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New Chattin’ the Hooch Blog

Steve Scott writes about whatever he feels like. He is the human version of a honey badger. He’s gentle until you poke him with a stick. Then you had better watch out!

Several months ago I got a call from Steve Scott that included an invitation to lunch. He said he was on a mission to have lunch with people he either did not know or didn’t know well. I didn’t know much about him. I know he is married to Adelyn. I know he sat across from me at the first drum circle here in Columbus, Ga. and that his drum was a big plastic garbage can.

That “drum” should have been enough to let me know that I was about to meet a drummer who might just march to his own beat. We met at Uptown Vietnam Cuisine and he brought gifts.

He is a poet, a musician, a band nerd, a wonderful writer and a parade organizer — at least. I sense that Steve is a man of many layers, and that I have only seen a glimpse of some of the outer ones.

That day at lunch we talked about our lives. About my cancer, our children, his grandchildren and things that make us happy. We also talked about Steve becoming a featured blogger on our Columbus and the Valley magazine website.

We were in the early phases of redesigning our company website, so we couldn’t really talk much about how his blog might fit in. At that point, I wasn’t even sure how my own blog might be delivered.

So our paths crossed every now and again and we updated each other on how our lives were going and how the website design was coming along.

Even after the new blog platform was built and ready, we still got together every once in a while and talked about his future blog. What would he name it? What would he write about? I really think he thought I was going to make some decisions about how his blog would go, but I let him know that he would be completely in control of all those things, and that I would help him as much as he needed me to.

In January of this year, a tragedy struck Steve, his family and all the people in the world who knew his son, Kyle, who died in a car accident near Robertsdale, Ala. I would love to have known Kyle. From all I have seen and read about him, he inherited the zaniest parts of his father, Steve.

I watched Steve get through those tough days, weeks and months, surrounded by a legion of friends and loved ones. Steve has a huge collection of friends. Musicians, artists, Auburn band alumni and people who know and love him from reading the pages of children’s books he has authored.

In a recent Facebook post from Steve, he declared that his tombstone should say, “He squoze out the last drop.”

In the short time that I’ve known him, he embraces life more heartily than almost anyone I know. He is passionate about so many things and I just don’t know how he finds the time to give so much of himself to so many causes.

I hope you’ll subscribe to Steve’s Chattin’ the Hooch blog. It will be a great treat to see our world through his eyes.

Ft. Benning Needs Your Voice

I have seen a little buzz on Facebook, especially from young entrepreneurs, who are advocating for Columbus to begin a weening process to minimize its dependence on Ft. Benning and to move toward attracting new big businesses and to support small- to mid-sized businesses instead. I understand why someone might make this point, especially if they view Ft. Benning as simply a military base.

It makes more sense to see Ft. Benning as a defense industry. COL (Ret) Gary Jones, executive vice president of military affairs, puts it this way: “The state of Georgia has a $22B (yes, billions) industry. It is the United States military.” Columbus’ piece of that ginormous pie is $5B, as a local “employer” (direct jobs and support jobs) of 41,000 people! This latest Sequestration issue could cost Ft. Benning 14,000 jobs.

Want to get a good local feel for what losing 14,000 would look like? I can’t do that, because I don’t have the math at my fingertips. But I can show you what losing 9,200 jobs would do to us. Imagine losing Aflac, TSYS and Columbus State University by September, 2017. Can you even fathom the amount of money, effort and time that would have to be invested to replace those three companies in a market the size of Columbus, Ga.?

I asked Gary Jones about the last time there was a significant draw down at Ft. Benning. It was right after the Vietnam War that the Department of Defense drew down the uniformed services. After a time the numbers stabilized and beginning in the late 80s and through the 90s till today, the military industry has grown. “In 2006, I briefed the governor and representatives from what is now called the Georgia Department of Economic Development on the importance of our state seeing the military as an $22B industry.”

Unless you were alive and in business in our region in the mid- to the late-70s, there is no way to get a feel for what a substantial reduction in force at Ft. Benning would bring. I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to ever see that reduction take place. Losing a big chunk of Ft. Benning couldn’t be replaced in my remaining lifetime. Everyone’s businesses would suffer. Just as a rising tide floats all boats, a falling tide sends them all down. I want to look back at myself after this is all said and done and to judge whether I did everything within my power to do my part to keep Ft. Benning intact.

This is my first effort, on this subject, to earn my own respect — my personal affirmation when I look into the mirror every morning to shave. Regardless of your political leanings, having a thriving community of a few mega companies and a swelling legion of cool, new businesses (retail, restaurant, arts, entertainment and sports) is something I hope we can all get our head and our arms around. A healthy Ft. Benning would all but guarantee that.

Last night Jill and I attended the Greater Columbus Georgia Chamber of Commerce’s “Christmas in July” party hosted by the Hall Booth Smith law firm. It was a great event! The firm’s great, new offices on Front Avenue in the historic W. C. Bradley Co. building were on display as was a healthy dose of enthusiasm from Chamber staffers, executives and attendees. We got a chance to talk again with new Chamber President Brian Anderson and to reaffirm to him our commitment to keep selling this community in the pages of our magazines, our social media, my blog and our web pages.

If ever there was a time to speak out, the time is now. Yes, I would like to see our region attract new industries and businesses and lessen our dependence on the huge industry that is Ft. Benning, but I would hate to try and do that without the dollars and the culture that Ft. Benning brings to our region. Those dollars add up to a staggering $627,000,000 per year in this market. I hope you’ll do your own research and ultimately be able to get behind our Chamber, our city and the businesses we all own and support by speaking out, signing a petition and encouraging others to support our largest industry.

What’s a Former Republican Going to Do?

I have never missed a chance to vote. Ever. From the moment I was eligible to participate in the electoral process, I have been fascinated with how it works. My brother and I were reared in a conservative home. Our hardworking parents provided us with everything we needed and as much of what we wanted as any other child we knew. We went to church every time the doors were opened and there was no alcohol in our house, except for that time we got caught smuggling a keg of Budweiser in to wet the whistles of a few friends that we invited over to a party Eric and I threw. We found out mom and dad were coming home early from their trip and we did a pretty damn good job of cleaning everything up. We put the barely touched keg under the house and had fairly well policed up the inside.

Eric mistakenly left the plastic keg top (Budweiser 16 gallons) in his pants and mom discovered it in the wash.

Lucy, you’ve got some ‘splaining to do!

The point of all this is that I’ve voted Republican since I had a vote. Although I’ve always considered the candidate and not so much the party, I just leaned further to the right almost all the time. Because of the business we’re in, it probably isn’t a smart thing for me to be outspoken about my political beliefs. Let’s face it, we need every single advertiser and reader we can get, so why would I purposefully alienate the Democrats among our readership? Among our friends. So, for almost all of my adult life, I think most people felt like I was more right than left. I never really gave them any feedback to confirm that, because I just haven’t talked much about politics.

Then I grew up. I got cancer. We have a business to run and protect. Our sons grew up. And, my country has gone to shit.

My political compass is spinning and there doesn’t appear to be a True North anymore. As I evaluate my political position, I couldn’t be farther from Republican politics. I believe in smaller government, a woman’s right to choose what she does with her own body, states’ rights, marijuana legalization and a strong, but not oppressive military. I also believe we, as a country, must do everything we can do for the weakest among us. People need health insurance. Everyone should have the opportunity to get a great education. Those are the things I know and believe in.

What I can’t abide is the game of politics. If you follow my Facebook, you know that I have plugged myself into my first political debate. I have recently spent the day in Montgomery, Alabama at the State House in a room full of political types in nice suits, strutting around whispering to each other in little caucuses, to the exclusion of everyone else. I attended a “public meeting” of the Alabama Senate Judiciary committee where Senate Bill 326 was to be “discussed.” I got there early, so that I could get a good seat and so that I could maybe get the chance to speak and tell my story about why I wanted them to legalize medical cannabis in Alabama. Look at my last blog post. I have a hell of a story to tell. I know how to read and spell the word SUFFER. I was the second name on the list, which meant I should have been afforded the opportunity to speak in front of that gathering of about 150 people and a handful of legislators. At the last moment, the lists were swept up and we were told that the meeting had been changed and that no one would be allowed to speak except the members of the Senate Judiciary Committee.

What I found out later is that some of the members of the committee who were not sitting around the table were actually in the back of the room. They had decided not to vote, based on some kind of a deal that had been made that would allow the bill (SB326) to be given a favorable status and allowed to move on to the Rules Committee. Talk about watching the sausage being made!

I have since attended a peaceful rally in Vestavia, Ala., where I voiced my concerns over Sen. Jabo Waggoner’s insistence that he wouldn’t let that bill reach the senate floor for discussion because “he” didn’t think Alabama was ready to discuss the subject. If “he” had lived through the hell I’ve just been through, I think “he” might be singing a different tune. Cannabis is good medicine, but that isn’t what I came here to talk about.

I can’t vote for any of the announced Republican candidates for president. I couldn’t possibly vote for Hillary Clinton. I’m in a real political quandary. Then I saw an interview with Bernie Sanders. He’s a democratic socialist, whatever that is. But what I sense in him is that he is as upset about the current direction of our land as I am. And…he seems to say whatever is on his mind, without regard for whom it might upset. He fully speaks his mind. He might be the only truly transparent person in this race. I like that. I want that.

Now before any of you start challenging me about this, I don’t know a single other thing about Bernie Sanders. I will be doing research, listening and watching to see how this all unfolds. This election will be a big one for me.

Dose Four is In

I write tonight with the bag containing dose number four dripping away above my head and into the PICC line. In spite of the brief bout of nausea and the shake, rattle and roll bit last night, today I have felt great. Although I haven’t looked in the mirror to check it out, I have been told that my skin is quite red, from my scalp to my feet. My face does feel a bit like I’ve spent too long in the sun.

As of this morning, I haven’t gained an ounce. I’ve been told that I’ll likely gain 5% of my rather ample body weight during this first half of round number one. I asked the nurse who just came into my room how I was doing compared to others who have come through Duke’s HD-IL2 program. “You’re doing great,” she said, but I could tell she had that “I-tell-everybody-the-same-answer-to-that-question” look on her face.

One of the attending physicians came in today and somehow (you guess how) we got to talking about whitewater rafting. He lit up! He’s an enthusiast who has several runs of the New and Gauley rivers under his belt. I whipped out my iPad and showed him just enough video for him to know that he’ll be making a trip to Columbus sometime next year. Richard Bishop must have the best job on earth. I consider myself an able assistant in the task of selling our tri-community region to people around the world in our magazines, printed and digital, my blog and in person. We live in an incredible place at an incredible time.

Back to cancer land: I spoke to Dr. Mike Morse’s physician’s assistant today and she gave me high marks for how I’m tolerating this difficult therapy. I also realize that I’ve claimed this and will likely be slapped down by karma, maybe even by the dose that is dripping right now. But for right this moment, I am here with my best friend, surrounded by some of the best medical minds on the planet in a most beautiful city. All in all, I’m happy. I’m enthusiastic and I’m optimistic about the next few days and for what is to come.

Thank you for all the great Facebook messages and the posts on this blog. Jill and get together and read them every day and I want you to know that these messages of hope and encouragement are hitting their intended mark.

I’m going to regret this blog post if I’m up all night hugging the porcelain throne. Selling Buicks. Talking to Ralph on the big white phone. You get it.

Just as I’m prepared to sign off, the beeping of the power pole next to the bed says that does number 4 is fully integrated into my body. Goodnight!

If Your Central Gateway Ain’t Happy, Ain’t Nobody Happy

We had a very, very long day yesterday on the return trip from Duke. We stopped in Greenville for lunch, which is almost exactly half way home. We were at a great little restaurant called The Bohemian Cafe. Really terrific sandwiches and an attached old-time record shop with thousands of vinyl albums and a smattering of CDs, too. After lunch we stopped at a gas station right across the street to fill up and that is where things went south.

As we pulled into the filling station, I felt a very noticeable bump and it seemed that my entire car just went flat. Gone was the leopard-like, perfectly-tuned, solid stance that makes our 2004 Mercedes E500 so much fun to drive. Instead, she felt listless and unstable, much like the busted up old man who was driving her. Sometimes these cars have a mind of their own, so we filled up the tank and restarted, hoping things would be back to normal for the remainder of the trip. Didn’t happen.

I pulled out my iPhone and used my favorite app, Poynt. We called a local Mercedes dealership and got David Knutti, the service manager on the phone. He suggested a couple of things that we might try to reset the car and those didn’t work. Thankfully, the dealership was only three miles up the road we were on, so we limped to the dealership and winced at each change of gears (up and down) when the car bumped like it was about to come apart.

I got out of the car first, and like my car, I limped over to the desk to greet David. I filled out some paperwork and David went over with my smart key to gather some information. Jill told me later that when he got into the car with her, she pulled the cancer card to try to garner some extra punch for our appeal to get back onto the road. It worked, because in a few minutes, David popped back into the waiting room and informed us that our central gateway was busted, that they had one in stock and for less than $500, including parts and labor, they could install it and get us back on the interstate. That was good news (except for the $500 part).

He told us that the central gateway is about a 4″ square box that handles the plethora of electrical communications between the brakes, engine, transmission, traction system and suspension. So, when it went out, the entire car felt listless and disconnected. My car has 175,000 miles on it. Technically, she is well-cared-for teenager in terms of how long these cars can run, but with us being on the road so much, I want her to run right every time we crank her up. If this breakdown had happened out in the middle of nowhere, we would have been alright, but the day would even have been longer. Thanks to David, we were in and out of the dealership in under two hours.

The other piece of good news, is that while we were waiting, we got a call from someone I’m going to get to know very well over the next few months. Cindy Simonson, Dr. Michael Morse’s nurse practitioner in the HD-IL2 program, called and told us that they had made room for us to begin the therapy on Labor Day, instead of the following day. So, we’ll be leaving again on Sunday for the 1,150-mile roundtrip to Duke University Hospital to begin the ugly next chapter of this cancer journey.

The Monday start will likely have us coming back home next Saturday to begin the recovery process in advance of the return on Monday, September 17 for the B part of round one. This weekend, we’ll be gathering newly purchased extra-fat clothes to accomodate my dramatic first-round weight gain. I’m expected to gain 20-40 pounds of water weight during that first week of therapy. The weight will drop off pretty quickly, but I’ve got to take some big boy clothes to travel home in. The other things we’ll be taking are lotions, movies and TV shows on DVDs, a few pictures of our family to inspire me and a load of my dad’s semi-world-famous peanut brittle to share with our Duke family of healthcare professionals. I had actually already built of a stash of brittle in my office to take with us. I heard on Facebook that our office peanut brittle thief, Marquette McKnight, has very slightly diminished that stash in an afternoon sugar fix fit.

We appreciate all the notes of encouragement! Jill and I read the posts together at night as we put on our armor for the next day of battle. Going into this next phase of treatment girded by all the support from our friends and family is exactly what we need.