The Prophecy of the Broken Down Car

Posted on September 29, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

“The three givens in life: Death, taxes and a broken down car on the side of I-55 in Holmes County.” Sparky Reardon

Angels are with me. And they guided me as I zoomed up I-55 yesterday afternoon.

So here’s the story: I was running late (as usual) as I drove to Booneville, Mississippi to be the speaker for the Prentiss County Development Association annual banquet. My contact had told me to be there by 5:45 — and my car’s GPS said I’d make with time to spare.

I felt joy.

And then I felt no joy.

The warning light lit up on my dashboard. It read “Emissions System Problem” as the car went into limp mode (it downshifted so it wouldn’t drive faster than 50. I put it in neutral, coasted up the off-ramp and felt my stomach sink as the car slowed. I turned off the ignition as my head began to spin.

What now?

One thing was for sure — I had become the prophetic car broken down in Holmes County that Sparky told me about.

I restarted the car. Light was still on. Damn damn double damn. Then I started to panic. How would I make it to Booneville (a three and a half hour drive)? I took a breath and started thinking about what I needed to do. I needed to call a wrecker. The folks at the PCDA. Patty Peck Honda. My wife. The car is out of warranty, so I started panicking about the cost. Then I took another deep breath to prioritize what I needed to do by what would take the longest. Number one was to get a wrecker on the way. I couldn’t get to Booneville without another form of transportation — whether it be a loaner car or our van. I called Patty Peck and told them what happened. Jennifer (my awesome service advisor) spoke to the service department to speculate what it might be. I turned on the car again.

The light was off.

Hmm.

I told Jennifer that I was going to drive it on the backroad to see if it would run. It did. No light. I called and cancelled the wrecker and had Amy meet me in Canton. The car ran smoothly and made it to Canton. Whew. She then took it to the dealer, got a Honda Fit as a loaner and headed home. I loaded books in the van and started the long journey to Booneville.

Did I make it? You’re darn right I did. I walked in right before it was time for me to speak.

Like I said, angels are with me. And they continued to be with me as I dodged deer on the way home. My head hit the pillow at 1:44 a.m. I dreamed of warning lights and deer.

I pray the glitch is nothing expensive to fix. But I am so grateful I was able to get the car to the repair shop without a $200 wrecker bill. And I am grateful I was able to honor my speaking commitment and the kind folks at the PCDA were so understanding. I’m also grateful that Amy was able to shuffle her deck around and let me have her van.

Have I mentioned I am grateful?

After I got the van, I passed the exit where I pulled off. Right beyond it was another broken down car — in Holmes County, of course. Maybe there can only be one at a time and that’s why my car mysteriously fixed itself. Maybe that’s part of the prophecy. I really don’t know for sure.

I’ll have to ask Sparky.

P.S. I spoke in the Frank Haney Union on the Northeast Mississippi Community Campus. One person told me that the spot was a few feet from where the dean’s old residence used to live — which is where Malcolm White grew up. I was on hallowed ground!

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Wear out. Don’t rust out.

Posted on September 28, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

I think I just finished the fifth week of this 12-week PLS bootcamp session this morning. I say “I think” because honestly, I don’t know. The 4 a.m. Wake-up Club is also the The 4 a.m. Memory Loss Club. Fatigue will do that.

The first four weeks felt terrible. This week, for some reason, I felt pretty strong. My body, as old as it is, responded and I’ve picked up some speed. Maybe it is because I’m inspired by my son’s running. Maybe it is just that my brain is finally getting out of the way of my exercise. I don’t know. But whatever it is, I appreciate it.

It’s nice not to nearly croak every morning.

I started doing PLS in 2012. I had run a marathon, had a job change and started working two jobs. I was exhausted, stopped exercising and began self-medicating with Coca-Cola. I went from 195 to 220 to 250 in a year. Paul Lacoste’s son went to my wife’s school and one day, he convinced her that I needed to do the bootcamp.

I did and for the first two weeks, I hated every freaking second it. I’d get up at 4 a.m. and would curse the world. I was so tired by the time I got off the radio every night at 6 p.m. that I barely could stay awake to drive home. But I did it — I kept waking up early and doing the workout. And soon, my body responded. Twelve weeks later, I lost back down to 200. I had energy again. I didn’t need to self medicate with soda. Today, I’m 220, but thin. My resting heart rate is in the 50’s. I’m in very good shape — Last Sunday, I ran nine miles.

The point of this is not to say “I can workout!” The point is, “you can workout!” — because I am a pretty awkward athlete. So if I can, you can. Trust me. You’ve got this.

My inspiration? My Dad. He waterskied at the age of 78. He died at 81. If not for the Dementia, he’d have lived easily another 10 years. He’s my inspiration. My goal is to continue to be athletic until the day I drop. I don’t want a slow decline. I’m sure you want the same thing. Exercise and a decent diet are so important.

If I live as long as my Dad (God willing), I have 31 years left. I have the choice about how I am going to live it. My choice is this: I want to wear out, not rust out.

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Taking it one day at a time.

Posted on September 19, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

Just a few numbers to throw out at you:

It’s 97 days until Christmas.
It’s 242 days until my first child graduates high school.
It has been 158 days since my mother died.
It has been 441 days since my father died.
It’s 261 days since New Year’s Day.
It has been 315 days since the 2016 election.
I’ve lived in Mississippi 7,583 days.
I’ve worked at The Clarion-Ledger 7,582 days.
I’ve been married 8,816 days.
I met my wife 9,545 days ago.
I am 18,170 days old.

It is 93 days until I turn 50.

It is up to me to seize this day.

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Little tiny forts made of blocks of fear

Posted on September 14, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

People will fight you to the death to protect their own inadequacies and failures. And yes, I have a plank in my eye on this one. We all live in a dangerous place called a comfort zone and will build little forts to defend it (with great tenacity). Little forts built with blocks of fear. But forces outside of our control will destroy our forts. Or worse, the world will just pass us by.

A personal challenge for myself is to admit my own shortcomings and attack them head on, like a sailor daring to challenge the surf. My discomfort will be how I know I’m on the the right course. I pray for courage and energy to raise my sails and move forward.

I once knew someone who thought she was someone she wasn’t. She ended up alienating herself from even those who loved her the most because she was so determined to protect a false self-image. I’m not sure what caused her pain and broken self-esteem, but it ended up destroying her in the end.

She died alone defending her fort.

Instead, she should have used her great talent to sail into the open sea. The tragedy is that she truly could have been even greater than she thought she was — if she had just taken action.

She taught me a powerful lesson. I must check the plank in my eye and pull it out with all my strength.

It’s time to blow up my fort, move out of my comfort zone and set sail. I must make my journey one of serving those I love. Yes, I might get seasick. I might even wreck my ship. But it will be an adventure. That’s what what life should be all about.

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A message for us all

Posted on September 13, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

“People are like oranges. You can tell what’s inside of them when they are squeezed.” Unknown

My favorite tweet from yesterday was from CNN’s Bill Weir. As his boat sailed past the owner of the Caribbean Club (scene of Bogey and Bacall’s “Key Largo”), he yelled out,

“You’re going to be back open?”

The owner, walking on his boat amongst debris, replied confidently, “We’re open right now buddy, absolutely. Anybody needs anything, come to the Caribbean club. We can take care of you. Also — all this stuff? It’s just material sh*t as long as everyone is alright. We can fix all of this stuff.”

At that point, Capt. Bam Bam (who was driving Weir’s boat) chimed in, “We’re going to rebuild and this sh*t ain’t going to keep us down for a minute.”

There wasn’t any victim-mentality going on there. They just got throat-punched by Irma’s wrath and were standing tall. No bitching. No whining. Just a determination to get to work and get life back online.

I learned more about how to handle a crisis in that 22-second clip than I have my whole life.

Nothing but respect.

Now I’m ready to vacation in the Keys and stop into the Caribbean Club. They can take care of you. And apparently, themselves.

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The Lesson of 9/11

Posted on September 11, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

College freshmen don’t remember 9/11.

I know, mind-blowing, isn’t it?

Sixteen years is a long time ago — but those of us who do remember it have burning scars today. I look at my “United We Stand” cartoon and see it yellowing and crumbling around the edges. It’s easy to say, “But Marshall, we’re not like that anymore.”

Maybe. Lord knows you can read social media and believe that. There are some yahoos who are screaming we’re headed toward a second civil war.

But I will say this: The lessons learned after 9/11 apply today.

The same courage first responders demonstrated on 9/11 was seen after Katrina. We’ve recently watched it in Houston after Hurricane Harvey. Florida is experiencing that now, too.

Strangers are helping strangers.

Sure, it sucks that it takes a disaster for us to realize we’re all in the same boat together. Yet we do come around. Yeah, there are a few a-holes who loot and scam the system. And yes, it is sexy to focus on them. But overall, we do the right thing. That gives me a glimmer of hope.

9/11 was horrible. But we came together as a country for a brief moment. That appeals to the cynic in me. And it gives me strength to cry BS when someone tries to divide us based on fear.

Never forget. But if you do, remember — when things get bad, we get good.

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The lesson of September 10, 2001

Posted on September 11, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

Sixteen years ago today, men and women prepared for the next day. Lunches were packed, work was completed, clothes were laid out, bags were packed and calendars were checked. Teeth were brushed, kisses given and stories read. It was a normal night before yet another normal day.

As we know, September 11, 2001 wasn’t a normal day.

While tomorrow is a day of remembrance, tonight should be one of reflection. Tomorrow isn’t a given. We get so caught up in our routines that we forget that sometimes.

Tonight we will pack lunches, complete work, lay out clothes, pack bags and check calendars. We’ll brush our teeth, give kisses and read goodnight stories. Tomorrow will be another normal day — if we are lucky.

Live in the moment. Celebrate the now. Take nothing for granted.

That is the lesson of September 10, 2001.

May we never forget.

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Sixteen years ago

Posted on September 11, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

 

Last year, my family went to New York City. As we were heading out to the Statue of Liberty, I noticed the view looked very familiar. I lifted my phone and quickly snapped a photo. I then Googled my cartoon from 9/11 and realized why it looked so familiar. I remember seeing that view on the TV as the smoke billowed up over Manhattan. As we climbed the statue, I met one of the park rangers who was there on 9/11. He told me of the shock, horror and fear they felt as they watched Hell unfold right before their eyes. They also feared that they were going to be the next target. He also remembered my cartoon and thanked me for drawing it.

Later that afternoon, I took my older two sons to the 9/11 Memorial and I wept. Years of pent up emotions poured out of me. I had never really been able to process what I had seen. My sons, one who was a baby when it happen and the other who wasn’t born, didn’t quite understand.

I pray they never have to.

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There but for the grace of God go we

Posted on August 29, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

Watching the coverage of the horrific flooding in Houston is tough. But it also should be a reminder it has happened here in Jackson. The 1979 Easter Flood swamped Northeast Jackson, out Lakeland Drive and Downtown. Twenty-five inches of rain fell upstream near Louisville, Mississippi. A wall of water barreled down the Pearl toward the sea.

It crested in Jackson at 43.28 feet (flood stage is 28) resulting in $1.5 billion (in today’s dollars) of damage.

It will happen again. And with all the development our Lakeland Drive, it will be more catastrophic.

We watch the tragedy in Houston and know that it could just as easily be us.

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A dozen years ago today…

Posted on August 29, 2017 by Marshall Ramsey

Twelve years ago at this moment, the Mississippi Gulf Coast was being erased by Katrina’s wrath. It was an era before social media, so here in Jackson, we weren’t totally aware of the devastation crashing ashore. Winds started picking up here and by noon, the storm was hitting the middle of the state. Power and trees went down. As I drove home at 1 p.m., two trees nearly crushed my car and an interstate sign flew off its posts toward me. A trip that normally takes me 30 minutes took an hour longer than that. We soon saw the apocalypse on the Coast. Casinos were on land and on homes. Death stung the senses. Landmarks were either rubble or swept out to sea. Anyone or any agency with a plan saw it washed away, too. Nightfall saw darkness, silence (except for hissing gas lines and an occasional cry for help) and misery. The cavalry wasn’t coming. Neighbor helped neighbor. The titanic task of recovery began.

The Biloxi lighthouse survived the storm and became a beacon of hope. I’ve never seen the scope of destruction I saw on the Coast. I pray I never do again.

This morning, we are watching an equally biblical disaster drown our friends in Texas and parts of Louisiana. Like every hurricane, Harvey came in with its own mix of lethality. With Katrina, it was storm surge and some wind. With Harvey, it will be primarily known for over four FEET of rain. Houston is swamped. Only 15% of the people there have flood insurance. America’s fourth largest city has been driven to its knees — and onto its rooftops.

Katrina survivors have a knot in their stomachs. They know the hell the Harvey survivors are about to go through. Red tape, cleanup and mental distress will wear the victims down.

I read someone trying to say one storm was worse than the other. That’s ridiculous. Every disaster is horrific if you are affected. Even if you have an EF-0 tornado rip your home’s roof off, your life has been altered. But there ARE common echoes between the storms. Good people helping friends and neighbors in need. Good people coming from hundreds of miles away to help just because it is the right thing to do. Good people making a horrible situation a little bit better.

Twelve years ago today, we experienced that in Mississippi. We were slapped up the side of our heads by Hell’s fury. But we made it through together.

Together.

Just like we are watching on our TVs this morning in Houston.

Together.

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