Everything Be Awright

If Doc Oliver truly knew my birth name, I never heard him use it. I was always "Miss Decatur Daily." It didn't matter if I was covering his beloved Ardmore Police Memorial ceremony or if I was standing at a crime scene. "Come here Miss Decatur Daily," he would say in his Tennessee twang and then point at a photographer. "Take our picture together."

Doc with his wife Doris and me in May. The last photo I had made with him.

Doc earned his nickname when he was a high schooler and helped a fellow student who sustained a sports injury. He spent more than 40 years in law enforcement and was a former sheriff in Giles County, Tenn., and served as police chief of Ardmore for 32 years. He retired in 2009 and battled health issues until his death earlier today.

Doc was one of Limestone County's great characters you couldn't help but love. I guess he had to be. His Police Department was located in the basement of a former Baptist church, and he was chief in a town that is in two states and four counties. As he often said, he had to keep 13 politicians happy, including two mayors, which could be tougher than battling crime.

Those who knew Doc knew his Doc-isms. He was forever asking folks, "Y'all doin' awright-n-everything?" and saying, "Everything be awright" at the end of his conversations. His conversations could last longer than tent revival sermons. I remember one cold Sunday night that Sheriff Mike Blakely called me during church services about a murder in Ardmore. I waited outside for hours for a photo and information, even huddling once for warmth in the coroner's car until Blakely made me move the coroner's car out of the driveway.

Doc got worried about me getting cold and sent me to the Police Dept. and swore he would speak to me as soon as they questioned their suspects.

By 1 a.m., I was about to fall asleep in the department lobby. I finally heard Doc and the sheriff bringing the suspects out and got my perp walk photo. Before I could ask Doc any questions about the murder, however, he started telling me stories about pranks the sheriff had played on him during his career. This lasted nearly an hour, but I knew if I wanted the exclusive I needed to laugh and listen, and as tired as I was, I couldn't help but laugh at the antics he and the sheriff used to pull.

I shot this photo of Sheriff Blakely and Doc Oliver at a crime scene

Doc was a natural at talking to the public and his prisoners. I interviewed him once for a story about his department being in a church, and he stressed that he never forced his inmates to repent, but he did offer them a chance to attend worship services and get their lives right with God. He would take them to be baptized if that was their wish.

When youngsters in town would act up, he said he would get them up early on Saturday mornings to do community service, such as stirring pots of stew for a chicken stew fundraiser. He was a community chief and relied on common sense to handle issues in his town.

This personable policeman will be greatly missed. The emptiness left at Fried Green Tomatoes where he often dined will be felt. The silence left now that his storytelling days have ended will be painful. The void left in the community he served more than three decades will be unfilled. But we will find comfort in remembering his mantra that will echo through Ardmore for years to come, "Everything Be Awright."

Brick By Brick

A year ago today, seven tornadoes formed in Limestone County, including an EF5. Their angry winds swirled, gathering what lay in their path, turning keepsakes and homes into debris.

Four died here: a pair of grandparents who huddled over their grandchildren, saving them; a granddaughter visiting her grandmother; and a daughter driving home from work.

Hundreds rebuilt here, some on the same lot and others in new locations.

More tornadoes have hit since the deadly April 2011 outbreak. More keepsakes and more homes were scattered for miles, but thankfully, no lives were lost.

Today, a pile of bricks stood strong by a cornfield east of Athens. These bricks were tossed away by tornadoes and gathered by those who once lived within their walls.

In the near future, these mismatched bricks will again become a foundation, this time, for the Limestone County Tornado Victims Memorial. Once again these bricks will offer support, but this time, it will be emotional support for those who have lost loved ones to tornadoes since 1900. The memorial will include the names of those we have lost, ensuring we do not forget.

Most importantly, these bricks will prove that in Limestone County, we unite to help our neighbors. We unite and continue on with life. The heartache of what we've lost remains with us, but together we endure.

We rebuild. Brick by brick.

Attack of the Cobbler

As the seconds ticked by, the aroma grew stronger.
Cherries. Blueberries. Raspberries. The smell of warm fruit mingled with sweet syrup and baking dough.
In anticipation I opened the microwave door. Steam billowed, carrying with it that delectable scent of cobbler.
I pulled the saucer toward me. The saucer being my microwavable safe plate upon which the silently sinister cobble sat.
As the saucer cleared the microwave, the cobbler saw its chance to attack. Its slick microwavable container slid from the saucer and launched for my right leg.
I was taken by surprise. Gooey goodness latched onto my upper thigh and knee and oozed a burning trail along my leg. I heard the saucer clatter to the floor and saw purplish syrup splatter the kitchen as I danced in pain, swiping the steaming cobbler with my hand, thus leaving defensive wounds on my digits.
I stripped my lounge dress over my head and sped to the bathroom. I vaulted like an Olympian into the bathtub and turned on a cold shower and washed the cunning cobbler from my body.
I returned to the crime scene to find my kitchen floor looking as if a mafia hit had taken place - purple and red  streaks simulated pools of congealed blood. I felt compelled to draw a chalk outline around the saucer, but angry splotches started appearing on my leg, searing my nerve endings in pain. I hobbled to my couch with after sun aloe and a wet, cold towel.
As I lay in agony, I could still smell the infernal cobbler.
Who knew it was such a fiendish fruit pie.

We Can Replace It

I heard the sirens wail outside of City Hall on Friday morning, and before my heart could kick start and beat again, I heard Deputy Fire Chief Bryan Thornton on the radio with Station No. 2,

 "You say a tornado is on the ground?"

Another spring like day. Another tornado for Limestone County.

Last year, I was a reporter covering seven twisters that hit the county on April 27.

On Friday, I was the spokesperson for Athens, gathering information and sending it to the media as quickly as possible. Reports came in of gas leaks, damaged homes and minor injuries in Canebrake. Then I heard East Limestone had been hit yet again, an area where some residents had just rebuilt from the 2011 tornado outbreak.

I didn't get to spend time talking to victims until Saturday morning, when Amy Golden with Athens Utilities and I walked the hardest hit area of Nick Davis Road. The phrase, "We can replace it," seemed to be each residents' personal pep talk. One elderly woman missed being home because she was getting her nails done, so her car survived but her roof had a gaping hole.

"These are things we can replace," she said, pointing at piles of debris holding items that once graced her home.

 Another young lady missed being home because she had a hair appointment. She and her sorority sisters were laughing as they swept glass and sheet rock.

"They're keeping my spirits lifted. I just did some redecorating, but I can replace it," she said, as someone tossed damaged items from her home into a garbage bag.

None of the destruction looked like the horror I saw on April 27 until we walked up to the Baldwin family's lot. All three family homes were demolished. As Paulette Baldwin tearfully told us all her family members were unharmed, someone placed a toy John Deere tractor spattered with mud in her hand.

"All of this we can replace. We can't replace each other," she said.

At one point, her husband Joe grabbed her hand and squeezed as if to give her some of his strength. I had to turn my head as emotions that still linger from the April 27 devastation collided with new emotions Friday's twister hurled my way.

As I walked back to my car, the buzzing of chain saws helped quiet the sorrow pervading my thoughts. I once again saw a community that stands together, rebuilds together, remains firm together.

"We can replace it. We can overcome once again."

Another reason to be Lovin' it in Limestone.

The Baldwin family's lot

Looking Forward to Supper

Barbara and Bobby Harbin are starting a new journey in the same spot where they have lived for 50 years. The couple lost their home on Banford Road in the April 27, 2011, tornado outbreak.

I remember riding down Banford Road two days after the twisters. The heat was blistering as Gary Cosby and I rode in the back of a volunteer fire department pickup through the destruction zone. I was still working as a reporter then. At the end of Banford Road, we saw a lone woman sitting on an Igloo cooler. To her left, vehicles were piled as high as the crumbling remains of a home. She must of been a neighbor to the Harbins. No home on that road was unscathed.

Nearly 9 months later, the community gathered for a groundbreaking for the Harbins new home that is being built through Habitat for Humanity and United Way. Students from Notre Dame were in town to help get the home started. Other new homes have been built in the area, but the landscape still looks scarred by Mother Nature.


United Way Director Kaye McFarlan said "hands in pockets and hands on the ground" are giving the Harbins their new home. The couple fought tears as Kaye talked of them having their first supper in their new house. How easy it is for us to take for granted those simple things, like supper at our dining room table, the view of the backyard from a kitchen window or crayon scribbles left behind on walls by young hands.

Those at the groundbreaking took time to be thankful for the simple things, thankful for a caring community and thankful to be Lovin' in it Limestone.