Opinion

Woke to such a beautiful day and as usual we are ready for breakfast. Red and I always wake up hungry. The grandkids often skip the most important meal of the day. On the other hand they all love eggs benadict, so on vacation we all go eat breakfast. Last night there was one among us who became ill. From the wee hours on he had been up and down and they hadn’t slept much. This is our last beach day before we head home. So we were sad the young couple had spent the day in the condo. We brought in the most often called for things for upset tummys. Just in case he felt like eating, chicken noodle soup, sprite crackers and such.

Brrrrrr Boy is it ever a cold day. The sunshine can sure fool you into thinking it might be a little warmer but it’s not.

Come September-October every year I start getting duck fever. I’ll start checking water levels and reading up on waterfowl migration patterns and maybe even do a little scouting, just to see if any trees have fallen across my favorite holes during the off-season. I’ll start shopping too, as I can’t seem to ever start the season without a piece or two of new gear. As the days roll closer and closer to the Saturday before Thanksgiving, I’ll start getting the itch, just like a 5-year-old counting down the days until Santa Claus comes. Work get’s all but forgotten that last week before season-opener, as I’m too busy watching weather reports and my cellphone is burning up with calls regarding the latest duck activity gossip. On Duck Season Eve, the Friday before opening day, I may PLAN to work until 5:00pm but the ladies I work with all know that if I’m still at the bank past 2:00pm it will be a miracle. And now, with the truck all loaded with gas and gear and shells and food and guns, it’s off to the duck woods. Months and days of planning and discussing and cussing and hoping and nervous and excitement and IT’S FINALLY HERE! And then, in the blink of an eye,

Covid-19 has caused my sweet little 13-year-old to be indoors and away from folks since Thursday. With moments of high fever and a severe headache, she has been handling it like a champ. Since she can’t get out and about, we spent the entire weekend indoors and away from people. I used it as the perfect opportunity to clean my closets and kitchen drawers. I can say, without hesitation, I am a certified pack rat.

I had two funerals this week. One was for my good friend’s husband. He had a brain-stem stroke. It was a hard funeral because it was an unexpected death. He and my friend had only been married 16 years. They had big plans because retirement was just over 10 years away. The second funeral was for a dear saint of 102 years young. Her name was Vaska Cope, but we called her Gaga. You see this dear saint grew up in Star City, Arkansas. Gaga was a first-grade teacher in Forrest City, Arkansas. One of her students came to the funeral and shared about the huge impact the Mrs. Cope had on her and all the students in her class. Gaga was a great artist and would draw scenes from her many travels and she would paint pictures from memories of her childhood. Several commented that they never heard Gaga raise her voice, have sharp tongue, and ever got into an argument. But she was a force that swept through peoples lives and left us better than when she found us. She was a powerful saint of God who practiced her faith daily.

Captain James N. Bolen made an impression on the history of Randolph County in the mid 1800’s, as editor and publisher of the Herald, one of Pocahontas’s earliest newspapers, and forerunner to the present Star Herald. Mr. Bolen, born in 1831, was the son of Walter and Nancy (Walters) Bolen, natives of Virginia and Pennsylvania, respectively. J.N. was raised on a farm, and at the age of 18, served an apprenticeship at the tailor’s trade, continuing at this for 10 years. He then learned dentistry, located in Murray, Kentucky, where he established the Murray Gazette for 6 years. In June 1861, he enlisted and served with the 7th Kentucky Regiment until the close of the war, attaining the rank of Captain for 2 years, and later the rank of Major. He married Carrie Allbutton, a native of Kentucky, and a close cousin to Mary Todd, wife of Abraham Lincoln, in 1858, and had one child, Ella, who became the wife of Jacob Schoonover. (Was this any relation to Wear Schoonover? Their houses were near the same location.) Upon moving to Randolph County, he bought the “Herald”, and served as editor and publisher until the late 1890’s. J.N. Bolen died in 1909. His wife died in 1940 at the age of 103. They are both buried in the Masonic Cemetery in Pocahontas.

Most of us know the boundaries of Randolph County, our current or former home. But the current boundaries have changed significantly since October 29, 1835 when the county was formed.

In the last few months of 2000, I passed my Series 7 test making me the youngest stockbroker in the State of Missouri for that year. I immediately went to work for a small brokerage firm in Kennett, and the rest as they say, is history. Its hard to believe I survived those first few years. I had been trading stock under my dad’s wing for a couple of years and thought I knew it all, but where I may have known how to buy and sell stocks, I knew little about the investment business. 21 years later and I still have much to learn but can maybe share a little with you today on what not to do that will help you navigate your own road to riches while avoiding idiot stockbrokers. I can call them that because I used to be one. See what I did there.

I am one of those people that falls into the gap between generational stereotypes. According to the socially accepted timeframes, I am technically a Millennial. However, I exhibit characteristics of both, millennial and Gen X. This could be because my grandparents, both Boomers, had a great amount of influence in my life. Both of my grandparents were active in local government and civic organizations. Their influence is likely the reason that I was familiar with Chambers of Commerce and the impact that a Chamber of Commerce can have on a community.