I'm still scratching my woolly noggin over the odd news story last week about the Fayetteville police officer who's contesting a reprimand and a 30-day suspension before the city's Civil Service Commission.
The story said Jason Alvarado requested the hearing after an October internal investigation determined he'd created conflict and dissent among his fellow officers by supposedly talking about reprimands against other officers that the media had requested, and by using a department's mobile computer to "talk about coworkers."
Commissioners were slated to review the facts and hear Alvarado testify last Friday. Several officers supposedly involved in this strange matter said in an investigative report they didn't see Alvarado as having created dissent in the ranks. They were also supposed to testify.
Meanwhile, Jamie Fields, the investigator who examined the purported incidents, told a reporter she didn't know who filed the initial complaint against Alvarado last year.
The account read to me like a policeman supposedly stirred dissension among officers who say he really didn't, and the matter was investigated by an officer who didn't know who'd complained to begin with. Sound to anyone else that this supposed incident had more holes than a colander, or that no one can say who was on first or second?
Snow stricken
What is it about a three-inch snowfall that urges me to climb behind the wheel and get myself smack dab in the middle of it?
Perhaps it's some misguided need for an adventure, the sense of overcoming nature's elements in ways people have for eons. Maybe it's just the kid who still hides within.
Yet from the moment I back from the driveway and feel the wheels start to slip, the logical me says this probably isn't the best idea for a full-growed man.
Like all that popcorn I know I'm not supposed to eat at the theater, I can't help myself from wallowing in the middle of all that frozen white magic.
The only time I think "uh, this probably wasn't a good idea" is when I touch the brakes or make a turn and begin suddenly to slide uncontrollably toward wherever the car decides to go.
I know I can't be alone in this strange obsession with becoming one with the snow because I see others out there slipping and sliding right along with me. Funny creatures, we humans.
Still in hospital
It was one of life's tenderly reflective moments as I recently stood beside his hospital bed in the Critical Care Unit at Springfield, Mo. At 92, he still looked surprisingly robust and healthy. But I also knew the heart episode that had landed him here a week earlier wasn't an affliction to take lightly.
In those moments as we visited with his son and friends at the bedside, I imagined all the layers of good this much-decorated World War II pilot achieved in his public life, and how many lives his existence has positively affected (and continues to affect) directly and through the ripples of his caring as a truly authentic public servant.
I imagined him in youth, walking to school in Harrison along Crooked Creek that flowed alongside the family acreage. I pictured him leaving his .22-caliber rifle in a special hiding spot along the stream on school days to await his return that afternoon. I visualized him piloting yet another cargo plane across the treacherous Himalayas to ferry supplies into the Chinese war theater. I remembered him and his late wife, Ginny, at Christmases past when the rest of his extended family and their children gathered for happy holidays together.
It was easy for me to visualize him regularly visiting across Northwest Arkansas with the everyday folks and business people, much as his father had done. I could see him helping an endless stream of hard-working citizens, regardless of political persuasion, to resolve their problems with government.
As of Sunday, former 13-term Third District Congressman John Paul Hammerschmidt (my late mother's brother) was continuing to improve in Springfield's Cox Medical Center South.
By Sunday, he was alert and conversational, much as he's been throughout his active life. Well, I may exaggerate a bit, but not much, believe me.
After a week in the Critical Care Unit, doctors had moved him to a step-down unit. In light of his continuing improvements, they expected to have him in a normal hospital room by today. A mutual friend from Harrison said of John Paul: "He's my hero, the strongest, most energetic person at 92 I've ever known. When I grow up, I want to be just like him."
His son, John Arthur, said on Sunday that physical therapy treatments have John Paul up and walking, plus he's been eating pretty well and is beginning to look like his normally healthy self.
Because of the untold contributions John Paul has made to the Third District, to the nation's veterans, and in so many ways across our state, I knew others would want to know what's been happening in his life.
He wouldn't want that, I can assure you. He's never liked fuss and bothering over him. And while I've exercised admirable restraint in keeping quiet so far, as his nephew I respectfully disagree.
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Mike Masterson's column appears regularly in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at [email protected].
Editorial on 03/03/2015