By JACKIE MUNDT Pratt County farmer and rancher Greetings from Puerto Rico! I am writing from San Juan where the American Farm Bureau Federation convention is taking place. Even though this is my first trip to Puerto Rico, I am a pretty regular world traveler with a well-established comfort zone and love for the adventures of new places. This trip has been extra fun for me because I am sharing it with three girls from the local collegiate Farm Bureau chapter at Pratt Community College. National events like this are great for professional development. The weekend has been jam-packed with big-name keynote speakers, educational workshops, a tradeshow full of potential employers and the chance to network with Kansas Farm Bureau leaders. Over the last few years, I am proud to have worked with our county Farm Bureau board to make trips like this happen for our student members. Providing travel opportunities is invaluable for the development of life and leadership skills. An equally valuable part of these trips are all of the lessons in “adulting” that come from traveling, often for the first time, without family. Even students who have previously travelled are often forced to pay attention to their surroundings, learn how to navigate airports and cities, and how to problem solve in an unfamiliar place. There have been many exciting firsts among the students this trip: first flights over the ocean, first time seeing the ocean and a whole lot of new fun experiences like tasting local cuisine, night kayaking complete with glow-in-the-dark face paint, an excursion to a natural waterfall in the rainforest, and a trip to Disney World on way back. Seeing travel through their youthful eyes has reminded me of the wonder, joy and laughter that come from new adventures. These experiences are instilling in our students a desire to step outside their comfort zones and take risks, to learn about places and cultures different from their own. It is rewarding to see the students getting excited about all the ways they can get involved in our organization in the future, demonstrate a high level of professionalism and service through their volunteer roles at the event, and have meaningful interactions with people who have lots of great life experience to share. As an advisor, I am thrilled when people on the trip complement our collegiate students for showing interest, dress sharping, acting respectfully, and being helpful. Those affirmations are showing the students how to build solid reputations and be a stand out which will serve them well in their professional lives. The lessons of this trip are like pebbles causing ripples in the water. The students will share their memories with family, peers and groups like our county Farm Bureau board, but the impact will be bigger than that. The growth will continue and influence their perspectives for years to come. My excitement for the doors being opened to my students is a bit nostalgic as travel has served as a big part of my own story. I was once young and inexperienced too until organizations in my community and industry made investments in me that changed my life and made me into the person I am today. Travel is powerful at any age but it can be direction altering for our young people to help learn who they are and who they want to become. I urge to you to look for ways to encourage and support young people in your family or community to travel. Your support might be the key that opens the door for a great future leader.

"Insight" is a weekly column published by Kansas Farm Bureau, the state's largest farm organization whose mission is to strengthen agriculture and the lives of Kansans through advocacy, education and service.&nbsp;

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2019/12/1575406519723.jpeg" alt="Jackie Mundt" />
 <figcaption>Jackie Mundt</figcaption>
 </figure>By JACKIE MUNDT Pratt County farmer and rancher Greetings from Puerto Rico! I am writing from San Juan where the American Farm Bureau Federation convention is taking place. Even though this is my first trip to Puerto Rico, I am a pretty regular world traveler with a well-established comfort zone and love for the adventures of new places. This trip has been extra fun for me because I am sharing it with three girls from the local collegiate Farm Bureau chapter at Pratt Community College. National events like this are great for professional development. The weekend has been jam-packed with big-name keynote speakers, educational workshops, a tradeshow full of potential employers and the chance to network with Kansas Farm Bureau leaders. Over the last few years, I am proud to have worked with our county Farm Bureau board to make trips like this happen for our student members. Providing travel opportunities is invaluable for the development of life and leadership skills. An equally valuable part of these trips are all of the lessons in “adulting” that come from traveling, often for the first time, without family. Even students who have previously travelled are often forced to pay attention to their surroundings, learn how to navigate airports and cities, and how to problem solve in an unfamiliar place. There have been many exciting firsts among the students this trip: first flights over the ocean, first time seeing the ocean and a whole lot of new fun experiences like tasting local cuisine, night kayaking complete with glow-in-the-dark face paint, an excursion to a natural waterfall in the rainforest, and a trip to Disney World on way back. Seeing travel through their youthful eyes has reminded me of the wonder, joy and laughter that come from new adventures. These experiences are instilling in our students a desire to step outside their comfort zones and take risks, to learn about places and cultures different from their own. It is rewarding to see the students getting excited about all the ways they can get involved in our organization in the future, demonstrate a high level of professionalism and service through their volunteer roles at the event, and have meaningful interactions with people who have lots of great life experience to share. As an advisor, I am thrilled when people on the trip complement our collegiate students for showing interest, dress sharping, acting respectfully, and being helpful. Those affirmations are showing the students how to build solid reputations and be a stand out which will serve them well in their professional lives. The lessons of this trip are like pebbles causing ripples in the water. The students will share their memories with family, peers and groups like our county Farm Bureau board, but the impact will be bigger than that. The growth will continue and influence their perspectives for years to come. My excitement for the doors being opened to my students is a bit nostalgic as travel has served as a big part of my own story. I was once young and inexperienced too until organizations in my community and industry made investments in me that changed my life and made me into the person I am today. Travel is powerful at any age but it can be direction altering for our young people to help learn who they are and who they want to become. I urge to you to look for ways to encourage and support young people in your family or community to travel. Your support might be the key that opens the door for a great future leader."Insight" is a weekly column published by Kansas Farm Bureau, the state's largest farm organization whose mission is to strengthen agriculture and the lives of Kansans through advocacy, education and service.&nbsp;

Kansas Farm Bureau Insight: Creating memories and leaders

By MARK MCCORMICK <a href="https://kansasreflector.com/2023/01/10/documentary-explores-how-1965-wichita-plane-crash-left-families-like-mine-locked-in-a-moment/">Courtesy Kansas Reflector</a>

After a fully fueled KC-135 military tanker crashed into what was 
then a segregated Wichita neighborhood, my sister Chan chose not to 
believe our 5-year-old cousin, Tracy Randolph, had died in the fiery 
1965 disaster.

Chandra McCormick, weeks from her 12th birthday, watched soap operas 
with our great-grandmother, Jessie Pearl Holloway, whom we called Big 
Mama. Chan borrowed a common storyline from the shows and told herself 
Tracy had just lost her memory. When her amnesia lifted, Tracy would 
come home.

But that Saturday morning crash — still considered Kansas’ deadliest 
air disaster — killed 30 people, including Tracy, our grandmother Mary 
Daniels (we called her Little Mama), our uncle C.L. Daniels and our 
cousin Clyde Holloway.

Documentarians Kevin Harrison, Riccardo Harris and Kenneth Hawkins 
want to re-examine the grief of survivors from that Jan. 16 morning — 
people either carrying that grief and continuing to live, or those who 
coped by existing because living felt impossible.

Interviewing them convinced me that I needed to look no further than 
my childhood household for various expressions of grief, though my 
mother and my aunt almost never spoke of it.

The tanker had just left McConnell Air Force Base outside Wichita but
 struggled to climb. As a crash seemed imminent, the crew began dumping 
fuel, but the plane dived into a vacant lot. A cascade of 32,000 gallons
 of jet fuel and fire incinerated a dozen homes.

The entire crew died. The crash gouged a crater 15 feet deep. The 
emotional trauma ran deeper. Several children died, as did an entire 
family. The accident left others homeless.

A <a target="_blank" href="https://www.kshs.org/kansapedia/wichita-airplane-crash-1965/19104">Kansas Historical Society article</a>
 praised the initial disaster response but said “that help started to 
wane.” It described the temporary survivor housing as “rundown and 
unsafe.”

It described the legal settlements as “disappointing.”

“One family received just $400,” the article said, while the average 
settlement stood at $13,000, minus the 20% that went to attorney fees. 
Many survivors wondered whether the payouts would have been more 
substantial had they been white.

Segregation, according to D.W. Carter, author of “Mayday Over 
Wichita,” forced Black people into a small area, boosting the death 
toll. Wichita then ranked as one of the nation’s most segregated cities.

The documentary intends to excavate all this ground.

“My interest in this story increased as I learned more about the 
victims,” said Harris, who is my cousin and executive director of GEAR 
UP at Wichita State University. I attended KU with both him and Harrison
 in the late 1980s. “I hope the unheard voices of the victims — those 
who died and those left behind — can finally be heard and understood.”

Harrison, an assistant professor for the Cohen Honor College at WSU, 
said previous books and films about the crash didn’t sufficiently 
examine survivors’ emotions.

“Every rung of <a target="_blank" href="https://www.simplypsychology.org/maslow.html">Maslow’s ladder</a>
 expresses the desire to be heard and understood,” Harrison said, 
referring to the model of basic human needs. “This project was an 
opportunity to give a voice to the voiceless.”

Harrison said previous projects identified victims’ names and addresses. He intends to dig deeper.

“Stories give us power,” he said. “I want to explore real emotion.”

A $10,000 Kansas Humanities Council grant funds the project, along 
with a partnership with Omega Psi Phi Fraternity. Robert Weems Jr., a 
professor of Business History at WSU serves as project consultant. They 
plan to screen the film at the park near the crash site this spring.

I wasn’t born until 1967. Still, the crash never seemed far away.

I was an adult, for example, before learning from my sister that my 
aunt Laura Faust, Tracy’s mother, doted over every boy-child in the 
family, but never had much to do with the girls, who likely reminded her
 too much of Tracy. Much of what I know, my sister shared.

Chan shared a particularly cruel story about witnesses claiming to 
have seen a child, engulfed in flames, running from one of the homes and
 collapsing. Someone asked our aunt if that child was Tracy.

“She didn’t,” Chan said. “She just closed her eyes and lowered her head.”

When loved ones die, ”what ifs” and our memories can act as 
comforting counterweights when pain starts to circle. But with a child, 
the what ifs must seem gargantuan because of what the child never had a 
chance to become. My aunt suffered quietly, dying at 65.

My sister planned to visit our grandmother’s house that morning but overslept.

She awoke to my aunt leaving to drop Tracy at Little Mama’s. Chan 
started walking there later, but along the way, the ground shook and 
black smoke filled the air. Where our grandmother’s house stood, she saw
 a lake of fire.

“I was numb,” she said. “It didn’t seem real.”

The grief stricken can find themselves locked in a moment, compressing a traumatizing incident into perhaps its worst instant.

A child might do what my sister did, create a magical narrative as a means of coping.

An adult might do what my aunt Laura did — hold it in, withdraw, and 
struggle through life existing because she couldn’t peel back enough of 
the grief to really live.

People grieve differently, doing their best to move from one moment to the next and secure some semblance of safety and control.

In 1965’s segregated Wichita, neither our family nor our neighbors — however we grieved — really had much of either.

Mark McCormick is the former executive director of The Kansas African American Museum, a member of the Kansas African American Affairs Commission and deputy executive director at the ACLU of Kansas.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2023/1/1673368130234.png" alt="Mark McCormick’s aunt Laura Faust, left, and his mother are shown in a new documentary about the crash of a fuel tanker into a Wichita neighborhood. McCormick’s 5-year-old cousin, Tracy Randolph (inset) was among those killed. (Riccardo Harris, Mark McCormick)" />
 <figcaption>Mark McCormick’s aunt Laura Faust, left, and his mother are shown in a new documentary about the crash of a fuel tanker into a Wichita neighborhood. McCormick’s 5-year-old cousin, Tracy Randolph (inset) was among those killed. (Riccardo Harris, Mark McCormick)</figcaption>
 </figure>By MARK MCCORMICK <a href="https://kansasreflector.com/2023/01/10/documentary-explores-how-1965-wichita-plane-crash-left-families-like-mine-locked-in-a-moment/">Courtesy Kansas Reflector</a>After a fully fueled KC-135 military tanker crashed into what was 
then a segregated Wichita neighborhood, my sister Chan chose not to 
believe our 5-year-old cousin, Tracy Randolph, had died in the fiery 
1965 disaster.Chandra McCormick, weeks from her 12th birthday, watched soap operas 
with our great-grandmother, Jessie Pearl Holloway, whom we called Big 
Mama. Chan borrowed a common storyline from the shows and told herself 
Tracy had just lost her memory. When her amnesia lifted, Tracy would 
come home.But that Saturday morning crash — still considered Kansas’ deadliest 
air disaster — killed 30 people, including Tracy, our grandmother Mary 
Daniels (we called her Little Mama), our uncle C.L. Daniels and our 
cousin Clyde Holloway.Documentarians Kevin Harrison, Riccardo Harris and Kenneth Hawkins 
want to re-examine the grief of survivors from that Jan. 16 morning — 
people either carrying that grief and continuing to live, or those who 
coped by existing because living felt impossible.Interviewing them convinced me that I needed to look no further than 
my childhood household for various expressions of grief, though my 
mother and my aunt almost never spoke of it.The tanker had just left McConnell Air Force Base outside Wichita but
 struggled to climb. As a crash seemed imminent, the crew began dumping 
fuel, but the plane dived into a vacant lot. A cascade of 32,000 gallons
 of jet fuel and fire incinerated a dozen homes.The entire crew died. The crash gouged a crater 15 feet deep. The 
emotional trauma ran deeper. Several children died, as did an entire 
family. The accident left others homeless.A <a target="_blank" href="https://www.kshs.org/kansapedia/wichita-airplane-crash-1965/19104">Kansas Historical Society article</a>
 praised the initial disaster response but said “that help started to 
wane.” It described the temporary survivor housing as “rundown and 
unsafe.”It described the legal settlements as “disappointing.”“One family received just $400,” the article said, while the average 
settlement stood at $13,000, minus the 20% that went to attorney fees. 
Many survivors wondered whether the payouts would have been more 
substantial had they been white.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2023/1/1673368222699.png" alt="Mark McCormick’s sister, Chanda (left), visits Santa Claus with cousin Tracy Randolph. (Mark McCormick)" />
 <figcaption>Mark McCormick’s sister, Chanda (left), visits Santa Claus with cousin Tracy Randolph. (Mark McCormick)</figcaption>
 </figure>Segregation, according to D.W. Carter, author of “Mayday Over 
Wichita,” forced Black people into a small area, boosting the death 
toll. Wichita then ranked as one of the nation’s most segregated cities.The documentary intends to excavate all this ground.“My interest in this story increased as I learned more about the 
victims,” said Harris, who is my cousin and executive director of GEAR 
UP at Wichita State University. I attended KU with both him and Harrison
 in the late 1980s. “I hope the unheard voices of the victims — those 
who died and those left behind — can finally be heard and understood.”Harrison, an assistant professor for the Cohen Honor College at WSU, 
said previous books and films about the crash didn’t sufficiently 
examine survivors’ emotions.“Every rung of <a target="_blank" href="https://www.simplypsychology.org/maslow.html">Maslow’s ladder</a>
 expresses the desire to be heard and understood,” Harrison said, 
referring to the model of basic human needs. “This project was an 
opportunity to give a voice to the voiceless.”Harrison said previous projects identified victims’ names and addresses. He intends to dig deeper.“Stories give us power,” he said. “I want to explore real emotion.”A $10,000 Kansas Humanities Council grant funds the project, along 
with a partnership with Omega Psi Phi Fraternity. Robert Weems Jr., a 
professor of Business History at WSU serves as project consultant. They 
plan to screen the film at the park near the crash site this spring.I wasn’t born until 1967. Still, the crash never seemed far away.I was an adult, for example, before learning from my sister that my 
aunt Laura Faust, Tracy’s mother, doted over every boy-child in the 
family, but never had much to do with the girls, who likely reminded her
 too much of Tracy. Much of what I know, my sister shared.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2023/1/1673368265033.png" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>Chan shared a particularly cruel story about witnesses claiming to 
have seen a child, engulfed in flames, running from one of the homes and
 collapsing. Someone asked our aunt if that child was Tracy.Horrified, I asked how she replied.“She didn’t,” Chan said. “She just closed her eyes and lowered her head.”When loved ones die, ”what ifs” and our memories can act as 
comforting counterweights when pain starts to circle. But with a child, 
the what ifs must seem gargantuan because of what the child never had a 
chance to become. My aunt suffered quietly, dying at 65.My sister planned to visit our grandmother’s house that morning but overslept.She awoke to my aunt leaving to drop Tracy at Little Mama’s. Chan 
started walking there later, but along the way, the ground shook and 
black smoke filled the air. Where our grandmother’s house stood, she saw
 a lake of fire.“I was numb,” she said. “It didn’t seem real.”The grief stricken can find themselves locked in a moment, compressing a traumatizing incident into perhaps its worst instant.A child might do what my sister did, create a magical narrative as a means of coping.An adult might do what my aunt Laura did — hold it in, withdraw, and 
struggle through life existing because she couldn’t peel back enough of 
the grief to really live.People grieve differently, doing their best to move from one moment to the next and secure some semblance of safety and control.In 1965’s segregated Wichita, neither our family nor our neighbors — however we grieved — really had much of either.Mark McCormick is the former executive director of The Kansas African American Museum, a member of the Kansas African American Affairs Commission and deputy executive director at the ACLU of Kansas.

Documentary explores 1965 Wichita plane crash, Kansas' deadliest

By RON WILSON Huck Boyd National Institute for Rural Development&nbsp;

The design cut into the wood is beautiful, detailed, intricate – and handmade. It was not produced with a laser cutter or computer-aided design, but rather, entirely by hand by a remarkably skilled craftsman in rural Kansas.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;

Curtis and Lori Swenson are founders and owners of C&amp;L Crafts in Miltonvale. They grew up in the Randolph area, met in school and were married. They would ultimately have four children.&nbsp;

Those children, now grown, have also chosen to live in rural Kansas. They now live in Miltonvale, population 440; Mayetta, population 348; Olsburg, population 218; and Idana, population 54 people. Now, that’s rural.&nbsp;

Curtis took a job in Nebraska where he suffered a terrible accident in which his back was broken in two places. He would have 22 back surgeries, the first of which was 8 ½ hours long. He made a full recovery, but it was a long recuperation.&nbsp;

“I was going stir crazy,” Curtis said. He looked for something he could do with his hands.&nbsp;

“I had watched a guy at Silver Dollar City cut designs into wood and thought that looked interesting.” He bought a scroll saw on sale and found he really enjoyed cutting intricate designs.&nbsp;

“It was therapy,” said Lori, who helped out by doing the finish work.&nbsp;

The Swensons moved to the Miltonvale area in 1996. “When people there saw what I was doing, they told me we should sell those things at craft shows,” Curtis said. So, the couple started going to shows and continued to make these products on the side while he worked for the school district, from which he is now retired.&nbsp;

Today, C&amp;L Crafts has sold wood products all over the nation and beyond. These are not your typical trinkets. Every one of these is handcrafted by Curtis and Lori themselves.&nbsp;

They order Baltic Birch type A plywood from a Kansas City company. This wood is especially made for cabinet liners and has no knots or spaces. Curtis orders 1/8, 1/4, and 1/2 inch thickness. He can also make designs in oak, walnut, cedar, and even hedge.&nbsp;

The Swensons have attended as many as 40 craft shows in a single year. For a decade, they had a booth at craft shows in Branson during the spring and fall. “They would put me in the number one and number two booths, and I would demonstrate the wood-cutting all day long,” Curtis said. “I enjoyed that.”&nbsp;

These designs are remarkably detailed and intricate.&nbsp;&nbsp;“A lot of people believe this is done by a laser, but a laser burns the edges of the wood,” Curtis said. His items are entirely hand-cut using a narrow-bladed scroll saw.&nbsp;

Curtis does the cutting and Lori does the finish work: “She has the lighter touch,” Curtis said. Lori does the sanding, staining, and varnishing, plus the final assembly or attaching a hanger. She also categorizes and stores the items.&nbsp;&nbsp;“We’re a team,” Curtis said.&nbsp;

“We do lots of custom work,” Curtis said. Lori adds: “If you’re looking for something in particular, just ask.”&nbsp;

“We will donate items for schools or groups to sell as fundraisers,” Lori said. Curtis has donated military designs to veterans and given crosses to the elderly ladies at nursing homes. “If you can do something with it that cheers somebody up, that’s all that matters,” Curtis said. “We like to see people happy.”&nbsp;

That personal touch is why he prefers craft shows to selling over the Internet. “I like to visit with people,” Curtis said.&nbsp;

The Swensons use more than 6,500 patterns for signs, toys, wildlife designs, and Christmas ornaments. “We do 20,000-plus ornaments in a year, easy,” Curtis said. C&amp;L Craft items have gone from coast to coast, to Alaska, Hawaii, and as far away as Africa and Australia.&nbsp;

For more information, contact Curtis and Lori at 785-427-6353.&nbsp;

The design in the wood is intricate and beautiful – and entirely created by hand. We commend Curtis and Lori Swenson of C&amp;L Crafts for making a difference with creative craftsmanship. They are truly accomplished artisans, hands-down.&nbsp;

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2023/1/1672840643201.png" alt="Lori and Curtis Swenson / Courtesy K-State Research &amp; Extension" />
 <figcaption>Lori and Curtis Swenson / Courtesy K-State Research &amp; Extension</figcaption>
 </figure>By RON WILSON Huck Boyd National Institute for Rural Development&nbsp;The design cut into the wood is beautiful, detailed, intricate – and handmade. It was not produced with a laser cutter or computer-aided design, but rather, entirely by hand by a remarkably skilled craftsman in rural Kansas.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Curtis and Lori Swenson are founders and owners of C&amp;L Crafts in Miltonvale. They grew up in the Randolph area, met in school and were married. They would ultimately have four children.&nbsp;Those children, now grown, have also chosen to live in rural Kansas. They now live in Miltonvale, population 440; Mayetta, population 348; Olsburg, population 218; and Idana, population 54 people. Now, that’s rural.&nbsp;Curtis took a job in Nebraska where he suffered a terrible accident in which his back was broken in two places. He would have 22 back surgeries, the first of which was 8 ½ hours long. He made a full recovery, but it was a long recuperation.&nbsp;“I was going stir crazy,” Curtis said. He looked for something he could do with his hands.&nbsp;“I had watched a guy at Silver Dollar City cut designs into wood and thought that looked interesting.” He bought a scroll saw on sale and found he really enjoyed cutting intricate designs.&nbsp;“It was therapy,” said Lori, who helped out by doing the finish work.&nbsp;The Swensons moved to the Miltonvale area in 1996. “When people there saw what I was doing, they told me we should sell those things at craft shows,” Curtis said. So, the couple started going to shows and continued to make these products on the side while he worked for the school district, from which he is now retired.&nbsp;Today, C&amp;L Crafts has sold wood products all over the nation and beyond. These are not your typical trinkets. Every one of these is handcrafted by Curtis and Lori themselves.&nbsp;They order Baltic Birch type A plywood from a Kansas City company. This wood is especially made for cabinet liners and has no knots or spaces. Curtis orders 1/8, 1/4, and 1/2 inch thickness. He can also make designs in oak, walnut, cedar, and even hedge.&nbsp;The Swensons have attended as many as 40 craft shows in a single year. For a decade, they had a booth at craft shows in Branson during the spring and fall. “They would put me in the number one and number two booths, and I would demonstrate the wood-cutting all day long,” Curtis said. “I enjoyed that.”&nbsp;These designs are remarkably detailed and intricate.&nbsp;&nbsp;“A lot of people believe this is done by a laser, but a laser burns the edges of the wood,” Curtis said. His items are entirely hand-cut using a narrow-bladed scroll saw.&nbsp;Curtis does the cutting and Lori does the finish work: “She has the lighter touch,” Curtis said. Lori does the sanding, staining, and varnishing, plus the final assembly or attaching a hanger. She also categorizes and stores the items.&nbsp;&nbsp;“We’re a team,” Curtis said.&nbsp;“We do lots of custom work,” Curtis said. Lori adds: “If you’re looking for something in particular, just ask.”&nbsp;“We will donate items for schools or groups to sell as fundraisers,” Lori said. Curtis has donated military designs to veterans and given crosses to the elderly ladies at nursing homes. “If you can do something with it that cheers somebody up, that’s all that matters,” Curtis said. “We like to see people happy.”&nbsp;That personal touch is why he prefers craft shows to selling over the Internet. “I like to visit with people,” Curtis said.&nbsp;The Swensons use more than 6,500 patterns for signs, toys, wildlife designs, and Christmas ornaments. “We do 20,000-plus ornaments in a year, easy,” Curtis said. C&amp;L Craft items have gone from coast to coast, to Alaska, Hawaii, and as far away as Africa and Australia.&nbsp;For more information, contact Curtis and Lori at 785-427-6353.&nbsp;The design in the wood is intricate and beautiful – and entirely created by hand. We commend Curtis and Lori Swenson of C&amp;L Crafts for making a difference with creative craftsmanship. They are truly accomplished artisans, hands-down.&nbsp;

Now That’s Rural: Curtis and Lori Swenson, C&L Crafts 

I’ve got the perfect New Year’s resolution for Kansas legislators: no more lobbyist-authored bills.

Last year, Kansas lawmaking was marked by two dramatic “fails,” both involving lobbyist-authored acts.&nbsp; One of them failed, the other passed, and both were problematic.

First came anti-abortion “Value Them Both” amendment, sent to the voters by the Legislature and rejected by 18 percentage points in August.&nbsp; Closely watched nationally and even overseas, the campaign and contained many controversies, including its confusing ballot language.&nbsp; “VTB” opponents even suggested that the language was&nbsp;deliberately&nbsp;confusing—highly legalistic and not clear at all about the amendment’s intent, which was to authorize the Kansas Legislature to criminalize abortion in nearly all circumstances, which they had the votes and the plans to do, perhaps even calling themselves into special session right after the vote, had it passed.

Oddly, the amendment itself was not written by the Kansas Legislative Research Department (KLRD).&nbsp; Despite making major changes to the state constitution, legislators allowed two anti-abortion interest groups to write the ballot language.&nbsp; By contrast, the staff of the KLRD are nonpartisan professionals.&nbsp; The bills, bill summaries and other proposals they write are not based upon their own, personal political views.&nbsp; Rather, KLRD staff draft legislation as requested by legislators.&nbsp; Not lobbyists or politicians, KLRD are experienced experts in the state constitution, existing federal, state and local laws, court rulings, laws in other states, and other background needed to write good legislation.&nbsp; With so much at stake this summer, why did the legislators ignore the KLRD and have interest groups draft the amendment instead?

Lobbyist-authored bills cause even more problems when they pass.&nbsp; Last year’s authorization of sports betting illustrates this perfectly.&nbsp; An exposé by the&nbsp;New York Times&nbsp;illustrated these problems.&nbsp; Not only were key legislators showed with gifts, but a provision was slipped into the provision that has resulted in Kansans reaping almost none of the promised tax revenue so far.&nbsp; This “carry over” provision allows the gambling companies to write off the costs of offering free bets to get new customers hooked on their product.&nbsp; It also allows them to carry forth these losses to future years.&nbsp; The&nbsp;NYT&nbsp;reporter found that the whole bill was in fact written by the gambling industry.&nbsp; Had it been drafted by the KLRD, they easily could have red-flagged this loophole.&nbsp; In September and October, the two largest online sports betting providers paid less than $42,000 in state taxes on $247&nbsp;million&nbsp;of activity.&nbsp; This figure started to rise later in the year, but is still paltry compared to what the state could have collected.&nbsp; A similar bill failed to pass in Missouri— not due to the public interest, but because of infighting among pro-betting interest groups.

Speaking of Missouri, another bill that passed there last year illustrates the depths to which these lobbyist-authored bills can sink.&nbsp; By making it a crime to sleep on public land without authorization, Missouri essentially criminalized homelessness—without providing any additional support for affordable housing.&nbsp; This awful bill was literally&nbsp;cut and pasted off the Internet&nbsp;by its sponsor—and the interest group that posted it was not even in-state.

Kansas and other states employ nonpartisan professionals to draft legislation, for a reason.&nbsp; The debacles here and in neighboring states last year all point to the same conclusion:&nbsp; legislators should resolve right now not to propose or pass any lobbyist-written legislation in 2023 or afterwards.

Michael Smith is a professor at Emporia State University.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/12/1639601062071.jpeg" alt="Michael Smith is a professor at Emporia State University." />
 <figcaption>Michael Smith is a professor at Emporia State University.</figcaption>
 </figure>I’ve got the perfect New Year’s resolution for Kansas legislators: no more lobbyist-authored bills.Last year, Kansas lawmaking was marked by two dramatic “fails,” both involving lobbyist-authored acts.&nbsp; One of them failed, the other passed, and both were problematic.First came anti-abortion “Value Them Both” amendment, sent to the voters by the Legislature and rejected by 18 percentage points in August.&nbsp; Closely watched nationally and even overseas, the campaign and contained many controversies, including its confusing ballot language.&nbsp; “VTB” opponents even suggested that the language was&nbsp;deliberately&nbsp;confusing—highly legalistic and not clear at all about the amendment’s intent, which was to authorize the Kansas Legislature to criminalize abortion in nearly all circumstances, which they had the votes and the plans to do, perhaps even calling themselves into special session right after the vote, had it passed.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2019/12/1575913663048.png" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>Oddly, the amendment itself was not written by the Kansas Legislative Research Department (KLRD).&nbsp; Despite making major changes to the state constitution, legislators allowed two anti-abortion interest groups to write the ballot language.&nbsp; By contrast, the staff of the KLRD are nonpartisan professionals.&nbsp; The bills, bill summaries and other proposals they write are not based upon their own, personal political views.&nbsp; Rather, KLRD staff draft legislation as requested by legislators.&nbsp; Not lobbyists or politicians, KLRD are experienced experts in the state constitution, existing federal, state and local laws, court rulings, laws in other states, and other background needed to write good legislation.&nbsp; With so much at stake this summer, why did the legislators ignore the KLRD and have interest groups draft the amendment instead?Lobbyist-authored bills cause even more problems when they pass.&nbsp; Last year’s authorization of sports betting illustrates this perfectly.&nbsp; An exposé by the&nbsp;New York Times&nbsp;illustrated these problems.&nbsp; Not only were key legislators showed with gifts, but a provision was slipped into the provision that has resulted in Kansans reaping almost none of the promised tax revenue so far.&nbsp; This “carry over” provision allows the gambling companies to write off the costs of offering free bets to get new customers hooked on their product.&nbsp; It also allows them to carry forth these losses to future years.&nbsp; The&nbsp;NYT&nbsp;reporter found that the whole bill was in fact written by the gambling industry.&nbsp; Had it been drafted by the KLRD, they easily could have red-flagged this loophole.&nbsp; In September and October, the two largest online sports betting providers paid less than $42,000 in state taxes on $247&nbsp;million&nbsp;of activity.&nbsp; This figure started to rise later in the year, but is still paltry compared to what the state could have collected.&nbsp; A similar bill failed to pass in Missouri— not due to the public interest, but because of infighting among pro-betting interest groups.Speaking of Missouri, another bill that passed there last year illustrates the depths to which these lobbyist-authored bills can sink.&nbsp; By making it a crime to sleep on public land without authorization, Missouri essentially criminalized homelessness—without providing any additional support for affordable housing.&nbsp; This awful bill was literally&nbsp;cut and pasted off the Internet&nbsp;by its sponsor—and the interest group that posted it was not even in-state.Kansas and other states employ nonpartisan professionals to draft legislation, for a reason.&nbsp; The debacles here and in neighboring states last year all point to the same conclusion:&nbsp; legislators should resolve right now not to propose or pass any lobbyist-written legislation in 2023 or afterwards.Michael Smith is a professor at Emporia State University.

INSIGHT KANSAS: No more lobbyist-written bills

By ERIC THOMAS <a href="https://kansasreflector.com/2023/01/06/january-ushers-in-covid-19-turning-points-year-after-year-in-kansas/">Courtesy Kansas Reflector</a>

The COVID-19 pandemic has crafted 
many of its dark landmarks during recent Januarys. The last three 
installments have brought perhaps the most significant events related to
 the virus: the month that introduced COVID-19 to Kansas, two months 
that contained the two most deadly and contagious surges, and also a 
month that introduced widespread vaccination.

Three years into the pandemic, it’s 
tempting to think that we know everything about this cataclysm that 
interrupted our lives — and then gave our lives back to us. Looking 
back, as my history teachers have instructed me, revealed what I 
couldn’t remember, and what I never knew.

In writing this column, some of what I
 learned (or relearned) came from scrolling back through the YouTube 
channel of the University of Kansas Health System, featuring chief 
medical officer Steven Stites. The updates that he, his colleagues and 
his staff posted so dutifully are like dispatches from the pandemic 
past, complete with the emotions of the moment and vital statistics from
 people who worked the front lines.

The last three years tested us as Kansans in dramatic ways. January provided the decisive moments.

Many of us think of March 2020 as the
 beginning of the pandemic in Kansas, because that is when we heard 
about the first cases of COVID-19 in the state, followed rapidly by the 
dramatic closures of almost all public institutions, notably schools.

However, two months earlier, in January 2020, the first Kansan died from COVID-19, according to <a target="_blank" href="https://kansasreflector.com/2021/08/24/first-covid-19-death-in-kansas-now-believed-to-be-from-early-january-2020/">a death certificate that was publicized more than a year later.</a>

As reported by the San Jose Mercury 
News, Lovell “Cookie” Brown, a grandmother from Leavenworth County, was 
the first Kansan whose death was attributed to the virus. <a target="_blank" href="https://www.mercurynews.com/2021/09/02/exclusive-how-did-a-kansas-grandmother-just-become-the-first-u-s-covid-death-not-even-her-family-knew-until-this-week/">The Mercury News also reported</a>
 how Brown’s death appeared “to turn the clock back on the virus’ 
arrival in the U.S. but also suggest that it had surfaced much sooner in
 America’s heartland, far beyond the country’s early coastal hotspots.”

Anecdotally, many of us knew this to 
be true: The virus was present long before medical experts could prove 
it. For instance, one of my friends was devastated by fever, chills and 
coughing fits after traveling with me in January 2020. Months later, he 
tested positive for COVID-19 antibodies, with no other sickness to 
explain them. He likely had COVID-19 during that first January.

COVID-19 was lurking, undetected, in Kansas well before we were aware.

<a target="_blank" href="https://www.cdc.gov/museum/timeline/covid19.html">Also during January 2020</a>:
 The Chinese city of Wuhan was locked down by the Chinese government. 
The virus was confirmed — for the first time contemporaneously — in the 
United States.&nbsp;

The deadliest time for Kansans 
fighting the COVID-19 virus ran right through January two years ago. 
Buttressed by a surge in December on one side and a frantic peak in 
February on the other, four weeks in January witnessed the death of 949 
Kansans, according to the CDC. A deadly January fed an even more lethal 
February.

According to the CDC, about 100,000 
tests were being performed each week, one of the most active times of 
testing for the entire pandemic.

However, January 2021 was distinct 
because of the battle beginning between virus and vaccine. More than 
four times as many Kansans were vaccinated during that month (more than 
214,000) than had been vaccinated during the previous month. The 
recovery had already begun.

Those January days were a clear 
turning point. The virus would kill almost 6,000 additional Kansans (and
 counting) in the following years, but vaccination slowed the 
infections. It was dazzling how much happened in 12 months.

“A year ago, we were just hearing the
 rumblings about what was going on across the ocean, and now look where 
we are at,” Stites said on a January episode of his YouTube series. That
 month, <a target="_blank" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XsPHedUF9g4">Stites happily rolled up his sleeve</a> for a vaccination.

Seeing that reminded me of the 
urgency of those vaccinations. At that point, we asked ourselves, “Can I
 continue social distancing, masking and quarantine for just a bit 
longer, until I get the vaccine? Can I stay safe for a few more weeks?”

I recall how eager I was to get the 
vaccine, both to safeguard myself and to feel like I was helping slow 
the infection rate that was so deadly and so steadily climbing.

<a target="_blank" href="https://www.cdc.gov/museum/timeline/covid19.html">Also in January 2021</a>: The CDC required face masks on public transportation and inside transportation hubs.

After Omicron was <a target="_blank" href="https://apnews.com/article/coronavirus-pandemic-business-health-kansas-f539218dc9d3c0500691c74a09c00b25">confirmed in Kansas in December 2021</a>,
 the new year was a viral extravaganza. During the week that started 
Jan. 19, 2022, more than 79,000 people in Kansas tested positive. The 
state had not seen that many positive cases — in total — during the 
first six months of the pandemic.

If you search for the top four weeks 
of positive infections in Kansas, three of those weeks were in January 
2022. We struggled to locate enough tests, staking out pharmacies and 
trading tips with friends about where to get tested.

The number of resulting deaths was 
both infuriating and heartbreaking. Many Kansans died in hospital ICUs 
after refusing vaccination out of stubbornness or misinformation. Others
 died from underlying conditions that doomed them, once combined with 
the virus.

The conference call of regional medical experts that month was partially and ominously titled, “From Bad to Worse.”

Stites’ guests sighed and dispatched 
the latest news from their hospitals, where blood supplies were low, 
morgues were full and ventilators were tenuous.

“I would start by saying that the COVID blizzard continues.”

“I wish we could paint a different picture, but it’s not here.”

“Even when we try to prepare, it hits us pretty hard, and that’s where we are right now.”

Reacting to 17 recent deaths at the 
Kansas Medical Center and staring at a nationwide map of COVID-19 cases,
 Stites observed: “This is really a difficult map to see right now. I’ve
 never seen the country all be so purple at the same time. If you look 
at Kansas and Missouri, that’s really difficult.”

<a target="_blank" href="https://www.cdc.gov/museum/timeline/covid19.html">Also in January 2022</a>: Nationwide, the news was similar; the U.S. had almost 1 million new infections, more than any other nation.

This January, however, we Kansans 
largely find ourselves less wondering what will happen next and more 
confident that the pandemic is simply over. That’s not to say that we 
are free from risk.

On his most recent COVID-19 update, 
Stites said: “I think that surge that we are going to see with everyone 
inside, with the Christmas and New Year’s Eve parties and get togethers,
 we will see how that plays out.”

Jennifer Schrimsher of Lawrence Memorial Hospital and Douglas County said: “COVID is still here. It still kills people.”&nbsp;&nbsp;

However, the conversations between 
the medical officers on Stites’ conference call sound more reflective 
than their previous urgency.

“I’m brought to a focus on how 
chronic this disease has become,” said Kevin Dishman, chief medical and 
quality officer at Stormont Vail Health in Topeka. “And we are all 
starting to use that word, which I think we are hearing both from 
doctors at academic centers and also across the state, and also now 
nationally, that the chronicity of this disease is going to be a 
challenge going forward.”

Dishman said on the conference call that the Topeka media center had consistently cared for 15 to 17 COVID-19 patients recently.

“If you think that, a few years ago 
we didn’t have anyone in the hospital like this,” Stites added. “And now
 10 to 15 percent of our hospital beds are taken up with one disease 
entity — one viral entity.”

Eric Thomas directs the Kansas Scholastic Press Association, a nonprofit that supports student journalism throughout the state. He also teaches visual journalism and photojournalism at the William Allen White School of Journalism and Mass Communication at the University of Kansas in Lawrence.&nbsp;

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2023/1/1673024619311.png" alt="Steven Stites, chief medical officer of the University of Kansas Health System, said January 2022 was the most difficult moment in the COVID-19 pandemic for medical care providers. (Screen capture by Kansas Reflector from University of Kansas Health System video)" />
 <figcaption>Steven Stites, chief medical officer of the University of Kansas Health System, said January 2022 was the most difficult moment in the COVID-19 pandemic for medical care providers. (Screen capture by Kansas Reflector from University of Kansas Health System video)</figcaption>
 </figure>By ERIC THOMAS <a href="https://kansasreflector.com/2023/01/06/january-ushers-in-covid-19-turning-points-year-after-year-in-kansas/">Courtesy Kansas Reflector</a>The COVID-19 pandemic has crafted 
many of its dark landmarks during recent Januarys. The last three 
installments have brought perhaps the most significant events related to
 the virus: the month that introduced COVID-19 to Kansas, two months 
that contained the two most deadly and contagious surges, and also a 
month that introduced widespread vaccination.So it is that we arrive in January 2023.Three years into the pandemic, it’s 
tempting to think that we know everything about this cataclysm that 
interrupted our lives — and then gave our lives back to us. Looking 
back, as my history teachers have instructed me, revealed what I 
couldn’t remember, and what I never knew.In writing this column, some of what I
 learned (or relearned) came from scrolling back through the YouTube 
channel of the University of Kansas Health System, featuring chief 
medical officer Steven Stites. The updates that he, his colleagues and 
his staff posted so dutifully are like dispatches from the pandemic 
past, complete with the emotions of the moment and vital statistics from
 people who worked the front lines.The last three years tested us as Kansans in dramatic ways. January provided the decisive moments.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2023/1/1673024693260.png" alt="A Jayhawk statue at the University of Kansas in Lawrence sports a face mask in the later months of 2020. (Tim Carpenter/Kansas Reflector)" />
 <figcaption>A Jayhawk statue at the University of Kansas in Lawrence sports a face mask in the later months of 2020. (Tim Carpenter/Kansas Reflector)</figcaption>
 </figure><h2>January 2020: The start</h2>Many of us think of March 2020 as the
 beginning of the pandemic in Kansas, because that is when we heard 
about the first cases of COVID-19 in the state, followed rapidly by the 
dramatic closures of almost all public institutions, notably schools.However, two months earlier, in January 2020, the first Kansan died from COVID-19, according to <a target="_blank" href="https://kansasreflector.com/2021/08/24/first-covid-19-death-in-kansas-now-believed-to-be-from-early-january-2020/">a death certificate that was publicized more than a year later.</a>As reported by the San Jose Mercury 
News, Lovell “Cookie” Brown, a grandmother from Leavenworth County, was 
the first Kansan whose death was attributed to the virus. <a target="_blank" href="https://www.mercurynews.com/2021/09/02/exclusive-how-did-a-kansas-grandmother-just-become-the-first-u-s-covid-death-not-even-her-family-knew-until-this-week/">The Mercury News also reported</a>
 how Brown’s death appeared “to turn the clock back on the virus’ 
arrival in the U.S. but also suggest that it had surfaced much sooner in
 America’s heartland, far beyond the country’s early coastal hotspots.”Anecdotally, many of us knew this to 
be true: The virus was present long before medical experts could prove 
it. For instance, one of my friends was devastated by fever, chills and 
coughing fits after traveling with me in January 2020. Months later, he 
tested positive for COVID-19 antibodies, with no other sickness to 
explain them. He likely had COVID-19 during that first January.COVID-19 was lurking, undetected, in Kansas well before we were aware.<a target="_blank" href="https://www.cdc.gov/museum/timeline/covid19.html">Also during January 2020</a>:
 The Chinese city of Wuhan was locked down by the Chinese government. 
The virus was confirmed — for the first time contemporaneously — in the 
United States.&nbsp;<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2023/1/1673024735476.png" alt="A participant looks away at the moment a COVID-19 vaccine needle makes contact during a temporary clinic at Topeka High School in 2021. (Tim Carpenter/Kansas Reflector)" />
 <figcaption>A participant looks away at the moment a COVID-19 vaccine needle makes contact during a temporary clinic at Topeka High School in 2021. (Tim Carpenter/Kansas Reflector)</figcaption>
 </figure><h2>January 2021: The battle</h2>The deadliest time for Kansans 
fighting the COVID-19 virus ran right through January two years ago. 
Buttressed by a surge in December on one side and a frantic peak in 
February on the other, four weeks in January witnessed the death of 949 
Kansans, according to the CDC. A deadly January fed an even more lethal 
February.According to the CDC, about 100,000 
tests were being performed each week, one of the most active times of 
testing for the entire pandemic.However, January 2021 was distinct 
because of the battle beginning between virus and vaccine. More than 
four times as many Kansans were vaccinated during that month (more than 
214,000) than had been vaccinated during the previous month. The 
recovery had already begun.Those January days were a clear 
turning point. The virus would kill almost 6,000 additional Kansans (and
 counting) in the following years, but vaccination slowed the 
infections. It was dazzling how much happened in 12 months.“A year ago, we were just hearing the
 rumblings about what was going on across the ocean, and now look where 
we are at,” Stites said on a January episode of his YouTube series. That
 month, <a target="_blank" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XsPHedUF9g4">Stites happily rolled up his sleeve</a> for a vaccination.Seeing that reminded me of the 
urgency of those vaccinations. At that point, we asked ourselves, “Can I
 continue social distancing, masking and quarantine for just a bit 
longer, until I get the vaccine? Can I stay safe for a few more weeks?”I recall how eager I was to get the 
vaccine, both to safeguard myself and to feel like I was helping slow 
the infection rate that was so deadly and so steadily climbing.<a target="_blank" href="https://www.cdc.gov/museum/timeline/covid19.html">Also in January 2021</a>: The CDC required face masks on public transportation and inside transportation hubs.<h2>January 2022: The peak</h2>After Omicron was <a target="_blank" href="https://apnews.com/article/coronavirus-pandemic-business-health-kansas-f539218dc9d3c0500691c74a09c00b25">confirmed in Kansas in December 2021</a>,
 the new year was a viral extravaganza. During the week that started 
Jan. 19, 2022, more than 79,000 people in Kansas tested positive. The 
state had not seen that many positive cases — in total — during the 
first six months of the pandemic.If you search for the top four weeks 
of positive infections in Kansas, three of those weeks were in January 
2022. We struggled to locate enough tests, staking out pharmacies and 
trading tips with friends about where to get tested.The number of resulting deaths was 
both infuriating and heartbreaking. Many Kansans died in hospital ICUs 
after refusing vaccination out of stubbornness or misinformation. Others
 died from underlying conditions that doomed them, once combined with 
the virus.The conference call of regional medical experts that month was partially and ominously titled, “From Bad to Worse.”Stites’ guests sighed and dispatched 
the latest news from their hospitals, where blood supplies were low, 
morgues were full and ventilators were tenuous.“I would start by saying that the COVID blizzard continues.”“This has been a difficult time.”“I wish we could paint a different picture, but it’s not here.”“Even when we try to prepare, it hits us pretty hard, and that’s where we are right now.”Reacting to 17 recent deaths at the 
Kansas Medical Center and staring at a nationwide map of COVID-19 cases,
 Stites observed: “This is really a difficult map to see right now. I’ve
 never seen the country all be so purple at the same time. If you look 
at Kansas and Missouri, that’s really difficult.”<a target="_blank" href="https://www.cdc.gov/museum/timeline/covid19.html">Also in January 2022</a>: Nationwide, the news was similar; the U.S. had almost 1 million new infections, more than any other nation.<h2>January 2023: The hope</h2>This January, however, we Kansans 
largely find ourselves less wondering what will happen next and more 
confident that the pandemic is simply over. That’s not to say that we 
are free from risk.On his most recent COVID-19 update, 
Stites said: “I think that surge that we are going to see with everyone 
inside, with the Christmas and New Year’s Eve parties and get togethers,
 we will see how that plays out.”Jennifer Schrimsher of Lawrence Memorial Hospital and Douglas County said: “COVID is still here. It still kills people.”&nbsp;&nbsp;However, the conversations between 
the medical officers on Stites’ conference call sound more reflective 
than their previous urgency.“I’m brought to a focus on how 
chronic this disease has become,” said Kevin Dishman, chief medical and 
quality officer at Stormont Vail Health in Topeka. “And we are all 
starting to use that word, which I think we are hearing both from 
doctors at academic centers and also across the state, and also now 
nationally, that the chronicity of this disease is going to be a 
challenge going forward.”Dishman said on the conference call that the Topeka media center had consistently cared for 15 to 17 COVID-19 patients recently.“If you think that, a few years ago 
we didn’t have anyone in the hospital like this,” Stites added. “And now
 10 to 15 percent of our hospital beds are taken up with one disease 
entity — one viral entity.”Eric Thomas directs the Kansas Scholastic Press Association, a nonprofit that supports student journalism throughout the state. He also teaches visual journalism and photojournalism at the William Allen White School of Journalism and Mass Communication at the University of Kansas in Lawrence.&nbsp;<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2019/12/1575913663048.png" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>

OPINION: January ushers in COVID turning points year after year

I loved teaching Great Plains novels by&nbsp;regional&nbsp;authors.&nbsp;Over&nbsp;the years,&nbsp;I taught&nbsp;Winter Thunder&nbsp;by Mari Sandoz who grew up on a western Nebraska&nbsp;ranch. Her&nbsp;tale of a bus load of students and their teacher surviving a&nbsp;multi-day&nbsp;blizzard engrossed students.&nbsp;It&nbsp;focused on&nbsp;Nebraska&nbsp;farm&nbsp;kids&nbsp;who&nbsp;survived&nbsp;eight frigid days outdoors after their&nbsp;bus slid off the road and caught&nbsp;fire in the sandhills. 

Led by their teacher, the&nbsp;group rationed lunches and built shelter&nbsp;from&nbsp;dry&nbsp;brush.&nbsp;While&nbsp;several suffered frostbite, rescuers found them&nbsp;alive.&nbsp;Every time a blizzard blows through western Kansas,&nbsp;it adds another story.&nbsp;I can contribute a couple of my own as can my readers.

Currently,&nbsp;weather data&nbsp;floods&nbsp;media&nbsp;for days before storms&nbsp;arrive,&nbsp;making it&nbsp;hard&nbsp;to&nbsp;ignore potential danger.&nbsp;In 1982, however,&nbsp;I left for school&nbsp;believing&nbsp;all was well&nbsp;based on&nbsp;the previous day’s&nbsp;forecast.&nbsp;Besides, I carried&nbsp;a winter emergency kit in my Chevette to sustain me and our infant daughter&nbsp;til help arrived&nbsp;should I slide off the road.&nbsp;

Once&nbsp;in&nbsp;McCracken, moisture-laden clouds unleashed&nbsp;flakes that&nbsp;turned&nbsp;the world&nbsp;into&nbsp;a giant snow globe.&nbsp;In short time, our&nbsp;superintendent canceled school.&nbsp;Before heading home,&nbsp;I called my husband, who&nbsp;reported fine&nbsp;weather in Ellis.

That changed within a few miles of the Smoky Hill River, barren country for those who haven’t traveled it,&nbsp;when flakes and wind intensified. Once&nbsp;across&nbsp;the&nbsp;bridge, I couldn’t tell&nbsp;where pavement ended and grass began.&nbsp;I reminded myself I had supplies enough we could&nbsp;outlast out the storm.&nbsp;Then I prayed.

Plowing snow&nbsp;until the whiteout ended,&nbsp;I&nbsp;breathed a sigh of relief when I&nbsp;spied familiar landmarks. As I drove, I&nbsp;told our baby we’d be okay.&nbsp;While the worst of it lasted only 10 miles, what normally&nbsp;took&nbsp;35&nbsp;minutes&nbsp;required over 1 ½ hours.&nbsp;

That&nbsp;experience prepared me to face&nbsp;a&nbsp;worse&nbsp;blizzard in the spring of 1986. I dropped our&nbsp;girls at the babysitter’s and drove into heavy snow near Yocemento. I listened to the radio, thinking the superintendent would cancel school. Didn’t happen. Once&nbsp;in my classroom, I&nbsp;began the lesson and watched&nbsp;snow&nbsp;blanket the ground&nbsp;outside. &nbsp;After 1st&nbsp;hour,&nbsp;the&nbsp;vice-principal took over my class and&nbsp;told me to&nbsp;get&nbsp;home&nbsp;to&nbsp;our&nbsp;girls.&nbsp;

It's a good thing,&nbsp;I thought, as&nbsp;I filled&nbsp;my&nbsp;gas tank&nbsp;while&nbsp;listening to thunder. Once&nbsp;on I-70,&nbsp;I expected another&nbsp;tense&nbsp;drive&nbsp;since, again, I&nbsp;couldn’t see&nbsp;pavement.&nbsp;I followed&nbsp;semi&nbsp;tail lights&nbsp;and trusted&nbsp;that the&nbsp;tires&nbsp;rolled over snow-covered&nbsp;asphalt. Three hours later I arrived at the day care in Ellis where I promptly got&nbsp;stuck.

After helpers&nbsp;freed&nbsp;that boat of a&nbsp;green&nbsp;Mercury&nbsp;Marquis, I loaded little girls in car&nbsp;seats,&nbsp;and inched&nbsp;home,&nbsp;where we&nbsp;watched snow drift higher&nbsp;for 3 days.&nbsp;Later,&nbsp;I&nbsp;learned&nbsp;troopers allowed&nbsp;my car and&nbsp;one other on&nbsp;I-70&nbsp;before closing&nbsp;it.&nbsp;Anyone who&nbsp;didn’t make it&nbsp;in time,&nbsp;spent&nbsp;three days&nbsp;snowed in&nbsp;in Hays.&nbsp;

After retiring, I vowed&nbsp;to avoid driving&nbsp;in bad weather,&nbsp;barring&nbsp;emergencies. I’m&nbsp;sure&nbsp;earlier trips over ice, snow,&nbsp;and through&nbsp;heavy rain and tornados frazzled my guardian angels’ nerves. No reason to push matters.&nbsp;I’d rather read or listen to other people’s blizzard stories.

Karen is a retired teacher, writer, photographer, outdoors lover, and
 sixth-generation Kansan. After a time away, she’s glad to be home.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2023/1/1672941871827.jpeg" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>By KAREN MADORINI loved teaching Great Plains novels by&nbsp;regional&nbsp;authors.&nbsp;Over&nbsp;the years,&nbsp;I taught&nbsp;Winter Thunder&nbsp;by Mari Sandoz who grew up on a western Nebraska&nbsp;ranch. Her&nbsp;tale of a bus load of students and their teacher surviving a&nbsp;multi-day&nbsp;blizzard engrossed students.&nbsp;It&nbsp;focused on&nbsp;Nebraska&nbsp;farm&nbsp;kids&nbsp;who&nbsp;survived&nbsp;eight frigid days outdoors after their&nbsp;bus slid off the road and caught&nbsp;fire in the sandhills. Led by their teacher, the&nbsp;group rationed lunches and built shelter&nbsp;from&nbsp;dry&nbsp;brush.&nbsp;While&nbsp;several suffered frostbite, rescuers found them&nbsp;alive.&nbsp;Every time a blizzard blows through western Kansas,&nbsp;it adds another story.&nbsp;I can contribute a couple of my own as can my readers.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/7/1658158605319.jpeg" alt="Karen Madorin" />
 <figcaption>Karen Madorin</figcaption>
 </figure>Currently,&nbsp;weather data&nbsp;floods&nbsp;media&nbsp;for days before storms&nbsp;arrive,&nbsp;making it&nbsp;hard&nbsp;to&nbsp;ignore potential danger.&nbsp;In 1982, however,&nbsp;I left for school&nbsp;believing&nbsp;all was well&nbsp;based on&nbsp;the previous day’s&nbsp;forecast.&nbsp;Besides, I carried&nbsp;a winter emergency kit in my Chevette to sustain me and our infant daughter&nbsp;til help arrived&nbsp;should I slide off the road.&nbsp;Once&nbsp;in&nbsp;McCracken, moisture-laden clouds unleashed&nbsp;flakes that&nbsp;turned&nbsp;the world&nbsp;into&nbsp;a giant snow globe.&nbsp;In short time, our&nbsp;superintendent canceled school.&nbsp;Before heading home,&nbsp;I called my husband, who&nbsp;reported fine&nbsp;weather in Ellis.That changed within a few miles of the Smoky Hill River, barren country for those who haven’t traveled it,&nbsp;when flakes and wind intensified. Once&nbsp;across&nbsp;the&nbsp;bridge, I couldn’t tell&nbsp;where pavement ended and grass began.&nbsp;I reminded myself I had supplies enough we could&nbsp;outlast out the storm.&nbsp;Then I prayed.Plowing snow&nbsp;until the whiteout ended,&nbsp;I&nbsp;breathed a sigh of relief when I&nbsp;spied familiar landmarks. As I drove, I&nbsp;told our baby we’d be okay.&nbsp;While the worst of it lasted only 10 miles, what normally&nbsp;took&nbsp;35&nbsp;minutes&nbsp;required over 1 ½ hours.&nbsp;That&nbsp;experience prepared me to face&nbsp;a&nbsp;worse&nbsp;blizzard in the spring of 1986. I dropped our&nbsp;girls at the babysitter’s and drove into heavy snow near Yocemento. I listened to the radio, thinking the superintendent would cancel school. Didn’t happen. Once&nbsp;in my classroom, I&nbsp;began the lesson and watched&nbsp;snow&nbsp;blanket the ground&nbsp;outside. &nbsp;After 1st&nbsp;hour,&nbsp;the&nbsp;vice-principal took over my class and&nbsp;told me to&nbsp;get&nbsp;home&nbsp;to&nbsp;our&nbsp;girls.&nbsp;It's a good thing,&nbsp;I thought, as&nbsp;I filled&nbsp;my&nbsp;gas tank&nbsp;while&nbsp;listening to thunder. Once&nbsp;on I-70,&nbsp;I expected another&nbsp;tense&nbsp;drive&nbsp;since, again, I&nbsp;couldn’t see&nbsp;pavement.&nbsp;I followed&nbsp;semi&nbsp;tail lights&nbsp;and trusted&nbsp;that the&nbsp;tires&nbsp;rolled over snow-covered&nbsp;asphalt. Three hours later I arrived at the day care in Ellis where I promptly got&nbsp;stuck.After helpers&nbsp;freed&nbsp;that boat of a&nbsp;green&nbsp;Mercury&nbsp;Marquis, I loaded little girls in car&nbsp;seats,&nbsp;and inched&nbsp;home,&nbsp;where we&nbsp;watched snow drift higher&nbsp;for 3 days.&nbsp;Later,&nbsp;I&nbsp;learned&nbsp;troopers allowed&nbsp;my car and&nbsp;one other on&nbsp;I-70&nbsp;before closing&nbsp;it.&nbsp;Anyone who&nbsp;didn’t make it&nbsp;in time,&nbsp;spent&nbsp;three days&nbsp;snowed in&nbsp;in Hays.&nbsp;After retiring, I vowed&nbsp;to avoid driving&nbsp;in bad weather,&nbsp;barring&nbsp;emergencies. I’m&nbsp;sure&nbsp;earlier trips over ice, snow,&nbsp;and through&nbsp;heavy rain and tornados frazzled my guardian angels’ nerves. No reason to push matters.&nbsp;I’d rather read or listen to other people’s blizzard stories.Karen is a retired teacher, writer, photographer, outdoors lover, and
 sixth-generation Kansan. After a time away, she’s glad to be home.

MADORIN: More Great Plains blizzard tales

Once you become a parent, you never really quit being a parent. Any parent of a child with intellectual or developmental disabilities knows that their responsibilities will be extensive long after their son or daughter reaches&nbsp;adulthood.&nbsp;Supporting a&nbsp;child with special needs&nbsp;is&nbsp;often&nbsp;a life-long commitment comprising equal parts unconditional love and unwavering advocacy.&nbsp;

FHSU professor of art and design Amy&nbsp;Schmierbach’s&nbsp;teenage son Lucas has&nbsp;Autism.&nbsp;Amy&nbsp;has spent the better part of the past decade working to make Hays a more inclusive community for children and adults&nbsp;like Lucas.&nbsp;

Amy’s efforts began in 2015&nbsp;as&nbsp;a collaborative art project involving her art students and clients&nbsp;of&nbsp;Disability Services of Northwest Kansas (DSNWK). The artistic medium she chose was weaving. She chose weaving because it didn’t require expensive materials, created little mess, offered great opportunities for dialog and collaboration, and because it involved techniques that didn’t demand a wealth of manual dexterity.&nbsp;

The program grew, even during the pandemic, as Amy moved the sessions online to the Zoom platform. The new format allowed Amy to begin including DSNWK clients&nbsp;from outside the local area. The expanded&nbsp;sessions now also include participants from&nbsp;Victoria, Russell, and as far away as Hoxie.&nbsp;

In 2016, there was a tragic officer-involved shooting death in Hays involving an intellectually disabled young adult. What started as a routine traffic stop quickly escalated into a police pursuit that ended in a physical confrontation. A later investigation confirmed that the officer involved, fearing for his life, acted appropriately in the situation. It was the worst nightmare imaginable for any parent of an intellectually or developmentally disabled child or adult.&nbsp;

Amy believed it was a tragedy that might have been avoided if the police officers involved&nbsp;had&nbsp;understood more about how&nbsp;intellectually and developmentally disabled&nbsp;individuals process and respond to extreme stress. Finding a proactive and purposeful response to address this issue has&nbsp;become&nbsp;a very personal quest.

Fast-forward to 2017, and in a Hays community that was beginning to recover from the tragic events of 2016.&nbsp;Amy&nbsp;thought this might be an appropriate time to share her thoughts on how our community might come together to ensure this kind of tragedy would never happen again. She also knew she would have to be very thoughtful and patient in her approach if her efforts were to yield the positive change she envisioned.

Amy first approached Scott Stults and Sara Biggs, both directors of programs &amp; services at DSNWK, with her idea of expanding her community art project to include first responders. “My goal was to use the collaborative art approach to create friendships, understanding,&nbsp;and empathy among the first responders who, through the nature of their work, are very likely to encounter the disabled at a time of maximum stress,” said Amy.

Scott and Sara suggested Amy take an incremental approach. She began her outreach via a series of emails to local law enforcement, fire, and emergency medical services leaders. The first to respond within a day was Hays Fire Chief Ryan Hagans. Chief Hagans said the Hays Fire Department was all-in.&nbsp;

Ellis County Health Services Director Jason Kennedy responded soon after, expressing great interest as well. Ellis County Sheriff Scott Braun and Hays Police Chief Don&nbsp;Shiebler&nbsp;also joined the initiative rounding out the level of participation Amy, Scott, and Sara once thought would be a reach.

In the spring of 2022, Amy&nbsp;and her Community Engaged Art Class (Art 308)&nbsp;hosted the first of what was to become Amy’s First Responder, Art, Collaboration, Training (FACT) events in the Schmidt Foundation for Art and Design building at FHSU. Each session begins with a one-hour workshop for first responders and FHSU students, where both groups learn about some essential characteristics of the DSNWK clients they will soon meet at the weaving loom.

The workshops&nbsp;provide background information on behaviors first responders are likely to encounter in real-world scenarios involving intellectually and developmentally delayed children and adults. The information she shares includes guidance specific to fire and rescue, EMS, and law enforcement professionals.&nbsp;

After the workshop, it’s time to make personal connections and&nbsp;weave. Each local department typically sends two participants to the event, and three to four weaving teams of first responders, FHSU students, and DSNWK clients man each station loom. Often the experienced weavers-the DSNWK clients- serve as instructors for the novice first responders and students.&nbsp;

Students and first responders often move among the looms and quickly learn that while many clients share common characteristics, they are all every bit&nbsp;as&nbsp;unique as every other human.&nbsp;

“The differences in our clients is significant,”&nbsp;Scott&nbsp;said. “FACT events deliver a powerful educational experience that works both ways.”&nbsp;

“Our clients really look forward to these events,” Scott&nbsp;continued.&nbsp;“They love the socialization and doing things outside their normal routine.” &nbsp;

Many of Scott and Sara’s clients may struggle to express themselves verbally, but the first responders and students quickly learn that they hear and understand what is said to them pretty well. This eye-opening realization alone will undoubtedly come in handy for these first responders the next time they encounter an intellectually or developmentally disabled person in a high-stress situation.&nbsp;

This column was designed to focus stories about the faculty, staff, students, and alumni of FHSU who are personally committed to providing an accessible quality education to Kansas, the&nbsp;nation, and the world through an innovative community of teacher-scholars and professionals to develop engaged global citizen-leaders. There is no better example of an FHSU Tiger living a life of purpose in pursuit of our mission than Amy&nbsp;Schmierbach. &nbsp;

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2019/12/1575301942236.jpeg" alt="Dr. Tisa Mason, FHSU president" />
 <figcaption>Dr. Tisa Mason, FHSU president</figcaption>
 </figure>Once you become a parent, you never really quit being a parent. Any parent of a child with intellectual or developmental disabilities knows that their responsibilities will be extensive long after their son or daughter reaches&nbsp;adulthood.&nbsp;Supporting a&nbsp;child with special needs&nbsp;is&nbsp;often&nbsp;a life-long commitment comprising equal parts unconditional love and unwavering advocacy.&nbsp;FHSU professor of art and design Amy&nbsp;Schmierbach’s&nbsp;teenage son Lucas has&nbsp;Autism.&nbsp;Amy&nbsp;has spent the better part of the past decade working to make Hays a more inclusive community for children and adults&nbsp;like Lucas.&nbsp;Amy’s efforts began in 2015&nbsp;as&nbsp;a collaborative art project involving her art students and clients&nbsp;of&nbsp;Disability Services of Northwest Kansas (DSNWK). The artistic medium she chose was weaving. She chose weaving because it didn’t require expensive materials, created little mess, offered great opportunities for dialog and collaboration, and because it involved techniques that didn’t demand a wealth of manual dexterity.&nbsp;The program grew, even during the pandemic, as Amy moved the sessions online to the Zoom platform. The new format allowed Amy to begin including DSNWK clients&nbsp;from outside the local area. The expanded&nbsp;sessions now also include participants from&nbsp;Victoria, Russell, and as far away as Hoxie.&nbsp;In 2016, there was a tragic officer-involved shooting death in Hays involving an intellectually disabled young adult. What started as a routine traffic stop quickly escalated into a police pursuit that ended in a physical confrontation. A later investigation confirmed that the officer involved, fearing for his life, acted appropriately in the situation. It was the worst nightmare imaginable for any parent of an intellectually or developmentally disabled child or adult.&nbsp;Amy believed it was a tragedy that might have been avoided if the police officers involved&nbsp;had&nbsp;understood more about how&nbsp;intellectually and developmentally disabled&nbsp;individuals process and respond to extreme stress. Finding a proactive and purposeful response to address this issue has&nbsp;become&nbsp;a very personal quest.Fast-forward to 2017, and in a Hays community that was beginning to recover from the tragic events of 2016.&nbsp;Amy&nbsp;thought this might be an appropriate time to share her thoughts on how our community might come together to ensure this kind of tragedy would never happen again. She also knew she would have to be very thoughtful and patient in her approach if her efforts were to yield the positive change she envisioned.Amy first approached Scott Stults and Sara Biggs, both directors of programs &amp; services at DSNWK, with her idea of expanding her community art project to include first responders. “My goal was to use the collaborative art approach to create friendships, understanding,&nbsp;and empathy among the first responders who, through the nature of their work, are very likely to encounter the disabled at a time of maximum stress,” said Amy.Scott and Sara suggested Amy take an incremental approach. She began her outreach via a series of emails to local law enforcement, fire, and emergency medical services leaders. The first to respond within a day was Hays Fire Chief Ryan Hagans. Chief Hagans said the Hays Fire Department was all-in.&nbsp;Ellis County Health Services Director Jason Kennedy responded soon after, expressing great interest as well. Ellis County Sheriff Scott Braun and Hays Police Chief Don&nbsp;Shiebler&nbsp;also joined the initiative rounding out the level of participation Amy, Scott, and Sara once thought would be a reach.In the spring of 2022, Amy&nbsp;and her Community Engaged Art Class (Art 308)&nbsp;hosted the first of what was to become Amy’s First Responder, Art, Collaboration, Training (FACT) events in the Schmidt Foundation for Art and Design building at FHSU. Each session begins with a one-hour workshop for first responders and FHSU students, where both groups learn about some essential characteristics of the DSNWK clients they will soon meet at the weaving loom.The workshops&nbsp;provide background information on behaviors first responders are likely to encounter in real-world scenarios involving intellectually and developmentally delayed children and adults. The information she shares includes guidance specific to fire and rescue, EMS, and law enforcement professionals.&nbsp;After the workshop, it’s time to make personal connections and&nbsp;weave. Each local department typically sends two participants to the event, and three to four weaving teams of first responders, FHSU students, and DSNWK clients man each station loom. Often the experienced weavers-the DSNWK clients- serve as instructors for the novice first responders and students.&nbsp;Students and first responders often move among the looms and quickly learn that while many clients share common characteristics, they are all every bit&nbsp;as&nbsp;unique as every other human.&nbsp;“The differences in our clients is significant,”&nbsp;Scott&nbsp;said. “FACT events deliver a powerful educational experience that works both ways.”&nbsp;“Our clients really look forward to these events,” Scott&nbsp;continued.&nbsp;“They love the socialization and doing things outside their normal routine.” &nbsp;Many of Scott and Sara’s clients may struggle to express themselves verbally, but the first responders and students quickly learn that they hear and understand what is said to them pretty well. This eye-opening realization alone will undoubtedly come in handy for these first responders the next time they encounter an intellectually or developmentally disabled person in a high-stress situation.&nbsp;This column was designed to focus stories about the faculty, staff, students, and alumni of FHSU who are personally committed to providing an accessible quality education to Kansas, the&nbsp;nation, and the world through an innovative community of teacher-scholars and professionals to develop engaged global citizen-leaders. There is no better example of an FHSU Tiger living a life of purpose in pursuit of our mission than Amy&nbsp;Schmierbach. &nbsp;

Heart of a Tiger: Amy Schmierbach’s quest

By KIM BALDWIN McPherson County farmer and rancher We’ve arrived at another intersection of old and new. A time where we say goodbye to one year while also welcoming another. The singing of “Auld Lang Syne” has been sung, well-wishes have been said, and new goals have been declared. This is also a traditional time of reflection. Whether it’s looking back at the best movies watched, the total number of books read, the overall amount of rainfall measured or the number of acres acquired, we all have something to reflect on from the past year.&nbsp; So many of these reflections tend to gravitate toward numbers as the form of official measurement. Understandably, it’s a fairly easy way to look at a specific period of time and determine the wins and losses; the things that worked and the things we learned from during a year. On our farm, we take many numbers and create many charts and graphs to measure a variety of aspects from the year. From fuel prices, household expenditures, rainfall totals, market changes, sales, purchases and so much more. We can and do create visual measurements throughout the year, which allow us to reflect on a variety of areas.&nbsp; To be honest, the visual measurements, while appreciated, sometimes only provide a small glimpse into the overall area being measured and reflected upon. Some of the things we reflect on might highlight one’s strengths or weaknesses or areas for improvement, while other reflections remind us that we have minimal control. If anything, 2022 has reminded me that measurements and assessments don’t always tell a complete story when it comes to reflecting on one’s declared victories or admitted defeats at the end of a year. Numbers might look good and the means of measurement at a given point might suggest an anticipated positive outcome. But if the rain doesn’t fall, or if it falls all at once, or a windstorm blows through, or hail hits, those numbers and outcomes change in an instant. While I generally declare goals at the start of a new year, I have learned over time I won’t have a hard start and stop time with a straight line in between for the sake of measurement. If needed, adjustments will be made along the way based on routine reflections to help me get to where I want to be.&nbsp; And yes, while we have arrived at another intersection of an old year and a new year, we must recognize that there’s traffic coming from multiple directions. In reality, it is how we react and adjust while mindfully reflecting throughout the year which will allow us the opportunity to continue to move forward, getting closer to our ultimate goals.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2019/11/1573617414005.jpeg" alt="Kim Baldwin&nbsp;" />
 <figcaption>Kim Baldwin&nbsp;</figcaption>
 </figure>By KIM BALDWIN McPherson County farmer and rancher We’ve arrived at another intersection of old and new. A time where we say goodbye to one year while also welcoming another. The singing of “Auld Lang Syne” has been sung, well-wishes have been said, and new goals have been declared. This is also a traditional time of reflection. Whether it’s looking back at the best movies watched, the total number of books read, the overall amount of rainfall measured or the number of acres acquired, we all have something to reflect on from the past year.&nbsp; So many of these reflections tend to gravitate toward numbers as the form of official measurement. Understandably, it’s a fairly easy way to look at a specific period of time and determine the wins and losses; the things that worked and the things we learned from during a year. On our farm, we take many numbers and create many charts and graphs to measure a variety of aspects from the year. From fuel prices, household expenditures, rainfall totals, market changes, sales, purchases and so much more. We can and do create visual measurements throughout the year, which allow us to reflect on a variety of areas.&nbsp; To be honest, the visual measurements, while appreciated, sometimes only provide a small glimpse into the overall area being measured and reflected upon. Some of the things we reflect on might highlight one’s strengths or weaknesses or areas for improvement, while other reflections remind us that we have minimal control. If anything, 2022 has reminded me that measurements and assessments don’t always tell a complete story when it comes to reflecting on one’s declared victories or admitted defeats at the end of a year. Numbers might look good and the means of measurement at a given point might suggest an anticipated positive outcome. But if the rain doesn’t fall, or if it falls all at once, or a windstorm blows through, or hail hits, those numbers and outcomes change in an instant. While I generally declare goals at the start of a new year, I have learned over time I won’t have a hard start and stop time with a straight line in between for the sake of measurement. If needed, adjustments will be made along the way based on routine reflections to help me get to where I want to be.&nbsp; And yes, while we have arrived at another intersection of an old year and a new year, we must recognize that there’s traffic coming from multiple directions. In reality, it is how we react and adjust while mindfully reflecting throughout the year which will allow us the opportunity to continue to move forward, getting closer to our ultimate goals."Insight" is a weekly column published by Kansas Farm Bureau, the state's largest farm organization whose mission is to strengthen agriculture and the lives of Kansans through advocacy, education and service.&nbsp;

Kansas Farm Bureau Insight: Routine reflections

September 18, 2004.&nbsp;Bret Fitzpatrick was driving to a farm sale when his truck tire blew out on a two-lane bridge. He lost control of his truck, went into the ditch, hit a power pole, rolled three times, and ended up in the water.&nbsp;

When Fitzpatrick came to, he was in the water and could no longer move his legs. That was the beginning of a long, tough journey for this young man who has found ways to adjust to his challenging life in rural Kansas.&nbsp;

Fitzpatrick grew up near Sterling where his family had a diversified crop and livestock operation. He majored in animal sciences and business at K-State. One summer, he got an internship with a meat processing company in Hutchinson and found he enjoyed meat science and food science work.&nbsp;

After graduation, he was hired as a food scientist in the research and development department. That company is now part of Tyson Foods.&nbsp;

Fitzpatrick met and married his wife who is from Buhler. He worked for Tyson and helped his dad on the farm.&nbsp;

Then the accident occurred. The truck cab was crushed directly behind where Fitzpatrick had been sitting and there were power lines down in the ditch. When he regained consciousness, he was outside the truck and spitting out water.&nbsp;

“I could have been crushed, I could have drowned, I could have been electrocuted, but none of that happened,” he said. A transformer had blown so the electric lines were not live.&nbsp;

Fitzpatrick was flown to Wichita for surgery followed by extensive rehab in Nebraska.&nbsp;&nbsp;He is considered a T-11 paraplegic with a pinched spinal cord.&nbsp;

“I’ve tried not to let it limit me more than necessary,” he said. He returned to work and even works on the farm with his wife and daughter.&nbsp;

In 2009, he was transferred to Tyson corporate headquarters in Arkansas. In 2016, he and his family moved back to the family farm in Kansas where his dad lives. Fitzpatrick continues to work remotely for Tyson and takes care of the cattle. The family maintains a Charolais cowherd and sells purebred bulls.&nbsp;

One day Fitzpatrick was reading a farm magazine and he came across an article about the Kansas AgrAbility project at K-State. “Oh man, I need that,” he said. AgrAbility is a program to assist farmers who are injured or disabled but want to continue in production agriculture.&nbsp;

Fitzpatrick contacted the AgrAbility specialists. They got him in touch with various resources such as the Kansas vocational rehabilitation program, Farm Rescue, and Rise Again.&nbsp;

AgrAbility’s motto is ‘Cultivating Accessible Agriculture.’&nbsp;&nbsp;AgrAbility does not provide direct financial assistance, but can help people find assistive devices to help with farm work, for example.&nbsp;

“I have an electric four-wheel drive wheelchair and a side-by-side and skid steer that I use a lot,” Fitzpatrick said. He has installed remote controlled gates, seat lifts for his trucks, and other assistive technology.&nbsp;

“It’s a whole world of difference,” he said. Remarkably, he continues to travel, hunt and work cattle. “I can run cattle through the chute by myself,” Fitzpatrick said. He actively hunts turkey, pheasant and deer.&nbsp;

There have been plenty of frustrations. Insurance, for example, would only pay for a manual wheelchair, which is impractical on the farm. Out-of-pocket costs for adaptive devices are very expensive.&nbsp;

“I try to find as many ways as I can to do things independently,” Fitzpatrick said. He’s a remarkable person, living near the rural community of Sterling, population 2,248 people.&nbsp;&nbsp;Now, that’s rural.&nbsp;&nbsp;“Working with AgrAbility has been a very, very positive thing,” he said.&nbsp;

“Bret is a great example of how a positive attitude and creativity can make a real difference,” said Tawnie Larson, AgrAbility consultant. “The AgrAbility team that assisted Bret worked hard to find him resources and make sure they worked for him. AgrAbility is here to keep people just like Bret working and enjoying their rural lifestyle through production agriculture.”&nbsp;

For more information, see&nbsp;<a href="http://www.agrability.ksu.edu/">www.agrability.ksu.edu</a>.&nbsp;

We commend Bret Fitzpatrick for meeting these challenges and for sharing his inspirational story with others. Maybe this story can help someone else along the way.&nbsp;

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/12/1671027061951.png" alt="Courtesy K-State Research &amp; Extension" />
 <figcaption>Courtesy K-State Research &amp; Extension</figcaption>
 </figure>By RON WILSON Huck Boyd National Institute for Rural Development&nbsp;September 18, 2004.&nbsp;Bret Fitzpatrick was driving to a farm sale when his truck tire blew out on a two-lane bridge. He lost control of his truck, went into the ditch, hit a power pole, rolled three times, and ended up in the water.&nbsp;When Fitzpatrick came to, he was in the water and could no longer move his legs. That was the beginning of a long, tough journey for this young man who has found ways to adjust to his challenging life in rural Kansas.&nbsp;Fitzpatrick grew up near Sterling where his family had a diversified crop and livestock operation. He majored in animal sciences and business at K-State. One summer, he got an internship with a meat processing company in Hutchinson and found he enjoyed meat science and food science work.&nbsp;After graduation, he was hired as a food scientist in the research and development department. That company is now part of Tyson Foods.&nbsp;Fitzpatrick met and married his wife who is from Buhler. He worked for Tyson and helped his dad on the farm.&nbsp;Then the accident occurred. The truck cab was crushed directly behind where Fitzpatrick had been sitting and there were power lines down in the ditch. When he regained consciousness, he was outside the truck and spitting out water.&nbsp;“I could have been crushed, I could have drowned, I could have been electrocuted, but none of that happened,” he said. A transformer had blown so the electric lines were not live.&nbsp;Fitzpatrick was flown to Wichita for surgery followed by extensive rehab in Nebraska.&nbsp;&nbsp;He is considered a T-11 paraplegic with a pinched spinal cord.&nbsp;“I’ve tried not to let it limit me more than necessary,” he said. He returned to work and even works on the farm with his wife and daughter.&nbsp;In 2009, he was transferred to Tyson corporate headquarters in Arkansas. In 2016, he and his family moved back to the family farm in Kansas where his dad lives. Fitzpatrick continues to work remotely for Tyson and takes care of the cattle. The family maintains a Charolais cowherd and sells purebred bulls.&nbsp;One day Fitzpatrick was reading a farm magazine and he came across an article about the Kansas AgrAbility project at K-State. “Oh man, I need that,” he said. AgrAbility is a program to assist farmers who are injured or disabled but want to continue in production agriculture.&nbsp;Fitzpatrick contacted the AgrAbility specialists. They got him in touch with various resources such as the Kansas vocational rehabilitation program, Farm Rescue, and Rise Again.&nbsp;AgrAbility’s motto is ‘Cultivating Accessible Agriculture.’&nbsp;&nbsp;AgrAbility does not provide direct financial assistance, but can help people find assistive devices to help with farm work, for example.&nbsp;“I have an electric four-wheel drive wheelchair and a side-by-side and skid steer that I use a lot,” Fitzpatrick said. He has installed remote controlled gates, seat lifts for his trucks, and other assistive technology.&nbsp;“It’s a whole world of difference,” he said. Remarkably, he continues to travel, hunt and work cattle. “I can run cattle through the chute by myself,” Fitzpatrick said. He actively hunts turkey, pheasant and deer.&nbsp;There have been plenty of frustrations. Insurance, for example, would only pay for a manual wheelchair, which is impractical on the farm. Out-of-pocket costs for adaptive devices are very expensive.&nbsp;“I try to find as many ways as I can to do things independently,” Fitzpatrick said. He’s a remarkable person, living near the rural community of Sterling, population 2,248 people.&nbsp;&nbsp;Now, that’s rural.&nbsp;&nbsp;“Working with AgrAbility has been a very, very positive thing,” he said.&nbsp;“Bret is a great example of how a positive attitude and creativity can make a real difference,” said Tawnie Larson, AgrAbility consultant. “The AgrAbility team that assisted Bret worked hard to find him resources and make sure they worked for him. AgrAbility is here to keep people just like Bret working and enjoying their rural lifestyle through production agriculture.”&nbsp;For more information, see&nbsp;<a href="http://www.agrability.ksu.edu/">www.agrability.ksu.edu</a>.&nbsp;We commend Bret Fitzpatrick for meeting these challenges and for sharing his inspirational story with others. Maybe this story can help someone else along the way.&nbsp;

Now That’s Rural: Bret Fitzpatrick, AgrAbility 

Submitted We have welcomed a new year. I don’t know about you, but I will not be sad to see 2022 in the rearview mirror. Any way you cut it, last year was tough whether it was the economy or the weather. In many ways, 2023 can only get better. Our sense of optimism is one of the best qualities of agriculture. Each year is a blank slate, a new beginning with endless possibilities. It doesn’t matter how bad the last year might have been, this next one is our year. It is because we are in the business of nurturing new life each year. If we plant crops, we put seeds in the ground with the hope rains will come, the sun will shine and the new growth will break through the soil. We count on two things that we cannot control, rain and sunshine. Yet each year we place a small seed in the soil and hope it will sprout, grow and produce grain. If that does not take faith, hope and optimism, I don’t know what does. If we raise livestock of any species, most of us are responsible for bringing new life into this world. Very little creates more wonder for me than to watch a newborn lamb or calf come into this world. I don’t care how many times I witness the miracle of life; it will never get old. The planning and preparation for that moment was months or even years in the making. All the work, all the waiting is worth it in those first few moments. A sense of optimism and hope abounds with all livestock producers this time of the year. Hope and optimism are inherent to farming and ranching, it is the one thing we all have to have. We approach each year knowing we need to feed a hungry world and to do that we need to have help. There is so much of agriculture that we cannot control, and that makes faith in the future so important. We plan and work hard to do all we can, but in the end, our livelihood comes down to what Mother Nature decides to do. To keep going each year requires a resolve few others understand. That optimism for the future is what keeps each of us going through bad years and disappointments. It is what makes us so special and why we are the backbone of society. No matter the situation, no matter how bad things might get, we move forward with eternal hope and the knowledge things will get better. I hope that this year will send rains at the right time and sunshine when we need it. I hope the crops are bin busters and your livestock are sleek and fat. Most of all I hope this year is a good one. May 2023 bring the best for you with the hope that 2024 is even better.

Glenn Brunkow, Pottawatomie&nbsp;County farmer and rancher

Submitted We have welcomed a new year. I don’t know about you, but I will not be sad to see 2022 in the rearview mirror. Any way you cut it, last year was tough whether it was the economy or the weather. In many ways, 2023 can only get better. Our sense of optimism is one of the best qualities of agriculture. Each year is a blank slate, a new beginning with endless possibilities. It doesn’t matter how bad the last year might have been, this next one is our year. It is because we are in the business of nurturing new life each year. If we plant crops, we put seeds in the ground with the hope rains will come, the sun will shine and the new growth will break through the soil. We count on two things that we cannot control, rain and sunshine. Yet each year we place a small seed in the soil and hope it will sprout, grow and produce grain. If that does not take faith, hope and optimism, I don’t know what does. If we raise livestock of any species, most of us are responsible for bringing new life into this world. Very little creates more wonder for me than to watch a newborn lamb or calf come into this world. I don’t care how many times I witness the miracle of life; it will never get old. The planning and preparation for that moment was months or even years in the making. All the work, all the waiting is worth it in those first few moments. A sense of optimism and hope abounds with all livestock producers this time of the year. Hope and optimism are inherent to farming and ranching, it is the one thing we all have to have. We approach each year knowing we need to feed a hungry world and to do that we need to have help. There is so much of agriculture that we cannot control, and that makes faith in the future so important. We plan and work hard to do all we can, but in the end, our livelihood comes down to what Mother Nature decides to do. To keep going each year requires a resolve few others understand. That optimism for the future is what keeps each of us going through bad years and disappointments. It is what makes us so special and why we are the backbone of society. No matter the situation, no matter how bad things might get, we move forward with eternal hope and the knowledge things will get better. I hope that this year will send rains at the right time and sunshine when we need it. I hope the crops are bin busters and your livestock are sleek and fat. Most of all I hope this year is a good one. May 2023 bring the best for you with the hope that 2024 is even better.Glenn Brunkow, Pottawatomie&nbsp;County farmer and rancher"Insight" is a weekly column published by Kansas Farm Bureau, the state's largest farm organization whose mission is to strengthen agriculture and the lives of Kansans through advocacy, education and service.&nbsp;

Kansas Farm Bureau Insight: Here's to the New Year

As I prepare to retire on Feb. 3, I thought I would use my column space to share some of my “favorite” days as an Extension agent.

	•	Teaching Stay Strong Stay Healthy to well more than 300 older adults during the past 10 years. Folks aged 60-95 have enriched my life as much as I have theirs!

	•	Sharing my expertise related to fermenting sauerkraut or Kimchi with others in Extension, both in Kansas, Iowa and across the country. I have thoroughly enjoyed seeing the excitement in the 59 fermentation workshop participants in Barton and Ellis counties.

	•	Helping Medicare-eligible adults review their prescription drug plan during open enrollment for the past nine years. It is always rewarding when we find a plan that will save someone a significant amount of money.

	•	Kids Ag Day, always on Wednesday after Labor Day, is the perfect chance to share with fourth graders from across the county where their food comes from.

	•	Sharing an Organwise presentation “Healthy from the inside out” with pre-schoolers and first graders. Little ones need to be introduced to what is healthy and what is not.

	•	Teaching “High-speed handwashing” to kids of all ages. 

	•	Watching kids grow up in the 4-H Youth Development program. I have been around long enough that I am meeting the next generation!

	•	Teaching bicycle safety rules to school-agers and promoting safe bicycling to the entire community.

	•	Seeing the 10 fact sheets I have written in the past being published and used by Extension colleagues from around the state and shared with FCE members.

	•	Teaching a sewing workshop for 4-H youth–making pillowcases, backpacks, pajama pants or walker bags to learn life skills. 

	•	Collaborating with partners from across our county, through Be Well Barton County or Central Kansas Partnership. “Many hands really do make light work.”

	•	Developing a positive relationship with the executive board, team members, and YOU throughout my 37- year Extension career. 

As you can see it was hard to narrow my favorite days down to a few. It’s been a good run!

Many of you are asking me who the next district director will be when I retire. The Cottonwood Executive Board will be announcing the next district director/community vitality agent soon. I know you will provide them with opportunities to experience “favorite” days too.

Happy New Year from the Cottonwood District team!

Donna Krug is the District Director and Family and Consumer Science Agent with K-State Research and Extension – Cottonwood District. You may reach her at: 620-793-1910 or dkrug@ksu.edu.

As I prepare to retire on Feb. 3, I thought I would use my column space to share some of my “favorite” days as an Extension agent.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2019/11/1573141404420.png" alt="Donna Krug" />
 <figcaption>Donna Krug</figcaption>
 </figure>	•	Teaching Stay Strong Stay Healthy to well more than 300 older adults during the past 10 years. Folks aged 60-95 have enriched my life as much as I have theirs!	•	Sharing my expertise related to fermenting sauerkraut or Kimchi with others in Extension, both in Kansas, Iowa and across the country. I have thoroughly enjoyed seeing the excitement in the 59 fermentation workshop participants in Barton and Ellis counties.	•	Helping Medicare-eligible adults review their prescription drug plan during open enrollment for the past nine years. It is always rewarding when we find a plan that will save someone a significant amount of money.	•	Kids Ag Day, always on Wednesday after Labor Day, is the perfect chance to share with fourth graders from across the county where their food comes from.	•	Sharing an Organwise presentation “Healthy from the inside out” with pre-schoolers and first graders. Little ones need to be introduced to what is healthy and what is not.	•	Teaching “High-speed handwashing” to kids of all ages. 	•	Watching kids grow up in the 4-H Youth Development program. I have been around long enough that I am meeting the next generation!	•	Teaching bicycle safety rules to school-agers and promoting safe bicycling to the entire community.	•	Seeing the 10 fact sheets I have written in the past being published and used by Extension colleagues from around the state and shared with FCE members.	•	Teaching a sewing workshop for 4-H youth–making pillowcases, backpacks, pajama pants or walker bags to learn life skills. 	•	Collaborating with partners from across our county, through Be Well Barton County or Central Kansas Partnership. “Many hands really do make light work.”	•	Developing a positive relationship with the executive board, team members, and YOU throughout my 37- year Extension career. As you can see it was hard to narrow my favorite days down to a few. It’s been a good run!Many of you are asking me who the next district director will be when I retire. The Cottonwood Executive Board will be announcing the next district director/community vitality agent soon. I know you will provide them with opportunities to experience “favorite” days too.Happy New Year from the Cottonwood District team!Donna Krug is the District Director and Family and Consumer Science Agent with K-State Research and Extension – Cottonwood District. You may reach her at: 620-793-1910 or dkrug@ksu.edu.

KRUG: My favorite days as an Extension agent

With great power comes great responsibility. This phrase has been uttered time and time again and is applicable to a wide range of situations, especially in politics.

On Jan. 9, the state legislature will start its 2023 legislative session. But it’s not a statewide election year, so many Kansans won’t be paying much attention to the events happening in Topeka this spring.

Citizens have the power to choose our government, but we must also pay attention to hold elected officials accountable. With great power comes great responsibility. 

Political efficacy is the belief that citizens can influence politics and government. Most Americans have low political efficacy, which may not be surprising to you based on voter turnout. That is partially due to low levels of trust in government and goes hand-in-hand with low performance satisfaction.

The 2022 Kansas Speaks statewide public opinion survey — run by the Docking Institute of Public Affairs at Fort Hays State University — showed that only about 31 percent of Kansans are very or somewhat satisfied with the overall performance of the Kansas Legislature. 

Generally speaking, citizens with high levels of political efficacy also have higher levels of performance satisfaction. Largely because these citizens often engage in politics above and beyond voting in elections. 

Political science research shows they are more likely to be cognitively engaged — pay attention to political affairs and discuss politics with their friends, for example — and also turn engagement into action by participating in various ways, like contacting their elected officials and attending town hall meetings to make their opinions heard.

In short, engaged citizens have more satisfaction with government because they are able to influence the political system through their participation and are thus more likely to see their preferences carried out into policy.

A foundational piece of political science scholarship — Congress: The Electoral Connection by David Mayhew — dubs elected officials to be “single-minded seekers of re-election”. 

Do elected officials care about the political attitudes of all their constituents? Of course not. They are strategic and only have to care about the plurality of citizens who are going to re-elect them. But this does often mean that those who are the loudest and most participatory — and most organized — disproportionately affect policy debates in the state legislature.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/10/1633377761670.jpeg" alt="Middlewood" />
 <figcaption>Middlewood</figcaption>
 </figure>With great power comes great responsibility. This phrase has been uttered time and time again and is applicable to a wide range of situations, especially in politics.On Jan. 9, the state legislature will start its 2023 legislative session. But it’s not a statewide election year, so many Kansans won’t be paying much attention to the events happening in Topeka this spring.Citizens have the power to choose our government, but we must also pay attention to hold elected officials accountable. With great power comes great responsibility. Political efficacy is the belief that citizens can influence politics and government. Most Americans have low political efficacy, which may not be surprising to you based on voter turnout. That is partially due to low levels of trust in government and goes hand-in-hand with low performance satisfaction.The 2022 Kansas Speaks statewide public opinion survey — run by the Docking Institute of Public Affairs at Fort Hays State University — showed that only about 31 percent of Kansans are very or somewhat satisfied with the overall performance of the Kansas Legislature. Generally speaking, citizens with high levels of political efficacy also have higher levels of performance satisfaction. Largely because these citizens often engage in politics above and beyond voting in elections. Political science research shows they are more likely to be cognitively engaged — pay attention to political affairs and discuss politics with their friends, for example — and also turn engagement into action by participating in various ways, like contacting their elected officials and attending town hall meetings to make their opinions heard.In short, engaged citizens have more satisfaction with government because they are able to influence the political system through their participation and are thus more likely to see their preferences carried out into policy.A foundational piece of political science scholarship — Congress: The Electoral Connection by David Mayhew — dubs elected officials to be “single-minded seekers of re-election”. Do elected officials care about the political attitudes of all their constituents? Of course not. They are strategic and only have to care about the plurality of citizens who are going to re-elect them. But this does often mean that those who are the loudest and most participatory — and most organized — disproportionately affect policy debates in the state legislature.As I wrote in a column last April, for many Kansans, government never does enough to address citizen concerns. They never do it fast enough. And they never do exactly what is wanted, or even needed. Their work is often filled with half-measures and compromises. But if we look closely, there are many examples where we see average people stepping up and pressuring policymakers for change. This spring the state legislature is going to debate a cornucopia of bills; from tax cuts, to “culture war” issues, to the Keystone oil spill in northeast Kansas. Some of which you will support and some of which you won’t.But guess what? You can do something about it. And your state legislator might even listen.So, as you’re making your resolutions for the new year, consider adding some political engagement to the list. Write to your state legislator. Attend a townhall meeting. Plan a march to address an issue that’s important to you.Because with great power comes great responsibility.Alexandra Middlewood, Ph.D. is an assistant professor of political science at Wichita State University.

Opinion