With both the Supreme Court (President Biden’s Covid mandates) and Iowa Supreme Court (South Central Regional Airport in Pella) in the news of late, I was reminded of the time I stood before a Missouri Supreme Court judge.
      I wasn’t in any hot water. I was just a curious photojournalism student at the University of Missouri-Columbia wanting to do something different.
      One of my photo assignments was to do a personality portrait of an important person. I thought, outside of the governor, you can’t get much higher and more important than the Supreme Court.
      So, I called the Supreme Court in Jefferson City and asked if I could make the drive down and take some photos of one of the judges.
       “Sure, come on down,” the person on the phone told me.
       I loaded my gear in the back of my Chevrolet S-10 and headed south to Jefferson City.
      Once I was in the stately building and my gear had been checked, I was ushered upstairs to one of the judge’s chambers.
      I don’t remember the judge’s name, but he welcomed me, allowed me to set up my lights and take all the photos I wanted.
      I asked if he would be willing to put on his robe and let me to take some photos in the courtroom. He said yes and we were off to the main courtroom for photos. He was so gracious.
      I took a number of photos of the judge. As we headed back to his chambers, I missed a great photo opportunity of the judge carrying my light stands and umbrellas down the Supreme Court hallway.
     I was quite nervous, yet excited about this opportunity. The University of Missouri-Columbia was filled with important people, but a chance to take a photo of a Supreme Court judge was a fun project that took me out of my comfort zone.
      When I arrived on the MU campus in August 1992, I was a man on mission.
It didn’t take “no” for an answer. When I failed, it got up and went after it again.
     You are going to fail in life. You are going to make mistakes. If you don’t give up, you can see projects and dreams become a reality.
     In February 1993 I was reading the school newspaper, “The Maneater,” regarding a story on the school chancellor, Dr. Charles Keisler, who took the reins of the school that previous fall.
      Access to a new vehicle was one of the many perks he received as part of his job.
    Students were complaining in the school paper about this benefit, saying that tuition was being increased as a result.
      I decided to write Dr. Keisler a letter to show my support of him and MU. I noted that I was glad to be at the school and that I planned to graduate. I also touched on the fact that students may not have realized that the chancellor was in their shoes one point in his life.
     To make a long story short, about three weeks later, I received a personalized letter from Dr. Keisler, who has since passed away, thanking me for my kind words. He offered me the opportunity to come visit him.
       When word got around the agriculture school about this meeting, my academic advisor called me at home on the telephone.
       “Do you realize that the vice provost of MU Extension can’t get a meeting with the chancellor, but you are,” my advisor said.
        Anyway, I met the chancellor about six weeks later for about 5 minutes. He offered to help me get a job on campus and thanked me for my kind words.
        All I did was write a letter.
        I ended up getting a job as a campus custodian. It was great job for a returning college student. I always said I swept a lot floors and cleaned a lot of toilets to get through journalism school.
        I leave you with this. Your dreams can be realized.
       Have a great week and always remember that “Good Things are Happening,” every day and always.

     Shortly after Debbie and I were married in September 2004, I was invited to speak with aspiring journalists or those interested in a journalism career at my alum mater, the University of Missouri-Columbia.
     It was not the first time I had spoken at the university, but the previous times it was to a much smaller contingent of students in a classroom the size of a McDonalds dining room with desks scattered about. It was a much more personal attempt at showcasing what I did back in the day.
     But this time was different. The classroom, which I had sat through lectures in as a student, was much larger and filled to the brim with young people investigating a career in journalism or taking a class to fill a credit. The Agriculture Journalism program had a new director since I had left a few years earlier and he brought with it a more science-based focus to reporting. He was a former big city science reporter.
    One questions that I do recall was centered around where do people in small towns get their national news? I don’t remember my answer, but I suppose like those in big towns, they get it from the local big city television news stations, national and state newspapers if interested and the internet, which was much different in 2004 than it is today. 
      I wanted to do what I had done in the past, show photos and talk about my job. Those present may have wanted more and looking back, I may have flopped, at least in sharing how small town folks get their national news. I didn’t have an answer for every question thrown my way, but it was OK.
    I was more interested in talking about Uncle Ed’s dinosaur bone collection, Fred’s lawn mower repair service or what the local school board was doing than wondering where small town folks garnered their national news.
     Even though I’ve never been invited back, I do appreciate the experience and hope in some way that I shared something that helped a student become interested in community journalism. That has always been my goal in life to make others feel important through the pages of the newspaper or with a kind word or deed.
       When I went back to school, had I looked at what I didn’t know, I would have never gone. Instead, I tried to focus on using what I had and going from there. When I failed, which I did on numerus occasions, it gave me the opportunity to get up and go at it again.
       I’m proud of what I accomplished at MU. It was no small task going back to school in my 30s and earning a college degree in journalism.
      My parents grew up in the country outside of small towns in shacks by the road ditch or a farm field with a wood-burning cook stove used for supper and heat. They drew water from a well and used an outhouse out back. They toiled with their hands, working hot summer days picking cotton and harvesting corn by hand. 
       I was raised in a different world than they had. Thanks to my parents, I enjoyed many comforts like an air conditioner for those hot Oklahoma summer days, a toilet in the house, a telephone and a dishwasher, a luxury back in the day.
       They worked hard to make sure I had everything I needed from clean clothes with all the buttons, food to eat and a warm bed to sleep in. And they taught me the value of hard work and going after my dreams and not giving up when life handed me a challenge.
      When I got in trouble at school and got my backside spanked by the teacher, principal or dean, I got it a second time when I arrived home. Oh my, did that hurt! I danced around in the living room yelling while my mom used a paint stick to paddle my backside. I’m grateful for it all. It hurt my pride more than my rear.
      The point in all this is life is about learning. We don’t have to have all the answers and that is OK. All you have to do is give your best, face challenges head on, admit your mistakes, ask forgiveness when you miss the mark, don’t give up, go after a dream and every so often, try a new experience or challenge. It’s good for the soul!
       Have a great week and always remember that “Good Things are Happening,” every day and always.

       Outside of going antiquing with Debbie, one of my favorite past times is postcard collecting.
      I started collecting postcards about 10-years ago. To date, my collection has grown to more than 1,500 postcards, which I have neatly organized by state, city/town, person and subject in numerous three-ring binders in four-to-a-page archival sleeves.
     My collection consists mainly of postcards with family ties, such as where my parents grew up, went to school, visited on family vacations or lived. I also have an extensive collection of comical postcards from the World War II era and many that date back to the early 1900s, some of which were postmarked before my grandmother was born in October 1909.
    I mostly collect postcards from Iowa - Montezuma, Des Moines, Iowa State Fair and various state landmarks; Missouri - Lake of the Ozarks, Bagnell Dam, Mark Twain, Hannibal, Branson area, Table Rock Lake and Lake Taneycomo, Jesse James, Joplin, Boothell area of Southeast Missouri, Current River and more; Oklahoma - Tulsa, Will Rogers, oil wells, Oral Roberts, Route 66 and Oklahoma landmarks; South Dakota - Mount Rushmore, Black Hills, Corn Palace; Washington, D.C., Tennessee - Smokey Mountains, Nashville and Memphis; Kansas - Dodge City and various state landmarks; Niagara Falls - Canada and US sides; Grand Canyon, Arkansas, Mississippi River, hillbillies, military and outhouse comic postcards and more. I have also started collecting postcards of every Iowa town.
      Postcard collectors are referred to as Deltiologists. In one newspaper article I read, postcard collecting is the world’s second most popular form of collecting after stamps.
     According to an article by Barbara A. Harrison on the American Association of Philatelic Exhibitors website, Deltiology is the collection, study, and preservation of picture postcards for fun, recreation, relaxation, and enjoyment - and for the historical preservation of life in years past.
     “Many people collect because they are nostalgic or perhaps yearn for a time they never experienced,” Harrison wrote. “Antique cards give us a glimpse of the past; modern cards picture contemporary times. Antique cards tell us about social climate and life style, changes in transportation and business, and show us what existed before a disaster or a wrecker’s ball had its way. They remind us of places that are gone, or changed beyond recognition. They hold memories.”
    Even though I have been collecting for a while, I’m still learning about the art. Many postcards were designed by various artists, certain publishers and time periods and can have great value. Others are as valuable as the collector wishes to pay.
      For me, I like to pay from 50 cents to $2 or $3 each. I purchase many of my postcards on eBay and others I get at antique stores and flea markets. The most I have paid is around $11 for a postcard from Van Buren, Mo., the town where my mom attended high school.
      I also like to trade and have a gentleman in Des Moines who I trade with at the Old Threshers Reunion and What Cheer Flea Market. I give him postcards I don’t want and I dig through boxes of postcards I enjoy collecting.
      Postcard collector shows are held all across America. I’ve been to a smaller show held in early April in Iowa City, but have never been to a big show in such places as Chicago, Dallas, Kansas City, Wichita or Tulsa. I hope to attend one of the bigger shows in coming years.
       Each year I enter some of my postcards in the Iowa State Fair antique division in Pioneer Hall. I usually get a ribbon each year and enjoy that.
        And for the first time, I’m going to be giving a presentation on my collection at the North English History Center on Sunday, March 20 at 2 p.m. In late April, I will be giving a presentation on my collection at the Linn County Iowa Historical Society in Cedar Rapids.
       It’s good to have a hobby, no matter what it is. For me, it is fun and relaxing to dig through postcards at places such as the Brass Armadillo in Des Moines.
        Have a great week and always remember that “Good Things are Happening,” every day and always.

     My heart goes out to all those affected by weather in the recent weeks around our great nation. Meanwhile, here in Iowa, December 2021 was one for the record books.
     We’ve had temperatures spanning from the 70s to below zero, derecho winds of 70 plus mph, which included an outbreak of 42 tornados, the most ever on record for one day in Iowa. 
       In addition, there has been humid spring like days, rain, hail, thunder, lightning, sleet, freezing rain, snow, cold and about every other weather phenomenon known to man.
     Since moving to Iowa 24-years ago, I have enjoyed (tolerated) my share of winter weather. I remember being interviewed for the editor job at North English. When asked what one of my biggest concerns was, I said the winter weather. It hasn’t disappointed me either with piles of snow, ice, wind and blasted cold.
     I remember the time I drove from North English, where I lived at the time, to Princeton, Ill., to visit a friend. On my way home, I stopped at a Davenport convenience store to top off my tank. I picked up a Sunday paper and the fellow behind the counter cautioned me to be careful on my drive home.
       Being a southern boy, I didn’t pay much attention to the weather but soon wished I had. As I rolled along I-80 west, I ran head on into an Iowa storm front of blowing snow and icy roads.
       I was driving my Chevrolet S-10 pickup with a camper shell and no extra weight in the back for traction. It had to be the grace of God that I got home without sliding into the ditch, which was littered with vehicles and trucks, or hitting another driver. By the time I reached West Branch, where I stopped for a restroom break at the local McDonalds, I was literally shaking and my hands had imprints of the steering wheel on them from gripping it while driving. I’m surprised I didn’t pull the steering wheel right out of the dash.
     It was a two-for-two during Thanksgiving weekend 2007. I wanted to spend the holiday with family in Oklahoma that year. It was Thanksgiving eve and the weather south of Montezuma wasn’t looking good.
       I was insistent on leaving that night while Debbie explained to me about the weather front moving across the state. I paid no mind and we headed south, only to run head long into a storm front just outside of Ottumwa. It was snowing so hard that I couldn’t see much past my headlights.
       Anyway, we stopped for the night in Macon, Mo. I should have stayed home and left on Thanksgiving day. And that wasn’t the half of it. We got ready to leave on Sunday from Oklahoma. Debbie had been keeping an eye on the weather, cautioning me that it was in our best interest to stay another day.
       Well, in true stubborn J.O. fashion, we left and hit a snow storm in northeast Oklahoma and into Missouri. By the time we hit Joplin, Debbie was encouraging me to stop for the night. I was going to try and make it to Kansas City.
      We finally pulled over for the night in Nevada, Mo. on Highway 71, after watching a truck fly past us and slide off the road into a farm field and spin around a half dozen times.
    I’ve hit four deer since moving to Iowa, but thankful I haven’t been in any serious weather-related accidents, outside of sliding in the ditch a few times in my own driveway and getting stuck while trying to get my mail.
     I’m just thankful for my wife and that God has kept me safe and not sorry all these years. My advice to every man, listen to your wife. She is full of wisdom and much understanding.
    A New Year is upon us and I’m sure, like 2020 and 2021, the news will be filled with lots of untruths, rubbish and folks trying to tell you how to live your life.
    My advice for the New Year is to stick to your beliefs. America is still home to the free and the land of the brave. Pay no mind to the naysayers who offer ever-changing advice. Do what is best for you and your family. Have no regrets, live life to the fullest, don’t sweat the small stuff, dream big and go after your dreams. And most importantly, keep your hands to the plow and don’t look back.
     Happy New Year everyone!
     Have a great week and always remember that “Good Things are Happening,” every day and always.