This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Boy Scouts of America, and we would like you to submit your memories and photos of your Scouting days. Scouting offers adventure and a sense of service that often become the fabric of our lives. Send us your photos and stories from your Scouting days to share withe the community.
The average person may find it difficult to remember what he or she was doing on Jan. 12, at 4:53 EST. For those who were on the island of Hispaniola in the country of Haiti, their memories remain quite vivid because of a tragedy that has left our whole world stunned and speechless. This horrific event has impacted all human beings, but for residents of Haiti and Haitians abroad, it is particularly painful.
grew up only a few blocks from my grandparents’ home on North McKinley Street, here in Shawnee. I have been blessed with having a large, close family, which has given me a lifetime of wonderful memories, especially this time of year.
In 1924 our family lived southeast of Tecumseh. My father was a share cropper. It was about December 20 and we were preparing for Christmas. I was five years old and my little sister was four years old. There was a terrible outbreak of diphtheria in our community.
It was the Summer of 1957 when we moved to the old capitol of Thailand, Ayuthaya. It was the capitol from 1350 to 1767 and would have compared with London or Rome in its heyday.
With old temples and foundations of palaces, it is still a mecca for the Thai. The full name is “Pranakorn Sri Ayuthaya,” (Capitol City of Glorious Ayuthaya).
It was August of 1945 just as WWII was coming to an end. Carl Haley had been serving his country for 2 1/2 years in the South Pacific.
Finally, the news came that he could return home to his precious family. His date of arrival was to be December 26.
My most memorable Christmas was 12-25-72. I was only 20 years old and pregnant. I went into labor Christmas Eve. They had to open the labor and delivery area just for me as they had sent everyone home. Dr. Jones made rounds that night. Who would have thought your child would be born on her due date 12-25-72.
My most memorable Christmas was 25 years ago. I was a single mom with two daughters. I became sick at work one day and had to go to the emergency room. I was admitted to the hospital and given a blood transfusion. My doctor said he was pretty sure I would have to have a hysterectomy.
This story is one that I’ve shared with my family each Christmas as we pray over our Christmas dinner and each time it comes alive in my memory.
The time of the story is 1937 and the place is Ralls, Texas. Times were hard for us and we kind of followed the cotton harvest. Yes, I know we were young and should have been in school but things didn’t always work that way for us. I remember the community put on a Christmas party for all the kids and dad took us.
The toll plaza loomed suddenly out of the fog and I realized in that split second before impact that it was too late to correct my error in judgment, and then I hit the steel I-beam head on.
My name is Danny Marshall. I am 19-years-old and a freshman in college. I began my Monday drive back to college in the early morning pre-dawn. My mom, as usual, had hugged me good bye and told me twice to be careful driving. Also as usual, with my mp3 player plugged into the sound system and a super large coffee in the cup holder, I set the cruise control at 75 miles per hour and settled in for the 100-mile drive.
My journey with breast cancer started in early January 2005. I was sitting on my bed in our bedroom watching TV and accidentally found a lump in my breast. My first thought was that I was imagining this but the more I felt it I knew that it was true and my second thought was that I would not say anything to my husband until I could go to the doctor the next day and find out for sure.
I’ll never forget the day I had to face the fact that I had cancer, Thyroid cancer. I was not ill or did not seem to have any signs other than a small knot that I had noticed about two months before. My wife noticed my neck was different. After much persistence I told her about the knot. This was on a Saturday and by Monday morning she had an appointment with a physician for me.
I had a regular checkup and mammogram July 17, 2001 as I had done since surgery in 1974. Up to this point the reports had been clear.
However, this time we were called to come in for additional testing. These included needle biopsy, lumpectomy and biopsy of surrounding tissue then the news: CANCER!
I am a breast cancer survivor by the grace of God.
March 2008, I dreamed I was leaving a golf course. I found myself at Unity’s emergency room. A nurse was about to give me a shot in the chest when I told her no! She replied, “If you don’t let me do this you are going to die!” At that, I awoke.
This story is about a very special survivor! Devin Randall Ross was born on March 13, 1996, in Salt Lake City to Randall and Alisa (Woods) Ross. From the moment he was born, he was a beautiful little curly headed boy. He was always wise beyond his years, and curious to learn about everything around him.
Then, when he was seven, something was going very wrong. This healthy, happy little boy was suddenly sick way too much. Numerous visits to his pediatrician and referrals to specialists offered up the diagnosis of severe asthma. Then one night, Devin could not breathe when he was lying down. He was taken to the emergency room, where an X-ray was ordered.
Pete Bonicelli Jr., an electrician at McAlester Army Ammunition Plant, and a former Shawnee resident, is working in Iraq in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom.
Heroes! They come in all shapes and sizes. Many are deemed heroes for running into burning buildings, being in the line of fire, or saving someone’s life in the ER.
These people truly are heroes. The hero I write about today, however, has a heroic nature of a much subtler type. Though many may never know her name, she is a hero to me all the same.
Four high school boys, Larry Hart, Dudley Tankersley, Tom Brown and Cy Raymer, were beginning the summer vacation at Shawnee High School. They had nothing else to do.
One of these boys knew of a truck stop in Shawnee where lumber trucks frequented the place, traveling from the Rocky Mountains of New Mexico eastward past Shawnee.
I have a great memory of my first day in second grade.
We had moved to the country and I would be riding the bus for the first time. Needless to say, I was a little scared.
The year was 1952, and as I stood at the intersection of State Highway 9 and Highway 102, fear of the unknown really set in.
This area is so blessed to have such an excellent doctor and good man as Dr. Scott Stewart. In this fast-paced, busy world, it is hard to talk to people who actually care or have time to even talk.
We are patients of Dr. Stewart. He happens to be the most caring, compassionate physician. My husband and I enjoy talking to him and we like to see the sparkle of love and pride when he mentions his wife, three sons and parents.
