No price tag on life

Let me preface this by saying that I didn’t know Jim Cockman personally but according to accounts from people that I trust, he was a great man. He was loved by his community, his family, and his death was a stain on our society.

My first thoughts on David Edens and Jennifer Holloway receiving life in prison without parole instead of the death penalty were thoughts filled with anger.

That anger hasn’t subsided.

I am a firm believer in the death penalty. Our judicial philosophy should be “an eye for an eye.”
If a man or woman is powerful enough to take a life in their hand and end it, then so should our judicial system.

The audacity of a jury to debate for 11 hours after witnessing the testimony that was laid out before them. The audacity of a judge to not speak for the victim’s family is appalling.

Who in their right mind on that jury bought into the “accidental murderers” theory? I hope none of them. But then, if they were anti-death penalty, what were they doing on the jury?

Convicted murderers deserve to fall prey to the same death. Maybe Edens and Holloway should die by duct tape.

My first thoughts when realizing that they were going to get life in prison, aside from the injustice of it all, is that we are going to have to pay for these people to sit in a prison where they will get three meals a day and a blanket to keep them warm in their bed at night.

On a journey to find how much it costs to execute someone, it seems that it costs more to execute them than it does to keep them alive. It’s one of those fatal flaws in our judicial system where a criminal gets to appeal their case for 12 years or so. Then, taxpayers get to foot the bill for the costs of more trials, while at the same time, paying for their cozy bed and three meals a day. It’s crazy.

Thus, I’ve found myself in a paradox, which is known as the debate of Capitol Punishment.

As a conservative, I might say that it is better for them to get life since it will save the taxpayers money.

But also as a Conservative, I think the death penalty should be thoroughly implemented.

As I pondered this paradox, my thoughts suddenly saw the light at the end of the tunnel. It all became crystal clear.

What exactly is the price tag on life? To me there isn’t a price tag.

If our state has to pay $2.3 million to put Edens to death and then has to turn around and pay the same for Holloway, then so be it.

If $2.3 million is the price that we have to pay, thanks to a horrid judicial system, to make a murderer think twice before removing a great man or woman like Jim Cockman from this earth, then I say we should gladly foot the bill.

What does this case tell a person who has contemplated murder?

I may take the life of this human being, but the worst that might happen to me is a stint in a state prison where I will get free food, won’t have to worry about a job, and most importantly, I will get to breathe in the oxygen everyday that allows me to live.

It’s not right.

Murderers should not live.

Life is a sacred thing.

It is up to the courts to punish those that murder. It’s up to a court to speak for those whose life was taken from their family and friends. Courts must speak for those that cannot.

The judge and jury did not speak for Jim Cockman, who did not deserve to die.

What’s the punishment for Edens and Holloway for taking another human life? They get to live.

“Life” is the key word in their punishment.

Their punishment is “life” in prison without parole. They get to live despite the fact that they were judge, jury, and executioner in the life of Jim Cockman.

They decided the fate of a man who had a family who loved him. They decided the fate of a man who trusted them, thinking they just wanted to buy his Suburban.

If were’re not careful, we’re going to create a system where criminals aren’t scared to be criminals. “Life” is not a punishment. It is not a just punishment for murderers. We cannot be soft on crime. It’s a dangerous, slippery slope.

The Cockman trials opened my mind to a very important question that resonates on many levels.

Who do you trust in this world? That is a question that I have pondered many times. Now I know that you can’t trust the courts.

It’s a scary world where a man can be snatched up off the streets in broad daylight.

More importantly, it’s a scary world where a man and woman can take a precious life and their only punishment is to “live.”

Fight for your dreams

Dreams are a fragile thing.

We all have dreams no matter what age we are. Everyone holding this newspaper right now, reading my words, has a dream that they are clinging to.

To me, dreams are what keeps us going. It’s what keeps us going as the human race.
If it weren’t for dreams, where would we be?

We might still be living in caves or tents made of buffalo hide. You might be reading this column on a stone tablet right now. Who knows where we would be without dreams.

I want you to close your eyes right now. Breathe in the air around you. Find a peaceful place in your mind. If you could do one thing in your life, what would it be? What is your dream?

No matter what that dream is, it cannot fade from your memory or heart. It’s something that you cannot release. Grab that memory and never let go.

American author Richard Bach said that “you are never given a dream without also being given the power to make it true. You may have to work for it, however.”

That is so true. Most ignore their dreams because it may take too much work. Those thoughts must be erased from your minds. A dream is a dream. When you’re lost in your dream, the world seems so grand and that’s why you have to cling to that dream.

Believe it or not, dreams do come true.

When I was a child, I had two dreams. I would run around, scribbling on paper, and then I would deliver the finished product to my parents and grandparents as though it were a newspaper.

At a young age, I dreamed of working for a newspaper. In case you didn’t notice that you were reading a newspaper, that dream came true.

My other dream is currently being pursued by this faithful reporter. I dreamed of one day being an author and now I have written a book that hopefully will get me one step closer to my second dream.

I have tried to write a book so many times but I never had the diligence and the commitment.

Then one day, it hit me. I stared into my mirror and told myself the cold, hard truth.

“If you want to be an author, you’re going to have to write a book.”

It was the truth and thankfully my brain responded. In two months, I had a manuscript.

That’s what we have to do sometimes. We have to slap ourselves in the face and scream “wake up.” Dreams can only be attained if we pursue them.

Bill Gates didn’t take over the world in just one day. He spent years polishing a dream and now Microsoft has conquered the world.

American poet Henry David Thoreau said, “If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.”

In other words, dream big and then build a foundation. You have to have the dream to work toward. It’s how it works.

My grandpa told me one time that you know you’re getting old when regrets take the place of dreams.

Nothing could be more true.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be a bestselling author, but there is one thing for sure.

I am taking my shot.

And I’m going to take that shot over and over and over.

That’s what dreaming is about. If you have dreams and you don’t go for them, then you’re left with nothing but regret.

I don’t want my life to end up that way. I want to dream. I want to go for those dreams with everything that I have. I want to sweat and bleed for my dreams. To get away from me, my dreams are going to have to run, and that’s not what dreams do.

My dream is not a figment of my imagination and it shouldn’t be for you.

American poet Langston Hughes said it the best.

“Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.”

I want to fly.

I want you to fly.

We all deserve our dreams.

We all deserve to fight for our dreams.

Fight.

If you have any inspirational story ideas or just a comment that you would like to share underneath the Shade Tree, please email them to me at jmillwood@tryondailybulletin.com or call Joey Millwood at 828-859-2737, ext. 110. Any inspirational stories are welcome and may be included in the weekly columns.

Swinging at the root of southern culture

As a child, I would spend many afternoons in the waning sunlight with my grandparents beneath a shade tree in their front yard.

I would sit and listen as they discussed the day’s events, whatever they might be. We would sit in their swing, me nestled in between, and swing until the sun went down.

It was one of the safest feelings that I remember as a child. I would look up through the branches of that tree and catch glimpses of the sunlight but I would feel invincible to its heat.

No matter how hot it was outside, the shade tree protected us, and you know how hot it gets during these southern summers.

The shade tree is an invaluable piece of southern history and southern lore.

How do I know that?

It’s simple. All I had to do was look around my neighborhood as a child. It wasn’t just my grandparents and I who were enjoying the cozy shade of our giant, looming tree. It was everyone. There were swings beneath most of the trees in everyone’s front yard. It didn’t matter if it was a tall pine or a wide oak, so many of the elderly and young alike would be sitting beneath their tree.

It was tradition.

People would sit out under their trees or on their front porch and would just chat the afternoon away. On many special days, my grandmother would bring out some ice cream and I would smile that special children’s smile – the one full of that warm, fuzzy feeling. It didn’t matter what my grandparents were talking about. It was just that feeling of escaping the sun after a long day of pretending to be a G.I. Joe or a Transformer and just relaxing in the shade of a giant tree.

Sometimes I would go out and sit underneath our massive pine by myself but that never really felt the same. I couldn’t enjoy the tree’s shade without my family around me.

Does that make sense?

The tree would bring my family together every afternoon. It was almost like a reunion. No matter how long a day my dad and grandfather had, they would find time to sit beneath our tree and discuss the Atlanta Braves or the Chicago Cubs or some other sports. My mother and grandmother would discuss supper and what they were going to do over the weekend.

For all of you who know what I’m talking about, the shade tree didn’t stop with just family members, though, did it?

Some of my neighbors would come over and enjoy the shade of our tree with us. Those were special days when “Ms. Peachy” and “Ms. Ruth” would come over and chat with my family.

Those were exciting times.

It would probably surprise my parents to know that I even remember those afternoons beneath our pine. It’s not something that most adults would think a child would remember. In a world of video games, television, and air conditioning, it’s hard to fathom that a child would remember anything else, but I remember.

I remember that no matter how hot the sun was, I could sit with my grandparents in that swing and a breeze would brush across my face that felt like heaven.

After all, that’s what the shade tree was, wasn’t it?

It was kind of like a tiny piece of heaven fell from the sky and landed in my front yard. It was like while I was sleeping one night, a star fell from the sky and landed in my front yard, creating a cozy utopia in which my family could rest away from the sun.

I’m talking about it as it relates to my family but it was bigger than that. The shade tree is a vital part of southern culture. It’s one of those things that defines the old-style south. Shade trees and front porches were ways for generations upon generations of neighbors to be friendly.

Of course, it wasn’t just a neighborly thing either.

Everybody used to fight for that shade tree during church picnics. It was like the front seat of a concert. Everybody wanted that seat. You could sit and enjoy your picnic without the sun’s tenacious touch.

The shade tree touches southern culture to the bone. It’s one of those things that define who we are, one of those things that seep deep into our character and our soul.

My shade tree touched me. It has always been there in the caverns of a young boy’s memory. It’s one of the most beautiful memories of my childhood.

It didn’t matter how cool the air condition was inside, the shade tree was cooler. It could have been all in my head but it didn’t matter to me. The shade of our tree was amazing, literally or figuratively.

It will never escape my memories.

My grandfather may have gone on to Heaven, but every now and then while I’m visiting my grandmother, the breeze will catch our swing.

It will rock into motion and the cozy feelings of my childhood will come flooding back through my body and I will see myself, eight years old, swinging beneath our pine tree, snuggled up between my grandparents.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll find a shade tree soon enough’

By Joey Millwood - Tryon Daily Bulletin Sports Editor

A person can learn many valuable lessons in life. It can be a lesson learned from someone you know or a stranger on the street.

I have learned a lesson lately that has touched my heart. It came in a small, white furball named Lucy.

Lucy is a terrier mix dog that came to us unexpectedly one day. We had no clue where she came from but as the days passed by, we were glad she came. The dog had the most incredible spirit that I have ever seen in any animal or human. No matter what was going on in my life, my wife’s life, or my in-law’s life, Lucy could just walk up and brighten the day.

She had me from the time she wagged her tail and her whole behind shook with it. We love the little pooch.

We almost lost Lucy Easter weekend this year to a car accident. As I ran over to my wife’s grandmother’s front yard, my father-in-law held her in his arms. She was bleeding and convulsing and before long she was having seizures as though she were in shock. We thought for sure she wasn’t going to make it.

Her normally cute, wiry white coat was drenched with blood and the saliva that came from her pain and nervousness. As I stared at her, I thought of that sweet dog that came to us a year ago. Her ability to make me smile was undeniable but now the tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t want to lose my little Lucy.

We sped our way to Spar-tanburg. The emergency animal hospital was our only bet. We ran her little white body into the hospital and they took her back immediately. They briefly examined her and told us that she had a terrible concussion and whether she was going to make it was up in the air. She had a 50-50 chance, the doctor said.

So many questions swirled around in our minds. We wanted to know if our little Lucy was going to live or not. Our questions would remain as we headed back to Landrum filled with feelings of sadness and uncertainty.

Like most humans who understand the attachment that we can have with our dogs, I questioned everything. How can this dog that does nothing but bring sunshine to everyone she comes in contact with be punished? Why does the sweetest and most innocent dog on Earth have to feel this pain?

Everyone in my family sat back and waited on doctor updates as my father-in-law called around the clock. It was always the same, as the doctor reported no change.

I began thinking about Lucy’s life before she met us. She had an obvious fear of men, leading me to believe that she was abused. Despite her fear of men, she grew to love me, my father-in-law, and my brother-in-law. Her fear subsided. Her belly was full. She was loved.

As I sat in church that Easter Sunday, I said a little prayer for Lucy. I prayed that she would return to our lives as lively and as sweet as she was before the car accident.

We found out late that day that my in-laws were going to be able to pick her up and take her to their vet in Landrum. Everything was still up in the air on how this accident would affect her. She wasn’t out of hot water yet.

She stayed in the vet’s office for a couple of days and then she came home. My mother-in-law assured us all that Lucy was going to be an inside dog now. Much to the chagrin of their cat, Scooter, Lucy came inside for good.

She’s not the same yet as she was before the accident but she’s getting there. Our neighbor’s dog, Blacky, who was her best friend before the accident, can’t seem to get her to play the way she used to with him. The sadness is evident in his personality.

My mother-in-law tried to get her to play with her favorite toy outside the other day but she just left it on the ground. She walked away and found a comfy spot to lie down. Blacky grabbed the pink toy, brought it over, and laid it in front of her, hoping to change her mind. He refuses to give up on his friend.

Lucy has taught me something over the past couple of weeks. She’s proven that she’s a fighter. More importantly, no matter what happened to her before she came to us, she lived through it.
She had been hit by a car, had a bloody head, and was having some of the worst seizures that I had ever seen. She stared death in the face and now she’s licking us in the face when we go up and visit my in-laws. She’s still the sweetest dog in the world despite everything that has happened to her.

She came to us weak and hungry. She grew to be a strong force in our lives. She left us that Saturday before Easter in the arms of death. She has fought her way back. She’s not completely Lucy yet, but our hopes are that she will be one day. She’s been through a lot and hopefully our love will help her through this. She’s not alone in this big cruel world.

We can all learn something from Lucy. Life is hard. Life gets you down. What we have to remember is that the sun is shining behind the clouds. You may be in the thickest, darkest patch of woods you have ever been in but you will emerge into the light of day once again. If the sun’s the problem, don’t worry. You’ll find a shade tree soon enough.

This little dog has fought off loneliness, starvation, and death. We can survive whatever. It just takes a little courage and faith and with a little love from friends and family, maybe life won’t be as hard.