It was a cool, rainy August morning at the 2007 Iowa State Fair.
   Debbie and I were up at the crack of dawn busily getting ready as the rain pelted on the camper roof and an occasional clap of thunder could be heard rumbling across the sky.
   We were being interviewed on the KCCI Channel 8 morning show about our Iowa State Fair book, Iowa’s Tradition: An ABC Photo Album of the Iowa State Fair. We had partnered with the Des Moines station that year to promote our book through a contest.
   I don’t remember all the details of the contest, but I can’t forget that morning.
   I was a cool as a cucumber, the wipers on my old pick up rocking back and forth, as we made our way to the station. I could tell that Debbie was quite nervous.
   Arriving at the station, we walked in and waited until being called to center stage. Eric Hansen was seated across from us as the cameras started to roll and the live interview got underway.
   I don’t know what happened, but someone turned on my nervous switch. I just fell apart. I was on air in Des Moines and shaking like a leaf in a windstorm. I could hardly answer the questions. Not Debbie, who moments earlier was more nervous than someone carrying a stick of lit dynamite. She stepped up to the plate and took charge, filling in nicely for me in the process.
   When I mentioned this to her, she reminded me that she had been preparing for the interview and in true J.O. fashion, I was flying by the seat of my pants.
   This last week, Debbie and I celebrated our 16th wedding anniversary. For those of you who may not recall, we met in the campground at the 2003 Iowa State Fair. I was there on assignment doing a photo story about campers from the Montezuma area for the Republican newspaper. It was a last minute story idea on my part and I believe a designed plan by the Heavenly Father.
   We went on our first date in November that year. I admit, I was a little slow to respond. I proposed on May 1, 2004 and we married on Sept. 25.
   I couldn’t have found anyone, anywhere who loves me more than Debbie does. We complement each other. I’m amazed that I come from the big city and met my wife in a farming community of 1,500 in Iowa, 550 miles from my hometown of Tulsa, Okla.
   When Debbie is having a tough time, I’m there to lift her up. When I’m struggling, Debbie is there to encourage and lift me up. That is what marriage is all about, at least in my line of thinking.
   It’s not wining and dining all the time, even though a good steak once in a while is OK. I’ll take a glass of unsweet tea over a glass of wine.
   Marriage is hard work and includes lots of forgiving. A little chocolate always helps smooth over one’s transgressions. Or a simple, “I’m sorry,” covers a multitude of sins.
   The trash may be overflowing and the sink piled with dishes. The yard needs mowed and the oil needs changed in the van. No matter if a couple bills are overdue or I forget to pick up a bag of cat food. There’s always a laundry list of things to do in any relationship. For Better or Worse is in the marriage vows for a reason.
   We were talking about this as we made our way back from the pizza place the evening of our anniversary. Friday nights are reserved for pizza and we rarely miss.
   Who would have thought a pizza on Friday night means so much? It gives us time to talk and the leftovers on Saturday are almost as good as Friday.
   We also rarely buy anything without talking to each other, unless it is for a gift. When a problem or issue arises, we try to work it out together.
   She helps me with my writing, editing and story ideas. I’ve learned a lot about comma use from Debbie. I help her with her book promotions and selling books.
   We call and text daily. When I arrive at work, I try to text Debbie and let her know I arrived safely. I always include a positive uplifting message to help get her day started on the right foot. She does the same for me.
   At the end of the day, we talk about what took place. And we pray together.
   We also celebrate our accomplishments, no matter how big or small.
   Have a great week and always remember that “Good Things are Happening,” every day and always.

I dedicate this column to my mom, Gladys Marlene Horton Parker, who believed in me and taught me so much. She passed away 11 years ago on Sept. 27, 2009. She loved my columns and I sure miss her and Dad.
 
    I’ve heard it said more than once that newspaper people have ink in their blood.
  Even though I’m thankful that there is no actual ink in my blood, I do have a passion for community newspaper and journalism work.
   It all started in the early 1970s. I was 12 and had just started my seventh grade year at Woodrow Wilson Junior High School in Tulsa, home of the Rebels.
    Some of my friends had newspaper routes. I wanted one, too!
  Tulsa had two newspaper at the time – the Tulsa World (morning) and Tulsa Tribune (evening). Both newsrooms were housed and printed in the same downtown Tulsa building.
   The papers were run through a joint operating agreement with Newspaper Printing Corporation. It was NPC’s job to distribute the news, keep subscription numbers up and newspapers in circulation all across Tulsa, the surrounding area and state.
   For some reason, I wanted a morning newspaper route and mom didn’t want me out delivering newspapers at the crack of dawn by myself. So, she joined me in the business and we took on two morning paper routes on Sept. 1, 1972.
   In the early going, we walked our routes, later riding our bicycles. I had a nice gold Schwinn Stingray with a large newspaper basket hitched to the front. My Aunt Alice bought the basket for me. After some use the front basket braces broke, so I took my bike to Mr. James, a neighborhood bicycle fix it man, and he welded steel bars and shored up the basket.
   That was a great bicycle. I rode it to school one spring day and didn’t lock it and someone took the opportunity to steal it. I replaced it with another Schwinn, but it was never the same.
   Anyway, when it rained and even snowed, we carried an ample supply of plastic bread sacks to cover the newspaper for our customers. Mom bought the bags at the local second day-old bread store a couple miles from our home. We prided ourselves in porching the paper at every home.
   In September 1973, we added a third morning route and one year later, we added an evening route. By that time, we were delivering around 400 papers a day and many more on Sunday mornings.
   My dad helped on Sunday mornings and my brother, Tom, also pitched in and helped deliver papers when needed. We were even featured one year in the Tulsa World newspaper as the family that delivers together.
   It was all hands-on work. We did everything from delivering the papers to collecting the subscription money, keeping track of vacation holds and the business end of having a paper route.
   It’s the only job that I worked to deliver the paper then had to work to get paid, referring to customer collections. I spent many weekends and school nights collecting paper route money. Some customers would save and wash the bags and rubber bands and when I stopped to collect, they gave them to me.
​   I remember one situation when I was out collecting and the family invited me in for supper. The man of the house was a Tulsa firefighter, so he knew his way around the kitchen, since he also cooked at the station.
   There were no cell phones back in the day, so I couldn’t call my parents. I sat down at the table and enjoyed a fried chicken meal. It was getting dark when I left and I was riding my bicycle home while Mom and Dad where out looking for me. Needless to say, they weren’t too happy with me, but the chicken was great.
   Another time, in January 1977, it started snowing in Tulsa on Saturday evening. By noon on Sunday, there was a foot of snow on the ground. It was so cold and windy that I walked one block and delivered papers while my mom walked the next block. We got in the truck that my dad was driving to warm up before heading out again. That was one of the worst snowstorms I witnessed in Tulsa. 
   We used to get a lot of ice storms in Tulsa and no snow. And I can remember many summer mornings with the temps in the high 80s with high humidity.
   The money I earned paid for my school clothes, gas for my car and many other items a teenager would want.
   I opted out of newspaper delivering in July 1977, the summer before my senior year in high school. Mom continued throwing the other two routes for two more years. She used the money to make the land payment on the family farm they bought in 1974.
   Throwing newspapers was a  great learning experience and played a big role in my future journalism career. I will forever be grateful to my parents for their dedication to raising their family and teaching their boys that hard work pays off and that reading the Good Book is the best life.
   Have a great week and always remember that “Good Things are Happening,” every day and always.

​   “Do you think I will fit in a go cart,” I asked the ticket seller at the go-cart track at the Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri.
   “I’m big and I fit,” he told me with a snake-oil salesman smile.
   That’s all the assurance I needed to get behind the wheel of a go cart for the first time in 30 years. My only concern was getting in and out of the motorized machine. I do a lot of walking, but flexibility is not my strong point.
   I wasn’t about to let my three nephews down, so I purchased tickets for the four of us and off we went.
   After defying the law of gravity and somehow sliding into the seat, actually dropping, I strapped in as the go cart operator fired up the engine. I was ready to roll!
   I had been challenging my nephews for several weeks, telling them to watch out as I was going to show them how it was done. By the second lap, I was feeling my oats again and had the pedal to the metal, but they had already lapped me and left me in their dust. All I needed was a dozen or so more laps and I’m sure I would have caught up!
   After the races, we enjoyed a round of miniature golf. I was doing great and leading the entire round until the 18th and final hole when it took me seven strokes to maneuver around the obstacles and wrap up the game. I ended up losing by one stroke.
   Driving go carts and playing miniature golf was lots of fun and part of a four-day mini vacation with family members to the lake area last month.
   Outside of the Iowa State Fair and the Midwest Old Threshers Reunion, it had been more than two years since Debbie and I last visited the Lake of the Ozarks or enjoyed a vacation away from work and home. We both enjoy the lake area and have visited numerous times through the years. We wanted to take our three nephews there and share with them one of our favorite vacation spots.
   The trip started out with visits to antique stores in Kirksville and Columbia, Mo. on the way to the lake. Other activities that we enjoyed included playing skee-ball (one of my favorites) at an arcade on the Bagnell Dam Strip and touring Ha Ha Tonka State Park, Natural Bridge and Spring areas. The highlight of the area is the ruins of a European-style castle that overlook the Niagara Arm of the Lake of the Ozarks.
   According to information on area, the castle was the dream of prominent Kansas City businessman, Robert McClure Snyder, who at the turn of the century, learned about the area and ended up acquiring more than 5,000 acres with plans to build a castle retreat.
   Snyder imported stone masons from Scotland and a European supervisor was hired to ensure authentic construction techniques. Kansas City architect, Adrian Van Brunt, designed the three-and-a-half story masterpiece. A central hallway rose the entire height of the building. In addition, a stone stable, an 80-foot-tall water tower and nine greenhouses were built on the estate. The stone and timber used in construction were taken from the immediate vicinity and hauled by mule team. Construction of the complex began in 1905.
   But for Snyder, Ha Ha Tonka remained only a dream. In 1906, he was involved in a car accident on Independence Boulevard in Kansas City and was killed (he was one of the first automobile owners in the city). The interior of the castle remained unfinished until 1922 when Snyder's sons, Robert Jr., Leroy and Kenneth, completed the upper floors of the building.
   The Snyder family then faced years of adversity in trying to keep Ha Ha Tonka in the family. They were forced to sell Snyder's natural gas supply business to Eastern interests. A long, legal battle against Union Electric (the company that built Bagnell Dam) ensued over the waters of the Lake of the Ozarks that were encroaching upon the natural spring-fed lake at the foot of Ha Ha Tonka cliff. They finally leased the mansion to Mrs. Ellis who operated it as a hotel.
   In 1942, sparks from one of Ha Ha Tonka's many fireplaces ignited the roof and within hours the huge castle was gutted, as was the stable. What remained were the stark, devastated outside walls that still brood on the edge of the cliff. The State of Missouri purchased the estate in 1978 and opened it to the public as a State Park.

More fun
   We also visited a Bagnell Dam lookout area and watched fisherman practicing their craft below the dam. Construction on the dam began in 1929, creating the Lake of the Ozarks.
   We drove to Lebanon where we shopped, visited a third antique store, visited a Route 66 museum and went bowling. I also got to visit with a classmate and friend, Eric, from my college days at the University of Missouri-Columbia. He is a former newspaper editor and currently a school teacher at Lebanon High School.
   I grilled hamburgers twice and cooked Uncle J.O. pancakes (Hungry Jack brand) on Sunday morning. We also visited several eateries in the lake area. And our trip was not complete without an intense game of Monopoly and a round of Uno and Phase 10 card games.
   It was a fun trip and I hope we can go again in the near future. We would also like to take the boys to visit Hannibal, home of Mark Twain.
   Have a great week and always remember that “Good Things are Happening,” every day and always.