Marshall Ramsey

Three hours on the air is a long time. But not on that crazy day. That radio show was a blur because of one tornado warning after another. The weather was like a chain-smoker flicking lit cigarettes into a fireworks stand.

Because of my radio show’s near-statewide reach, my producer Jim Thorn cut in whenever there was a new warning. Northeast and East Central Mississippi were taking it on the chin. An EF-5 tornado roared near Philadephia. Then we got word another one was bearing down on Smithville.

I’ve seen a lot of tornadoes. I’ve never seen a monster like that (Candlestick was before my time). I knew there was no way to hide from it as it roared through town.

EF-5 tornadoes rip the asphalt off of roads and will throw their victims for miles.

It’s a helpless feeling when you are calling tornado warnings. You know where they are. You have an idea where they are going. You pray for the souls in their path. And you hope someone heeds your warning.

As I went off the air at six, I saw live coverage of another monster tornado heading toward Tuscaloosa. My last words were, “If you have children at the University of Alabama, tell them to take shelter now.” And then I walked out of the studio with a sick feeling in my stomach.

My thoughts and prayers are with everyone in Smithville, Tuscaloosa, Webster County, Cullman (Ala.) and everyone else affected on that dark day five years ago today.

It’s healing to wash your car. I’m not talking about running it through the car wash. I mean washing it by hand, with a towel, sponge, bucket and hose. It’s taking the time to the time and vacuum it out, clean the seats and windows.

It’s not just good for your car, it’s good for you.

I scrubbed both cars yesterday. It felt good to be out on a beautiful spring day. I felt the sun beating down on my shirt. The sky was a brilliant cobalt blue. Both cars were filthy inside and out, so it took me two hours per car. But they came out looking as good as new. And they smell better, too. The last of the winter grime is now history.

My youngest son and I worked together. He sprayed everything (including me a couple of times) with the hose. I did everything else. But it was fun for us to spend that time with each other. And it got him away from the video games for a while, too.

Yes, washing a car is my therapy. When the world seems like it is spinning out of control, it’s one way for me to be able to be in charge of the outcome. I stepped back and looked at my work when I was finished. And for one brief section, I felt like I had accomplished something after all.

The chairs were empty and the crowd had long since gone. The final touches were being done on the banquet cleanup as I was getting ready to load my boxes into my car. Another successful speech given. Time to head home.

Cary Karlson was helping me. Cary’s the Executive Director of the Washington County Economic Alliance and is an entrepreneur and small business person. The last box was secured and we started talking about the challenges the Delta faces.

The Delta is a land of extremes. You get crippling ice storms and searing heat. There’s extreme poverty and wealth. Great writers come from there. And there are pockets of illiteracy. It has crushing conditions that gave birth to the Blues. People dream of leaving it and yet love it at the same time. Rich earth grows both bumper crops and giant weeds.

There’s flat ground in the Delta but not much middle ground.

It’s one thing to read about it. It’s another to experience it. I get overwhelmed by the vastness of its horizons. It’s almost like you can see the future but it’s too far away. I’m a hill guy myself. But I love the people there.

So does Cary.

Cary is bullish on them and their potential. He’s not a Pollyanna. He knows the challenges and is working to confront them head on. He gets excited telling me about new development and workforce training. It’s the Carys of the world that make their communities tick.

It seems like an overwhelming task to me. As we parted company, I asked him one last question, “Why do you do what do?”

He looked at me and smiled, “Because this is home.”

I don’t think there is a truer statement in the world. It explains why so many Mississippians work so hard to make this place better.

Because this is home.

“For we are always what
our situations hand us.”
Billy Joel from the song, Summer, Highland Falls.

So Marshall, how was today’s workout?

It sucked. Thanks for asking.

Not that it was particularly hard. This is the last of 12 weeks — I should be in great shape by now. Actually, I am in great shape — just not today. I felt like a pilot having to fix one broken thing after another as the plane is falling apart around her. I let my teammates down today. At times, I let myself down.

I got my ass kicked.

But I stayed in the fight.

Most of my trouble was in pushing boards. Normally I’m good at pushing boards. But between the pollen and a respiratory infection, I started having an asthma attack. Then my stomach gave out.

I’ve never felt more miserable in my life as I watched my teammates run off and leave me. I could have walked off the field for good and gone home. I so wanted to quit. But instead, I ran back out on the field (once my stomach got situated) and rejoined the exercise in progress. I was the last person when I started and almost caught up with my teammates by the end.

No, I don’t expect a medal. And my performance today was so bad that I should be embarrassed just talking about it. I’m just glad I kept going and didn’t quit.

Life will kick your ass from time to time. I know first hand. Just keep fighting and remember what Mr. Joel said:

“For we are always what
our situations hand us.”

To my coaches and teammates, I will comeback out there tomorrow and redeem myself.

As water crashed over my face, I thought, “I can’t die on Good Friday — Amy will kill me!”

My life didn’t rush before my eyes, but a whole heck of a lot of water did. I was facing a very real risk of drowning. A boat wreck a few minutes before found me attached to a stuck fishing boat. I had a drag chain wrapped around my ankle. The current was water boarding me to death.

I was in serious trouble.

I had just finished Paul Lacoste’s Fit4Change Bootcamp and for the first time in my life had a very, very strong core. I literally sat up against the current and poked my head up out of the water. I took a breath and went back under, trying to undo the chain. After the second try, I untied myself from the boat and shot down the river. I didn’t have a life vest on (Yes, I was an idiot) and shot toward another snag in the water. I took a breath of water and thought I was toast. But then I realized I was close to shore. I put my feet down, coughed the water out of my lungs and was safe.

I thought about that chain this morning. First of all, it nearly snapped my ankle off. And it nearly caused me to drown. But metaphorically, it represents something that bedevils us all. That chain is fear. It keeps us tied down and threatens our very existence. It took great strength to break loose from it. That strength wasn’t something I got overnight — it took weeks of training.

Faith is like that to me.

I don’t talk about my faith often. I’m a pray in the closet kind of guy. But Good Friday is a powerful day to me. It’s a day when fear nearly won. Thankfully, like my ill-fated boating trip, there was a happy ending.

Have a glorious Easter weekend. And may your faith always break the chains of fear.

A few weeks ago, I was presented with the rather crappy task of running while carrying Mr. 25 lb. Weight. Some of the time, I even had to hold him over my head. There were moments when I thought, “I can’t do this.” But I changed my self-talk to “I’ve got this” or “I used to weigh this” and completed the run. It taught me of the importance of mind over matter — if your mind is right, it doesn’t matter.

Guess what we did today? I spent some quality time once again with Mr. 25 lb. Weight. We ran back and forth across the stripes on the football field all the way down the field.

So how did it go? Much differently this time around.

It really wasn’t that that bad. The confidence I gained last time helped. I trained my shoulders to be able to handle a greater load. I worked hard because I knew that this day would come again. My mind was right and my body was ready.

I say this because there are so many things in life that we never do because we fear them. That fear keeps us from training. Lack of training keeps us from improving. And when the situation arises again (and it will) we’re not ready.

I’ve always heard the best way to overcome fear is to take action. My time with Mr. 25 lb. Weight gave me undeniable proof that this is true.

When I was a kid, Garfield debuted. That was 1978 and believe it or not, it was actually kind of funny. I loved how he loved lasagna and hated Mondays. I could relate.

Now that I’m much, much older, Garfield isn’t as funny to me as it once was. Maybe because I discovered Calvin and Hobbes and the Far Side, but I think it also has to do with one simple truth:

I can no longer afford to hate Mondays.

Before you say, “C’mon Marshall, Monday’s suck!” Let me say this: I understand. Monday morning is the poster child of the need for caffeine. (Which I quit three weeks ago — grr) You’re coming off an awesome weekend of fun and frolic after going to the Hal St. Paddy’s parade. Maybe you ran a 5K or went Turkey hunting. Now, it’s back to the grind. The alarm clock going off is nothing short of rude (my dog gave me an eat poo look when mine went off this morning). It was hard prying myself from my warm bed to jump back into the grind.

But I did. And I was actually kind of excited about it. Today, I’m doing what I love. I’m visiting with folks on the radio. I am drawing a cartoon. Life is awesome.  Today is a fresh start. A new chance. A great opportunity.

Monday’s are 1/7 of our lives. I’m not going to hate 1/7th of my life.

So unlike America’s favorite lasagna-eating cat, I’m not going hate Mondays anymore.

Even without caffeine.