The Letter

I called home early last Saturday morning from Guymon Oklahoma to let my wife know I was headed her way. It gives her something to look forward to! I do the best I can to keep the old girl going, and it gives her time to get the house cleaned up and have a nice supper ready when I get there. I know how important these things are to her.
Okay, maybe that’s not exactly the way it went. She told me in her usual sarcastic way that it was about time I decided to come home. The bathroom sink was backing up and the yard needs mowing. She then informed me we were going out to eat when I got there. So much for that home cooked meal. She called me an old fool, told me to keep it between the ditches and she’d see me when I got there. Just before we hung up, she said, oh yeah, you got a letter from Melissa today.
Oh, just so you know, Melissa is one of my nieces. Like most old guys, I still think of my nieces and nephews as kids. That’s not exactly the way things work though. Melissa’s now a grown woman. She’s married to a good guy named Brian, they have two kids of their own and she teaches school in Houston. I spent most of that 400 mile trip home trying to figure out what her letter could be about. That and passing people. I finally got home that afternoon and opened the letter. In it was a picture I hadn’t seen in at least 25 years. I was sitting on the couch holding Melissa and my daughter, Misty in my arms with my other niece, Michelle was sitting on my shoulders. Michelle’s the oldest and I’d guess she was about 3 years-old in the picture. Yeah, that was a good day.
She said she came across the picture and just had to send it to me. She wrote, here’s a picture of you and your girls. We put you through a lot didn’t we? There were the leeches in Greensburg, then the teenage years. She seemed pretty sure I missed those years the most. Yeah right!
It cracked me up that she remembered the leech story. They weren’t exactly in Greensburg. Do you remember the story about Rosa Smith? She’s the girl who was buried out in the middle of nowhere back in 1884. If you head east from her grave just over the next hill is a small, winding creek. On this creek is a really cool beaver dam. In the process of building their dam, the beavers created a small oasis of sorts. The pond they created is small. Probably only 25 feet at it’s widest point. But the ground surrounding the pond is a little like a small swamp. The grass is beautiful. Wild flowers, cat-tails, and Cottonwoods thrive. It’s one the best places I know of to watch the sun go down. Okay, that’s the story about the beaver dam.
I’ve told you about Sunday picnics we used to take. One of those Sundays I decided since both my sister-in-laws and most of the nieces and nephews were spending a little time with us it would be good idea to share my beaver dam with them.
It was. We spread the kids out on blankets with their peanut butter sandwiches and potato chips or whatever they had that day. I got busy packing stuff up in the back of the truck while the rest of them roamed the area. It wasn’t long before someone asked me if I thought it would be okay if the kids got in the creek. Sure, I told them. It’s a natural spring, you won’t find more pure water anywhere. With that assurance, one by one the kids all got into the water.
I was sitting on the tailgate of my truck watching what them have the time of their lives. Three mother hens and their kids. The water was probably up their bellies. They were laughing and splashing each other. I was watching what could be described as a “Norman Rockwell” moment when it all fell apart. Once the girls climbed out of the creek it took all of about two seconds to realize they were all covered with big, fat, leeches.
There was Misty, Michelle and Melissa, Josh and Katie screaming at the top of their lungs. Their moms, Donna and Karen were about to lose it. And there was my wife giving me that look.
Hey guys, sorry about that. My bad. And Melissa, thank you so much for the memory. You made my day.
Kevin McGinty can be reached at: kevinmcginty@sbcglobal.net

Racism, Guns, and The Governor

And once again, racism rears it’s ugly head. Last week one of our distinguished 501 school board members, Betty Horton showed us who she really is.
Once again, things didn’t go her way and she had another one of her now famous, hissy fits. This time her target was fellow board member, Patrick Woods. I guess in Betty’s way of thinking, because Woods and Horton both happen to be black he was supposed to automatically agree with her on every issue that came their way.
When asked to comment on her confrontation with Woods, Horton said, “all I know is he think’s he’s white. That’s it. Print it.” She went on to say that on the issues, Woods “whited out.”
That’s a hell of a thing for you to say Betty but I am glad you did. Your words expose you as the racist you are. Hey, I hear your position will be up for re-election next year. Good luck with that.
Oh well, that’s enough of that for now. I wanted to talk about a couple bills that have made their way to the Governor’s desk over the last few days. She signed a bill into law that makes it possible for average citizens to own things like machine guns and silencers. Hey, I’m all for the right to keep and bear arms. I’m all for citizens having the right to carry a concealed weapon. I’ve got no problem with that. In today’s world you never know when you’re going to run into the path of some nut case out there. I get it. But a machine gun? How cool is that?
Backers say the bill was necessary to make it legal for Kansas police departments to buy things like sawed off shot guns, machine guns, and silencers. Hmm, maybe it’s just me. But I don’t really feel that comfortable with the cops being able to cut someone in half with a machine gun equipped with a silencer from 1,000 yards out. Yeah, it’s probably just me. Besides, everyone knows there’s no reason to believe any our officers would resort to using excessive force. Don’t we?
Oh yeah, the other bill I wanted to talk about is the yearly abortion bill. You know, the one Sebelius vetoed the other day. The bill would have required abortion providers to report suspected under age, sexual abuse cases. Late-term abortions are illegal in Kansas. The only exception to this law is to save the life of the mother. The bill would have required abortionists to provide the specific life-threatening medical condition that existed making the abortion necessary to save the mother‘s life. It would have also provided women having an abortion the opportunity to view a sonogram image of the baby, who’s life she’s contemplating ending.
In her veto statement Sebelius, said she was concerned the bill was likely unconstitutional or even worse, it could endanger the lives of women seeking an abortion. Whatever Governor.
Mary Kay Culp of Kansans for Life said the Governor has vetoed a very reasonable bill with very unreasonable excuses. And Julie Burkhart, executive director for the pro-choice group, ProKanDo said that law makers wasted their time writing this bill in the first place.
Julie, this is the first time I’ve ever agreed with any thing you’ve ever said. Sebelius has vetoed every abortion bill that’s crossed her desk since taking office. To think she wasn’t going to do the same with this one was just wishful thinking. And as long as we continue to elect people like her into office nothing will ever change.
Governor, I’m not sure who offends me the most. You or Betty Horton. I’m just glad you’re both on your way out of office.
Kevin McGinty can be reached at: kevinmcginty@sbcglobal.net

Lone Tree Incident

I was headed out to Liberal a couple of weeks ago. Nothing special, I’ve made the trip several times lately. I like to take highway 50 from Emporia through Hutchinson then out to Pratt and jump on 54 the rest of the way. I like this route because there are a lot of passing lanes and as I’m blasting along at 80, I mean 65 mph., I hate having to disengage the cruise control because I get stuck behind someone doing the speed limit. Come on man, I’m making good time and you’re slowing me down.
We blast down the highways in our air conditioned and heated vehicles as fast as we want while talking on our cell phones. We have technology to tell us the way. We have GPS systems to track every move we make. Locking your keys in your car is no longer a problem. All it take is a phone call and presto, you’re in. We entertain the kids with built-in DVD players, and video game systems. If that doesn’t satisfy them, break out the lap top. We’re in such a hurry to get there, if we do stop to eat it’ll probably be at a drive through at some fast food joint along the road.
We’ve all sped by those “Kansas Historical Markers” along the roads to wherever we’re headed. You know the one’s. They’re the one’s we usually look at in our rear view mirror and wonder what historical event could have taken place in that spot making it worthy of a marker. On this particular trip curiosity finally got the best of me and I stopped at the one I’d noticed along highway 54 just west of Meade for a quick look. Wow! I had no idea. The marker told a story called the Lone Tree Incident.
It was August 24, 1874. It seems that six men working for a surveying company in the area were ambushed by a band of renegade Cheyenne Indians led by Chief Medicine Water who was leading his warriors in attacks against the white settlers in the area. Some 27 settlers had been killed and many farmsteads had been burned to the ground. On this day the Indians had seen the survey crew coming and hid out of sight waiting for their chance to catch them by surprise. The men of the survey company did their best to out run their attackers that day. But in the end, they were only able to make about three miles before the Indians killed the oxen they were using to pull the heavy wagons loaded down with their equipment. In the end all six men were killed and three of them were scalped. Their bodies were found a few days later and were temporarily buried underneath a lone Cottonwood Tree about five miles south of the marker.
The attack that day became known as The Lone Tree Incident. And I’m sure it gave future settlers a special kind of creepiness as they passed through the area to wherever they were headed.
No, it wasn’t exactly the story I expected to read about that day as I pulled off the road for that quick look. But it did make me stop for a few minutes. I shut my truck off and just sat there listening. Listening to the wind blowing across the plains and wondering about the events of that day almost 180 years ago.
I’m glad I stopped by that marker outside of Meade that day for a couple of reasons. First, it was a fascinating story about some of the things people had to endure in those days. But mostly It made me glad I didn’t live back then.
I can live without an onboard computer to tell me the way, I know how to read a map. I’m not into the built-in DVD players and such. But I love blasting down the road at 80, I mean 65 mph. And if putting up with people driving the speed limit is the worst thing I have to deal with while I’m out on the plains of western Kansas, I’ll be probably be okay.
Kevin McGinty can be reached at: kevinmcginty@sbcglobal.net

The Wreck

Do the names Jennifer Longfellow, Julia Alcala, Victoria Dowell, Myranda Mason, or Veronika McDaniel mean anything to you? They were five young 15 and 16-year old high school girls. Friends, they grew up together. Two of them were involved in high school sports, two of them were cousins and for the most part all of them were inseparable.
The girls had mothers, fathers, grandparents, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles. Like most young kids, they had friends, a lot of them. They had hopes and dreams. They probably had boyfriends, and were looking forward to some upcoming dance or something. They talked non-stop on the phone and they knew things about each other no one else would ever know. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. They were young and had their whole lives ahead of them.
The five of them left Ulysses high school in Jennifer’s car for lunch a couple weeks ago. It turned out to be the last thing they‘d ever do.
I don’t know what happened that horrible day. I don’t know if the sun was shining in Jennifer’s eyes. I don’t know if she was distracted and just didn’t see the tractor-trailer coming.
What I do know is this was the last time they’d ever see each other. Jennifer, the driver, was horribly injured but somehow managed to survive. Her friends, Julia, Victoria, Myranda, and Veronika weren’t so lucky. They didn’t make it.
The deaths of these young girls will effect so many people. Never again will their moms hear those beautiful words “mom, I’m home.” Their dads will never get the chance to watch the little girls they used to bounce on their knee grow up. And the brothers and sisters won’t be able to say they’re sorry for snooping through their stuff. There’ll be no more high school football games. There’ll never be another test to take. No more high school proms to worry about. No more boyfriends or weekend plans to make. In the blink of an eye none of that mattered anymore, they were gone.
As a dad, I can’t imagine how bad the day of the memorial service was. No matter what, life will never be the same. The thing the families needed most that day was respect. People needed to respect their right to privacy and give them the space they needed to cope with the loss they were suffering. They needed the support of family, friends, and the community of Ulysses, which they received without condition.
The last thing they needed that day was to come out of the Ulysses community center to find the freaks from Topeka’s Westboro Baptist Church with their sickening signs thanking god for dead kids. I guess in their twisted view, because God hates fags he also hates Kansas, the unholy, ungrateful land of the sodomite and sent the semi to kill the girls for our sins. Whatever.
If we’re going to thank God for anything, we should thank him for sending the brave men and women of the Patriot Guard. This group of about 150 motorcycle riders came from all over southwest Kansas to act as a human shield to stand between the protesters and the grieving families . They rev up their engines to drown out the name calling the Phelps’ are so famous for. And once the protesters move on so does the Patriot Guard, allowing the families to grieve in peace. Is this too much to ask for?
The only reason we even know the names of the girls is because of the wreck in Ulysses that day. I wish we’d never heard of them. And to the families and friends of the girls, I’m sorry for the horrible loss you’ve suffered and I’m sorry you had to witness the worst Topeka has to offer.
Kevin McGinty can be reached at: kevinmcginty@sbcglobal.net

What Mission?

Once again Jig, you're talking about things you know nothing about. You asked me how my fellow whackjob, Steve Forman feels now that his morning talk show has been cancelled.

Well buddy, I just finished listening to his show, he sounded okay to me. It's funny, I was able to listen to a show that's no longer on the air.

What exactly are you taking credit for with your stupid "Mission Accomplished" statement? Kinda makes you look a little like Bush doesn't it?

Time Travel

I’m going to tell you a story today that might bore some of you, it’s a personal story about traveling back in time. Well, sort of anyway.
But first, maybe someone could answer a question that‘s been bugging me. Why would you name your son Robert, Richard, or Charles and insist on calling them Bob, Dick, and Chuck? I realize there are more pressing issues but just the same, I believe this practice is responsible for a lot of our problems we face as a nation today. Talk about an identity crisis. These poor souls don’t even know who they are. What about their family members? You have no idea how confused I was as a child when I found out my uncle Bob was actually my uncle Robert? I thought maybe he was in some sort of witness protection program or something and was just using our family as a cover. No, things were never the same once he let it be known his name was Robert. I was thinking maybe somebody out there might know why and maybe when we started doing this to our kids. Now before you go flying off the handle, I’m just kidding. I do find it weird though.
Okay, I promised you a story about time travel today. As some of you might remember, I moved here from Greensburg. I’ve told you about road trips we used to take to places like Belvidere, Sun City, Medicine Lodge and to a place called Devil’s corral. Devil’s corral is a huge area of sandstone rock formations on a ranch about 20 miles south of Greensburg. This particular bunch of rocks resemble a horse shoe and people have been carving their names in the rocks for generations. Okay, it was also a good place to have a keg party on a Saturday night. We always had a roaring fire, plenty of ice-cold beer, and there was always someone willing to provide the music from the cab of their truck. I won’t go into all the things that took place out there on some of those Saturday nights as some of you might not approve. Just trust me when I say they were good times.
And once you got over your Saturday night hangover and made up with your wife, Devil’s corral was a wonderful place to take your family for a Sunday afternoon picnic. We’d spend hours cooking, eating, and exploring the area on my wife‘s motorcycle. We were out there one Sunday with a bunch of friends and their kids and decided to add our names to the wall.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 25 years-old. My wife and I had been married 4 years and our little girl was 3 years-old, she carried her cabbage patch doll with her everywhere she went. Probably had it with her that day. I remember, what started out to be a group project ended up being my project. All the sudden, everybody found something to do. I was stuck, it took me all afternoon but I got it finished. Yeah, good times.
I spent last weekend with my friends, Eric and Ronni Sears from Greensburg. Eric and I went to Devil’s corral. It was one of the best road trips we’ve ever taken. First of all, it’s dirt roads the whole way. There’s a couple low water bridges, and a lot of the is on open range where you’ll probably going to come across cattle in the road. When we finally got there I just kind of stood there looking. Looking and remembering. Once I started up the hill towards the opening on the front to the corral, it was like stepping back in time. I was scanning the walls for our names but coming up empty. I was about ready to admit someone had probably carved over ours. Or that time had simply wiped us out. I was snapping a few pictures when I saw it. There we were, Kevin, Linda, Misty, Jerri, Jenifer, and Katie, it was dated 2-27-83.
Yeah, that was a good life back then. But you know what? The 25 years that followed were just as good. My wife and have been married 29 years now. We have 2 more sons, a daughter and son in law, and grandkids all over the place. How much more could an old guy ask for?