Marshall Ramsey

I remember crossing this river into the Promised Land 17 years ago.

Seventeen years ago today I took a massive leap of faith. It was a leap that carried my young wife and I from San Diego to Mississippi.  On paper, it made no sense. I had a great job working with great people. Heck, I lived in paradise. Yet, in my heart, the move seemed right.

I remember crossing the Mississippi River bridge in Vicksburg and seeing the “Welcome to Mississippi” sign for the first time. I was stuck by the beauty of the loess hills and the gorgeous countryside.  I remember the royal blue Clarion-Ledger paper box near our new apartment and feeling a deep sense of pride. It was MY paper box. Because it was MY paper.

Here are 17 ways crossing the Mississippi River changed my life for the better:

1. Amy and I now have three boys. Unlike us, they’re native Mississippians.
2. I’ve watched Amy succeed at all of her teaching jobs. I’m more proud of her (and my boys) than anything I’ve personally accomplished.
3. I’ve been diagnosed with and survived cancer. And thanks to Keith Warren, I’ve  been able to fight back through a great 5K race called The Run from the Sun.
4. I’ve had amazing professional success. I am a two-time Pulitzer Finalist.  I was named a top-100 employee for Gannett. And I’ve been honored by the Mississippi Press Association for my cartoons and my writing.  All my career dreams came true — and then some.
5. I’ve fallen in love with public speaking.
6. A blog and social media have brought a whole new world of friends into my life. The MRBA will always be close to my heart.
7. I’ve had several successful books:  The Clarion-Ledger published two compilations of my editorial cartoons. One sold 5,500 copies. The other over 7,000. I’ve written, illustrated and published two books: Fried Chicken and Wine and Banjo’s Dream. I’ve illustrated several children’s books by my cousin Dave Ramsey — five of which were in Chick-Fil-A kid’s meals. And I’ve illustrated books by Mike Frascogna, Robert St. John and Santa Claus. Yes, Santa.
8. I’ve worked with hundreds of amazing people at The Clarion-Ledger.  I’m particularly very grateful for the time I’ve spent in the editorial department with David Hampton, Sid Salter, Jim Ewing, Joe White, John Hammack and Eric Stringfellow.  I currently have  the privilege of working with and for Brian Tolley. And I had the honor of working for Bill Hunsberger. He taught me that community matters. God bless you, Bill. Your teachings live on in my heart.
9. I’ve had an amazing cast of politicians to cartoon. Gov. Kirk Fordice and Mayor Frank Melton have been my favorite to draw so far. I can’t make some of this stuff up.
10. I’ve been honored by my high school, my university, The Melanoma Research Foundation, The American Cancer Society, Mississippi Blood Services and several other groups.  Not really sure why they chose to honor me, but I’m very humbled and grateful that they did.
11. I turned down a lucrative job at the Tulsa World to be their cartoonist in 2007 . Three years later, I was made part-time at The Clarion-Ledger. That disappointment has led to many blessings.
12. One of those blessings was a highly rated afternoon radio show. When it abruptly ended, I started a great weekly radio show on Mississippi Public Broadcasting. (Monday at 10 a.m.)
13. I’ve traveled to every corner of Mississippi, met the people and learned the history.
14. I’ve walked the battlefield where my great great grandfather fought. I’ve also walked the college campus (Wood Junior College) he co-founded as a Methodist Circuit Rider. The Rev. J.C. Eckles loved Mississippi, too.
15. I saw the Mississippi Gulf Coast a week before hurricane Katrina wiped it out and cherish my memories of grand homes and giant live oaks. After the storm, I proudly helped my fellow Mississippians get back on their feet.  I’m proud of the cartoons from that era. And the ones after 9/11.
16. I’m humbled that some people love what I do.  And I’m proud to live in a community that has given my family so much.
17. I get to wake up and do what I love.

Seventeen years ago, I made a leap of faith when I took The Clarion-Ledger job. And since that leap, Mississippi has shaped me, ground off the rough edges and challenged my beliefs.  I needed to move here. And I’m a better person for it.

So thank you, Mississippi. I don’t know what the future may bring, but thank you for giving my family so much.  I will always be grateful.

It may have been the swarming crowds. Or it may have been the cold, dreary weather. Or it could have even been the incessant piped-in Christmas music. (How many times could grandma get run over by a reindeer after all?) But whatever it was, Julia Gilmer just sat in the Mall parking lot and cried.

It was the year that Christmas had died in her heart.

Maybe it was the commercialism.  Maybe it was the greed.  Maybe it was the pressure.  Or it could have the loneliness.  Christmas was dead to her.  It was a holiday for kids after all — and she was an adult who had too darn much to do.  She was completely surrounded by people and had never felt so alone in her life.

She looked over her to-do list one more time. There was baking to do. And shopping. And wrapping. She needed to mail her Christmas cards. The tree wasn’t up.  Her kids wanted more, more and more. How many video games could they have? Sometimes they were the most spoiled and ungrateful children on the planet. And forget about receiving. She didn’t expect anything in return because Christmas wasn’t for adults. She knew she wouldn’t be getting much of anything. The only thing she truly hoped for was a child-support check from her ex-husband Stan.  And that wasn’t likely. She believed in Santa before she believed in Stan.

Sleet pelted the windshield has she gripped the steering wheel.  If anyone had been listening, they would have heard a 42-year-old woman screaming to the top of her lungs. But no one did. Because no one cared.

Except for one creature.

Julia drove home and pulled her old Honda Civic into her garage. When she turned off the engine she heard a familiar sound.

BARK BARK BARK BARK!!!!

Her little brown dog Lucy was barking her fool head off.  Julia looked over at the garage door and saw Lucy’s head bouncing up and down like a demonic yo-yo.  Julia knew she was in for the greeting of the century.  Because Lucy always greeted her like she was liberating Paris in World War 2.

“Hello Lucy!”  Julia could barely get in the door before the dog jumped on her. She knelt down and allowed the little dog to lick the tears off her face.  A good dog will do that. Because a good dog treats you like you’re the only other person in the world.

Julia looked down at her little dog and felt a warmth she hadn’t felt in forever.  Maybe Lucy was right. Maybe Lucy understood what Christmas truly about.  The little dog gave for the sake of giving. And she didn’t expect anything in return.  Julia rubbed her velvety ears and said, “I’m going to be like you, Lucky. I’m going to have a Dog’s Christmas.”

Lucy smiled how a dog smiles: She wagged her tail profusely.

Julia called her boys into the kitchen.  “Boys, we’re going to have a different kind of Christmas. We’re going to have a Dog’s Christmas.”

One of her sons said, “Does that mean we’ll eat out of the cat box and drink out of the toilet.”

Julia ignored her son and continued, “We’re going to give like Lucy. I’ll give you gifts but not as many. What you will get  is my time and my joy. We’re having game night. We’re going to the soup kitchen this Saturday and serving. You’ll get the best of me.  The catch is this: I don’t want anything from you in return.”

The boys, initially disappointed to hear “less presents,” looked at their mother in shock. “I don’t want anything from you in return?!?” Had she lost her mind?

Julia looked at her Christmas Card list. This year she didn’t sent out the typical family letter and photo. She hand-wrote individual thank-you notes to each person on her list, telling them how much they meant to her.

She then put up a smaller tree and only put up a small string of lights outside. She and the boys drank hot cocoa and listened to old-school Christmas music as they put the ornaments on.  Lucy helped by running around the base of the tree and knocking off ornaments. Julia ran around the tree knocking off ornaments, too.

The next morning, Julia paid for the lady behind her’s breakfast at the fast food restaurant drive-through. She then bought a tank of gas for the mom with four kids at the gas pump next to her.  She dropped off dog food to the local no-kill animal shelter. Lucy approved of that.

When Julia got to work, she greeted her co-workers like Lucy greeted her.  “Bob! You look great today! Love that sweater. Jane, how are the kids? How’s Bobby doing at State? Frank, I heard you’re engaged! What a great Christmas gift.”

For the first time ever, Julia was more interested in others than herself.

Julia didn’t notice the change at first. She was too busy being like Lucy. But a change did happen.  She felt happier.  The gloom burned off and the sun came out in her life. Her kids began to respond to her and do things around the house.  And even Stan mailed the child support check. When she saw the check in the mailbox, she thought, “Christmas miracles do happen.”

On Christmas morning, Julia woke up early and made a pot of coffee. She plugged in the tree and sat basked in its warm glow.  Lucy jumped up in her lap and fell back asleep. And on that December 25th morning, Julia Gilmer received the greatest gift of all: She learned to love Christmas again.  Thanks to a little brown dog. Thanks to a Dog’s Christmas.