Marshall Ramsey

Went to Meet the Teacher night last night at my son’s middle school.  I have many jobs but my #1 (and favorite) profession is being a dad.  I didn’t mind the traffic. I didn’t mind the crowds.  In fact, I was thankful for them.  Having a full parking lot on Meet the Teacher night is a sign of a successful school. Parents that care means that students care. And teachers. And administrators. And… you get my point.

I don’t remember middle school being so darn hard, though. He has eight classes split over two days. Each class meets for 1 1/2 hours.  He’s taking Geometry, Advanced English, Spanish, Band, Math Counts (math team), History, STEM and Advanced Science.  I had to pop an aspirin after the night was over. The kid has a lot on his plate.  And he manages to juggle the load.

I’m proud of him.  I’m proud of all my kids — but this one has some traits I wish I had. That’s what ever parent secretly wants — for his or her child to be better than him. And in many ways, he is.  He is focused and driven.  I wish I was half as focused as he is.

It was fun seeing all the parents that I’ve known for nearly a decade now. Our hair is getting grayer and our kids bigger. But we all smile and pitch in when the school needs us.  In a way, Meet the Teacher night is a mini-reunion.  It’s a time when the community gathers to celebrate what’s important to it: Their children.

I walked out the building and headed home.  I got home just in time to help my son study.  And I was very proud to do so — because my job is never done.

It was 8 p.m. and I was heading home from my son’s school.  The sun had dipped its head beneath the retreating storm clouds, leaving faded orange streaks in my rearview mirror. It was a familiar path; one I’ve driven mindlessly more than 1,000 times over the past 16 years.  I came to a traffic light at the intersection of Rice Road and Madison Avenue.  As I stopped, I looked at the very familiar trees. But at that moment, everything was different. The woods seemed darker. More foreboding. And the world was tainted with sadness.

A body had been found in those same woods earlier in the afternoon.

Now the police and the TV trucks were gone.  All remained was the darkness. And the pain of a family fearing the worst but desperately hoping for the best.

Sources told The Clarion-Ledger last night that a police investigator found the body and that they believed it was the missing young Madison resident Abigail Grace Bonner.  The local and online community had rallied to try to find her. The coroner is supposed to confirm the identity today.  I hope the sources are wrong. I pray they are wrong.

I don’t know Abigail’s parents. But as a parent myself, I can only imagine the hell they’re going through.  I stopped my car at the traffic light and said a silent prayer for them. It was a parent’s prayer — a creed that all parent’s share as we silently wish for our childrens’ safety.

I know this community will step up and lift Abigail’s parents up during their time of need. We do that in Mississippi.  But the world has changed a little this morning. Gray rain is pouring down outside. And the woods I’ve passed by 1,000 times will forever seem a little darker.

Update: Madison County Coroner Alex Breeland has confirmed that Abigail has been found. My prayers are with the family.

Whenever some yahoo on cable news or on talk radio start railing about how sucky America is, I get in the car and drive to the grocery store.  Then I start walking around and start looking at the plethora of choices under one roof.  I go down the Little Debbie aisle and gaze with wonder. Star Crunches, Oatmeal Cream Pies and Swiss Logs, oh my!  Does it get any better than that?   Then I cruise over to the produce section.  We have fresh fruits and vegetables trucked in from all around the country.  And then I go to the meat and cheeses.  Holy Bratwurst! Got Milk? Why yes!

Now, my wallet may not be able to afford Prime Rib.  That’s a problem. But it’s there for me.  The opportunity to buy whatever I want is laid out right in front of my cart.  I might have to work for it.  Oh no! But with enough effort, I can eat as well as a king (Elvis.)

I’m not a pollyanna.  I know things are tough all over.  I know the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. I’m just thankful for what we do have. The opportunity that does exist.  For living in a place where we can pursue our dreams on a daily basis. And have all the Little Debbies we could ever hope for.

We’re slowly getting back into the school routine. Luckily, my boys are pretty good at getting their homework done early on.  Last night, I was trying to write something in the den while everyone was in there. Building a house of cards in a tornado is easier — trust me.  Banjo used to sit next to me while I wrote. Pip stands in the middle of my computer keyboard. So I finally got mad and said to heck with it.  My oldest son needed to study for science class.  He didn’t know the terms he was supposed to be regurgitating to me.  So we went over them over and over until he knew them.  This morning, his mom asked him and he knew every single one.

I’m not a genius. Nor do I play one on TV. But I have a sneaking suspicious that the secret to a kid’s success is taking the time to help them learn.  I know whatever I was trying to write was really important.  But in the long run, it couldn’t touch what I did instead.

Pip the dog has new brothers and sisters from her mom and dad.  There are three boys and two girls.  Knowing that there are more Pips in the world makes me a wee bit nervous.