Marshall Ramsey

Like a plant, when a person with deep roots in a community is suddenly yanked from it, it leaves a hole. When a person with no roots is gone, no one notices.

An acorn dropped to the ground on that dry, fall day among hundreds of others. Squirrels, rakes and drought took many of them. But not that one — it was special.  Time passed and it began to put down a small, shallow root.

Days turned to months and months turned to years. The young acorn became a small oak.  And as it grew, it put down roots. Those roots took water and nutrition from the soil. The soil of the community. Leaves and branches reached for the sky. But the oak was firmly anchored in the rich earth.

More time passed and the oak grew.  And the community came to love it.  As much as the oak took from the community, it gave back. Kids played in it. Lovers courted beneath its huge branches.  Families picnicked in its shade.  Over the years, it came to symbolize the strength of the community.  The town even used the oak on its logo.

One day disaster struck — a violent windstorm hit the town. While the oak’s mighty roots had held it in place through previous storms, this one was too much for the tree. CRASH. It toppled over, leaving a giant hole in the earth. The town came together, held hands in a circle around the tree and mourned.

People are like the oak. They put down roots in a community, grow strong and make a difference.  And when they are taken from us suddenly,  it hurts.  Badly.

I think of the Craig Noone’s of the world. A man who used his talent to make amazing food and then made a difference in the redevelopment of Downtown Jackson.  I think of Kent Hull, who used his gifts on the football field  and saw that kids needed help and raised money for Blair E. Batson Children’s Hospital. Oaks in the community. Oaks who leave giant holes in the ground in their absence.

You can be the weed who barely scratches the surface of life. My prayer is for us all to be an oak.

Good (cold)  morning! Have a great day!

A Congressman from a forgotten state stood at the podium in the U.S. Capitol.  He gazed blankly out into nearly empty chamber, took sip of water and began the speech of a lifetime.   CSPAN cameras captured every word.  Here’s the text:

Ladies and Gentlemen of my district. America. Any other sucker who is watching this. You see, I know there aren’t many of you out there. My guess? Probably a couple of dozen or so. How do I know that? You’d rather be entertained.  And that’s why this country is falling apart. We don’t want to think. You don’t want to work. Even the Romans would shake their heads at our decline.  Does that hurt your feelings? Well I don’t care.

See, I just have to fool a few of you sheep out there every two years.  My real concern is raising money.  There are a handful of lobbyists for big corporations/labor unions who I really listen to. Oh yeah, and the talking points. I couldn’t live without my talking points.  Hell, I could switch parties tomorrow and it wouldn’t matter. I don’t have to think for myself. I am told what to think. And honestly, it’s easier that way. I have more time for the junkets and the parties.  Sure, I curse Washington when I am home in that Godforsaken district I represent, but don’t get me wrong: I love me some Washington. I have a blast up here. That’s why I do what it takes to get re-elected.

So there. That’s what it is all about. Being re-elected. Power rocks. The ladies love it.  My ego does, too.

Wait, I’m supposed to fit some talking points in here. Hang on. Hang on.  Debt. Debt. Jobs. Jobs. Jobs. The Children. Medicare. Social Security. Health Care. Immigration. Civil Rights.  Rinse and repeat.

Better?  Good, now, where was I?  Oh yeah. It’s about the election. Everything you hear out of my mouth has to do with 2012.  Sure, I’ll say I care about you.  I might even scare you to get your vote, too.  Fear makes you drool like Pavlov’s dog. You don’t know who Pavlov’s dog is? Oh that’s right. You’re busy watching a B-list celebrity ice skate or something instead of reading a book.

That’s OK. You’re easier to manipulate that way. Watch the news channel that only spouts your views.  It works for me. And as soon as the poll comes back, I’ll get on TV and spout those views right back at you.   It’s my version of constituent services.

I aim to please.

So let me conclude this speech this way: SUCKERS!  I’ve always wanted to say that. God Bless America. He needs to.

The next morning, the Congressman was checked into a special hospital for the exhausted.  Some say his family checked him in. Others say he went on his own. Others noticed leaders of his party holding his hand as he was escorted through the front entrance. The Congressman’s speech was his last. But it was his most memorable.

His grandmother’s spirit visited him from time to time. It was the little things that made him aware: A fleeting memory. The cool fog that made him think of mornings on her farm.  She guided him through the hardest points in his life. Moments of great doubt.  Times of great change.

She had grown up during the hardscrabble years of the Great Depression. While her sister sat dressed up in her Sunday best, she was out in the barnyard, killing chickens. The blisters on her hands were proof she wasn’t afraid of work.  She had developed a work ethic that made a successful teacher and mother.  And grandmother.

The fog wrapped around the Standard Life Building as he walked down the busy downtown street.  Storms were crossing the Mississippi River so moisture was streaming up from the Gulf of Mexico. You could almost smell New Orleans early that morning: The humidity was at 100% and rising.

He looked at the vapor as it tickled the illuminated sign that read “Standard Life”.

A sign. How he would love a sign.

His bank had laid him off six-months ago.  It was a passionless job but a job none-the-less.  It kept the lights on, a roof over their heads and food on the table.  The Great Recession had put an end to that. An emergency surgery on his son had also put an end to what little savings they had.  He and his wife’s marriage was being torn apart by the drumbeat of crises..  He looked back up at the sign.  “Standard Life”.  The morning fog would dance in and out of the letters, hiding some of them from view.

The sign on the building now read: “Stand”

Stand. The man looked up at the word and realized it was time to stand on his own. He needed courage.  He needed strength.

A slight breeze blew across his face and made the fog swirl again.

The sign on the building now said, “Life.”

Live life.  Live it to the fullest.  His bank job had been a dead end for several years. He knew it. But it was comfortable. It paid the bills. But he wasn’t truly living.  He needed to take a stand and live his life to the fullest.  A warm feeling crept back into a stone-dead heart.

He put his hands in his pocket and pulled out his iPhone.  He started to take a picture of the building when another gust of wind blew the fog around one more time.  “Standard Life.”

He had had a pretty standard life. No more.

Up on letters, a disembodied voice said, “Good job with the fog. A very original and clever idea.”

“Sometimes a sign is a sign. That boy is as hardheaded as you were.”

The grandmother materialized next to her long-time husband’s spirit.

“But I think he’s going to be OK. I think I got him safely out of the fog he was in.”

With their grandson safely on his way, they both laughed and disappeared into the morning mist.