Consistent with conservative wishes when it comes to K-12 education, the 2023 “A Better Way” legislative agenda Kansas Republicans released a few days ago leans toward support for school choice Education Savings Accounts (ESAs).

Any significant upside here is that the legislative process provides plenty of time for the public to voice their own goals for public school improvement.&nbsp;

ESA legislation likely to be introduced in 2023 would allow parents to draw down individual per student state funding to use at a private school or for other educational expenses such as tutoring, transportation or extra-curricular services.&nbsp;

Can providing Kansas taxpayer dollars to parents to spend on their child’s learning be the magic bullet for education or do ESAs drain the Kansas school system of needed resources and nullify the intent of state and federal law?

Kansas already offers a wide array of school choice options for parents—traditional public schools, public charter schools, public magnet schools, private schools, online academies and homeschooling.&nbsp;

Open enrollment, which will go into effect in the 2024-25 school year,&nbsp;will permit any Kansas student to transfer schools based on the receiving school’s capacity.

An ESA is not a 529 education savings account plan, in Kansas called Learning Quest, where parents/anyone can invest their own dollars toward a child’s education.&nbsp; Funds accrued in a 529&nbsp;account can be withdrawn tax-free if used to pay for college or other qualified education expenses including private schools.

The proposed ESA program is similar to voucher programs which originally allowed states to convert the amount of tax dollars going to support a child in public school to vouchers handed directly to parents for use at approved private schools.&nbsp;&nbsp;

The first voucher programs emerged in Southern states, during the 1950s shortly after American schools were desegregated. These vouchers were found unconstitutional by the U. S. Supreme Court in part because of selective-admission private school policies. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;

A resurgence in conservatism and voucher popularity began around 2000 and 15 states now have some form of revised voucher plans often called ESAs. These states’ laws are not uniform. Some limit recipients to high need students.&nbsp; Others allow funds for select learning services beyond private school tuition.&nbsp;&nbsp;

Recent successful lawsuits&nbsp;in&nbsp;Tennessee, South Carolina and&nbsp;Kentucky&nbsp;blocked the diversion of millions of taxpayer dollars from public schools to private school vouchers.

The Education Law Center Public Funds Public Schools tracks challenges to ESAs and found a recently filed New Hampshirelawsuit revealed Amazon as the largest ESA beneficiary in 2021, receiving 18% of funds released to parents.

ESA supporters point to West Virginia, Florida and Arizona as examples where ESAs contribute to student success, but verification is difficult to determine because it is often based on short-term, non-scientific data collection.

There is an enormous difference between parents’ right to choose education for their own children and parents having power to decide where distribution of taxpayer dollars will go.

In Kansas, ESAs may be less about the opportunity for school choice than about shifting taxpayer education dollars to corporate entities and selective-admission private schools.

There are other, better ways to fix problem schools.&nbsp;

Whether it’s rural, suburban or city schools, anytime taxpayer money goes out-the-door to private enterprise, schools lose resources and the American ideal of free public education for all is diminished. &nbsp;

Sharon Hartin Iorio is Dean Emerita Wichita State University College of Education.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2020/7/1593719779701.jpeg" alt="Sharon Hartin Iorio is Dean Emerita Wichita State University College of Education." />
 <figcaption>Sharon Hartin Iorio is Dean Emerita Wichita State University College of Education.</figcaption>
 </figure>Consistent with conservative wishes when it comes to K-12 education, the 2023 “A Better Way” legislative agenda Kansas Republicans released a few days ago leans toward support for school choice Education Savings Accounts (ESAs).Any significant upside here is that the legislative process provides plenty of time for the public to voice their own goals for public school improvement.&nbsp;ESA legislation likely to be introduced in 2023 would allow parents to draw down individual per student state funding to use at a private school or for other educational expenses such as tutoring, transportation or extra-curricular services.&nbsp;<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2019/12/1575913663048.png" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>Can providing Kansas taxpayer dollars to parents to spend on their child’s learning be the magic bullet for education or do ESAs drain the Kansas school system of needed resources and nullify the intent of state and federal law?Kansas already offers a wide array of school choice options for parents—traditional public schools, public charter schools, public magnet schools, private schools, online academies and homeschooling.&nbsp;Open enrollment, which will go into effect in the 2024-25 school year,&nbsp;will permit any Kansas student to transfer schools based on the receiving school’s capacity.An ESA is not a 529 education savings account plan, in Kansas called Learning Quest, where parents/anyone can invest their own dollars toward a child’s education.&nbsp; Funds accrued in a 529&nbsp;account can be withdrawn tax-free if used to pay for college or other qualified education expenses including private schools.The proposed ESA program is similar to voucher programs which originally allowed states to convert the amount of tax dollars going to support a child in public school to vouchers handed directly to parents for use at approved private schools.&nbsp;&nbsp;The first voucher programs emerged in Southern states, during the 1950s shortly after American schools were desegregated. These vouchers were found unconstitutional by the U. S. Supreme Court in part because of selective-admission private school policies. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;A resurgence in conservatism and voucher popularity began around 2000 and 15 states now have some form of revised voucher plans often called ESAs. These states’ laws are not uniform. Some limit recipients to high need students.&nbsp; Others allow funds for select learning services beyond private school tuition.&nbsp;&nbsp;Recent successful lawsuits&nbsp;in&nbsp;Tennessee, South Carolina and&nbsp;Kentucky&nbsp;blocked the diversion of millions of taxpayer dollars from public schools to private school vouchers.The Education Law Center Public Funds Public Schools tracks challenges to ESAs and found a recently filed New Hampshirelawsuit revealed Amazon as the largest ESA beneficiary in 2021, receiving 18% of funds released to parents.ESA supporters point to West Virginia, Florida and Arizona as examples where ESAs contribute to student success, but verification is difficult to determine because it is often based on short-term, non-scientific data collection.There is an enormous difference between parents’ right to choose education for their own children and parents having power to decide where distribution of taxpayer dollars will go.In Kansas, ESAs may be less about the opportunity for school choice than about shifting taxpayer education dollars to corporate entities and selective-admission private schools.There are other, better ways to fix problem schools.&nbsp;Whether it’s rural, suburban or city schools, anytime taxpayer money goes out-the-door to private enterprise, schools lose resources and the American ideal of free public education for all is diminished. &nbsp;Sharon Hartin Iorio is Dean Emerita Wichita State University College of Education.

INSIGHT KANSAS: Can Education Savings Accounts be a better way?

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

That statement from a young woman’s three-year old daughter helped launch a business of producing handmade soaps and other skin care products in rural Kansas.&nbsp;

Dixie Pachta is founder and owner of Rose Creek Suds. Her products not only avoid the allergic reactions suffered by her daughter, they provide the wonderful scents and luxurious lather that her customers enjoy. She also supports worthy local causes.&nbsp;

Pachta grew up in the Linn and Washington area. She met and married Andrew who is from Linn. They attended Kansas State University where Dixie studied accounting and Andrew studied animal sciences.&nbsp;&nbsp;

After graduation, they moved to Andrew’s grandparents’ farm near the rural community of Munden, population 96 people. Now, that’s rural. For 10 years, Dixie Pachta worked in tax preparation and now does internal audits for a bank in Belleville.&nbsp;

At Christmas time in 2020, Andrew bought a bar of soap that he thought sounded appealing. “We were disappointed in it,” Dixie said. She remembered her grandmother had made soap at home, so Dixie decided to see if she could make a better soap herself.&nbsp;

“Both of our grandmothers made lard soap for laundry purposes,” Dixie said. “We still have chunks of her laundry soap.” Dixie also knew that several members of her family had issues with sensitive skin.&nbsp;

Dixie Pachta researched the process of making soap by hand and gave it a try. When her three-year old daughter used the soap and found that it didn’t sting her hands like the store products did, Dixie knew she was on the right track. Soon, friends and family members wanted the products, so Dixie started a business venture.&nbsp;

Because they live on Rose Creek, she named the business Rose Creek Suds. Today, Rose Creek Suds produces handmade soaps and other products, such as candles, wax melts, face mists and sugar scrubs.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;

The key base product for many of her soaps is lard, as pioneer women used more than a century ago. “Lard soap is more creamy and it’s especially good for extra sensitive skin,” Dixie said. One of their family members raised hogs as a 4-H project so the Pachtas were able to access lard directly.&nbsp;

“I add various scents and castor oil and coconut oil for more bubbles,” Dixie said. In January 2021, she began taking her products to craft shows. Her products are sold locally and online, and have gone as far away as Florida, Canada, and Australia.&nbsp;

“I love to experiment,” Dixie said. “What can I use to make it smell better or have a smoother lather?” Her Lumberyard soap and scents with cedar, lavender and musk have been really popular with guys.&nbsp;

One day a friend of Dixie’s gave her a supply of glass jars for recycling, but Dixie wasn’t sure what to do with them. Then Dixie learned about her nephew’s friend who was having many challenges.&nbsp;

He was an eighth-grade boy who came to the U.S. from Bulgaria and spoke no English.&nbsp;&nbsp;The boy was in the process of being adopted by a local pastor’s family when he started having a sinus infection – not realizing that the very serious infection was going into his brain.&nbsp;

“His adoption was finalized in adoption court one morning, and by midnight of that day, he was having his brain operated on at Children’s Mercy,” Dixie said. The boy is now recuperating and is getting fitted with a skullcap.&nbsp;

Dixie decided to use those glass jars to make a special product to sell as a fundraiser to help with this young man’s medical expenses. These are candles with a red, white, and blue design, using the scents of Roarin’ Raspberry, Whistlin’ Wicks, and Bloomin’ Blueberry.&nbsp;

The product is called Red, White, and Believin.’ “I’m willing to make special products for other fundraisers too,” Dixie said.&nbsp;

For more information, go to&nbsp;<a href="http://www.rosecreeksuds.com/">www.rosecreeksuds.com</a>.&nbsp;

“Mommy, it doesn’t sting!”&nbsp;&nbsp;That comment from her daughter helped this young mother realize that her product was healthy as well as enjoyable. We commend Dixie Pachta for making a difference with Rose Creek Suds.&nbsp;

Her potential success works me into a lather.&nbsp;

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2023/1/1674050223164.png" alt="Courtesy K-State Extension" />
 <figcaption>Courtesy K-State Extension</figcaption>
 </figure>By RON WILSON Huck Boyd National Institute for Rural Development&nbsp;“Mommy, it doesn’t sting!”&nbsp;That statement from a young woman’s three-year old daughter helped launch a business of producing handmade soaps and other skin care products in rural Kansas.&nbsp;Dixie Pachta is founder and owner of Rose Creek Suds. Her products not only avoid the allergic reactions suffered by her daughter, they provide the wonderful scents and luxurious lather that her customers enjoy. She also supports worthy local causes.&nbsp;Pachta grew up in the Linn and Washington area. She met and married Andrew who is from Linn. They attended Kansas State University where Dixie studied accounting and Andrew studied animal sciences.&nbsp;&nbsp;After graduation, they moved to Andrew’s grandparents’ farm near the rural community of Munden, population 96 people. Now, that’s rural. For 10 years, Dixie Pachta worked in tax preparation and now does internal audits for a bank in Belleville.&nbsp;At Christmas time in 2020, Andrew bought a bar of soap that he thought sounded appealing. “We were disappointed in it,” Dixie said. She remembered her grandmother had made soap at home, so Dixie decided to see if she could make a better soap herself.&nbsp;“Both of our grandmothers made lard soap for laundry purposes,” Dixie said. “We still have chunks of her laundry soap.” Dixie also knew that several members of her family had issues with sensitive skin.&nbsp;Dixie Pachta researched the process of making soap by hand and gave it a try. When her three-year old daughter used the soap and found that it didn’t sting her hands like the store products did, Dixie knew she was on the right track. Soon, friends and family members wanted the products, so Dixie started a business venture.&nbsp;Because they live on Rose Creek, she named the business Rose Creek Suds. Today, Rose Creek Suds produces handmade soaps and other products, such as candles, wax melts, face mists and sugar scrubs.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The key base product for many of her soaps is lard, as pioneer women used more than a century ago. “Lard soap is more creamy and it’s especially good for extra sensitive skin,” Dixie said. One of their family members raised hogs as a 4-H project so the Pachtas were able to access lard directly.&nbsp;“I add various scents and castor oil and coconut oil for more bubbles,” Dixie said. In January 2021, she began taking her products to craft shows. Her products are sold locally and online, and have gone as far away as Florida, Canada, and Australia.&nbsp;“I love to experiment,” Dixie said. “What can I use to make it smell better or have a smoother lather?” Her Lumberyard soap and scents with cedar, lavender and musk have been really popular with guys.&nbsp;One day a friend of Dixie’s gave her a supply of glass jars for recycling, but Dixie wasn’t sure what to do with them. Then Dixie learned about her nephew’s friend who was having many challenges.&nbsp;He was an eighth-grade boy who came to the U.S. from Bulgaria and spoke no English.&nbsp;&nbsp;The boy was in the process of being adopted by a local pastor’s family when he started having a sinus infection – not realizing that the very serious infection was going into his brain.&nbsp;“His adoption was finalized in adoption court one morning, and by midnight of that day, he was having his brain operated on at Children’s Mercy,” Dixie said. The boy is now recuperating and is getting fitted with a skullcap.&nbsp;Dixie decided to use those glass jars to make a special product to sell as a fundraiser to help with this young man’s medical expenses. These are candles with a red, white, and blue design, using the scents of Roarin’ Raspberry, Whistlin’ Wicks, and Bloomin’ Blueberry.&nbsp;The product is called Red, White, and Believin.’ “I’m willing to make special products for other fundraisers too,” Dixie said.&nbsp;For more information, go to&nbsp;<a href="http://www.rosecreeksuds.com/">www.rosecreeksuds.com</a>.&nbsp;“Mommy, it doesn’t sting!”&nbsp;&nbsp;That comment from her daughter helped this young mother realize that her product was healthy as well as enjoyable. We commend Dixie Pachta for making a difference with Rose Creek Suds.&nbsp;Her potential success works me into a lather.&nbsp;

Now That’s Rural:  Dixie Pachta, Rose Creek Suds 

I like to start my day reading “Light’s Daily Dose.”&nbsp;Author Light Watkins’&nbsp;daily&nbsp;message is short and impactful. The other day, as I was thinking about new year’s resolutions&nbsp;– the hopes&nbsp;and aspirations&nbsp;for each new year.&nbsp;I was&nbsp;inspired&nbsp;by&nbsp;a&nbsp;Light’s&nbsp;Daily Dose&nbsp;email&nbsp;entitled, “Be that person.”

It begins with Light sharing a tweet from an author named Clint Smith. It said, “One of the reasons I’m a writer today is because I had a&nbsp;teacher in&nbsp;third-&nbsp;grade who looked at my poem about clouds&nbsp;and said, “you can be a writer when you grow up.” Powerful words of inspiration and aspiration.

I smiled and thought&nbsp;immediately about the people&nbsp;in my life who encouraged&nbsp;me. And I thoughtabout the truly remarkable ethic of care that guides this university. It is exactly why our strategic plan is named “Unlocking Untapped Potential.”&nbsp;

Take,&nbsp;for example,&nbsp;this letter written to a freshman seminar instructor by Logan – a May 2018 graduate. And I know in my heart the&nbsp;inspiring message that was the&nbsp;essence of this letter could have been written to anyone at Fort Hays State&nbsp;University:

I just wanted to reach out to let you know that I am doing well. My life is busier and fuller than I ever could have imagined. And through it all, I have never forgotten what you did for me. During freshman seminar, we took a self-evaluation quiz. Afterwards, I met with you in your office, where we learned that the evaluation gave me a 25% chance of ever earning a college degree. I was devastated. Until I heard your response: ‘That’s a bunch of BS.’&nbsp;

Those words gave me motivation like you wouldn’t believe. You gave me confidence that I could actually graduate. You even gave me a graduation tassel to keep me focused on that goal.&nbsp;This past May, I received a Bachelor of Science degree in Geology, a minor in Business Administration, and a certificate in Geographic Information Systems.

I never thought I would be half as successful as I have already been, and each time I achieve something new in my career, the first thing I think of is my time at FHSU, sitting in your office, scared that I would never graduate. I think of the motivation and confidence you provided that put me in the position I am in today. That graduation tassel still hangs on my wall as a reminder of all the opportunities I had because you invested in me. &nbsp;

Hearing these testimonies to our university’s&nbsp;ethic of care never gets old. I savor each remarkable&nbsp;story&nbsp;as my heart basks in gratitude for this community&nbsp;and&nbsp;our&nbsp;relentless&nbsp;focus on&nbsp;creating a&nbsp;university&nbsp;with a level of personalized care that connects deeply and sincerely&nbsp;and seeks to lift others&nbsp;up.

As Light wrote, “the world is full of folks discouraging, criticizing, and snuffing out dreams and hopes in the name of being realistic. But it can always use more people who encourage and inspire.”&nbsp;

I cannot think of a better way to lead forward into 2023 than to&nbsp;resolve to&nbsp;be a force for good&nbsp;in the lives of&nbsp;all who cross our paths&nbsp;this year.&nbsp;Won’t you join me to be that person for someone today?

<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>I like to start my day reading “Light’s Daily Dose.”&nbsp;Author Light Watkins’&nbsp;daily&nbsp;message is short and impactful. The other day, as I was thinking about new year’s resolutions&nbsp;– the hopes&nbsp;and aspirations&nbsp;for each new year.&nbsp;I was&nbsp;inspired&nbsp;by&nbsp;a&nbsp;Light’s&nbsp;Daily Dose&nbsp;email&nbsp;entitled, “Be that person.”It begins with Light sharing a tweet from an author named Clint Smith. It said, “One of the reasons I’m a writer today is because I had a&nbsp;teacher in&nbsp;third-&nbsp;grade who looked at my poem about clouds&nbsp;and said, “you can be a writer when you grow up.” Powerful words of inspiration and aspiration.I smiled and thought&nbsp;immediately about the people&nbsp;in my life who encouraged&nbsp;me. And I thoughtabout the truly remarkable ethic of care that guides this university. It is exactly why our strategic plan is named “Unlocking Untapped Potential.”&nbsp;Take,&nbsp;for example,&nbsp;this letter written to a freshman seminar instructor by Logan – a May 2018 graduate. And I know in my heart the&nbsp;inspiring message that was the&nbsp;essence of this letter could have been written to anyone at Fort Hays State&nbsp;University:I just wanted to reach out to let you know that I am doing well. My life is busier and fuller than I ever could have imagined. And through it all, I have never forgotten what you did for me. During freshman seminar, we took a self-evaluation quiz. Afterwards, I met with you in your office, where we learned that the evaluation gave me a 25% chance of ever earning a college degree. I was devastated. Until I heard your response: ‘That’s a bunch of BS.’&nbsp;Those words gave me motivation like you wouldn’t believe. You gave me confidence that I could actually graduate. You even gave me a graduation tassel to keep me focused on that goal.&nbsp;This past May, I received a Bachelor of Science degree in Geology, a minor in Business Administration, and a certificate in Geographic Information Systems.I never thought I would be half as successful as I have already been, and each time I achieve something new in my career, the first thing I think of is my time at FHSU, sitting in your office, scared that I would never graduate. I think of the motivation and confidence you provided that put me in the position I am in today. That graduation tassel still hangs on my wall as a reminder of all the opportunities I had because you invested in me. &nbsp;Hearing these testimonies to our university’s&nbsp;ethic of care never gets old. I savor each remarkable&nbsp;story&nbsp;as my heart basks in gratitude for this community&nbsp;and&nbsp;our&nbsp;relentless&nbsp;focus on&nbsp;creating a&nbsp;university&nbsp;with a level of personalized care that connects deeply and sincerely&nbsp;and seeks to lift others&nbsp;up.As Light wrote, “the world is full of folks discouraging, criticizing, and snuffing out dreams and hopes in the name of being realistic. But it can always use more people who encourage and inspire.”&nbsp;I cannot think of a better way to lead forward into 2023 than to&nbsp;resolve to&nbsp;be a force for good&nbsp;in the lives of&nbsp;all who cross our paths&nbsp;this year.&nbsp;Won’t you join me to be that person for someone today?

Heart of a Tiger: Be that person

Greg Doering, Kansas Farm Bureau Kansas Farm Bureau had a good 2022 as evidenced by the Pinnacle and New Horizon awards it received at the American Farm Bureau’s 104th convention recently. The Pinnacle award is the highest honor a state Farm Bureau can earn for program and membership achievement. KFB received the New Horizon award, which highlights innovative new programs, for the Casten Fellows Program, developed to honor the life of staffer Jill Casten-Downing through leadership development and international travel. The honors are well deserved, and it’s nice to take a few minutes to appreciate the amount of work required to go from the initial idea to implementation and execution. The destination is important, but so is the journey. There’s no shortage of challenges today in agriculture, as evidenced by just some of the ongoing work from last year, like KFB’s End Hunger campaign to ensure all our state’s residents have access to the food they need. From Sept. 1 to Dec. 31, individuals and businesses contributed more than $50,000 toward the campaign. That money will go to innovative programs run by county Farm Bureaus to address the needs they’ve identified locally. By no way is this problem solved, but progress is being made. Next year’s goal is to raise $75,000. Another ongoing project includes KFB’s purchase of Shop Kansas Farms (SKF) which allows our farm and ranch members to reach consumers in a new way. SKF founder Rick McNary is also helping communities develop local food systems to capture the full economic value from farm gates to dinner plates. Announced late last year, the Rural Kansas Apprenticeship Program will really get rolling in 2023 as the state’s first ever initiative to match agriculturists and rural business owners with a structured plan to train and retain employees. It’s not a silver bullet for the lack of help available in rural areas, but it’s the beginning of addressing a skills gap to meet our current and future workforce needs. As always, KFB will continue to ensure the voices of farmers and ranchers are heard in Topeka with a special focus on three topics: water, taxes and broadband. KFB will continue to support the basic tenets of Kansas water law, which have provided our members the ability to plan, invest and defend their private property rights for decades. KFB policy also supports the development of a Kansas Water Plan, either through the state general fund or dedicated statewide revenue sources. Any redesign of tax structures comes with the potential to shift taxes from one source to another with significant consequences. KFB will continue to steadfastly advocate for the constitutionally required use-value system that accurately and appropriately values agricultural lands and provides stable tax revenues to local units of government. Agricultural operations are businesses, and they should receive fair and equal tax treatment as it pertains to sales tax exemptions. Access to a vibrant, high-speed broadband network is essential to the future of both rural and urban Kansas. Statewide broadband deployment will provide new opportunities for the delivery of healthcare, education, entertainment, business development and enhance the capabilities of precision agriculture. Efforts by the state to facilitate telecommunications connectivity throughout Kansas should consider the technology-dependent nature of the agriculture industry, and its significant impact on the Kansas economy. For those paying attention, this isn’t a new list, and there’s a good chance it will be similar in 2024. There will be advancements on some fronts and setbacks on others. The key is stick to your priorities and have the patience to withstand the mundane and incremental nature of progress.

"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/2019/11/1574694551876.png" alt="Greg Doering&nbsp;" />
 <figcaption>Greg Doering&nbsp;</figcaption>
 </figure>Greg Doering, Kansas Farm Bureau Kansas Farm Bureau had a good 2022 as evidenced by the Pinnacle and New Horizon awards it received at the American Farm Bureau’s 104th convention recently. The Pinnacle award is the highest honor a state Farm Bureau can earn for program and membership achievement. KFB received the New Horizon award, which highlights innovative new programs, for the Casten Fellows Program, developed to honor the life of staffer Jill Casten-Downing through leadership development and international travel. The honors are well deserved, and it’s nice to take a few minutes to appreciate the amount of work required to go from the initial idea to implementation and execution. The destination is important, but so is the journey. There’s no shortage of challenges today in agriculture, as evidenced by just some of the ongoing work from last year, like KFB’s End Hunger campaign to ensure all our state’s residents have access to the food they need. From Sept. 1 to Dec. 31, individuals and businesses contributed more than $50,000 toward the campaign. That money will go to innovative programs run by county Farm Bureaus to address the needs they’ve identified locally. By no way is this problem solved, but progress is being made. Next year’s goal is to raise $75,000. Another ongoing project includes KFB’s purchase of Shop Kansas Farms (SKF) which allows our farm and ranch members to reach consumers in a new way. SKF founder Rick McNary is also helping communities develop local food systems to capture the full economic value from farm gates to dinner plates. Announced late last year, the Rural Kansas Apprenticeship Program will really get rolling in 2023 as the state’s first ever initiative to match agriculturists and rural business owners with a structured plan to train and retain employees. It’s not a silver bullet for the lack of help available in rural areas, but it’s the beginning of addressing a skills gap to meet our current and future workforce needs. As always, KFB will continue to ensure the voices of farmers and ranchers are heard in Topeka with a special focus on three topics: water, taxes and broadband. KFB will continue to support the basic tenets of Kansas water law, which have provided our members the ability to plan, invest and defend their private property rights for decades. KFB policy also supports the development of a Kansas Water Plan, either through the state general fund or dedicated statewide revenue sources. Any redesign of tax structures comes with the potential to shift taxes from one source to another with significant consequences. KFB will continue to steadfastly advocate for the constitutionally required use-value system that accurately and appropriately values agricultural lands and provides stable tax revenues to local units of government. Agricultural operations are businesses, and they should receive fair and equal tax treatment as it pertains to sales tax exemptions. Access to a vibrant, high-speed broadband network is essential to the future of both rural and urban Kansas. Statewide broadband deployment will provide new opportunities for the delivery of healthcare, education, entertainment, business development and enhance the capabilities of precision agriculture. Efforts by the state to facilitate telecommunications connectivity throughout Kansas should consider the technology-dependent nature of the agriculture industry, and its significant impact on the Kansas economy. For those paying attention, this isn’t a new list, and there’s a good chance it will be similar in 2024. There will be advancements on some fronts and setbacks on others. The key is stick to your priorities and have the patience to withstand the mundane and incremental nature of progress."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: 2023 priorities for agriculture

One of the many fond memories I have growing up as an Ohio farm kid was of something called John Deere Days. Back in my generation, local farm equipment dealerships were small and as numerous as ice cream flavors. John Deere Days was an annual winter event, about this time each year, where all John Deere dealerships in Ohio (and maybe nationwide) circulated a film (now do you realize how long ago that was) that depicted unusual and often unheard-of farming operations around the country and around the world. These were interspersed with clips that high-lighted all the new John Deere farm machinery for the year, like combines with cabs and massive twelve-foot headers…YIKES! Of course, the evening began with ham sandwiches and potato chips before the film.&nbsp;

The odd and extraordinary farming operations included stork farming in Europe (without storks, where would babies come from), mouse farming in Minnesota (yes, there are people who actually raise mice on purpose), worm farming in Canada, and my all-time favorite, alligator farming in Florida. The farmer harvested eggs from nesting alligators, hatched them in an incubator then moved the growing reptiles into concrete pens. Eventually they were harvested for their meat and hide a few years later; akin to how ranchers in the Midwest run cow-calf operations, only with beasts that could take-off your hand or foot, leaving it impossible for you to ever get back on a horse. The interesting part was how the farmer interacted with his “breeding herd.”

So, picture this; the segment began with the farmer bouncing along in an old 1950 something pickup and ended up parked on the bank overlooking a big swamp/pond. He got out and climbed into the bed of the pickup (amazingly he still had all four limbs) and began rattling around metal containers. By now we were all wondering what in tarnation he was doing, when out-of-nowhere the swamp water began boiling with six- and eight-foot-long alligators as they crawled out of the water and swarmed around the truck like a bunch of herd cows. He tossed them fish like a rancher tossing range cubes of hay slices to a bunch of heifers, then they each filled their mouth and slipped back into the water. He climbed back into the cab and drove off.

Here are the problems my twisted and pessimistic mind sees with this. Harvesting alligator eggs means “robbing” gator nests, plain and simple, and knowing my luck, I’d find the one momma alligator that was a “prepper” and living unseen underground with her eggs; you see the problem there? I’d dig into the nest and become lunch.

Next problem would involve the feeding process. As my luck goes, my “herd” would have that one momma that could eat fish faster than I could chuck them at her and she’d never have to get back into the pond, leaving me stuck in the back of the pickup. By then the others would be coming back for seconds and I’d be out of fish. Remember these were pre-cell phone days, so my only hope would be that my family actually missed me when I didn’t show up for dinner (which would be debatable) and they’d eventually find me curled up on the roof of the pickup, ghost-white and hypothermic.

Anyway, I guess that farmer had all those issues figured out, as do the alligator ranchers of today. But call me old fashioned, it’s just that I’d rather raise something that I could reach through the fence and scratch now and then without fear of having my arm removed in return…continue to Explore Kansas Outdoors.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2019/11/1574696211722.png" alt="Steve&nbsp;Gilliland" />
 <figcaption>Steve&nbsp;Gilliland</figcaption>
 </figure>One of the many fond memories I have growing up as an Ohio farm kid was of something called John Deere Days. Back in my generation, local farm equipment dealerships were small and as numerous as ice cream flavors. John Deere Days was an annual winter event, about this time each year, where all John Deere dealerships in Ohio (and maybe nationwide) circulated a film (now do you realize how long ago that was) that depicted unusual and often unheard-of farming operations around the country and around the world. These were interspersed with clips that high-lighted all the new John Deere farm machinery for the year, like combines with cabs and massive twelve-foot headers…YIKES! Of course, the evening began with ham sandwiches and potato chips before the film.&nbsp;The odd and extraordinary farming operations included stork farming in Europe (without storks, where would babies come from), mouse farming in Minnesota (yes, there are people who actually raise mice on purpose), worm farming in Canada, and my all-time favorite, alligator farming in Florida. The farmer harvested eggs from nesting alligators, hatched them in an incubator then moved the growing reptiles into concrete pens. Eventually they were harvested for their meat and hide a few years later; akin to how ranchers in the Midwest run cow-calf operations, only with beasts that could take-off your hand or foot, leaving it impossible for you to ever get back on a horse. The interesting part was how the farmer interacted with his “breeding herd.”So, picture this; the segment began with the farmer bouncing along in an old 1950 something pickup and ended up parked on the bank overlooking a big swamp/pond. He got out and climbed into the bed of the pickup (amazingly he still had all four limbs) and began rattling around metal containers. By now we were all wondering what in tarnation he was doing, when out-of-nowhere the swamp water began boiling with six- and eight-foot-long alligators as they crawled out of the water and swarmed around the truck like a bunch of herd cows. He tossed them fish like a rancher tossing range cubes of hay slices to a bunch of heifers, then they each filled their mouth and slipped back into the water. He climbed back into the cab and drove off.Here are the problems my twisted and pessimistic mind sees with this. Harvesting alligator eggs means “robbing” gator nests, plain and simple, and knowing my luck, I’d find the one momma alligator that was a “prepper” and living unseen underground with her eggs; you see the problem there? I’d dig into the nest and become lunch.Next problem would involve the feeding process. As my luck goes, my “herd” would have that one momma that could eat fish faster than I could chuck them at her and she’d never have to get back into the pond, leaving me stuck in the back of the pickup. By then the others would be coming back for seconds and I’d be out of fish. Remember these were pre-cell phone days, so my only hope would be that my family actually missed me when I didn’t show up for dinner (which would be debatable) and they’d eventually find me curled up on the roof of the pickup, ghost-white and hypothermic.Anyway, I guess that farmer had all those issues figured out, as do the alligator ranchers of today. But call me old fashioned, it’s just that I’d rather raise something that I could reach through the fence and scratch now and then without fear of having my arm removed in return…continue to Explore Kansas Outdoors.

Exploring Outdoors Kansas: Farming, Everglades style

Partly this is because it’s not entirely accurate. The state’s population of 2.9 million is concentrated in the cities and suburbs of the Topeka-Lawrence-Kansas City nexus, with nearly 1.2 million Kansans spread across only five counties. Add to that the city of Wichita’s nearly 400K residents, and you have over half the population of the entire state accounted for. Meanwhile the 2020 census shows that 80 of Kansas’s 105 countries, nearly all of them rural, are losing population. Despite the images, stories, and songs invoked by our farms, pastures, and rural highways, the great majority of Kansans today are urbanites, and that likely won’t change.

This reality mostly isn’t reflected in our legislature, of course. Though Kansas’s urban areas have become more Democratic in their voting habits—three Johnson County state house seats held by Republicans flipped last November—the state’s long-standing district-based election patterns have long helped Republicans maintain dominance in most areas lacking in population density or demographic diversity, which describes those dozens of shrinking counties quite well. So even as Kansas’s population moves to the cities—and those city votes definitely add up when counted state-wide; remember Governor Kelly came out ahead in only 8 counties, but still won—its representative bodies remain heavily tilted towards mostly rural Republican voices.

One might assume that would mean rural concerns are the Republicans’ major focus. But that’s the other part of the reason: the Kansas GOP’s support for rural interests, despite the huge support they receive from those small and distant communities, is mixed at best.

There is some support there, to be sure. But addressing the problems of long-term population and economic decline are difficult, while following the culture war agenda of the national Republican party and its donors, and filing the bills which their interest groups write, is easy.

Leave aside the benefits Medicaid expansion would bring to rural Kansas; that the Republican leadership refuses to move forward with something supported by 70% of Kansans is by now an old story. Consider instead other issues: a water crisis driving ever more of the already shrinking number of farmers to sell out to bigger corporate actors; a housing crisis making it difficult for those trying to start a business or get by on a fixed income to stay in their hometowns; a lack of broad-band access, child-care resources, or support for school maintenance; and more.

These are complicated problems, requiring patient investment and difficult compromises. The decade-plus of effort the legislature has put into establishing “local enhanced management areas” in western Kansas, supporting farmers in cutting back on irrigation, is a good example, one that has shown some real success in protecting the High Plains Aquifer. By contrast, there are those who present, say, ideologically charged promises of school choice—which is irrelevant to a farm town just trying to save its high school—or legislation designed to lure financial interests to rural Kansas—which shows more hope in fees from global high-rollers than in the state budget--as their preferred solutions, rather than taking on this complicated, usually unsexy work.

So long as the minority of rural voters in Kansas can dominate the legislature, they should at least expect their concerns to be addressed seriously. This year, hopefully rural Republicans will see less of their representatives’ time consumed less by imagined threats like the occasional transgender athlete or non-existent Marxist schoolbooks, and more by the hard task of helping their patient rural supporters out.

Dr. Russell Arben Fox teaches politics in Wichita.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2020/3/1583339056495.jpeg" alt="Russell Fox" />
 <figcaption>Russell Fox</figcaption>
 </figure>Kansas’s rural identity is struggling.Partly this is because it’s not entirely accurate. The state’s population of 2.9 million is concentrated in the cities and suburbs of the Topeka-Lawrence-Kansas City nexus, with nearly 1.2 million Kansans spread across only five counties. Add to that the city of Wichita’s nearly 400K residents, and you have over half the population of the entire state accounted for. Meanwhile the 2020 census shows that 80 of Kansas’s 105 countries, nearly all of them rural, are losing population. Despite the images, stories, and songs invoked by our farms, pastures, and rural highways, the great majority of Kansans today are urbanites, and that likely won’t change.This reality mostly isn’t reflected in our legislature, of course. Though Kansas’s urban areas have become more Democratic in their voting habits—three Johnson County state house seats held by Republicans flipped last November—the state’s long-standing district-based election patterns have long helped Republicans maintain dominance in most areas lacking in population density or demographic diversity, which describes those dozens of shrinking counties quite well. So even as Kansas’s population moves to the cities—and those city votes definitely add up when counted state-wide; remember Governor Kelly came out ahead in only 8 counties, but still won—its representative bodies remain heavily tilted towards mostly rural Republican voices.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2019/12/1575913663048.png" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>One might assume that would mean rural concerns are the Republicans’ major focus. But that’s the other part of the reason: the Kansas GOP’s support for rural interests, despite the huge support they receive from those small and distant communities, is mixed at best.There is some support there, to be sure. But addressing the problems of long-term population and economic decline are difficult, while following the culture war agenda of the national Republican party and its donors, and filing the bills which their interest groups write, is easy.Leave aside the benefits Medicaid expansion would bring to rural Kansas; that the Republican leadership refuses to move forward with something supported by 70% of Kansans is by now an old story. Consider instead other issues: a water crisis driving ever more of the already shrinking number of farmers to sell out to bigger corporate actors; a housing crisis making it difficult for those trying to start a business or get by on a fixed income to stay in their hometowns; a lack of broad-band access, child-care resources, or support for school maintenance; and more.These are complicated problems, requiring patient investment and difficult compromises. The decade-plus of effort the legislature has put into establishing “local enhanced management areas” in western Kansas, supporting farmers in cutting back on irrigation, is a good example, one that has shown some real success in protecting the High Plains Aquifer. By contrast, there are those who present, say, ideologically charged promises of school choice—which is irrelevant to a farm town just trying to save its high school—or legislation designed to lure financial interests to rural Kansas—which shows more hope in fees from global high-rollers than in the state budget--as their preferred solutions, rather than taking on this complicated, usually unsexy work.So long as the minority of rural voters in Kansas can dominate the legislature, they should at least expect their concerns to be addressed seriously. This year, hopefully rural Republicans will see less of their representatives’ time consumed less by imagined threats like the occasional transgender athlete or non-existent Marxist schoolbooks, and more by the hard task of helping their patient rural supporters out.Dr. Russell Arben Fox teaches politics in Wichita.

INSIGHT KANSAS: Being realistic about helping the rural minority

Consider changes in&nbsp;your community&nbsp;since 2012. Businesses&nbsp;open, close,&nbsp;refocus, prices rise&nbsp;or&nbsp;fall,&nbsp;new construction surges while old buildings deteriorate,&nbsp;populations boom&nbsp;or&nbsp;bust,&nbsp;technology&nbsp;transforms&nbsp;—&nbsp;decade-old&nbsp;apps and programs no longer function, vehicles and equipment&nbsp;dependent&nbsp;on computers&nbsp;require&nbsp;professional&nbsp;repair.&nbsp;Nothing&nbsp;remains&nbsp;stagnant — an aphorism as true of western Kansas 150 years ago&nbsp;as&nbsp;it is&nbsp;today.&nbsp;Such&nbsp;change&nbsp;affects&nbsp;schools&nbsp;as well, including&nbsp;old&nbsp;District 2 in Ellis.&nbsp;

​According to Jessie Ormerod’s records,&nbsp;new teachers came to town, and Phanie Haines&nbsp;replaced&nbsp;Fanny Hemminger in 1874. Mr. Curts took over instruction in 1875 and 76, with Harvey Heath&nbsp;leading&nbsp;classes in 1877.&nbsp;Did all early communities see&nbsp;similar turnover?&nbsp;

​During these years,&nbsp;Ellis evolved from railroad division point to full-fledged community with a&nbsp;range of businesses serving&nbsp;the growing&nbsp;town. &nbsp;As&nbsp;fast as new buildings rose from dusty prairie, school enrollment increased&nbsp;and by 1878, necessitated&nbsp;a principal:&nbsp;Miss Hettie Hamilton&nbsp;joined&nbsp;two teachers: Miss Wright and Miss Clark. Town fathers&nbsp;anticipated&nbsp;further growth.

​According to the September 18, 1880,&nbsp;Ellis Weekly Headlight,&nbsp;class rolls&nbsp;numbered 115 students with Mr. Jennings serving as principal assisted by teachers Ida Burbank and Nettie Clark. The editor stated, “When Ellis becomes known for her good schools, her real estate will increase in value.”

​As class size&nbsp;multiplied, teachers&nbsp;recognized&nbsp;they needed support&nbsp;and organized a county teacher association&nbsp;to provide&nbsp;what educators now call&nbsp;professional development. The Oct. 16, 1880&nbsp;EWH&nbsp;recorded that the county superintendent introduced the meeting,&nbsp;and&nbsp;attending&nbsp;teachers illustrated best methods of classroom drill&nbsp;as well as&nbsp;sharing&nbsp;essays and&nbsp;leading discussion related&nbsp;to general school work. &nbsp;

​As one might expect, taxes increased to support the growing school. The&nbsp;EWH&nbsp;reported on 8-20-81 that a tax of 7 ½ mills paid educator salaries and an additional ½ mill covered incidental expenses. By 1881, citizens circulated a petition seeking $7000.00 to build a stone school house. The eventual bond passed 274 – 98. Board members optimistically located the new building south of the UPPR tracks. At that time, most&nbsp;Ellis&nbsp;businesses&nbsp;had&nbsp;located&nbsp;on the north side of the tracks. Clearly,&nbsp;residents expected growth to the south.

​George Johnson drew up plans for a 36 x&nbsp;66-foot&nbsp;building that would&nbsp;stand&nbsp;32 x 62 feet inside and 40 feet tall (EHW&nbsp;1-7-82). The Maguire Brothers of Hays contracted to quarry and deliver the stone on site at $4.00 a cord (EHW&nbsp;12-3-81).

​During the time required&nbsp;to construct&nbsp;this&nbsp;large stone building, Jessie Shepherd taught 99 students enrolled in her primary class. Mrs. W. L. Jennings taught 65 scholars in the intermediate class, and Professor W. L. Jennings instructed 42 students in the grammar class. These students studied in the wooden building north of the tracks.&nbsp;What a challenge!

​Ellis, like&nbsp;other&nbsp;developing Great Plains&nbsp;communities, valued education.&nbsp;Parents and leaders&nbsp;understood&nbsp;reading, writing, and arithmetic&nbsp;skills&nbsp;increased children’s chances to succeed. In less than two decades,&nbsp;town&nbsp;authorities&nbsp;hired&nbsp;additional&nbsp;educators and built a new facility in an&nbsp;undeveloped part of town. Their optimism paid off as the town grew toward that&nbsp;one-time&nbsp;dream on the south hill.

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/2023/1/1673547629369.jpeg" alt="Elllis Stone School " />
 <figcaption>Elllis Stone School </figcaption>
 </figure>​By KAREN MADORINConsider changes in&nbsp;your community&nbsp;since 2012. Businesses&nbsp;open, close,&nbsp;refocus, prices rise&nbsp;or&nbsp;fall,&nbsp;new construction surges while old buildings deteriorate,&nbsp;populations boom&nbsp;or&nbsp;bust,&nbsp;technology&nbsp;transforms&nbsp;—&nbsp;decade-old&nbsp;apps and programs no longer function, vehicles and equipment&nbsp;dependent&nbsp;on computers&nbsp;require&nbsp;professional&nbsp;repair.&nbsp;Nothing&nbsp;remains&nbsp;stagnant — an aphorism as true of western Kansas 150 years ago&nbsp;as&nbsp;it is&nbsp;today.&nbsp;Such&nbsp;change&nbsp;affects&nbsp;schools&nbsp;as well, including&nbsp;old&nbsp;District 2 in Ellis.&nbsp;​According to Jessie Ormerod’s records,&nbsp;new teachers came to town, and Phanie Haines&nbsp;replaced&nbsp;Fanny Hemminger in 1874. Mr. Curts took over instruction in 1875 and 76, with Harvey Heath&nbsp;leading&nbsp;classes in 1877.&nbsp;Did all early communities see&nbsp;similar turnover?&nbsp;<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2022/7/1658158605319.jpeg" alt="Karen Madorin" />
 <figcaption>Karen Madorin</figcaption>
 </figure>​During these years,&nbsp;Ellis evolved from railroad division point to full-fledged community with a&nbsp;range of businesses serving&nbsp;the growing&nbsp;town. &nbsp;As&nbsp;fast as new buildings rose from dusty prairie, school enrollment increased&nbsp;and by 1878, necessitated&nbsp;a principal:&nbsp;Miss Hettie Hamilton&nbsp;joined&nbsp;two teachers: Miss Wright and Miss Clark. Town fathers&nbsp;anticipated&nbsp;further growth.​According to the September 18, 1880,&nbsp;Ellis Weekly Headlight,&nbsp;class rolls&nbsp;numbered 115 students with Mr. Jennings serving as principal assisted by teachers Ida Burbank and Nettie Clark. The editor stated, “When Ellis becomes known for her good schools, her real estate will increase in value.”​As class size&nbsp;multiplied, teachers&nbsp;recognized&nbsp;they needed support&nbsp;and organized a county teacher association&nbsp;to provide&nbsp;what educators now call&nbsp;professional development. The Oct. 16, 1880&nbsp;EWH&nbsp;recorded that the county superintendent introduced the meeting,&nbsp;and&nbsp;attending&nbsp;teachers illustrated best methods of classroom drill&nbsp;as well as&nbsp;sharing&nbsp;essays and&nbsp;leading discussion related&nbsp;to general school work. &nbsp;​As one might expect, taxes increased to support the growing school. The&nbsp;EWH&nbsp;reported on 8-20-81 that a tax of 7 ½ mills paid educator salaries and an additional ½ mill covered incidental expenses. By 1881, citizens circulated a petition seeking $7000.00 to build a stone school house. The eventual bond passed 274 – 98. Board members optimistically located the new building south of the UPPR tracks. At that time, most&nbsp;Ellis&nbsp;businesses&nbsp;had&nbsp;located&nbsp;on the north side of the tracks. Clearly,&nbsp;residents expected growth to the south.​George Johnson drew up plans for a 36 x&nbsp;66-foot&nbsp;building that would&nbsp;stand&nbsp;32 x 62 feet inside and 40 feet tall (EHW&nbsp;1-7-82). The Maguire Brothers of Hays contracted to quarry and deliver the stone on site at $4.00 a cord (EHW&nbsp;12-3-81).​During the time required&nbsp;to construct&nbsp;this&nbsp;large stone building, Jessie Shepherd taught 99 students enrolled in her primary class. Mrs. W. L. Jennings taught 65 scholars in the intermediate class, and Professor W. L. Jennings instructed 42 students in the grammar class. These students studied in the wooden building north of the tracks.&nbsp;What a challenge!​Ellis, like&nbsp;other&nbsp;developing Great Plains&nbsp;communities, valued education.&nbsp;Parents and leaders&nbsp;understood&nbsp;reading, writing, and arithmetic&nbsp;skills&nbsp;increased children’s chances to succeed. In less than two decades,&nbsp;town&nbsp;authorities&nbsp;hired&nbsp;additional&nbsp;educators and built a new facility in an&nbsp;undeveloped part of town. Their optimism paid off as the town grew toward that&nbsp;one-time&nbsp;dream on the south hill.Karen is a retired teacher, writer, photographer, outdoors lover, and
 sixth-generation Kansan. After a time away, she’s glad to be home.

MADORIN: Ellis schools development, Part 2

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.

<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

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.

<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.

Opinion