Marshall Ramsey

“Chainsaws & Casseroles? Is that a recipe book?”

No.

You wouldn’t want to eat my cooking. It would take a chainsaw to cut. No, the title comes from something else — it represents who we are.

Think about it. If a tornado hit your house today, before you could crawl out of the rubble, a church van would be in your front yard full of people with chainsaws and casseroles. They’d cut the trees and then feed you.

That’s who we are; that’s what we’re all about.

My book has 85 short stories and essays in it. And if there is a golden thread that runs through it, it would be this: When things get bad, we get good.

I also believe that humor is the secret sauce for survival. If you can’t laugh at what frightens you, you’ll go crazy. So there are laughs in it, too.

So if you’re looking for the perfect book for someone who needs a lift or a smile, I can help you.

Come to think of it, maybe it is a recipe book after all. The recipe for surviving this crazy world we all live in.

I’ve never seen him with razor stubble.

I’ve never seen him sleep late.

I’ve never seen him in his pajamas.

Until this trip.

I knocked on his door at 8 a.m. and his weak voice answered. I walked into his room and saw that he was still lying in bed.

“Hey, you’re missing breakfast.”

The Dave Ramsey I know would never miss a meal.

But the Dave Ramsey I know is being stolen from us by a cruel thief. And the Dave Ramsey I know was having a rough day.

He struggled dressing because getting out of bed is harder now. Dad has always been a modest man, like his father before him — so I walked back out in the hall to give him his earned privacy.

The place where he is living has shadowboxes outside of each room — let’s just call it a memory box. It’s a shrine where families can put together little displays about each patient’s life. Mother put together a nice one for dad. There’s a picture of the whole family at their 50th anniversary trip to Destin. My youngest son is just a baby in that picture. My brother-in-law Adam is smiling next to my sister. My boys are small. My nephews are, too. They aren’t small anymore. ALS took Adam from us. Now dad is fading into the night.

Change can be drastic. Time can be cruel.

I walked around and looked at some of the other resident’s displays. The lady across the hall is very young for an Alzheimer’s patient. I looked at the pictures of her family and their smiles as they posed while traveling and at family gatherings. They had no idea of the hell that was about to fall upon them just a few years later. Next door was a shrine to a man who was in the Navy. He looked so proud in his uniform. So regal. Down the hall, a beautiful lady in her swimsuit from the 1950’s. She had a gorgeous smile. If she only had known.

Dad emerged from his room and we headed to the dining hall. As we passed the memory boxes, a truth struck me. I used to believe we are a sum of our memories. Now I know better.

Because the only thing we truly have is the moment we’re in. The rest is just a blessing.

I have not worked out since November 3rd. Nada. None. Not at all.

Until today.

It was ugly. But I did it.

I’ve been on the go lately. I’ve been working long days and traveling many miles. Sleep became a priority. And then I got sick.

Today, I’m heading to New Orleans to speak. This weekend I traveled to Oxford and Starkville. I’ve been writing checks my body can cash — but my account is starting to run low on funds.

I’m over the cold/flu/respiratory crud I had. My stomach nearly killed me today. But I was out there on the field.

It was very ugly. But I did it.

I write this because in 2010, I ran a marathon. And then, I had to take on a second job. I gave up exercise and substituted sodas to keep me awake and going.

I gained 50 lbs. in a year.

To hell if I’m doing THAT again.

So even though today’s workout was one of my worst, I consider it one of my best. Why? I had the courage to overcome my fatigue and push myself once again. I made a deposit in my health’s bank account. I restarted working out.

It was very very ugly. But I did it.

People ask me what cartoon is my favorite cartoon — and most days, it’s one I didn’t even draw. It’s of a miner digging for diamonds — but who gives up right before he strikes the motherlode.

Why is it my favorite? I think of that when I am tired and am thinking about quitting. I think of it when I think of what I’m going to do next. I think of it when I get up and push when I don’t want to.

Living in Mississippi, I see people working amazingly hard everyday. I see farmers out working their fields and workers who are balancing two and even three jobs to make things meet. They quietly keep fighting. I’m sure there are days when they’d like to give up because it’s too hard, too. But they don’t — because they can’t and because they’re too strong to quit.

I do a lot of things. Some better than others. And I used to believe that they all would lead me to that motherlode. But after this week — a week where I gave a bucket-list speech to TEDx, flew in a P-51D Mustang, signed books in two of the best bookstores in America, did a radio show, filmed for my TV show and traveled around the state — I figured something out:

The work itself is the motherlode.

I’m not sure what the future will bring. But I’m going to quit worrying about it so much. I’m just going to keep digging and enjoying the ride. The diamonds surround me.

1. It’s one of the best events in the state. Not just because it is a series of great presentations (it is), but because of the conversations and relationships built during the breaks. The talent in the audience alone should make Mississippi very proud. I hope great things for Mississippi come out of this meeting of the minds.

2. The organizers did a fantastic job organizing the event. I emceed last year’s — and it was a good show. But this year’s ran even smoother. Kudos to my radio partner Rita B. Brent​ for doing a great job keeping the show going as emcee. She’s a major talent and has a bright career ahead of her. Everyone involved from the speakers to the organizers to the sponsors should be very proud of themselves this morning.

3. Every speech was great in it’s own way. The quality was strong all the way across the board. Once again, Mississippi should be very proud. It was as goods as any TED event I’ve ever seen. Period.

4. Jim Barksdale is a very humble speaker — but listening to him talk about his career left me in awe.

5. I walked out of there with at least 100 good ideas for my career. But the main thing I am going to do is become a better listener. That’s really the secret to being a good salesperson.

6. I am a terrible judge of my own speaking, but according to the organizers, the speech coach and audience and social media feedback, I nailed it. I’ll admit, I was nervous — mainly because I was one of the last speakers and had all day to think about it. But I loved all the laughter, people quoting me on Twitter and the applause. I’ve given hundreds of speeches and feel like they led up to yesterday. I can’t wait to get the YouTube clip and post it for you to see.

7. I look forward to next year’s TEDxJackson.

“Are you nervous?”

A friend asked me that yesterday about today’s TEDx talk I’m presenting.

“Not really.” I said with a shrug. I’ve given hundreds of speeches and they all have led up to this moment. Giving a TEDx talk is bucket list stuff for me.

My bucket list has had a good week.

I thought about what topic I’d present and decided creativity was one I was qualified to talk about — and resilience. I’ve done both the past few years. In my career, I’ve drawn over 7,000 cartoons. That’s a lot of ink and ideas. I’ve been a Finalist for the Pulitzer Prize a couple of times and seen my cartoons on refrigerators around town. I’ve also written and illustrated several books. But I think the biggest change — and the one I’m going to talk about — is how to supercharge your creativity in response to this 24/7 Social Media driven world.

In the old days (AKA, before the Internet), I just had to come into the office, read the paper and wait for my muse to show up. I’d then draw the cartoon that would show up on your driveway the next morning. Now, everything is nearly instantaneous. I have to be able to punch through the wall of resistance and pull back in an idea on demand. I’m constantly writing, preparing for radio and TV, updating social media, working on illustration projects and of course, drawing cartoons. My brain is going all the time.

And it has to be.

The secret to Social Media is to be practically instantaneous with your ideas. That means you have to constantly do your homework and have your brain trained to be able to produce at the drop of a hat.

I’ll touch on that today.

But I will also talk about overcoming fear. Fear is the devil walking the earth. It and long-term stress are salt on creativity’s slug. You have to get past them. I do it through H.O.P.E. (Humor, Opportunity to Serve, Physical Fitness and Education). I overcome long-term stress by scheduling my day, not creating to-do lists. I’ve struggled with the fear of my work not being good enough. Some career setbacks unleashed that monster. But hard work and persistence helped me slay it.

Failure is only failure if you don’t get back up and learn from it.

At 4:15, I will be standing in a big red dot and living my dream. I have 18 minutes to make my mark in the world. I will take out a pen and scratch off one more thing on my life’s bucket list.

And no, I’m not nervous. I’m excited beyond words.

I’m sitting here, thinking about what I’m going to draw for this year’s Veteran’s Day cartoon. And while it is tempting to remind all of us to say “thank you” to our veterans, I can’t help but feel like I need to say more — and that we need to do more. Because saying thanks is one thing — showing it is another.

Only a very small part of population has served in combat since September 11, 2001. But the ones who have have been asked to do very difficult duty over and over again. They have seen and done things that would breaks most of us. They wrote a blank check to our country. It’s truly our national debt. And now, we have wounded warriors in our midst — and many of us are oblivious to it. We’re busy worrying about red coffee cups or who is running for president. In the meantime, brave men and women are falling through the cracks.

They need our help. Now.

We need a “No Veteran Left Behind” initiative. And I say this not as a person who has served — I haven’t. But I have a career saying and drawing what I want to because of their sacrifices. I am very appreciative.

Today, I’ll have Dan Fordice on my radio show (at 10 a.m. on MPB.) Dan is hard work creating ways to help our veterans make the transition from war to peace. It’s called the Warrior Bonfire Project and it’s worthy of you listening. Check out the show live on Mississippi Public Broadcasting​. And if you knew a veteran, say thanks. And then show your appreciation.

“Is Chainsaws & Casseroles” a cookbook?

No. It’s a book of short stories and cartoons that have a very important golden thread running through them: Some of our best moments come from our worst. The title comes from a story about a national tornado storm chaser who comes back home to his hometown after a massive storm wipes it out. He notices that before people could get out of their homes, there were church vans pulling up full of people with chainsaws and casseroles. They’d cut the trees back and then feed the survivors.

That’s who we are. That’s what we’re about.

But there are many other stories and essays in there, too (85 to be exact). Some are funny. Some are heartfelt. If you like the stories you’ve read here, you’ll love “Chainsaws & Casseroles.” And if you’ve heard one of my speeches, you’ll get the same type of hope and humor from the book, too. I’ve also included 20 cartoons. And that’s part of why I’m writing this:

Starting in a few days, I am going to start a daily cartoon panel on social media. You’ll be able to find it on my Facebook fan page (linked to here), Twitter and Instagram. And yes, you’ll still be able to enjoy my editorial cartoons in The Clarion-Ledger. But this will be in addition to that. I’ve had requests for more cartoons. Well, here you go.

In the meantime, pick up a copy of Chainsaws & Casseroles. I’ve already heard some good initial reviews from people who have already gotten the book. How can you do that?

Tuesday, I’ll be signing at Lemuria Books in Jackson at 5 p.m. Stop by and get a copy. Next Saturday, I’ll be at Square Books in Oxford at noon. On Sunday, I’ll be in Starkville at Book Mart & Cafe in Starkville at noon as well. Stop by and I’ll personalize a copy of “Chainsaws & Casseroles” and will draw in it for you as well.

Thanks and I hope you enjoy the book and continue to enjoy what I write here.