September 1 - In Memory

Dear Jimmy, Thirty years. Thirty years! How can it have been so long ago? Sometimes it seems a lifetime ago. Sometimes it seems unreal. You are not forgotten, Jim. I’ve often thought of telling “your story”. Forgive me for starting at the end of your amazing life. On September 29, 1984, I wrote this: “We buried my brother today. How hard this is to write, to realize it is true. And what a complicated story this is to relate.” It was Labor Day weekend 1984 and we were all out of town: As I recall,Mom and Dad, Jimmy IV and Alanna in Gatlinburg; Allen, Kit and I in Arkansas. Allen went to play golf after lunch, while thirteen-month-old Kit and I stayed at the house rented for our holiday vacation. It sure seemed like a normal Labor Day holiday, just another September 1. I remember a strange disquieting feeling around 3 p.m. that afternoon. Looking back, I wonder if that was the moment our world cracked, shattered. We all returned home on Labor Day—I imagine we got together for a family meal when we picked up Alanna, but cannot remember for sure and I didn’t write anything in my journal. Mother called me Tuesday, September 4, asking about Allen and the children, and then asked if I could come to their house. Of course, I said, shaken by the strange, stilted conversation. I drove over immediately. “As you can tell, much time elapsed from Jimmy’s death to his burial. We did not learn of his death until Tuesday, September 4, when a Washington Post reporter called mother at home to get more information on Jimmy’s life. What a cruel way it was to learn!” That’s why Mom sounded so different on the phone. She’s just hung up talking—no, listening to the Washington Post reporter. On that day, my parents’ home became our operations center and the battle to recover my brother’s body began. “We will probably never know the complete story surrounding his death. In the latter part of August, Jimmy, according to his former wife, told her that he was flying medical supplies to Honduras and that he would be in no danger. On September 1, he was killed.” Every day followed a similar, bizarre pattern of its predecessor. “The news media, for the most part, was compassionate, but the national impact made things difficult to deal with…that was among my jobs. Allen and I and the children spent the night at Mother and Dad’s from September 4 until September 27 and I have spent each day there until today (September 29). It was where I was needed and where I belonged.” My background in broadcasting served as some preparation for me as I handled the pressure of the media. It wasn’t easy, but it was easier since Allen and I worked with or had met many of the local reporters. Even the national media were respectful as they went about doing their job. I thought of Dana Parker’s family, knew they were probably equally bombarded with local and national news attention, and hoped they had someone to fend for them. It took us until September 19 to get positive identification from the Sandinista government, two and a half weeks following Jimmy’s death. “After my family's pleas to President Reagan, our U.N. Ambassador Jane Kirkpatrick, Tennessee’s senators Howard Baker and Jim Sasser, and Tennessee Governor Lamar Alexander for help—and with help all along from Congressman Don Sundquist and his press secretary, Joel Wood, plus pleas from Senator Sasser, and aid from a new State Department-assigned fellow, Tom Furey, Jimmy and (fellow American) Dana Parker’s bodies were released to the U.S. Consul in Nicaragua, Robert Fretz, on Saturday, September 22 (Mother’s birthday) and came home Wednesday, September 26.” We met the airplane at Memphis International airport. A doctor from U.T. Medical Unit confirmed the identification so there would be no doubt. “Family visitation night was Friday, with many people in attendance. (Jimmy never met a stranger.) A Central American refugee, looking for ‘a family member’ told me he was ‘so sorry I no know Jim. I appreciate what he did…his sacrifice. I want to say thank you.’ How beautiful.” Jimmy was laid to rest, with full military honors, very close to home. The Powell, Drotor, and Blair families gathered and were surrounded by military personnel Jimmy had served with, as well as long-time family friends and co-workers, all there to give us strength and support. “Jimmy’s suffering is over now. He can rest in peace. I shall never understand a government who made two families suffer for nearly a month, which did nothing as far as refrigeration or embalming to preserve the bodies, who did their utmost to be difficult. But it is not my place to feel bitter and wish for revenge. God shall be their judge; His will be done. God give you hugs from us, Jimmy. 1947 – 1984” Jimmy, in your final letter given to Mom and Dad by those who were with you in Central America, you closed with the words “…I know you will be proud.” You always excelled at that. With love, Rocky --------------------------------- Thanks to a man I’ll call “Chuck”, and to Oliver North’s testimony during the Iran-Contra hearings, we did find out ‘the rest of the story’. Chuck just showed up one day at Mom and Dad’s. He said he needed to tell them about Jimmy. He said that he tried to go to the press, but received anonymous threats that he would be killed if he talked. Chuck told us about meeting Jimmy and hanging out with Jimmy and his friends. We knew by what he said that he really had met and befriended my gregarious brother. Chuck‘s story included a timetable of Jimmy’s preparation for this mission, including that somehow someone had pulled strings to get Jimmy a new passport in just a couple of days. Chuck said that Jimmy was killed when he was on a covert mission for our government to steal a Soviet helicopter from Nicaragua. (Intriguing and somewhat believable, considering the October 2, 1982 incident when my parents received word from the Coast Guard in Miami, Florida, that Jimmy and the private plane he was piloting had not arrived at either destination he had logged in either his flight plan or alternate. We didn’t even know he was out of the country! For days -until October 5- Allen and I did detective work, were thrown red herrings and heard stories that people telling them would, with the next phone call, retract, talked to one of our state’s congressmen that finally paid off. Looking back, pretty bizarre. Someone flew Jimmy to Memphis and there were never any questions from the FAA or any authority concerning the crash at sea, his rescue supposedly by fishermen, etc. ) Fast forward to the Iran-Contra hearing when Mother called me. She had been watching and recording the hearings and captured on tape Oliver North testifying how the U.S. Government sought to steal a Soviet Hein helicopter. Bingo.

Sunday Ramblings

Good Sunday afternoon (or at least it is here). I'm writing to build up my hopes before I surf the 'net looking for the elusive job. The good news is that I seem to be finding real possibilities--the bad news is that so many other people are casting in the same pond for that one fish, too. I feel like I'm playing the lottery--and that the odds of winning are just as long.

I listened to a televangelist this morning instead of going to my real church. (I've really, really gotten out of the good habit of going to church to recharge my faith and optimism batteries.) It dawned on me while listening to his very good message that the only people who seem to be optimistic these days are the preachers! I wonder if any out there are preaching doom and gloom to their congregations; with things as they are in the world I think that would be overkill. Watching the program (I can't really call it a worship service as it didn't have the elements of hymns, etc. I'd expect), I can understand why this particular televangelist is supposedly one of the more popular ones. I wish I'd seen the full program, but I imagine I can catch a rebroadcast.

Maybe you're like me and you may feel lost in the desert. Maybe, like me, sometimes your faith, your hope, your optimism need a shot of epinephrine (adrenaline).

I liked many of his analogies: what we're experiencing now is not the whole picture, but just a piece to the puzzle that will make up our life story. That, like a recipe, even the tiniest ingredient is important to the outcome. That, borrowing from Emeril, God is the master of BAM and faith is knowing He is adding BAM (dashes of flavor and excitement) to our life recipe. I'm counting on it, because without faith and hope for a better tomorrow, hey, even a better today, then we will become bitter, not better, ourselves.

I clipped the following from a newspaper long ago. I'm not sure if it is from a Mr. or Doctor Elder, but the message is what's important:

'Elder helps burn patients face their fears. His advice is simple:
"You're not the same person you were before," he tells them. "If anything,
you're a stronger person. Get back out there."' --The Commercial Appeal

Whether you've been burned for real or just burned by life, just remember that the challenge has made you a stronger person.

So, au revoir and a bientot--farewell for now, 'see' you soon. I'm off on safari to bag me a job!

Heroes and Heroines with a lot of (book) spine

I love to read--and that's putting it mildly! I love words and they way they can be woven to create a character one would swear must live, breathe, and walk this earth or one in the past or future, or a character who seems uncannily familiar, or who you'd go to great lengths to avoid.

While checking e-mail, I noticed this post from a reader/writer list from Regency@yahoogroups.com While there is certainly room in this world for the positive spirit and unflagging hope of Pollyanna (portrayed on stage brilliantly by my daughter when she was a 13-year-old!), there has to be a bit of grit in each of our hero or heroine (Pollyanna again, an orphan determined to survive whatever the fates throw her way) or they wouldn't take risks with their safety, their feelings, etc. I like this reader's take on well-developed characters and her comparison to forming a character like creating a pearl:

"But what I do think is that a market has been created - and clearly thrives - for what I think of as wallpaper historical romances, where the setting really is incidental to the hero and heroine so long as there are lots of petticoats rustling, a bit of infodump and some sexy action. That market is a glomming type of market so in response, publishers have pushed it and the quality is not as high as it could be in terms of prose style and characterisation. The characters are wraiths, lacking vividity and passion. When I think of my favourite romantic heroines, they have real flaws and tempers (Scarlett O'Hara, Jane Eyre, Shanna from my teen years, Dorothea Brooke, Philippa Somerville) and do things that they may believe are right, but have bad consequences, which they have to live through. Too many of the romances I've read recently have heroines who are two-dimensional.... Absolutely no grit - and you need grit to make decent pearls." (quote from Zeba Clarke)

What do you think? Do you have a favorite author or a favorite genre you enjoy? It's your turn to share!

Misfits?

I suppose I should be Tiger Reflex Blue today following the announcement of the NCAA tournament brackets. That number two seed is fine, I was just hoping for that #1 like last year. So we're a Thursday/Saturday team. Guess the Tourney Committee either felt that the Tigers incredible national record-setting season somehow was a misfit for #1...or they were paid off. ;-/ Hope we can run the table, so to speak.

If you follow other area teams, I heard MS St is in. Also representing my state will be Chattanooga (UTC?), East TN St U, and UTK. I think last year we had five from TN last year.

Speaking of "misfits," here's a cute poem by Ann Luna (from her book, You've Gotta Be Kidding!) that I hope will bring a smile:

Heaven's Misfits

I dreamed I went to heaven,

And I was quite surprised

To see just who had made it to

That home up in the sky:

The ragged, dirty drifter,

The kid who rarely spoke,

The loudmouthed woman down the street--

Was this some kind of joke?

Then I noticed they were staring

Right at me. They made it clear

That all of them were thinking,

"What are you doing here?"

When the roll's called up yonder, I'll be there. Look for me: I'll be huddled with the other Tigers. :-) I'll be looking for you!

--Rocky

SeeSaws In Life

I'm on the endless search for a new job and trying not to get discouraged. Unfortunately, I'm not alone. I wish I didn't have as much company because it makes it just that much harder for each of us for those few job slots. Good luck to each of you! Just remember that, like a see-saw, your turn to soar is coming up next!

Maybe, like me, you'll find cheer in today's quote. It's The Optimist Creed from Optimist International, a group my husband, Allen, actively supported.

THE OPTIMIST CREED

Promise Yourself--

To be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind.

To talk health happiness and prosperity to every person you meet.

To make all your friends feel that there is something in them.

To look at the sunny side of everything and

make your optimism come true.

To think only of the best,

to work only for the best

and to expect only the best.

To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others

as you are about your own.

To forget the mistakes of the past

and to press on to the greater achievements of the future.

To wear a cheerful countenance at all times

and give every living creature you meet a smile.

To give so much time to improvement of yourself

that you have no time to criticize others.

To be too large for worry,

too noble for anger,

too strong for fear,

and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.

---------------------

I think everyone who knew Allen would agree that he did a great job of living every word of this creed. He made it look easy. I encourage you to join me in reading at least once during your day and making it a part of your life. Take it to the next level and check to see if there's an Optimist Club that meets in your community. There are a lot of service organizations--this is one of the best.

Good luck on the see-saw of life. May it be your turn to soar!

Sports FANatic

If you're like me, you L-O-V-E sports. I follow basketball, football, tennis, golf, snow skiing, ice skating--well, you get the picture. I don't go for the "easy" winner. I'm a Brett Favre fan, root for DeAngelo Williams' Carolina Panthers and Stephen G's New England Pats. Once again, this season I'm having a ball (pun intended) watching my favorite college basketball team whose "Reloaded" season is just that. I wasn't expecting the University of Memphis Tigers to be #5 in the country, holding the country's longest winning streak, have a string of 53 conference wins in a row, and generally having another incredible season--but it's all true. Who would have guessed that they would truly be able to reload after losing three stellar players to the NBA last Spring? I'm proud of this team and feel they're representing my university well on and off the court. GO TIGERS!

For these and all others who have made the tough decision--or are facing tough decisions, this quote's for you:

Decision = Destiny

And, for those who have made an important decision and are hoping it turns out okay:

Nothing great was every achieved without ENTHUSIASM. --Ralph Waldo Emerson

I'll keep my fingers crossed for you, too!

Deadlines

Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Mood: Happy

As a journalist by degree, I've always taken deadlines very seriously. I don't mess with them, ask for extensions, or miss them. Ever. But I can't help but wonder about the person who wrote this:

"I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." --Douglas Adams

Now there's a fellow with a sense of humor! (...but maybe not a job...)