A couple interesting points in this week’s news, things that aren’t “put it in the story” per se, but, still, you should know.
The storage theft? Chief John Willoughby adds this to the story (as we sipped coffee and stared at the pile of recovered yadda’ in the department’s otherwise meeting area).
So he recovered the goods after the woman called him, teary-eyed, admitting that she’d stolen and wanting the police to come and get what she stole, right? He does the police thing, he tells me (not in those words, but it’s my story now) works it all out, and calls the woman who owned the stuff that had been stolen.
The woman was not upset, John said. Instead she relayed a story of her own: When the theft was discovered, she prayed. She asked her friends to pray, members of her church, people she knew, and people, she told the Chief, as far away as Louisiana were praying about her loss. They were praying (now get this) that whoever had stolen the goods would have a change of heart and turn the items back in.
Double back for a minute: This all began when the woman who stole the thing got to feeling bad about it and called police.
Get it? She had a change of heart.
They prayed, she had a change of heart.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, I get a lot from my faith, and I’m a big fan of prayer, but there you are: They prayed, she had a change of heart.
I know, right?
And Sam Ward clearing out the creek bank (we’ll get to his helper in a minute). I mean seriously. I lift a cup of coffee and I need a nap, Sam’s out there clearing brush - quite a bit of brush - during his retirement years. And by “quite a bit,” I could show you how much, I took a picture showing the run of what they had done, but in that picture the two guys are very very small and very far away. They cleared a lot of brush, just a whole lot.
And he’s retired, for crying out loud.
“I just like having something to do,” Sam said. (I know most people call him “Sammy,” but I know him from city council, his name plate says “Sam,” and that’s how I know him.)
Me, him and his helper (who, again, we’ll get to in a minute) were out there talking. And, really, it comes down to this. Sam wants Clinton to be better. He does thing, serving on city council and now getting down by the creek bank (he’d worked the one by Oaf’s store late last year) and clearing brush.
You want to make the world a better place? Roll up your sleeves and do it. Meanwhile you go on social media (Oy!) and you see yet another post from yet another social critic about X isn’t being done around here because nobody’s doing anything about it and somebody needs to and on and on and… you get right down to it, the things that get done around here, the improvements which get made, happen ‘cause somebody rolled up their sleeves.
Like Sam’s helper, Michael Godfrey. Out there humping brush wearing a John 3:16 ministries shirt. Michael wanted me to know, wanted to be sure I knew, that he was happy to be out there working off his drunk-driving fine, that he was grateful Judge Weaver gave him a chance to do so after his arrest, that he hadn’t had a drink since Jan. 1 of last year (I gave him a knuckle bump on that one) and that he was doing something about it.