Newscoma

I love you. I do but sometimes folks have to practice tough love with the things they care about.
You guys, well, I thought you knew better but you don’t, and what I’m talking about is that I think you need to come to Hooterville and talk to some of the people I’ve been talking to the past few days. Go to all of the Hootervilles, not just mine.

You are blowing it, in my opinion, when it comes to rural voters and in many ways, you are disenfranchising younger voters here.This isn’t good, Nashville leaders.

There is a world outside of Nashville.

And, I mean this, you guys act like there isn’t sometimes and that’s a damn shame. You have young people here that want to be involved in the political process, are talking to me, and yes I work at a newspaper, that they are constantly not getting their needs met. But, with that said, the GOP is doing dandy here. New building, an air of excitement, recruiting new members, selling McCain buttons enthusiastically and creating new partnerships by reaching across the aisle to a large degree.
Heck, I’m a liberal and I’ve had a great time with the local GOP. They are rocking it.
Earlier this week, I talked to several people in their 20s and 30s who lean to the left who do not feel comfortable with the college democrats due to their age and in the local democratic party because there tends to be too much established fellowship. This isn’t your fault and I’m not blaming you but a little updated training might help from your end. They wanted to put up signs, they wanted buttons, they wanted a rally.
But, and this is just dang unforgivable, is that between 20,000 and 30,000 people were here for the Tennessee Soybean Festival and other than a handful of kids from the college running a voter registration drive, the democrats were invisible. Thousands and thousands of college kids were at the Corey Smith outdoor free concert where there were dozens of vendors when you could have come and made a huge splash and, umm …
You get my drift?
You missed a huge opportunity. Rural communities want to be involved. Engage them and pay attention.
Several years ago, I went to several meetings at the local party and was one of those young voters who felt left out. I wanted inspiring conversations, events to feel excited about. As I recall, I went to one meeting with now Sen. Lowe Finney. I can’t speak for him but I can say that I didn’t get my needs met. After a while, I gave up.
This is the county that has Ned McWherter and his legacy. But there are other counties just like mine that need leadership from the state office. I set up a website for these young voters yesterday. Have you not sent out instructions to rural communities who need your guidance about online networking, talking points and utilizing social communication sites like Twitter or Friendfeed? I’m just asking because I know I haven’t seen them but you might have. Are you talking to established rural party leadership about how to recruit young people.

Gray, we had 4.4 percent of our registered voters vote here in August.

I don’t know about other rural counties but don’t you think you need to reach out to these places that feel that voting is a waste of time because they aren’t being engaged. Yes, McCain will take Tennessee but I’m talking long-term here, not just one race. And, quite frankly, the GOP is getting it done in rural areas in Tennessee.
One young voter called the TNDP on Tuesday and was somewhat dismissed. She was devastated. I put out a call about needing some help to the Memphis Bloggers who were Johnny on the Spot and a call out to Twitter, with many people responding from Nashville.
I had to think about it. It’s more than just this race, it’s the future of this party when it comes to rural young voters who want participating. And it’s about guiding people into a new generation.

If this race is about change, you have people who want change and are willing to work for it, give them a hand. Remember, one of them called you so they are reaching out. I realize it’s a county in the middle of nowhere but voices are of value everywhere.
Guide them.
I contacted my local representatives.

We, and I say we because I’m not just griping are taking action to encourage young voters here and we, are going to try to help some of these kids. Rep. Mark Maddox and I are on it, but you have to help too. We are putting our money where our mouth is.
Politics in this state is not just in Nashville. We are not just a bunch of rednecks who need to be dismissed. One of your rising stars in the state senate started here. He was the same young man who went to that meeting with me so many years ago.
So please, help out the little guys because each vote counts in every election.
We aren’t asking you to do it, we are just asking you to be involved with everyone and not the select few.
Keep up the good work but expand it. That’s all I’m asking. I know this area, trust me on this one. I trust you will take this constructive criticism as it was meant. Not as a slam, but as an opportunity for growth.

Tough love is hard. If I pissed you off, well, too bad.
Love hurts.

Respectfully,
Newscoma

Tennessee Majority Whip Mark Maddox and Weakley County Mayor Houston Patrick sat down with Mabel today in the first round of talks about her presidential campaign and how she can lead America during these trying times. Although it would be fair to say that although Mabel appreciated the stunning recognition she received, she was at the Tennessee Iris Festival to meet the people who could put her in office.

Wearing a stunning necklace in the style of Barbara Bush, Mabel shook hands paws rather, licked faces and reiterated her campaign promise not to talk about politics, but let the actions speak for themselves.

In the spirit of saving the environment, she did eat an abandoned tray of French fries, making the streets clean from litter and debris.

And, why yes, that is Homer in the role of Condoleeza Rice with Mayor Patrick and Mabel.

All in about a span of four hours yesterday, because I told you I had a ridiculously busy day yesterday, I had one of those impossible moments etched in time that was, in a word, horrifying.

Something happened yesterday that sort of really put things in perspective, and to be honest, I had a mini-freak out.

I had to go cover your random accident that I occasionally have to do. Now, I’ll be honest, car accidents are not my favorite things (I’m not unique, I can’t imagine anyone liking them) and this one had created a mini diesel spill in Hooterville East. So, me being all Brenda Starr, headed to what I thought was a day in the life of Newscoma.

I went to take pictures because that’s what you do.
When I got to where I was supposed to be, the police let me through the barricade and I went about my business as I’m wont to do. I drove past a deputy who let me by where he had a road blocked off, made a few pleasantries and cracks with him, but I still couldn’t see the wreck. He waved me through.

As I pulled around the corner, I saw the metal carnage where an 18-wheeler had hit a vehicle. From a distance, I could only see the truck because a couple of ambulances were in the way, and the front of this beast was torn all to hell. I knew that once I got up there, whatever it had hit had not faired well. Part of covering wrecks for the last decade and a half. I knew someone was hurt and 18-wheelers can cause some wicked damage. A lot of times, you know if an 18-wheeler is damaged, that whatever it hit was going to be pretty much destroyed.

And then I saw the other vehicle.

It was a mini-van that looked just like Homer’s mini-van right in front of where my grandparents used to live.

I pulled my car over and went running. The vehicle was absolutely leveled, the front end was torn up beyond belief and all I could think was “ohmygawdohmygawditismysister.” I deal with crisis better than the average guy, but this was something that my mind could not wrap around.

I went running as fast as I could, and for the first time in 17 years of covering accidents (which I don’t love but don’t bother me too much) I thought I was going to deal with something I’d never dealt with before. I thought I was going to see one of my family members in a wreck, something I’ve always been a bit terrified of.

I thought Homer was the fatality I was going to cover.

One of the firemen, who knew me, realized I thought it was Homer and pretty much tackled me. “It’s not her, Trace” he said softly, reaching out to me. “It’s not her.”

(And this, my friends, is the good part of living in a small town. He knew me well enough to know exactly what I was thinking. Thank God for him.)

I couldn’t breathe.

All I knew is the van was demolished and it looked like Homer’s. After I took a few seconds to calm down, I went about my job, what I’d been sent there to do.

Later, I went to do the other stuff that I had to do which was shoot pictures for a Christmas parade, but I have to tell you, I couldn’t shake seeing that van. This was one of the worst feelings I’ve ever had working at the newspaper.

I’ll be honest. I then went and had a couple of beers and had a good sobbing, bone-rattling cry.

I don’t think I ever want to go through that again. As I write this in the middle of the night, I can only tell you one thing. It was somebody’s someone, something I’ve always known to be true but that I have learned to separate myself from, and yesterday a family lost their loved one.

And, for a moment, I thought that someone was going to be me.

Because of the impossibly long, ridiculous day, I haven’t seen Homer since that accident. When I do, which should just be in a couple of hours, I swear I’m going to hug her and just make sure she’s real.

It makes my heart just choke up.