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Editorial: Air Boats and the Golden Rule February 2nd, 2004
Editorial: A Year of Opportunity January 24th, 2004
Editorial: Sports on TV January 15th, 2004
Editorial: Mad Cow Disease in the US December 26th, 2003
Editorial: Jeb`s Water War November 25th, 2003
Editorial: Citizen Input Needed October 27th, 2003
Editorial: Congrats to Our Commission, Now We Must Help October 17th, 2003
Editorial: Remember Owens Valley September 29th, 2003
Editorial: Gold Plating Reality, Reconstruction Chic September 21st, 2003
Editorial: The Responsiblities of a Journalist August 27th, 2003
Editorial: A Fable: The Great Guano Concord July 24th, 2003
Editorial: Music for Children May 26th, 2003
Editorial: Speak Out May 15th, 2003
Editorial: Parking: Our Biggest Problem? May 2nd, 2003
Editorial: Vote and Vote Well April 22nd, 2003
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Support Groups | Support GroupsRobin McClary I've had some conversations with local clergy concerning support groups such as Alcoholics Anonymous, where recovering alcoholics receive the support of others in the same predicament. I wondered why there weren't more such groups in this area. I was told that the local culture looked down on the idea of supporting one another. "Suck it up! Be a man! Be tough!" I know the cry well. My oldest son, Michael, was murdered on Christmas Eve over thirty-five years ago. I don't need to tell you of the pain that I have carried in my heart for all these years. I have not celebrated Christmas since that day. I did not even speak of his death until just recently when I was passing the time of day with a psychologist friend of mine. We were talking about a story on the TV news about a child that had been killed in an accident. In the middle of our conversation, I began to cry. Then I told him about my son's death, so many years ago. He suggested that I go to a support group in Gainesville that was made up of people who shared the experience of a dead child. I didn't feel very comfortable about this group. It was hard enough to bear my own pain, without feeling someone else's. But, I went. We sat around in a group and shared our experiences. It was an immediate comfort to realize that I was not alone in my grief and that I could speak about my sorrow for the first time in many years. Being able to talk about Michael, with people who could understand my dilemma, released and resolved some of my pain. On the advice of the group, I went to Miami and cast a wreath on the water where I had scattered his ashes. I finally realized that I had never said goodbye to my dead son. Please understand that supporting each other is one of the things that make us human. The next time you encounter someone who seeks the help of one of these support groups, shake their hand and congratulate them. And find out what you can do for someone else. |
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