1 | Page Phlock Squawk Ozark Mountain Parrot Head Phlock Squawk 37° 11' 05.69" N / 93° 15' 43.46" W These coordinates are subject to change to suit the prevailing attitudes! March 2014 Officers President: Bud Page [email protected]VP: Chris Reed [email protected]Secretary: Kim McKnabb [email protected]Treasurer: Cheri Fenton [email protected]Membership: Chelli Hatch [email protected]Projects: Glenda Hunt [email protected]Public Relations: Julie Henderson [email protected]Newsletter: Richard Weter [email protected]Webmasters: Mike Crandall [email protected]Julie Henderson [email protected]Historian: Sharon Page [email protected]Captain Bud Finally some 60-degree weather!! Almost time for spring to show itself, don’t you think?? I know officially we have one month more of winter but I think we have had our share. What a phun month it has been. We had a great crowd of hardy Parrot Heads at Toon’s in February for the meeting in spite of the weather. Rick and Rob entertained all the dancers and we picked up four new members. Ponies ran slowly so the race was top notch. What a phun night On Valentines weekend we had thirty-six crazy fans meet at the Downstream Casino for a concert from The Little River Band. Man, were they good. My brother from Wichita brought Wilson and Little Ho for the outing and we got pictures with all the Parrot Heads and The Little River Band too!! Most of us donated to the casino so we can make sure they are open next time we want to go. This month’s meeting is at Cartoon’s again and the whole Cruize Control Band will be the entertainment!! Bring a guest and let shake it up. See you then. Stay warm.
Entertainment provided by the entire Cruize Control Band
— Hosted by Gene and Chelli Hatch
17 — OMPH Bored Meeting — Big
Whiskey’s, 1440 W. Republic Rd.
20—23 Stars Fell on Alabama. See page 7
April 2014
3 — OMPH General Meeting— KJ
Brewskies on North Packer Road. Jeff Henry
& Scott Cutbirth cooking for the club &
What The Phlock is Going On?
Karaoke for entertainment.
21—OMPH Bored Meeting—Big Whiskey’s,
1440 W. Republic Rd.
25, 26, & 27— Panama City Parrot Head
Club Rendezvous (See Page 4 & 6)
May 2014
1 — OMPH General Meeting—TBA
31 (possibly) — Birdies in Paradise Golf —
Island Green Country Club, Republic, MO —
Watch for additional Information
Ozark Mountain Parrot Heads
General Membership Meeting
Once again, on February 6, 2014 the Phlock returned to its most
stable nest at Cartoons Oyster Bar and Grill for its monthly
meeting. The attendance was in excess of fifty members which
wasn’t bad for the bitterly cold night.
Entertainment
was again
provided by
friends and
members Rick
Lamb and Rob
Davis of the band
Phinatics doing a
wonderful job as
always.
A drawing for
door prizes was
Continued on page 10
Ozark Mountain Parrot Heads Valentine
trip to Downstream Casino, in Joplin, to
be entertained by the Little River Band
February 15, 2014
Little River Band was formed in Melbourne, Australia in 1975. It was
originally a blend of musicians who had enjoyed success in other
Australian acts. Their new focus was to get airplay on American radio,
and they achieved that goal with good songwriting, powerful vocals,
and guitar harmonies. They immediately claimed their place as one of
the great vocal bands of the ‘70s…and the ‘80s.
Between 1976 and 1983, chart success in America includes the
following singles: It’s a Long Way There, Help Is on Its Way, Happy
Anniversary, Reminiscing, Lady, Cool Change, Lonesome Loser, The
Continued page 7
4 | P a g e Ph lock Squawk
Feeling Hungry for some friendship?
Go Ahead, Go Back for Seconds
Debating whether to take a second helping of together time with friends
or family today? Go ahead, go back for more.
Research shows that being socially connected is about as good for your
body as quitting smoking would be if you smoked. That's some pretty
powerful bonding!
Keep Your Friends Close
Yep, researchers reviewed more than 148 different studies and found that
the more socially connected people had double the survival odds of less
social folks. Their analysis compiled data from more than 300,000 older
adults and the results helped prove that supportive relationships are like
good medicine for heart, body, and soul.
OMPH is looking for Phriendly Phaces to host/hostess at a meeting. You MUST be able to arrive by 5:15PM the day of the meeting. Duties include; welcoming all members and having them “sign in”, handing out raffle tickets, and helping visitors. Host volunteers will receive 5 FREE tickets to the Pony Races! If you are interested in being a host or hostess at a meeting, please contact Capt. Bud at
The Panama City Parrot Head Club, will hold their 9th annual Parrot Head Rendezvous on April 25th, 26th and 27th 2014! HOTEL or CONDO reservations can be made at Legacy by the Sea or Beachbreak by the Sea. The Parrot Head rate does require a 2 night minimum. For reservations call 888-627- 0625 and ask for Sara, Tammy or Samantha. Tell them you are a Parrot Head and at that point the reservationist can give rates and availability. Hotel/Condo reservations with the Parrot Head Rendezvous rates can only be made by phone. There will be a great selection of Trop Rock bands from all over our country beginning April 25th 2014! Your favorites will be serenading us with the tones of Trop Rock over the most beautiful beaches in the world. The 2014 lineup just might be the BEST EVER! To register or get more information go to http://www.panamacityphc.org/ rendezvous2014/index.html.
“PUT YOUR TOES IN THE WATER, _ _ _ IN THE SAND…COLD BEER IN YOUR
HAND” AND LISTEN TO THE TROPICAL ROCK SOUNDS of one of our many bands that will be performing on our Beach Stage with the Backdrop of the Beautiful Gulf of Mexico, so come join us. Put YOUR OWN PERSONAL Beach Chair in the
Sugar White Sand with YOUR OWN PERSONAL small cooler. Walk out of your BEACH FRONT ROOM and all you do is enjoy the Blue Skies, White Sand,
Clear Warm Waters of the Gulf of Mexico and a Cheeseburger in Paradise Saturday at the venue on the Beach. Make New Phriends or revisit with Old Phriends at this
great 3 day Beach Party.
Still Only $65.00….
The Party actually starts Thursday with our Goody Bag Stuffing Party…this event has become a great start to our 3 Day Beach Party…just ask some of the Kentucky
Club Phriends. Friday at 11:00 AM Meet N’ Greet with our Phriends at Margaritaville. The Music and Beach Party starts at 1:00 PM Friday and goes until
Sunday.
Conch Republic Band * Jimmy and the Parrots
Sauce Boss * Tall Paul and Ramajay Intercoastal
Dave Hertzog’s Island Time Band * Captain Josh
John Reno * Dani Hoy * Steve Hopper
We are filling up FAST so don’t delay, we are limited to 550 registrations, Go to our
web site www.panamacityphc.org and click on the“Rendezvous 2014 registration is
Open” then click on “Register” and follow the instructions. The next thing is
the Hotels; Legacy by the Sea or Beachbreak by the Sea: Parrot Head rate there
is a 2 night minimum. For reservations call 888-627-0625 and ask for Sara, Tammy
I grew up on the west side of Springfield, Missouri. If you look on the left part of Springfield’s gridded streets you will find the map of my childhood. It’s where I rode my
bike, learned to drive, and fell in love.
It’s the place where on Tuesday, according to police, a man named Craig Wood—a public
school employee—kidnapped Hailey Owens. Witnesses say Wood yanked her off a
neighborhood street, drove her to his house, and shot her in the base of the skull.
Hailey Owens was ten years old and she lived less than ten minutes away from my
childhood home.
The crime and its impact are the kind of things we, as a society, call “unimaginable.” For
parents like me, a random kidnapping and murder of a child is the one thing we cannot
bare to consider. My hometown—though large and spread out across a big county—is
suffering a kind of collective grief I’ve never seen. The crime has left an entire community
mourning and helpless to do anything about it.
That twisted place in everyone’s stomach is the physical manifestation of the question,
“What can I do?” My late father had an answer that I learned just in time. I don’t know how he came about
it, but I feel like it’s because he had seen some of the worst of the world. I don’t know, nor
do I really want to.
For the past 48 hours, I’ve been thinking about my dad’s advice. I’ve been thinking about
the west side of Springfield, that sweet little girl, and what happened to her.
We call it unimaginable, but that’s not quite right. People my age have been imagining it
as long as we can remember.
ADAM In the summer of 1981, I was seven years old. Everybody I didn’t know was a monster
who crept out of Hollywood, Florida and spread out like a virus of fear across the country.
Every man with a “different” face was the creature that took six-year-old Adam Walsh and
left him in a way a boy shouldn’t be left. Back then, one only needed to say the name
“Adam” to make any parent’s heart stop for half a second.
That monster went everywhere. He made sure kids’ faces ended up on the sides of milk
cartons. There was no forgetting he existed. What we called unimaginable was actually a part of our collective imaginations every time we rode our bike a little too far from the
house. When a van parked at the end of our neighborhood road and the man inside called
for my friend to come closer, the fear could’ve lit the whole neighborhood.
Everybody was supposed to be afraid when I was a kid. It was part of the culture. The
President told us the Russians wanted to kill us. The First Lady told us drugs wanted to kill
us. Our milk told us somebody was killing us.
And yet, we played, we ran, we stayed out until dusk, and we defied the monsters in the
only way we knew how. We ran sweat lines through the dirt on our faces, and we pretended our mothers weren’t scared. Our parents pretended they weren’t afraid, and
somehow we all survived. Apparently, there weren’t enough monsters to get us all.
Living through it without losing any friends to the monster was a blessing, but it also
numbed the part of my brain that kept watch. Surviving the years of fear was enough for a
man of my generation to forget that the monsters were still out there.
UNTOUCHABLE I couldn’t figure out why Janice was crying. I barely knew her. I’d worked at the TV station for just eight days. She was one of my new
bosses. Now, on a beautiful 80-degree day in April of 1999, Janice was in tears at her desk.
For the better part of the next few weeks, the story of the Columbine High School
massacre would dominate our news. It would affect me as it would affect anybody, but in
those days, Janice’s tears made no real sense.
Columbine was halfway across the country. It was an admittedly terrible story, but Janice
was a professional who had seen and heard enough death that more tragedy shouldn’t
mean breaking down in the middle of the newsroom. I would learn that it was not Janice’s failing, but her humanity, one that I lacked. I was 25 years old and unmarried. My then-
fiancée and I had a couple responsibilities: the rent money and the care of a 13-pound mutt.
We didn’t cry. It simply didn’t touch us.
Two years later, I stood outside on a March morning. It was 30 degrees and dark, and I
shivered as I looked at a nice little suburban house where a man named Michael Hiderbrand had killed his wife and two children. It was among the worst cases I ever covered. Two
people I cared for deeply were within a stiff breeze of getting blown up by Hilderbrand’s
improvised building-sized bomb in downtown Greer, SC. As sad as I was during the entire
story, it never occurred to me to feel anything other than base-level disgust and professional
responsibility. Nothing more. No matter how much hell I saw, I felt untouchable.
As odd as it seems today, I still remember looking into Hilderbrand’s backyard and
thinking, “I wonder what’s going to happen to those dogs.”
THE DINER So, imagine me in a diner. A clean one in a safe part of town where the pancakes are pretty
much the best you’ll ever eat and the waitresses are the kind who consider it a profession.
My son is not yet in grade school, but he knows he is among men and wants to prove it. I’m
with my good friend and his son, a world-wise fourth-grader. Both of the kids need to go to
the bathroom. My son wants to go with his friend, and they don’t need any help from their
dads.
It’s no big deal for the big kid to cross the 100 or so feet to the other side of the place. He’s done it by himself many times before. It’s no big deal. He’ll keep an eye on my boy.
But as I watch my son weave through the brunch crowd, my chest tightens up and my
mouth gets dry. I lose all track of what my friend is saying, and I feel sick. My eyes are on
the other side of the room. I’m not hungry anymore. It’s a foreign feeling, like becoming a
father has somehow triggered some hormone that makes fear real again.
Too much time passes. I’m on my feet and making for the bathroom like it’s a house on fire.
I know for a fact something is wrong. It’s a dad’s intuition.
And of course…everything is fine. In retrospect, I probably gave my kid just enough time to find his zipper before bolting after
him. It’s funny now, but funny in a way that still makes me sick to my stomach, because it
was a reminder of the monster I hadn’t thought about since I was a kid. It was a monster
that had been hibernating until I was old enough to understand what real fear really felt like.
DAD’S ADVICE, HAILEY’S LEGACY This week, if police are correct, that monster took the form of Craig Wood, a mandolin
player in a little bluegrass band, and the type of guy no one expected to be the kind of creature he apparently turned out to be. He’s in jail now, and there is little chance he’ll see a
child again. There is precious little comfort in that.
When something terrible happens to a child, there is the gut reaction to fight. We look for
someone bigger to blame, someone we can hurt worse than we can hurt the man we’ll lock
in a cage. Sometimes the fight can take on real meaning, but in a case like this, we’re left
only with a mug shot and the unsettling understanding that he is only today’s face of a fear
we can’t control.
That’s really the point of it. Random kidnappings are exceptionally infrequent. They are lightning strikes without a god to blame for them. They are preciously-rare reminders that
we have reason to be afraid.
That’s really the worst thing: despite all statistics to the contrary, we have reason to be
afraid, and there is nothing we can do to change that. No amount of legislation, no focus on
mental health, no Neighborhood Watch is going to change the fact that we will always have
to be afraid.
And so, helpless, we ask, “What can I do?” I look at my children—the sole reason I can live as I do—and I want to see them run. I want
to see them smile because they are independent and can do things on their own. I leave them
at schools. I let them run at the pool. I try to let them build their lives without building walls
around them. I sit in muted terror and hope there aren’t enough monsters to get us all.
What can I do? I can heed my dad’s advice:
Make sure your children know you love them every day.
It sounds like simple advice, but in a world where we live in constant fear of what might
happen, there is peace in knowing your child knows he is loved right now.
Today, I’m still thinking about Hailey and what her death will mean for her family.
There is very little comfort in it, but there is this:
Thousands of children are hearing their parents say I love you a little louder and a little more often, and that’s because of a little girl named Hailey from my hometown.
