Apologies and Resolutions for the New Year

  

As you know, I have written about the Southern Boone County School District’s Board of Education and its handling of Covid-19 several times in the last few months both as a reporter and as an opinion columnist. Although I’ve tried to keep my personal opinions off of the Journal’s front page, I believe I failed in that regard in a news piece I wrote a couple of weeks ago.

In the story I wrote about Missouri Attorney General Eric Schmitt’s cease and desist letter to the District that threatened legal action if the District were to require masks or quarantines following a Cole County judge’s order that called for a halt to such safety measures, I did a reasonably good job of laying out the facts and documenting the Board’s handling of the tricky situation. However, I made a mistake when I added two paragraphs about the behavior of district parent and board candidate Brad Bartow.

Unlike my son Alex, I didn’t go to journalism school. If I had, I’m sure they would have taught me to wrap up a story when the facts have been thoroughly and accurately presented and not to add irrelevant material to the end of a piece that could have stood on its own without such an addition. That particular story was about the AG and the Board, not about parents or board candidates. Although I stand behind the facts of what I wrote, the superfluous material about Mr. Bartow’s behavior at board meetings and mask protests did nothing to improve my story.

Bartow himself had warned me this might happen. When I asked him for his opinions about masking requirements for an October news piece, Mr. Bartow said, “It’s always risky answering questions for a biased journalist. Media without biased opinions are something that appear to be quite rare nowadays. Southern Boone definitely deserves an unbiased media in times such as these.”

I wholeheartedly agree with Mr. Bartow. This community deserves unbiased journalism and nothing less. Therefore, I would like to apologize to Journal readers and Mr. Bartow for turning an unbiased news piece into an opportunity to publicly and unnecessarily shame one person. Although I disapprove of Mr. Bartow’s interruptions at board meetings and his decision to stage a rally against mask mandates on school property, my opinions on the matter should have been strictly confined to the opinion page.

As a former teacher and as a devoted friend to administrators and staff members trying their best to survive the stress of teaching during a pandemic, I take any threats (real or perceived) against their wellbeing extremely seriously. In my opinion, the Board’s decision to go against CDC and DESE masking recommendations threatened the safety of my teacher friends. I felt that Brad Bartow’s outspoken opposition to masking and quarantine mandates influenced the Board’sdecision, therefore he was also a threat to my friends’ safety, in my opinion. Had I chosen to share those sentiments only on the Journal’s opinion page, then I would have been fine in terms of journalistic ethics. Because I am so close to the situation, having personal relationships with so many people whose lives are affected by the Board’s and Brad’s actions, I should have refrained from allowing my personal biases to influence my reporting. I am sorry for failing to maintain a professional distance from the subjects of my reporting.

Finally, after reading Mr. Bartow’s account in last week’s paper about his time in the military, I realized that I have made no effort whatsoever to get to know the real Brad Bartow. I made the mistake of seeing him only as an adversary on one particular issue, when in truth, Mr. Bartow is a devoted husband and father, a well-loved member of this community, and a military veteran who served his country honorably during two tours of duty in the war in Iraq. 

This is a mistake I think many of us make. We become focused on identifying and attacking opinions we disagree with, and we forget that those opinions are held by living, breathing people with whom we have more in common than we realize. Mr. Bartow was born and raised in small-town Missouri. So was I. Mr. Bartow is a husband and father. So am I. Mr. Bartow volunteered for military service. So did I. Mr. Bartow is trying his best to serve his community. So am I. Mr. Bartow has made a few mistakes along the way. Lord knows, so have I.

Brad, if you’re reading this, I hope you will accept my sincere apologies. Although we won’t always see eye-to-eye on everything, we both want what’s best for the people we care about. I hope that one day we can meet face-to-face, shake hands, and perhaps even become friends. I mean that. And by the way; you, sir, are one hell of a writer. The piece you wrote about your military service that appeared in last week’s paper was beautifully written. I look forward to reading more in the future.

As we look forward to the new year and make our annual resolutions, let’s figure out a way to devote more energy in 2022 to finding common ground with one another. Let’s resolve to be better to each other. Let’s be better parents, friends, allies, and supporters. Let’s come together to affect positive change in our community and in our world. Along with being a better reporter, those are my New Year’s resolutions.

Happy New Year.

 

Freya Doesn’t Live Here Anymore

 I’ve always known that one day my son Alex, his girlfriend Sarah, and their beautiful baby girl Freya would move out of our house and into a place of their own. I half-jokingly told them they were free to stay with Mimi and Pop forever, but I knew they would eventually want to leave our nest someday. That day came last Wednesday. And I am not okay.

Freya was born during the height of the pandemic, and in order to minimize her chances of being exposed to the virus, she and her parents hunkered down at our house, tucked safely away from society in the woods of Southern Boone County. As a result, most of Freya’s first fifteen months of life have been lived at our home. After I quit teaching in order to be a stay-at-home grandparent while Alex and Sarah continued with their college education and returned to the workforce, Freya and I spent almost every day together. It’s safe to say that Freya has become my favorite human being in the entire history of human beings.

Before Freya was born, I loved my wife and three kids as much as I thought it was possible to love anyone or anything. Then this adorable, smart, funny, and ornery little person came into my life and absolutely rocked my world.

I was there to see Freya’s first smile, hear her first laugh, and feel her first hug. I was there for her first steps, her first words, and her first adorable temper tantrums. I’ve been so blessed, and I know that not every grandparent is able to be there for all of those firsts. 

In the days and weeks leading up to their move-out date, I focused on savoring every moment I had with Freya. Whether it was dancing in the living room, walking around outside, or playing with toys, our days were spent having fun and making memories. Our favorite activity has always been reading, and over the last few days at our house, Freya spent a lot of her time curled up in my lap following along to Goodnight Moon, I Believe in Bunnycorns, I Love You to the Moon and Back and other treasured books. The most deeply satisfying moments of my life have been spent reading and snuggling with my granddaughter—and all three of my children.

Last Wednesday was full of extreme highs and abysmal lows. Freya and I often walk to the bus stop at the end of our road to meet Truman and Tiana after school, and it occurred to me during Wednesday’s walk that it may be the last time we’d be able to do so. Until my dying day, I will always cherish the memory of the joy I saw on Freya’s face as she blissfully gazed at her Aunt T and Uncle Tru that day at the bus stop. I barely choked back the tears as we walked home together, while all three kids were happily oblivious to my breaking heart.

My heart was breaking, but it wasn’t broken yet.

It broke a little more that afternoon as I packed up Freya’s toys, clothes, and crib and loaded them into my truck. It broke even more on the drive to Columbia. More cracks developed as I carried Freya’s things into her new home. I had to pause for a moment and admit to Alex that I had been struggling to hold it together all day, and when he gave me a comforting hug, I finally lost it.

I lost it again the next day, my first day at home without Freya. I lost it again on Friday after telling Bethany how much I was hurting. I cried as hard that night as I have ever cried in my adult life. My breaking heart was officially a broken heart. I knew I would never be happy again. “She belongs here,” I told my wife between sobs, even though I knew that Freya belongs wherever her mom and dad are.

Bethany did her best to console me, but I was inconsolable. For fifteen months, I had a front row seat to the greatest show on earth—The Freya Show. Now the show has moved to a different town, and even though the rational part of me is happy for Alex and Sarah as they begin a new and exciting chapter of their lives, the emotional part of me is completely devastated. I know we’ll still get to see each other often, but life in the Naughton house will never be the same now that three of the seven people who have called this house “Home” have moved out all at once. 

The silver lining of this new arrangement is having more time to focus on Truman and Tiana. They sacrificed a lot when they were forced to share their parents with a new grandbaby. And it wasn’t the first time they put their own needs behind the needs of another child. Six years ago, they had to share their parents and home with two of their cousins who lived with us for a year due to a family crisis. In both situations, Tru and T were selfless, compassionate, and patient with their new housemates. Now, with my focus returning to my own children, I am falling in love with them all over again. They truly are amazing young people.

Maybe that’s the way it will be with Freya. Every time I get to see her, I’ll have an opportunity to fall in love with her all over again. The same goes for Alex and Sarah. Perhaps that is the only way to heal a broken heart; by seizing those chances to fall in love every time they present themselves.

Pirate Pride Forever

 My alma mater, Hannibal High School, competed in the Missouri Class 4 state football championship game last Friday against Smithville High School at Faurot Field in Columbia, and I was one of hundreds, (if not thousands), of Pirate fans and alumni who turned out to cheer for the Black and Red. Although the game did not turn out the way we had hoped it would, most Hannibal fans walked away from the stadium feeling nothing but Pirate Pride. I walked away feeling old.

In the week leading up to the game, my social media feeds were filled with posts that included the hashtag #onceapiratealwaysapirate. People posted throwback photos of themselves from when they were students and/or teachers at HHS as well as messages of support for the 2021 football team. I couldn’t help getting swept away in the tidal wave of nostalgia.

 

On game day, I donned a Hannibal Pirates baseball cap that my dad wore as an assistant girls’ softball coach at HHS in the mid-1980s, and I briefly considered wearing the letterman jacket that I earned as a member of the Pirates baseball team, but the unseasonably high temperature Friday caused me to leave the jacket at home. I saw a lot of other Pirates wearing theirs though, with numerals sewn on the sleeves representing graduation years ranging from 1988 through 2023. There were quite a few from 1990, my graduating class, which was great to see.

Our 30th anniversary high school reunion, scheduled for the summer of 2020, was cancelled due to the pandemic, but Friday’s football game became a belated reunion of sorts for the Class of ’90 (and ’89, ’91, ’92, etc.) A huge group of my friends got together in Lot J before the game for a tailgate party, and because friends from other graduating classes were there, too, it was even better than simply one class’s reunion. 

While I had run into most of these friends at one point or another over the years, there were a few there that I had not seen face-to-face in over three decades. There was Dustin, who I had not seen since the day we were scheduled to leave for Marine Corps boot camp in May of 1990, and my friend Matt, who tackled a drunken reveler who had attacked me at Mizzou’s completely out of control “Bid Day Bash” in August of 1990, whose path had not crossed mine in all these years since that night. It was great to see those guys again.

One of the biggest surprises of the day was seeing my dear friend Jessica, a woman who has supported my efforts to be a better writer, family man, and human being over the years. Jessica drove to Columbia all the way from Sioux City, Iowa, to watch the game and spend some quality time with her friends. She gave me one of the best hugs I’ve had in a long, long time. In fact, she gave me three.

The game was a blowout. Hannibal lost 31-0, but that didn’t do much to dampen the positive vibes that everyone in Pirate Nation felt that afternoon. It doesn’t get much better than enjoying a 72-degree day in December while catching up with life-long friends and cheering on a group of young men who put together a 13-1 record and one of the greatest football seasons in school history.

One of the things that stood out to me that day were the grey beards growing on the faces of many of my classmates. The men of 1990 are turning 50 this year, and it seems that 50-year-old men from Hannibal are good at two things: drinking beer and growing facial hair. I don’t drink anymore, but I did arrive at the tailgate party with a full, greying beard. Pondering the grey on our faces, I was suddenly struck with the realization that my friends and I are not kids anymore. We are middle-aged. Not necessarily old, but definitely not young. Many of us are in fact grandparents now. 

My god, the last thirty years have gone by in a hurry.

After the game ended, I said goodbye to my friends and drove back to Ashland, replaying the day’s conversations in my mind as I traveled down Highway 63. The warm feeling of nostalgia gradually gave way to a sense of melancholy and a realization that the glory days of high school ended a lifetime ago. 

When I got home, I immediately walked into the bathroom and looked at my reflection in the mirror. There should have been a fresh-faced, care-free, high school letterman smiling back at me, but the greying, wrinkled, and bespectacled face of an aging grandpa met my gaze instead.

I shaved off my beard right then and there, and I gave myself a fresh haircut. Then I took a long, hot shower, got dressed, and took another look in the mirror. This time, I didn’t mind what I saw. In fact, if it weren’t for the glasses, I could have sworn that I was looking at Travis Naughton from Hannibal High School. Then I heard my granddaughter laughing in the other room, and the grey hair, the wrinkles, and the bifocals instantly ceased to matter.

‘Tis the Season to be Jolly—or Else

Be it known to all who reside within this realm that Father Christmas, (a.k.a. Santa Claus, a.k.a. Kris Kringle, a.k.a. St. Nicolas), the benevolent elf-king and reindeer breeder from Earth’s northern polar region, has, by this decree, recognized today, December 1st, as the official beginning of the Holiday Season. Let the merriment commence!

His Excellency Mr. Claus has issued the following directives to those who wish to remain on the “Nice List” this year:

Each citizen is hereby ordered to have his or herself a merry little Christmas. (Alternatively, citizens may opt to have a holly jolly Christmas instead.)

All citizens must say hello to friends you know, and everyone you meet. They must also deck the halls with boughs of hollyand/or troll the ancient yuletide carol.

Failure to obey Santa’s commandments (Claus’s Clauses) may result in severe consequences including, but not limited to, being placed on the “Naughty List”, receiving a single lump of coal in your stocking, or being forced to listen to “The Christmas Shoes” song on a never-ending loop from now until next December.

The generosity of Sinterklaas, The Magnificent Package Expediter of the Frozen Tundra, has no equal. He shall bring all who profess their belief in Him a bounty of riches beyond measure. Aftershave, socks, Olive Garden gift certificates—treasures all.

Citizens of all ages are encouraged to write letters to Santa. In addition to the requisite holiday wish list, Mr. Claus will also expect a list of examples documenting that the petitioner has been a good boy or good girl this year, despite the indisputable and perhaps unnerving fact that he sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake, and he knows if you’ve been bad or good.

In order to facilitate getting into the Christmas spirit, St. Nicolas has issued a memorandum directing all persons to watch the following Christmas movies:

“It’s a Wonderful Life”

“Elf”

“Christmas Vacation”

“Die Hard”*

“A Christmas Story”

“Scrooged”

“The Polar Express”

*Failure to acknowledge that “Die Hard” is indeed a Christmas film will result in automatic placement on the “Naughty List”.

Citizens are required to listen to holiday music exclusively until December 26. If, during a listening session, “The Christmas Shoes” starts to play, citizens have the option to temporarily change the station. If that is not possible, the annihilation of the electronic device responsible for disseminating the offending noise is permitted. Baseball bats, cinder blocks, or other blunt objects are acceptable tools of destruction.

By order of the Jolly Old Elf, “Candy Cane Lane” by Sia is hereby the official song of Christmas and shall remain so until such time that Mr. Kringle, (after consulting with Travis Naughton), decides otherwise. Be it also known that Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas” shall henceforth be classified as a schedule one drug due to its highly addictive nature.

His Majesty, the Exalted Connoisseur of Milk and Cookies, also demands that Chocolate Chip shall be recognized as the Official Cookie of Christmas. All citizens who leave inferior cookies such as oatmeal raisin, sugar, snickerdoodle, or Oreos for Santa to eat on Christmas Eve will receive a stocking full of disappointment and three-year ban from the “Nice List”.

The Great Santa has spoken. His word is law. Long live Father Christmas!

Happy Holidays!   

 

Being Thankful for What I Have

After spending entirely too much time over the last few weeks searching online for a new toy to park in my garage, I had an epiphany: I already have everything I could ever want in life. However, there is one thing that I need. I need to remember to be thankful for what I have.

Sure, a 50th anniversary edition 2003 Chevy Corvette would be a great addition to our family’s current fleet of five vehicles, but I already have a two-seater hot rod, a 1971 Chevy pickup with a hopped-up 327 cubic inch V-8 transplanted from a 1969 Chevy Impala. Do I NEED a two-seat Corvette with a fuel-injected 350 cubic inch V-8, too? Of course not. But do I WANT one? Of course I do. Sort of.

While the members of my household exchanged their Christmas wish lists with one another, I thought about what I already have.

I already have an amazing wife, three great kids, and an awesome bonus-kid who happens to be the mother of my beautiful grandbaby.

I have a dad, two brothers, and a sister who still claim me as an immediate family member despite my decades of making poor decisions and a public spectacle of myself.

I have a mother-in-law who loves me as if I were her own son, three sisters-in-law, two brothers-in-law, and a brother-in-common-law who all seem to enjoy my company.

I have cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and various other relatives who act happy to see me and hear from me.

And I have more friends than a moody, bipolar, recovering alcoholic could ever hope for.

I also have a house with room for seven humans, two dogs, two cats, and a half-dozen aquarium fish. My family.

In that house I have a closet full of clothes, a room full of musical instruments, and two refrigerators full of food. 

And I have two garages and a driveway full of cars and trucks. Why would I need, want, or deserve a Corvette?

I think the better question is: “What do you give a man who already has everything?” It’s a question that has been posed by advertisers and marketing people for as long as I can remember. Perhaps the best answer would be: “Give him a sense of appreciation for what he has, but if he already has that, give him a Corvette.”

This Thanksgiving, remember to count your blessings. Write them down. Take stock of what you have and then take a moment to appreciate those blessings. Be thankful for what you have. 

If you are fortunate like I am and you have everything you could ever want or need, then you may want to consider sharing the wealth before buying a sports car. My wife and I give time and money to a few worthy causes. We support the Salvation Army, the United Way, the Food Bank, the Red Cross, and we “adopt” a family at Christmas. We also feed, clothe, contribute to college funds, and provide transportation for our three children. (Does that count as charity? Asking for a friend.)

I do know how lucky I am, and I am thankful for all that I have. No, I don’t need or deserve or desperately want a Corvette, but my family is pretty insistent that I give them some ideas for my holiday wish list, and if a Corvette showed up in my garage on Christmas morning, then you can bet that I would very thankful indeed.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving.

Southern Boone Teachers Are Drowning

 In an email sent to district parents last week, Southern Boone School District Superintendent Chris Felmlee wrote, “As the school district continues to navigate through one of the most challenging years any of us have ever experienced in education, we recognize that our teachers and staff are exhausted and stressed. We understand that they need time to rest and recharge. In order for us to make our district the best place for our students, we must make this district the best place for our staff. Out of an abundance of concern for the mental and physical wellbeing of staff and students, the Board of Education approved an amendment this afternoon to the 2021-2022 school calendar to extend Thanksgiving break for much needed time for rest and renewal.”

The school board voted unanimously to add Monday the 22nd and Tuesday the 23rd to Thanksgiving break, giving teachers and students a full week off. I applaud this decision because the teachers I have been in contact with this school year are experiencing more stress and pressure than ever before in their careers. They are tired of hearing parents complain about face masks and quarantines. They are frustrated with having to administer endless assessments and standardized tests while a pandemic rages on. They are worried about contracting a deadly virus from their students and bringing it home to their families.

One educator friend described the seriousness of the situation to me. “Teachers feel defeated. We are asking for help, and no one will help us. We are yelling at the top of our lungs, but instead of giving us a life raft they are letting us drown.”

Mr. Felmlee’s letter continued, “Our board of education and district administration care deeply about the mental and physical wellbeing of teachers and staff. Our students, faculty, staff, and parents/guardians have all worked tirelessly to persevere in the face of some very difficult challenges. The school district is hopeful that the extra time will ultimately benefit everyone in some way, even though it may initially present a challenge for some families. The additional two days off during the extended Thanksgiving break will give all of us a chance to focus on self-care, family, and friends during this season of being thankful.”

One of the biggest issues teachers have cited this year is their perception that the board of education does not listen to teachers when they voice their concerns about their safety. By doing away with mask mandates and voting on changing the school visitor policy (an item on the board’s agenda this week) to allow unmasked and potentially unvaccinated parents and visitors to squeeze into crowded classrooms for holiday parties and to pack gymnasiums for assemblies and concerts, some teachers feel that the school board does not take seriously its responsibility to keep staff members and students safe.

Sarah Papineau is a member services coordinator for the Missouri State Teachers Association. “I can certainly say that the staff I have worked with at Southern Boone want a positive, collaborative, and supportive relationship with the community. They do want a voice in the decisions that impact them, just as each of us do in our own work settings. We're currently in the process of setting up a Community Teachers Association Welfare Committee with the goal of ensuring that staff have an avenue to weigh in on issues, collaborate on great ideas, and to strive for continuous improvements. Their desire is that Southern Boone continues to be a wonderful place to work, which will in turn allow staff to do the incredibly important job of educating our kids. I work with welfare committees around the state and I'm excited to see the great ideas and outcomes in Southern Boone.”

Another area of concern for educators is a severe shortage of substitute teachers. Finding reliable and qualified subs is a tremendous stressor to teachers, especially during the pandemic. I subbed in the Southern Boone School District for nine years. When I started in 2012, I was paid $80 per day. In 2021, subs still receive $80 per day despite a substantial increase in the cost of living over the last decade.

 

Substitutes in Missouri are required to complete at least 60 hours of college courses. Currently, the University of Missouri charges resident undergraduate students $321.30 per credit hour, which adds up to $19,278 for 60 credit hours, not including thousands more in mandatory fees and textbook purchases. Yet at roughly $10 per hour, qualified substitute teachers who have completed two years of college earn less than entry-level workers in other fields who might possess no college or professional experiencewhatsoever.

The SoBoCo school board is taking a look at compensation for substitutes, and one can only hope that they will decide to follow Jefferson City’s recent decisions to increase sub pay to $100 per day and implement an incentive plan that pays subs a $500 bonus for every 20 school days worked. Under Southern Boone’s current substitute pay plan, a sub can earn only $8,000 for working 100 school days. Under Jeff City’s new policy, a sub will earn $10,000 in base pay for working 100 days plus an additional $2,500 in bonuses for a total of $12,500.

Don’t even get me started on Southern Boone’s base pay for certified teachers. SoBoCo ranks 161st in the state for average pay for teachers with a bachelor’s degree. 15 miles to the south, Jefferson City ranks 49th overall while Columbia, 15 miles north of Ashland, comes in at 30th.  

The Southern Boone County Board of Education must continue to listen to its teachers. These educators are doing an amazing job of teaching, nurturing, assessing, and protecting our children in a tremendously challenging time, but they are feeling overwhelmed, underappreciated, and utterly exhausted. If things don’t improve substantially, I fear there will be a mass exodus of teachers at the end of the school year. That would be much costlier to the district than any increase in pay.

 

Wheeling and Dealing

 When I bought myself a two-door, six-speed, 424 horsepower, 2010 Chevrolet Camaro Super Sport a few months ago, even I had to admit the purchase was completely frivolous. No one NEEDS to own a car with a top speed of over 150 miles per hour.

A car like that has no practical applications. I can tell you from first hand experience that as much fun as it is to drive a Camaro SS on an open stretch of highway, it is not much fun at all when it’s being used to drop children off at school every morning. I purchased the Camaro in July when school was the last thing on my mind, but soon after the Fall semester began, I realized my awesome sportscar was a lousy taxi. The Camaro sits very low, which makes it difficult to climb out of, especially for my daughter Tiana who has mobility issues caused by cerebral palsy. And having only two doors makes it tough for passengers riding in the back seat (my son Truman) to enter and exit the vehicle. 

For the past few years, my “daily driver” vehicle has been a 2010 Volkswagen Beetle, which is no easier on my children to climb in and out of than the Camaro. Most of the time we end up taking my 2015 Chevy Silverado 2500 HD to school. The four-wheel-drive, crew cab, three-quarter-ton, diesel-powered truck does have four doors, but its ride height and bumper-to-bumper length make it a behemoth in the drop-off line while its relatively poor fuel economy makes it a less-than-ideal commuter vehicle. My two-wheel-drive, regular cab, 1971 Chevy C-10 pickup is considerably smaller than its massive younger cousin, but it only has two seat belts, making it ineligible to ferry three people around town.

Eventually I came to the realization that none of my four vehicles was particularly well-suited for driving my children to school, work, doctor’s appointments, or anywhere else. I needed a four-door passenger car. Then I remembered that I already own one.

My oldest son Alex had been driving a 2014 Chevy Cruze that I bought for him to use when he went off to college. The small sedan offered plenty of room for a single college student, but when he became a father to my darling granddaughter Freya last year, the Cruze suddenly proved to be much too small. When Alex expressed an interest in acquiring a vehicle with room for a child’s car seat, a stroller, and all the other stuff that goes along with having a baby, I realized I could solve all of our family’s car needs with a little bit of wheeling and dealing.

First, I contacted the dealer who sold me the Camaro and asked if he would be interested in buying the car back at a reasonable discount that would allow him to sell the car again for a modest profit. Because the car was in the exact same condition it was in when I bought it, he happily agreed and issued me a check for my full asking price. While completing the paperwork, we calculated that I had driven the car only 1500 miles in the three months that I had owned it. A fair portion of those miles were driven at excruciatingly slow, responsible speeds while operating a taxi service for my children.

Next, I began searching for small SUVs or station wagons for Alex and his little family. I found a pre-owned, all-wheel-drive Subaru Outback wagon for sale near St. Louis that seemed like a good candidate, so I traded in my Volkswagen and used some of the cash from selling my Camaro to purchase it. I also bought a brand-new set of tires for Alex’s girlfriend’s car while I was at it. Now Baby Freya has two comfortable and safe cars to ride around in.

The third part of my plan was to make the Cruze my new daily driver. With four doors, a backup camera, and a comfortable ride height, the Cruze is an ideal vehicle for shuttling kids to and from school. Plus, if and when Truman and Tiana get their driver’s licenses, it will be a perfect first car for them to drive.

Naturally, when my kids start driving the Cruze, (which may be soon), I will be on the lookout for a new daily driver for myself. This time I won’t be constrained by the need for a practical family car. Perhaps I’ll buy another Camaro. Or a Corvette. Maybe something luxurious like a Cadillac. Or a muscle car. A Jeep would be fun. Oh, the possibilities…