Following are excerpts from a journal written by Josh Smith, 11 Connects news anchor, during his recent assignment on the U.S.S. Greeneville based at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

Wednesday January 13th 7 p.m.
On board the U.S.S. Greeneville

It’s been about 32 hours since we arrived on the sub.  Since we’ve arrived, we’ve been on the move doing interviews and observing the non-stop businesses of this boat.  Our only stops have been for food and sleep.

As I wrote earlier, I’ve now set up shop, so to speak, on the bottom level of the sub, forward (near the front), and a few feet away from – no lie – a torpedo.  Tonight, we were able to see the crews practice loading a torpedo into the launcher, a lengthy process filled with rhythmic commands and instructions yelled among the sailors.

A few things are fresh on my mind tonight.  One thing – the total inability to distinguish day from night on the sub.  No windows mean no sunlight.  Only rarely I’ve seen the view from the periscope which the Captain kindly displays on a few flat screen monitors around the boat.  One sailor told me that he couldn’t imagine living on a submarine without a wrist watch.  “I’d be a mess,” he told me, glancing at his wrist. 

Another thing - the complete and total lack of personal space for the sub’s crew.  As I type here in the bowels of the boat, I can see two sailors stretched out and trying to sleep on their racks directly under the torpedo rack.  The lights are on.  People are walking around and talking. 

Just across the torpedo room, I can see a sailor leaned against a tomahawk missile, playing some sort of hand held video game.  “Everyone has an iPod and video game,” one of the ship’s leading crewmembers told me.  “That’s how we relax.”

I’m off to what I’m told will be a special event on the boat.  More later.

Wednesday January 13th 10 p.m.
On board the U.S.S. Greeneville

ETSN Zachary Petterson has his Dolphins, the pin that goes on the left side of his chest that shows other sailors he’s qualified on all systems on the subs.  To submariners, this is a big deal.  The Captain and Chief of the Boat gathered with every sailor that wasn’t on watch or getting ready for a shift of watch in the crew’s mess (dining hall).  All listened while the boat’s leaders spoke of the mission and the dedication to it and to one another.  “I give you my Dolphins and you give me yours,” said Capt. A.C. Curullo.  I think it was his way of saying that the men on the U.S.S. Greeneville couldn’t make it without each other, that they survived on the knowledge that they could count on a friend if ever they were in need.

The ceremony came with a dose of levity.  Before the ceremony, the Chief of the Boat Paul Davenport spoke to the sailors, kind of like the big brother who motivates with a smile. 

“Good to hear about (name of the person I can’t remember) becoming a new dad,” the COB said.  “I hear he’s a spitting image of his dad.”

“I thought you said he had a boy,” replied a sailor from the back of the mess hall. 

Roars of laughter.

That’s kind of how things go on this boat, I think.  A constant stream of seriousness sporadically interspersed with but never really interrupted by a joke, a wise crack, a dash of humor.  Maybe that’s how they cope with the reality of being underwater for days on end far from home and family.  You have to laugh – or you just might cry?

It’s late, at least I think it is.
 
We’ve surfaced.  I can tell because the ship is rocking side to side.  Phillip, my co-worker, just popped another motion sickness pill, and the ship’s “doc” offered one to me.  I think I’ll take him up on the offer.

Following are excerpts from a journal written by Josh Smith, 11 Connects news anchor, during his recent assignment on the U.S.S. Greeneville based at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

Wednesday 8:30 a.m.
On board the U.S.S. Greeneville

The firm but muted voice woke me.

“Olsen.  4:45.  2nd wake-up.“

Olsen, I knew was the supply chief on the U.S.S. Greeneville who’d been assigned to escort me around the boat.  He also was my neighbor across a narrow walkway in the rack (bed) just two feet away.

No alarm clocks needed on this submarine.  If you’re assigned to a “watch” – your shift in the sub’s control room – you can expect to be awakened with just enough time to rise, get dressed, and have a meal.  I’ve also noticed that sailors can place their names on a wake-up list, similar to a wake-up call in a hotel.

Breakfast in the ward room: southwestern omelet, hashbrowns, and coffee.  It’s stronger today than yesterday, apparently because a visiting Captain let the cooks know it was a bit on the weak side.  Just like yesterday’s lunch, pitchers of “Crystal Light” were back on the table.  No sodas or juice, I’m told, because they take up too much room and because, with the sodas, the Navy is pushing for a decreased caloric intake.

Our gracious hosts urged us to eat first.  But Phillip and I quickly realized that this would force working crew members to wait for their meal until we were finished.  “No - we’ll wait until the end of the meal hour,” I told our hosts.  They seemed to understand, even appreciate that.

The P.O.D “plan of the day” for our media visit is packed with tours and interviews.  More later.

Wednesday January 13th 11 a.m.
On board the U.S.S. Greeneville

The P.O.D. is D.O.A. 

The ship’s savvy Public Affairs Officer (who’s also the chief supply officer) decided to trash it after chatting with me about our “hopes and dreams” for our visit on the U.S.S. Greeneville. 

The original plan for the day included lengthy meetings – presentations really - with the ship’s senior leadership.  But Capt. Christian Buensuceso noticed in our brief time on the sub that we were most interested in meeting with and following around not just the sub leadership but the sailors who worked at all levels of the boat..

Today, he introduced us to Fireman Kalen Hatmaker, a 19-year-old sailor who just arrived on the sub.  Hatmaker, it turns out, is from Lake City, Tennessee, a small town in Anderson County.  He told me how, faced with the scarcity of jobs, he decided to join the Navy after graduating in August 2008.  Our first sight of Hatmaker came last night as he sat at the controls while the U.S.S. Greeneville made its initial dive somewhere off the coast of the Hawaiian Islands.

19 years old and driving a submarine?  It struck me that I was still getting proficient at driving my dad’s 5-speed truck when I was 19.

After his shift, Hatmaker agreed to let us follow him around as he ate his chow, studied to get his Dolphins (more on that later) and as he hit the rack. 

Following are excerpts from a journal written by Josh Smith, 11 Connects news anchor, during his recent assignment on the U.S.S. Greeneville based at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

Tuesday, January 12th
4 p.m.
On board the U.S.S. Greeneville

Who needs an alarm clock?  Far before the 5:30 a.m. blast of the hotel alarm clock, my eyes were wide open.  So were Phillip’s. 

We’d heard that this would happen, that our body clocks would wake long before the alarm clocks because of the five-hour time difference.

After a hotel breakfast on pineapple (delicious as promised) and coffee (ditto), we were off to meet Lt. Cmdr. Dave Benham at Pearl Harbor Naval Station. 

He and I had spoken and emailed dozens of times over the past several months, so it was great to finally meet him in person.  As promised, he was waiting alongside a white 12-passenger van, our transit around Pearl Harbor Naval Station and the Navy’s Training Center on Ford Island.
First stop: the Navy’s submarine fire training facility.  On the way across the bridge spanning Pearl Harbor to Ford Island, we spotted the USS Arizona Memorial, the place were so many Americans died and the country was staggered by the reality of a coming war.  A stunning sight, really.  I found myself wishing my dad could be here.  The son of a World War II vet, he has a real interest and reverence for the people and events that defined his father’s prime years. 

At the training center (wait until you see this video), we watched submariners run through a drill simulating a fire emergency in the sub’s engine room.  We interviewed a trainer from Knoxville, Tennessee, and he took us to the flood training center next door where we watched a group of submariners frantically trying to stop water gushing out of pipes in a 3 story tall room.

Off to the Pearl Harbor Naval Station for interviews with the Navy’s Chief of Staff for the Submarine Force in the Pacific Fleet as well as the Commodore of Submarine Squadron ONE.  Then, we hurriedly dumped our luggage out of the van and onto a small boat, made our last cell phone calls home for the next two days, and boarded a BSP, a transport from shore to ocean on small boat called the Harrier. 

On our left were Navy ships secured at their docks.  On our right were Navy subs, only their ominous black hulls visible above the water line.  Ahead, I saw the USS Missouri, the massive ship on which the U.S. and Japan signed the armistice ending World War II.  Next to the Missouri, we caught another glimpse of the Arizona Memorial.  Side by side.  The beginning and the end.

Turn left and we were on our way through Pearl Harbor’s main channel.  Phillip and I took the opportunity to shoot a stand-up.  That’s TV talk for a segment featuring me reporting on camera.  Just as we finished, I saw it - the U.S.S. Greeneville waiting to take us to sea.

On the top to boat, we saw a line of men standing at attention.  All but two were in uniform.  The remaining two were in swim gear, apparently ready to dive in after us if we tripped in the transfer from our boat to the sub.

Good thinking, I muttered to myself.

A metal walkway dropped and we scrambled to gather our mountain of TV equipment and small carry-on luggage.  But a man said not to worry - the gear would be moved for us.  What a relief!  How we were going to hoist the footlocker-sized metal camera carrying case from boat to sub and down the hole WHILE holding onto a ladder was beyond me.

An email sent a few weeks back prepared us for the carefully worded protocol that came next.

The COB, or Chief of the Boat, would salute.  Do no salute back, we were told.  Respond to the salute with a “Good morning, sir.“  We did.  And then, as instructed, we each blurted, “Permission to come aboard, sir.“ 

“Permission granted,“ the COB said with a broad and winning smile.

Down the ladder, through a passage, and into a small room we later learned was “Crew’s Mess” also known as “The Davy Crockett Lounge.“  The pioneer-statesman born in Greeneville could never have dreamed of the day when nuclear subs would lurk in the sea.  That one would have a dining room named in his honor?.... forgetaboutit.

Waiting for us was a small group of smiling men in blue, and we soon learned they’d be our designated escorts for the duration of our stay.  They led us to the nearby ward room, the dining room for Commander A.C. Carullo, the 9th Captain of the U.S.S. Greeneville, Tennessee.  Soon, Captain Carullo and other members joined us at the table for ten.  Lunch was served, a spicy bean soup follow by bowls of beef and chicken, flour tortillas (it was Taco Tuesday on the Greeneville), corn, and rice.  Drinks in big pitchers with bowls of taco toppings filled the center of the table. 

Delicious.

Our escorts led us to our berthing; pockets of space stacked three high. 

Mine is in the middle.

Our tour of the Greeneville began immediately with interviews, demonstrations, and an intense visit in the Control Room where men crowded around equipment as the USS Greeneville made her initial dive.

I’m now 3 levels below the Control Room in an out-of-the way space right next to one of the torpedo tubes.  More later.

Tuesday, January 12th
10 p.m.
On board the U.S.S. Greeneville

From lunch with the Captain to dinner in the crew’s mess.  Lots more people.  Lots more laughter.  Options:  BBQ Chicken or Baked Halibut.  With very limited seating, meals are taken in shifts on this boat.  So the urge to enjoy a leisurely meal is dashed by the knowledge that your buddies are waiting for a place to sit.

After the last bite, I was ready for bed.  But our schedule included more shoots, more interviews, and more of an understanding about this amazing boat and the men who make it work. 

Some, like a torpedo man named Anthony, are barely 20 years old.  It’s his first sub, he told me, and he’s excited about the upcoming deployment.

Time to hit the rack.  My trip to the shower was a hoot.  You’ll actually get to see “the head” in the TV show, an all stainless steel bathroom that requires coordination and an all-business abandonment of personal modesty.

Me.  Typing on a laptop in a submarine.  Go figure.

Following are excerpts from a journal written by Josh Smith, 11 Connects news anchor, during his recent assignment on the U.S.S. Greeneville based at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

Monday, January 11th
Tri-Cities Regional Airport Terminal
6:15 a.m.

So this is what 6 a.m. looks like outside a TV station.

Waking up early is par for the course for me.  If I’m not used to it after anchoring the morning news at WJHL-TV for 10 years, I never will be. 

This morning in the shower, my mind raced with the checklist for the day:  making it to the airport, making the connection in Atlanta for our flight to Hawaii, connecting with our contacts with the US Navy in Honolulu.

But as the hot water woke me up, the bottom line for the day ahead finally dawned on me.  After three years of planning, I am about to go to Hawaii to cover the U.S.S. Greeneville submarine.  After a string of no’s, yes’s, maybe’s, not yet’s, and hurry up’s, the light finally was green.  Not yellow.  Not red.

Green means go, as my 3 year old likes to say.

Why the U.S.S. Greeneville?  Fair question, and one asked by a friend who heard about my travel plans.  Sure, it’s named for the city of Greeneville, Tennessee, a city in our viewing area.  But why does a name – probably snagged by politician looking for votes – make a sub in the Pacific a matter of local interest, he asked?

My bosses at 11 Connects have supported this project because they see the value.  The story of the U.S.S. Greeneville is the story of the people of Greeneville.  They helped build it with parts produced at a now-defunct business called Greeneville Metal Manufacturing.  They captured the imagination of lawmakers – even the Secretary of the Navy – with their passionate, grass-roots effort to have it named for Greeneville, Tennessee.  And most remarkably, they stood proud even when the U.S.S. Greeneville plunged into shame after a tragic accident that triggered an international incident.

Simply put – it’s a great story.  It’s good TV.  And yes, it IS local news.  Here’s hoping that becomes perfectly clear when our stories start to air.

First, we have to gather the video, the sound, the interviews, and the information to meet our objective: a current and comprehensive update on the U.S.S. Greeneville, Tennessee.

Time to board the plane.  Please Delta – no lost luggage.  Especially the camera gear.

Monday, January 11th
Honolulu, Hawaii
10 p.m. local time

Hello Hawaii!

Smooth flights.  Luggage accounted for.  (Thank you Delta).  Yes, that was me standing at the outdoor rental car kiosk with mouth agape, staring at the lush green shrubs, the trees dripping with fuchsia blossoms, the glory of tropical paradise – and I hadn’t even left the airport parking lot.

My colleague Phillip Murrell and I agree, though, that arriving in Hawaii was bittersweet.  The warm breeze, green trees and colorful flowers were a fantastic break from the grip of winter back home.  But Phillip said it’s not the same without his wife.  My wife and kids need to see this. 

Someday….

Our hotel is about 1 minute from the airport - about 10 minutes from the Pearl Harbor Naval Base where we’ll meet our point of contact tomorrow at 7:30 a.m.

It’s 10 p.m. Hawaii time, 3 a.m. in the Tri-Cities.  Heading to bed and thinking of the morning news crew back at 11 Connects, already working hard on a new day’s newscast.

Following are excerpts from a journal written by Josh Smith, 11 Connects news anchor, during his recent assignment on the U.S.S. Greeneville based at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

Thursday January 14th 8 am.
On board the USS Greeneville

“You need to be ready, because when it’s time to go we have to go.”

The kind but firm directive from Christian, our on-board guide and watchman, was my signal to get off my duff, get my stuff, and do both fast.  We’re getting ready to leave the USS Greeneville, and time is almost up to make sure we have everything – all the videos, interviews, and information – we’ll need to produce special reports and, ultimately, and hour (YIKES) long show.

Despite a night of rocking side to side, I’m rested and looking forward to seeing the sun.  Am I ready to get off this thing?  Yes, but I’m actually a bit sad about leaving this fascinating submarine and these people just barely met.  They already seem like friends.

The big question: will we get to visit the ship’s bridge – the tiny platform that juts skyward from the sub offering the view of all views as the Greeneville moves through the water? 

“I hope so,” Christian says, “but we’ll have to wait and see.”

Thursday January 14th 4 p.m.
Honolulu International Airport

We made it.

With only a few moments notice, Phillip and I were harnessed in and sent up up up the ladder to the bridge of the submarine.  There, on a flat platform that could not have been more than 4 feet by 6 feet, we stood with Capt. Carullo and a few other crew members and felt the first sunshine and fresh air to touch our skin in 2 days.  To our right, the southern Coast of Oahu – Diamond Head, Waikiki, and ahead, Peal Harbor.  To our left, the vast blue Pacific Ocean.  Above our head, a Tusculum College flag covered in crew member signatures flapped in the wind.

Phillip and I quickly cut some opens, closes, and promo teasers for the show.  What in the world did I actually say, anyway? 

Back down the ladder and into the crew’s mess where we waited for our rendezvous with the ship that would carry us back to land.

Quick goodbyes and a final view of the USS Greeneville as she headed back out to sea.  We were headed home to family, our own beds, our comfortable and casual lives.  The 140 people on that submarine were headed back out to sea for – how long?  Even most of them didn’t know.  “We have enough food for 80 days,” the head cook told me.

80 days.

While we were underway and out of cell phone/email reach, there was a devastating earthquake in Haiti.  Lane Kiffin also caused a ruckus in Knoxville by quitting his job.  We didn’t have a clue until we surfaced in Pearl Harbor earlier this morning.

Our plane leaving Hawaii is a bit delayed.  My plan – to sleep as much as possible on the flight back to Atlanta.  We’ll get back to frozen-over Tennessee early Friday morning.

Hawaii – we hardly saw ye.  ‘Till next time!

Random Thoughts on Iowa

As most of us gasped at the enormity of the flooding in Iowa, I have a unique interest in the State for I lived there from January 1, 1977 to May 1992. My employer, Rockwell International had acquired Collins Radio, an Avionics developer based in Cedar Rapids. I had been promoted to my first managerial position with responsibility for establishing two Iowa based non union manufacturing operations and an engineering operation which was later based in Van Nuys, CA.
As I watched the flooded downtown area on FOX News and CNN it was almost unbelievable to witness the familiar areas where I frequently walked…completely covered by river water.  I recall the Roosevelt Hotel where I stayed during my 30 day temporary housing period. I recall walking to the Cedar River Bridge in the middle of January 1977 and watching huge chucks of frozen ice slowly moving down stream, something I had never seen neither in Southwest Virginia nor in Tennessee!
As the TV camera spanned the downtown scene I noted with interest the marquee for the Paramount Theater where I attended the annual Rockwell-Collins management meeting,  it was at least 2.5 stories high barely visible in the muddy Cedar River water. I watched with interest as the boxcars which normally held grain for the local Quaker Oats plant were loaded with huge boulders and positioned on the 8th Avenue bridge in hopes that the weight of such massive weight would hold the structure in place and then to see hours later that the entire structure …..railcars, rocks and bridge abutments were now in the middle of the Cedar River! Such awesome power I had never ever seen before! I also listened as a hydrologist, a profession which I had never heard before, reported how a gauge which measures the height of the Cedar River failed. First it lost electric power and the battery backup didn’t work and then the U.S. Geologic Survey (USGS) team was not allowed on the rapidly rising river to fix it until later.
I recall visiting Czech Village where the early settlers of Cedar Rapids started businesses and built their homes. Many of these small enterprises have their signs written in Czech or some other Slavic language. Having lunch or dinner with my coworkers in the various restaurants was indeed a treat! The large busted women with their colorful dresses who worked in the diners and the Czech museum still spoke English with a very heavy accent. It was like being in another country. Sadly, I noticed on television that the Czech restaurants, Polehna’s Meat market the Czech Museum and the various antique shops had been completely flooded!
A phone conversation with a former colleague currently living in Cedar Rapids and is dealing with the huge tasks of clearing floors, removing soggy carpeting etc informed me that all of the valuable artifacts which had been hand carried to this country from the former Czech Republic and had been in many homes are lost for ever! . It was a scene from a Will Smith horror movie and everyday the ending was never ceasing.
In addition this area proved to be even more diverse by the amalgamation of other ethic people of German, Greek and Polish extraction.  Imagine what fun I was at the Company Christmas parties when some staff member always wanted to teach me how to Pokka! It was too funny for words! My administrative assistant was of German heritage and so was her husband. They were proud of their vintage Porsche and their VW. As a matter of fact they were proud of anything that had “made in Germany” stamped on it.
My greatest shock was to observe on television my former Pastor, Jeff Gilmore on CNN wading through 10ft of dirty water…in the sanctuary of Park View Evangelical Free Church of Iowa City. I know that guy I shouted to my wife! That place was my home Church while I was a graduate student at the University of Iowa! I was a member of the choir, attended Sunday School, participated in the Men’s Fellowship including Promise Keepers. It was there that I became a Stephen’s Minister and taught Bible Study to the College and Career Students! I was busy and I saw miracles that resulted in a Church growth that increased from 200 to 1500 members most of whom were Iowa students….and now the place was completely soaked! It was in this place where I was convinced that the Revival which many Christians had prayed for had indeed occurred and that it had broken out in the heartland of America!
I saw students who finished academic programs and elected not to pursue opportunities in corporate America but instead joined other young people on the Missions field. I have met persons who were finishing their Medical Residencies and elect not to join a lucrative practice in some major city but instead join an organization such as called Doctors without Borders or volunteer to provide free care at some Indian Reservation in Arizona or in some struggling free clinic in the Mississippi delta. The amazing piece of knowledge was to see Christian men and women making new career choices such as pursuing a course of study at a Seminary or Theological Institute.
After I had calmed down, I went to my computer and began to view the Parkview Church web site. I read that the Congregation had conducted several weekly services at a local High School. There was an average of 1300 members out of 1500 in attendance every Sunday since the flood! Pastor Gilmore’s series of messages have dealt with “Facing Life’s Trials and Emerging Victorious”. This was indeed a very appropriate message for a very stressful time.
The third phase of my Iowa story concerns my time at the University of Iowa campus. As a Division 1 school which had close to 30,000 students enrolled. I enjoyed the company of colleagues from all over the world! It is a beautiful campus with caring and nurturing faculty members, many of whom I knew for they were evangelicals from my home church. What is truly amazing is that their names were posted publically for those students who felt the need to talk to someone with a spiritual focus. I have to remind myself that this University was a State supported school and to find proud evangelicals of the professorial staff making themselves available for mentoring college students was truly awesome!
The University web site reported that close to 20 building had been affected by the flood. Many of those buildings were dedicated to mostly undergraduate classrooms and resident halls. There were other buildings which held more value to me as a result of the flood. For instance, the Iowa Memorial Union where I heard Alex Healey, the author of Roots, speak. It was fascinating to listen to this man from Tennessee talk about his family and share stories of his youth. I identified with him for I too had stories about life living in Wise County Virginia and Kingsport. As I look back at that event, I could not help but think there I was in an auditorium with an audience of several thousand and in the midst of that august group were only three black listeners…the Dean of Students, Alex Hailey and Ed, a little guy from the hills of East Tennessee!
Hancher Auditorium, a performance building which would showcase some of the finest example of Broadway shows, both domestic and international musicals and other types of touring entertainment venues. Most of these cultural enrichment activities were available for “free” with a University ID card. Needless to say, I attended as many of these as my schedule would permit.
Carver-Hawkeye Arena, a world class basketball facility…one of the finest in the Big 10 Conference. This facility was named after that famous black American scientist George Washington Carver who was instrumental in developing Tuskegee Institute for poor black students in Tuskegee, Alabama. Carver-Hawkeye Arena has a reputation as a powerhouse in women’s basketball due to the skill of the highly successful Head Coach C. Vivian Stringer. That name should be familiar to most of America for this same lady who later became Head Women’s Basketball Coach of Rutgers University! This is the same person who successful turned their program around at Rutgers University as she successfully did previously at the University of Iowa….only to be subjected to the crude,rude and boorish comments from the radio personality, John Imus. I personally knew her and her deceased husband as “classy” individuals. I saw Vivian and her teams of coaches take young ladies from some of the most violent and depraved neighborhoods of Detroit, Chicago, Philadelphia and other urban cities and bring them to a 98% predominately white campus located in the heartland of America and make them successful, independent and yes….champions!  Normally very few people will attend a Women’s basketball game; however, I can not tell you how many times every seat (15,000) was filled in that arena! As a matter of fact, I can recall when the Iowa Hawkeyes played teams like the University of Connecticut, the University of Tennessee or Louisiana State University….the Arena would hold up to 25,000 crazed fans and the Fire Marshall would be found hyperventilating in the waiting room of the University Hospital! It was truly a wonderful time to be a graduate student at The University of Iowa!
In summary rivers may wash away Iowa but Not the resolve of Iowans. These are the descendants of the pioneers of very divest European, Scandinavian and Russian cultures who created that word picture which is contained in the first stanza of America the beautiful “for amber waves of grain, for purple mountain majesties above the fruited plain!” It was those early pioneers who first marveled and sang out in their broken English “America! America! God shed HIS grace on thee and crown thy good with brotherhood; from sea to shining sea! I can testify to their concept of “brotherhood” for they welcomed me to their homes, their churches, their Bible studies and some members showed up once to prepare my Sunday meal….and they provided the food…..and cleaned up! At another time, I filled my tired Volvo with Amoco premium fuel and discovered that I did not have a wallet nor any change in my pocket! I walked into the Amoco station and informed the manager that I had NO money to pay him; however, if he would allow me to return tomorrow I would satisfy my indebtedness. The elder Swede with the blue eyes and the bald head simply smiled and waved me off and said….” We know all about you for we know your neighbor…go in peace”.
There are so many examples of the kindness shown to me by these people and I can not tell it all. Whether their faith were Lutheran, Catholic, Congregationalist or a conservative Evangelical these folks demonstrated their faith in many ways. Although they did not look like nor talk like me, I always look back at the years spent in Iowa as the turning point in my faith and will always make myself available for the unselfish service to others. Only in Mid- America can you experience the hope for the rest of the country, I am convinced that the Great Revival which so many Christian pray to come….I think that it started in Eastern Iowa! I continue to marvel how we constantly hyphenate terms such as Italian-American, Irish-American and yes Afro-American. I have been remembered by my dear Viet Nam comrade, a Swede called Roger Johnson and thousands of others who befriended me in the days of my youth…..we are all Americans!
The storm that left areas of Cedar Rapids and Iowa City flooded is referred to as “the Katrina of the Midwest”. Crops were damaged neighborhoods were flooded and many were shocked to discover that yes, it can happen to you. …you too, can lose everything in “the twinkling of an eye”. Senators McCain nor Obama should not have shown up to survey the damage done in Iowa. Iowa needs their money…..I am quite sure that Iowan can take care of their own.
Respectfully submitted by Ed Horton USAF retired…an American

Do you know someone who says he or she has a great idea to make a lot of cash overnight? Does this person spend all their time, energy and money trying to make a better this or that? Dr. Phil’s guests have their heads in the clouds but no money in the bank, and their loved ones want to give them a reality check. First up, Dave thinks his big–money break is around the corner. He says once one of his deals comes through, he’ll being living high on the hog, though for now he lives in a tent. His ex-girlfriend, Diane, says she would marry David if he could get his finances figured out. Find out why David’s mom says she’s scared for her son’s future. Next, Casey is only 24 but has already racked up $2.2 million in debt with rash real estate investing. He’s been foreclosed on, receives calls from creditors, is considering bankruptcy, and recently, his wife handed him divorce papers. He’s desperate to save his marriage, but is his wife willing to work things out? Then, Richard has been obsessed with an invention that he says could make him one billion dollars. His family says he’s losing his house and his mind. You won’t believe what his invention is! And, meet A.J. Khubani, a man who has made millions selling products on TV infomercials. He allows the Dr. Phil cameras to roll as he tells it like it is to wannabe millionaires. Find out which product caught A.J.‘s eye, and what he’s willing to do for this inventor. Plus, learn how to spot a two billion-dollar scheme that could take you for thousands, and don’t miss the get-rich-quick ideas the Dr. Phil viewers submitted. Would you buy them? Tune in tonight at 7 on Dr. Phil, only on News Channel 11.