those two planes purposefully flew into the World Trade Center. As a journalist parading around as an advertising representative for the Blue Springs Examiner, there was no bigger story I would ever cover, even if it was from thousands of miles away.

Watching on a small television in our conference room, I saw the second plane hit and both towers fall as these events unfolded. My reactions were raw, powerful, emotional. And as we gathered as a journalism organization, many of us knew this was a story for the ages. Something we would carry for a lifetime.

The problem is, some people have carried it for 13 years, the images viewed over and over never going away. Imagining the pain and suffering of ravenous fires inside a building, life-and-death decisions and hearing the voices filled with anguish on the voice mail of loved ones.

Martha Boyd, a clinical supervisor and trauma recovery therapy expert at TMC-Lakewood Counseling Services in Lee’s Summit, can relate. Unlike many of us covering the story from the Midwest, Boyd knew someone in the towers that day. Her association to 9/11 had a face. A name.

Boyd and her friend, whom she’d worked with on non-profit projects for many years, had just attended a Chiefs game the Sunday prior to Sept. 11, 2001. On Monday, her friend got on a plane for New York.

On Tuesday, she died in Tower 2.

Boyd says the “multiple exposures” we all take in from that day leads to stress and strain.

“People didn’t have to be in New York. They become traumatized by the exposure and the continued exposure of this horrific event. The reason everyone gets re-triggered, our minds were not capable of processing it, so our minds get stuck.”

There was never a trace of Boyd’s friend recovered from Ground Zero. No closure. But Boyd doesn’t dwell on that. While seeing the images on the anniversary and throughout the years can trigger emotional and other traumas, Boyd chooses to focus on the positive memories of her friend.

From a professional point of view, immersing in the images of 9/11 isn’t a healthy habit. For me, talking to Boyd gave me an even greater perspective on the residual effects of what I was viewing on TV – that my daughter Addy, even in the midst of playing with her dolls and toys, was taking it in, too.

I found myself giving her a very small portion of information about planes hitting buildings, thinking that I was sharing information about a crucial piece of our nation’s history. Addy began to ask questions about people in the towers, how long ago it happened and about her cousin Mimi, who, today in 2014, lives outside of New York City. I explained that this happened long before Mimi lived in New York and, clearly cognizant of her acute awareness of the gravity of what was on TV, changed the station and let her know that many people got out of the buildings OK and went home to see their families.

Over the last few days, Addy has asked again about the buildings and the airplanes.

Boyd’s message was heard loud and clear: “Parents need to be mindful and not have children watching it. It will traumatize them.”

Some day, I will show Addy the newspapers from Sept. 12, 2001.

And my hope is there is a time when many of us can break away from the images. While I realize there is a journalistic responsibility to airing the coverage, I also know there is a human responsibility many of us have not to be consumed and continually affected by it.

Not a Billy Goat bluff


Part of any successful local, county or regional economic development plan focuses on many aspects of recruitment and retention.

The latter tends to be under-appreciated. But my goodness is it vital.

Recently, it came to light that Billy Goat Industries – a professional lawn care manufacturer that has called Lee’s Summit home for 45 years and is locally owned by Will Coates – had retained a consulting firm to look at its best options for a future home and warehouse location.

Even a rudimentary look at that simple fact tells us immediately that, at the very least, the company is exploring options for leaving town. With 100 employees and plans to add up to 10 a year for the next five years, that’s the kind of thing that gets on the radar of city leaders real quickly.

Billy Goat is located on South 291 past the U.S. 50 interchange.

Reportedly, other municipalities, including Pleasant Hill, have offered economic incentives to get Billy Goat to pick up and leave. And while those are always tempting offers for companies (see the ongoing border war between Kansas and Missouri) it is always a lengthy process and long road down that path from “interest” to actual “moving” for a company.

Picking up and moving any large operation or manufacturing facility takes an investment of time, money and, surely, patience.

Specifically for Billy Goat, Lee’s Summit, possibly Cass County and neighboring cities that would want to boast housing a known commodity in worldwide lawn care, the prospects of gaining or losing a company of this magnitude become immediately clear.

Pleasant Hill, which houses its economic development department under the city, gains a tax base and jobs, not to mention the build out on the new warehouse, while reportedly offering some Enterprise Enhancement Zone incentives to get them to move. Remember, too, Lee’s Summit balked at approving EEZ measures previously.

If Lee’s Summit gets them to stay, it preserves 100-plus jobs, keeps a tax base of over $100,000 (total for all municipalities) and adds another $110,000, approximately, in new tax revenue.

Discussions on incentives include Chapter 100 bonds and a 75 percent tax abatement over 10 years, not to mention improves on Jefferson Street around the Billy Goat complex.

The Lee’s Summit City Council voiced support at the Sept. 4 meeting for keeping Billy Goat in town and vowed to look at all plans to make that work at its Oct. 2 meeting. They also heard directly from Coates and the new President of the Lee’s Summit Economic Development Council, Rick McDowell. McDowell, only on the job for 30 days, reiterated what many in the council chambers already knew – that keeping Billy Goat in Lee’s Summit should be considered at the top of their priority list.

In the meantime, in the competitive environment of economic development, it will be interesting to see what Pleasant Hill or others come up to to try and lure the manufacturer away.

Stay tuned.