The following morning, rumors that had started the previous night were confirmed: Joe Sweet, Shad's friend and coworker, had been killed. *Edited: I haven't heard exactly why the shooter did this, but rumors are that he got high on method, and went to confront a woman he was having an affair with, and her husband. When he didn't find them, he went tromping around town with his shotgun. Joe stepped out on his porch for a smoke and called the cops to come talk to the guy. When police arrived, the man opened fire on them. Joe was shot in the process. No one else was hit. The man opened fire on police one more time in town before they lost him in a creek bed. He stole a truck and lead a high-speed chase down the highway at 100+ mph to Oberlin, the next town west. The policeman chasing him almost had him caught when a semi cut the shooter off, but then the cop car ran out of gas. So catching the shooter was a bit of a difficulty.
Joe was a 6 foot, 300 pound biker with a long pony tail, moustache and beard, and arm tattoos. He was one of those big teddy bear people. Seeing him just made us smile. He'd sit at the picnic table outside Natoma in the summer when we'd visit Shad for lunch. Tom and Katie always got excited to see Big Joe. Katie loved talking about his motorcycles with him. Joe always held Biker Bash charity fundraisers, and we'd go support without even needing to know what they were fundraising. For me, if Big Joe supported it, that was good enough for me. Typically, it was for Children's Hospital in Denver since his 3 year old granddaughter died from cancer. Last summer, he commented to me that I should watch out for Katie, because her attraction to motorcycles would lead her to the wrong boys. I said I wasn't too worried because not all motorcyclists are the wrong type, and that I'm drawn to motorcycles, myself. When that shocked him, I remembered that my great-grandfather had owned a Harley-Davidson shop in Ohio, and my grandmother had her first set of "wheels" when she was 7, and that it must be in the genes. He took interest in my grandma and her dad, and asked if I had any pictures. I said I could do better, and provide my grandma's childhood memoir photo book, and my great-grandpa's biography. He was happy that I'd share those with him, and enjoyed reading them. A couple months ago, Joe approached Shad and asked if he knew of any good Joseph Smith biographies. Shad bought the one by Smith's mother, Lucy Mack Smith, and lent it to Joe. After Joe had read it, it crossed my mind that Joe could relate to Porter Rockwell and understand him as a person, so Shad lent him the biography of Rockwell that we own. Joe read it in 2 days, and came back to Shad with a question: Why are Mormons so persecuted? So far as he could tell, we're just normal Christians, and, living in America, we have as much right to our own way of worship as anyone else does. Oh, how I loved Joe for saying that! Not many people think that way. In fact, where we live there's a lot of prejudice. But Joe was different. He said that to understand why we're persecuted, he'd just have to read the Book of Mormon for himself, and asked Shad for a copy. Two days later, Joe reported to Shad that he was starting to feel the persecution. Coworkers would notice and ask why he was reading THAT?! Joe's response was simple: "Why not?" His wife, Kelly, commented, "You're reading the Book of Mormon? That's a big one." Joe shrugged and said, "The Bible's bigger." He genuinely accepted, loved, forgave, and definitely spoke his mind.
Emotional distress from the shooting experience and Joe's death, wake and funeral, lead Shad and I into a melancholy state, and disturbed sleep. Add on top of that, daylight saving's time, which Ben Franklin somehow managed to convince people was a good idea, so the kids' sleeping has been off too. I haven't been waking up to my alarm before the kids get up, because I haven't been sleeping well. Not getting up before the kids means that I haven't had my exercise and scripture study time. Add on top of that, kids throwing up for unexplained reasons. Katie threw up Tuesday morning, Dancy shortly after. They were both fine afterward, but Dancy threw up again Wednesday morning, twice Friday afternoon, and this morning at 2:30 and 5:00 am. She's had no other symptoms. No forewarning of odd behavior before she vomits. It just happens and then is done. Which leads be to believe that she's not sick, but that there's something wrong. I haven't noticed any common food that may have caused this, either.
Then this Friday there was another violent incident. A stabbing by the practice football field. That one I still haven't heard any news about, but sounds like it was an altercation between some high school students.
I think that about sums it up. I read a while ago that writing is healing. That it helps to process pain, whether physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual. Writing thoughts and feelings allows you to release them and move on. It wasn't a new concept to me, just interesting to hear some science behind what I already knew to be true. Thus I'm starting a new "Writing Therapy" part to my blog.
Joe was a 6 foot, 300 pound biker with a long pony tail, moustache and beard, and arm tattoos. He was one of those big teddy bear people. Seeing him just made us smile. He'd sit at the picnic table outside Natoma in the summer when we'd visit Shad for lunch. Tom and Katie always got excited to see Big Joe. Katie loved talking about his motorcycles with him. Joe always held Biker Bash charity fundraisers, and we'd go support without even needing to know what they were fundraising. For me, if Big Joe supported it, that was good enough for me. Typically, it was for Children's Hospital in Denver since his 3 year old granddaughter died from cancer. Last summer, he commented to me that I should watch out for Katie, because her attraction to motorcycles would lead her to the wrong boys. I said I wasn't too worried because not all motorcyclists are the wrong type, and that I'm drawn to motorcycles, myself. When that shocked him, I remembered that my great-grandfather had owned a Harley-Davidson shop in Ohio, and my grandmother had her first set of "wheels" when she was 7, and that it must be in the genes. He took interest in my grandma and her dad, and asked if I had any pictures. I said I could do better, and provide my grandma's childhood memoir photo book, and my great-grandpa's biography. He was happy that I'd share those with him, and enjoyed reading them. A couple months ago, Joe approached Shad and asked if he knew of any good Joseph Smith biographies. Shad bought the one by Smith's mother, Lucy Mack Smith, and lent it to Joe. After Joe had read it, it crossed my mind that Joe could relate to Porter Rockwell and understand him as a person, so Shad lent him the biography of Rockwell that we own. Joe read it in 2 days, and came back to Shad with a question: Why are Mormons so persecuted? So far as he could tell, we're just normal Christians, and, living in America, we have as much right to our own way of worship as anyone else does. Oh, how I loved Joe for saying that! Not many people think that way. In fact, where we live there's a lot of prejudice. But Joe was different. He said that to understand why we're persecuted, he'd just have to read the Book of Mormon for himself, and asked Shad for a copy. Two days later, Joe reported to Shad that he was starting to feel the persecution. Coworkers would notice and ask why he was reading THAT?! Joe's response was simple: "Why not?" His wife, Kelly, commented, "You're reading the Book of Mormon? That's a big one." Joe shrugged and said, "The Bible's bigger." He genuinely accepted, loved, forgave, and definitely spoke his mind.
Emotional distress from the shooting experience and Joe's death, wake and funeral, lead Shad and I into a melancholy state, and disturbed sleep. Add on top of that, daylight saving's time, which Ben Franklin somehow managed to convince people was a good idea, so the kids' sleeping has been off too. I haven't been waking up to my alarm before the kids get up, because I haven't been sleeping well. Not getting up before the kids means that I haven't had my exercise and scripture study time. Add on top of that, kids throwing up for unexplained reasons. Katie threw up Tuesday morning, Dancy shortly after. They were both fine afterward, but Dancy threw up again Wednesday morning, twice Friday afternoon, and this morning at 2:30 and 5:00 am. She's had no other symptoms. No forewarning of odd behavior before she vomits. It just happens and then is done. Which leads be to believe that she's not sick, but that there's something wrong. I haven't noticed any common food that may have caused this, either.
Then this Friday there was another violent incident. A stabbing by the practice football field. That one I still haven't heard any news about, but sounds like it was an altercation between some high school students.
I think that about sums it up. I read a while ago that writing is healing. That it helps to process pain, whether physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual. Writing thoughts and feelings allows you to release them and move on. It wasn't a new concept to me, just interesting to hear some science behind what I already knew to be true. Thus I'm starting a new "Writing Therapy" part to my blog.
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