Limestone Quirks Worth Lovin'

There are quirks about Limestone County that are worth lovin'.

Here's my list. Please add to it.

• If I need to find someone I want to interview at the Tanner Truck and Tractor Pull, I can walk up to the announcer and have him holler for that spectator to stand up and wave.
• I can slip my payment through a crack in the doors at Hendricks-Patton-Rancl after hours.
• The guy at the nearby convenience store made me a wooden basket.
• When winds knocked down my tree onto my backyard neighbor's goat shed and neither of our insurance companies would pay, a local congregation cut the wood up for a widow who uses a stove for heat.
• Patriotic songs play from the courthouse chimes each morning.
• Churches and volunteer fire departments took care of tornado victims weeks before FEMA arrived.
• If I miss church, one of my Smith sisters will be texting to see what's going on.
• The locals know the big decisions made by city officials were once made in the back room at Dub's.
• The media gets tips from an Athens based Deep Throat.
• The Ripley community makes Christmas floats and uses the prize money to buy Bibles to hand out.

Fightin' For Inches in East Limestone

I arrived home from my beach vacation in time to catch the East Limestone-Russellville football game tonight. It was a fight for inches. Twice East Limestone ate up inches of gridiron while running back kick-off returns. A punter mishandling a snap placed East inches from the goal line and a quick TD.

Closing out the third quarter with the lead, East Limestone tried to run the ball to take time off the clock. A fumble put Russellville in position to tie the game. My friend Hilton, who is pregnant, said the suspense was going to make her start having contractions.

A field goal put East back on top with seconds remaining, but Russellville gained ground on its last possession until an interception appeared to clinch it for East. A penalty took those hard earned inches away, and Russellville went sprinting for the end zone on the next play only to lose a bobbled ball which was intercepted by East and taken to its end zone. East won 37-28.

I am not a graduate of East Limestone. I am a Mustang, and graduate of Loretto High School in Tennessee.

But East Limestone has become my adopted school inch by inch. One of my best friends - Jennifer Janzen, aka Miss Sam, became band director, so I began to meet the students and parents when I helped out or came to see the band perform. That put me inches closer to having a "home" school in Limestone County.

When I got a job at the Athens paper, I covered East for sports. The late Coach Cav let me cover the games from the sidelines, which I preferred over the press box. I just had to promise to stay out of his way and not quote some of the more colorful outbursts he made during the game. That moved me a few more inches toward a favorite Limestone team.

As time went on, the principal, Coach Black, adopted me as a fan. I know where to park, where to sit and what to cheer. I can't walk to the concession stand without stopping every few feet to talk to folks I know. Once I reach the concession stand, I know what to eat to add a few inches to my waistline (thank you deep fried Twinkies and deep fried Snickers).

That's how, inch by inch, I've found myself  Lovin' it in East Limestone.

My 9-11 Memory

On the morning of 9-11, I battled through my slumber as I do most mornings and started my fast-paced routine. We were an afternoon newspaper then, so my mornings were about amassing the night’s crime in less than an hour beginning at 7:45 a.m. To keep from being distracted, I didn’t even turn on the television as I began my calls.

I dialed Athens Fire and Rescue, and Dawn Blakely answered.

“You got anything going on?” I asked.

“Nothing like what’s going on in New York,” she replied.

“What’s going on there?” I asked.

“Girl, don’t you have your TV on?”

I turned it on and saw a gaping hole in one of the World Trade Center towers. The news said  a plane hit it. I told Dawn I had to go and called my editor, Regina Wright. While we were on the phone, a second plane hit the second tower.

“(Insert curse word). This ain’t an accident,” Regina told me.

There wasn’t a TV in the newsroom at the time, so she told me to monitor the news and call her with updates. My friend and roommate Jennifer Hilton called to ask me what was going on because Redstone Arsenal had gone into lockdown. She worked with a yard maintenance crew there, and they had been out weed-eating when the arsenal locked down. Hilton said she didn’t know when she would be released.

I monitored the news until Regina called and told me to come in to start trying to reach anyone in New York who had a connection to our local area. Before I left, the news reported that a plane hit the Pentagon and one might be headed for the White House. I called Regina again.

“They’ve hit the Pentagon!” she yelled across the newsroom. “Oh, my God. This is it. The nuclear plant’s next. You need to get in. Come on in.”

I listened to the news coverage on the radio as I drove south on U.S. 31. Right before I got to the causeway, I heard a panicked correspondent report that one of the towers had crumbled. The anchor did not understand what she was trying to say and asked, “Part of the tower fell?”

 “It’s gone. It’s gone. The whole tower is gone,” the correspondent said.

I had to pull over on the side of the road as grief hit me. I tried to call my friend Kim Hall Yang who moved from Alabama to New York, but I couldn’t get through. I didn’t know if her school was near the World Trade Center or if she would have been in the area.

Once I made it to the newsroom, the adrenaline hit. Meeting a deadline kept an entire newsroom from going numb or succumbing to fear. Everyone was on the phone trying to reach people we knew in New York or local families who had loved ones in New York.

Regina sent me that night to watch the news coverage with firefighters at Athens Fire and Rescue and record their reactions to seeing fellow firemen and police run into a fiery battlefield encased in glass, steel, and concrete to save those trying to escape the inferno.

When I got home,  Hilton, Jennifer Sampieri, and I watched the news coverage until the early morning hours. We didn’t talk. We just stared at the television in shock.

The terrorist attack was this generation’s Pearl Harbor. On that day, we were all New  Yorkers.

In the 10 years since, other countries, even those that initially expressed sympathy, have criticized us for engaging in war. Our economy has suffered. Many people express their hate of us.

America is not perfect. It is a country with a split personality. It has a bad side and a good side. Thankfully, this is a country where we can report on both.

I remember that after 9-11, I wrote a story about what was believed to be the first hate crime committed in response. It happened in Texas, and the killer, Mark Stroman, had lived for a time in Limestone County.

While we do have examples of hate in our history, we also have examples compassion and courage, such as what was seen on that day.

In the North Tower, Frank  Martini and Pablo Ortiz ignored their own safety and helped give more than 70 people from the upper floors of the World Trade Center a chance to escape. They spared others’ lives only to lose their own.

On Flight 93, Todd Beamer and his fellow passengers learned of the attacks in New York and knew their hijacked plane was destined to become a weapon. They decided to fight back. The words, “Let’s roll,” were the last ones Todd uttered on the phone before the passengers ran to tackle a hijacker. The plane crashed in Pennsylvania, never hitting its target.

“Let’s roll,” became a battle cry.

Acts of compassion are seen each day in this country, and we also reach out to citizens of other nations. American students may be woefully ignorant of world geography, but let a tsunami, earthquake, or another natural disaster strike, and youngsters will start scrambling to collect pennies to send monetary aid to countries they can’t locate on a globe.

Hurricane Katrina or an EF5 tornado strikes here, and where are the pennies from school children from other nations? Where are the volunteers hopping on planes and coming here to help? We are expected to take care of our own, so we do, and yet, we never hesitate to help others.

Granted, we have our shortcomings. We have struggles to overcome.

But this is a country that has established an ideal that all are free and all have a chance to chase their dreams. We may not live our ideal each day, but each day we try, and each day we get a step closer.

Where Were You When The World Stopped Turning?

Creating a motto for Athens...

Athens is looking for a new image and motto. Based on some ideas thrown out by the community at a public hearing tonight, I came up with a few. They were not included in my coverage of the meeting, so I thought I would share them here.

Some suggested Athens has unknown treasures, is a best-kept secret, is ideal for families and offers a helping hand. This is what came up with from that:

Athens - Come as a visitor, leave as a friend.

 

Athens - Come back home.

 

Athens - Seek your treasure here.

 

Athens - Uncover the secret.

 

If y'all have suggestions, add them under comments!

Saturday Celebrations

Today was a day of celebrations, one to celebrate a birth and one to celebrate a rebirth.

Two years ago, my best friend Hilton woke me up in the middle of the night with a phone call, "I'm having the baby."

I jumped out of bed, grabbed some snacks and extras clothes, threw them in a bag, and headed to Huntsville Hospital. As I walked into the maternity area, Hilton looked at her husband Justin and said, "Oh, look. She packed a bag." Apparently the expectant couple was not prepared and showed up with nothing but suckers, a sports bra, and a hairbrush.

Two years later, my nephew Tyler celebrated his 2nd birthday and said my name for the first time. It sounded something like, "Ha-eee." I can remember each moment my nieces Hannah and Allie first said my name, and now I will forever remember the first time Tyler uttered it.

The second celebration was an anniversary. Today, four months ago, my photographer Gary Cosby and I covered a super outbreak of tornadoes, including an EF5. We worked separately and both managed to live through the seven twisters without sustaining injury. By the time the EF5 struck just south of me, I was seeking shelter at Hilton's house and hiding in the bathroom with her family as hail battered the house and vehicles and winds bent pine trees parallel to the ground.

Cosby was on U.S. 31 in Tanner shooting the massive monster as it feasted on Limestone County, gobbling up anything in its path. He barely split the scene before being hit.

In the aftermath, we worked together to tell stories of tragedy and triumph. We hitched a ride with volunteer firefighters as they delivered food and water in East Limestone, and it was then we met Chris Preston. The tornado hit Chris' house, his son's house, his mom's house, his business and his church. Many from a nearby subdivision sought shelter in his basement after Chris and his sons went to get them.

Chris invited the community to supper for the four-month anniversary. We sat at tables in the yard, eating barbecue and drinking lemonade and Sun-Drop as a summer breeze blew. In the distance, a scarred land was visible, but so were signs of tenacity. Trees stripped of bark had clumps of leaves growing. Roofs covered with blue tarps were next to frames for new houses.

And a family that has twice survived and EF5 - 1974 and April 27 - gathered with friends and family to offer thanks to God for sparing the lives of those present and for instilling that desire to live on.

Chris addressed the crowd before prayer was offered for the food. Tears threatened as he thanked those who helped rebuild, sweep glass from the yard, report the story, and hand out water.

"We prayed together. We worked together. We brought this community together," Chris said. "We've gone from saying a prayer while hiding in a dug out basement with 200 mph winds to gathering here today."

A day of rebirth.

A day of  celebration.

A good day to be "Lovin' it in Limestone."

"Carry On, Coach."

Lady Vols Coach Pat Summitt may not be from Limestone County, but she has the grit of many women I have met not only in this county, but throughout the South. I feel it is fitting to include her in a blog about Lovin' it in Limestone because she has influenced so many in basketball as I know she will now influence so many with her new battle.

This week she announced she has been diagnosed with early onset dementia, the Alzheimer's type. She threatened to punch one doctor who suggested she retire. She plans to coach and strive for her ninth national championship this year.

I say, "Carry on, Coach." Fight this disease like it was an SEC foe or even worse, connecticut standing in your way of that championship. (I lower cased connectitcut on purpose. I think Pat would approve.)

I grew up watching her coach. My Momma and many of her sisters played basketball when women were told they could not run the length of the floor. Instead, they played half-court. Momma was a guard and resented the fact she could only play defense. It tickled her each time Coach Summitt defeated a team coached by a man and when she became the coach with the most wins ever, man or woman.

Momma talks sports with her sisters, especially my Aunt Bonnie in Memphis and until this year, my Aunt Charlene in Nashville. Aunt Charlene loved Vandy, so she and Momma often argued over Vandy and the Vols. Sports held Aunt Charlene's attention even after she was diagnosed with dementia. There were days she did not know who Momma was when Momma called her. There were times Momma and my Aunt Jimalee visited her that she cried for her own mother.

She died from the disease this year.

The disease is cruel, taking memories and dignity from its victims. If anyone can give it a tough fight, I know it is Coach Summitt. After all, she recruited one of her best players while going into labor, and she refused to allow the plane to land in Virginia as she left the recruiting trip. She gave birth to her baby boy in Tennessee.

So I say, carry on, Coach, like the tough Southern lady you are.

A Sunday Afternoon in Athens

I was attacked by a bazooka on a Sunday afternoon in Athens.
Not the weapon.
The bubble gum.
I took my second mom, Debra Sampieri, to the VJ Day Remembered program at the Athens Senior Center. While looking at my program, a piece of the square pink gum struck my hand and landed on the floor. I looked up to find the town's Bubble Gum Man, also known as Hugo Bates, smiling at me from a couple of rows ahead.
This is the kind of town where you can get struck by bazooka gum by a real life character named Bubble Gum Man.
It's also the kind of town where you can spend a Sunday afternoon with characters like Ray Charles, Bob Hope, and Gen. George Patton - characters played by local residents for the rememberance program. With humor, dance, songs, and local stories, the program took a packed senior center back to the World War II era.
Evan Thornton had audience members laughing as he played an overly exhuberant G.I. who won a chance to be on stage with Carmen Miranda during a Bob Hope NCO Show. He and three other "G.I.s" danced with Carmen while wearing fruit on their heads.
Jerry Barksdale left some crying as he told the story of Winston Garth of Athens, who survived being a POW and helped a friend survive a forced march in the snow, only to come home and learn his younger brother was killed in battle.
Gratitude had the audience rise in standing ovation as World War II veterans, one for each military branch, stood by a screen showing their service photographs.
As the program ended, Ray Charles sang "America the Beautiful" and Celine Dion sang "God Bless America" with the cast. Instead of pieces of gum flying, Old Glory was flying as the crowd waved the Stars and Stripes.
A woman in front of us cried as she watched a man I assume was her father and a veteran, struggle to stand with the help of family and his cane.
Athens is this kind of town, too.
One where you can laugh and cry with your neighbors, and leave with a piece of gum.