I'm sorry for not resisting ...

This engagement announcement was printed Oct. 22 in the newspaper:

SPRINGVILLE — Carole Smith of Bedford and Charles Sproull of Springville will exchange vows at 2 p.m. on Oct. 22 at the Life Tabernacle Family Center in Springville.

How we met

I had been noticing a nice looking lady named Carole Smith sitting alone on the other side of the church. One evening in June 2011, our music director mentioned that Carole had written a song she was going to use for the Men’s Quartet. Then I went over and asked Carole if she would like me to compose her sheet music. She enthusiastically said, “You’re the one.”

As it turns out, she had already written about 15 really good gospel songs, and had been praying for God to send her a man to help her compose music, and I was the answer to her prayer.

Also, I had been praying for God to give me a woman who loved music, who would sing with me and whom I could harmonize with, and who was good at domestic things and gardening.

Several days later I had this amusing conversation with God: He said “I have been listening to your prayers for several years and have seen the desires of your heart.

I have searched all over southern Indiana, and here is my gift to you containing all the things you asked for. Even though the container is bigger than what you expected, what are you going to do with my gift?”

And I said, “Marry her.”

I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that he's either dead, or single again.

Daddy's girl

"Any man can be a father, but it takes a special person to be a dad."

I love my dad. Dearly, in fact. There are few people in my life who mean more to me.

What can I say about a man so great?

He's hysterical. One of the funniest people I know. And I know he's usually full of crap when he starts a story. All of this is evident when he gets this little twinkle in his blue eyes and well-worn laugh lines creep up around his face. I didn't learn he was full of crap until I was much older. I faithfully believed bigfoot was in the woods every single time he pointed out the car window while saying, "Look, Krys, there's bigfoot." I'd probably still look today. He celebrates April Fool's Day as if it's an actually holiday. He loves to joke. I love his sense of humor.

He's a little on the short side, vertically challenged, perhaps? And he's a little on the stocky side. He loves to golf, read, watch TV and tends to say what's on his mind. He cooks, cleans and worships my mother. He's her perfect match, and she's the love of his life. He loves his children, all five of us, and adores his 10 grandchildren.

He was a hands-on dad. He changed diapers, fed babies and after raising four daughters, he thought nothing of running to the grocery store to buy sanitary napkins. You didn't try to change him. He is who he is. When he'd walk around the grocery store with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, I'd want to cringe in shame. When he'd cruise around town in the antique Impala he adored (and consequently sold to send me to college), I never wanted to go. Old cars were for old men, not teenagers. And when I pulled out in front of a semi on my first day of driving, he didn't kill me or yell, but he still holds on to the handles when he rides with me to this day.

He's brutally honest. He's the one who taught me as a teenager that "there is no place in a relationship for jealousy." I follow that rule to this day. The example he set as a father and a husband was one every man should emulate.

He turns 65 on Thursday. Sixty-five wonderful years, filled with hard work, military service, children and family.

He's my hero, friend and champion. He's taught me more about life than I could ever imagine, but more than anything, he led my example. I am the person I am today because of his strength, trust, support and love.

Thanks, Dad, I love you.

Blame the media, but then what?

I can't believe I am dedicating blog space to Newt Gingrich. If he's the Republican choice to run against Barack Obama, I am sure our president will laugh his way all the way back to the White House. Let's just say I don't think much of the former speaker. Really, I never have.

His resurgence as a candidate for the Republican nomination for the presidential race has always kind of befuddled me, but I figured the slate of candidates was so odd, he fit right in.

But after watching Thursday night's debate in South Carolina, hosted by CNN, where Newt blasted the media (again) because John King had the gall to ask Newt about the fact that his ex-wife came out that very day with damaging allegations that had to do with his infidelity toward her, and how he cheated on her with his current wife, which led to the demise of his marriage.

First, Newt is the one who cheated. He made the mistake. Supposedly, he's asked for forgiveness from God and moved on. That's fine. Great for him. I'm glad he did, but does that absolve him of blame, questions and allegations?

I don't think anyone who runs for president of the United States would be naive enough to believe that any mistake, no matter how minor, or the mistakes of their family members wouldn't make headlines at some point or another. If Sarah Palin's daughter's out-of-wedlock baby continued to make news for years after she and McCain were defeated, then why wouldn't Newt's extra-marital affairs be on the nightly news?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not condoning this, but it's the facts of life in the U.S. We know too many details about a blue dress, a cigar and Oval Office happenings, thanks to Bill Clinton, so why wouldn't the media question Newt's affairs? Especially since it was Newt himself who came down hardest on Clinton when Clinton was in hot water ... Well, until Newt's misgivings came out that is, and he lost his job in Washington.

As much as I don't like hear about the personal lives of politicians, doesn't it hint a little bit at their character, and isn't character important to the office of president?

But beyond that, I was confused by Newt's attack last night on the media. Is it the media's fault he cheated, or that his ex-wife came forth? But Newt loves to blame the media. He should take my husband's advice. Henry always wonders why any public figure would blast the media. As he says, "I don't care how much I didn't like the media, I'd be their best friend. I sure wouldn't piss off the one thing that can destroy me."

Of course, the media isn't out to destroy anyone, not the average media anyway. We try to be fair and report the news, not create it. But a lot of people, especially public figures, like to blast the media to the cheers of the American people. Everyone loves to hate the media.

But why? And where would we be without it?

Where would you get your news? How would you know what the nation's deficit is, or what your politicians in Washington are really doing? How would you find out about the attacks on Sept. 11, 2001, or even on a local level, how would you even know who represents you on the city council or county council? And how would you know if they're representing you at all?

Obviously, you could go to every meeting yourself, but I think for most that's not going to happen. They rely on the local newspaper, radio and regional TV stations to know what's happening in their world at the same time they're blasting the people for telling them the news.

Newt, the people of the United States wouldn't even know who you are if it weren't for the media you love to insult. Think about it.

The strength of McDonald's

The Mitchell school board hired a strength coach during its meeting Monday. It was a controversial move, in my opinion, and not one I particularly agree with. The newspaper I work for published the story Tuesday. The same day, the newspaper also published a story about navigating the McDonald's drive-through.

By virtue of the job, I notice online comments, even though I wish I didn't. At some point this morning, the McDonald's story had something like 60 comments on it. (That's a lot.) The school board story had nine. (That's probably normal.)

I have a theory that most people only care about what happens in their own back yard. I think they are mostly apathetic to politics, policies and government. Apparently, they aren't apathetic to Big Macs and McNuggets.

I suppose today I'm disappointed that this simple exercise, to me, shows that people care more about the junk they put in their stomachs than the people in charge of their child's education. I probably shouldn't be surprised, but I can't help it. And then again, maybe I'm wrong, but I doubt it.

Lost art of communication

I've practically given up Facebook. It's beginning to make me sick. Let me explain ...

My sister sent me a text message and asked me to join her for lunch. While sitting at Bob Evans waiting on our food, my niece mentioned that she got a new cat. I asked what their two chihuahuas thought of the addition, to which my sister replied, "Well, there's only one now." Confused, I asked her what happened. She explained her youngest, a male named Moses, died two weeks before. Knowing how much she loves her animals, I told her that I wished I had known. She replied matter-of-factly, "Well you commented on it on Facebook."

A long pause ensued while I stopped and searched my memory. For the life of me I couldn't recall reading a post about her dog dying. Wouldn't I have remembered that, especially if I commented on it? So I asked her how I missed it. She told me her post said, "This isn't the way I wanted to start my new year." Apparently, I was supposed to gleam a dog died out of that.

This isn't a "pick-on-my-sister" post. I can do that without a blog. This is a "what-has-happened-to-communication" post. My sister is just one example of many, and I know she's used to me picking on her, so she won't mind.

So what's my problem?

We've forgotten how to communicate. We think that we can post stuff on Facebook, and that's good enough. Everyone will see it.

"My Dad is sick. Prayers needed." 144 posts follow.

"Baby Lola has arrived!" 123 posts follow. Baby Lola's picture arrives 15 seconds later. Another 123 posts that say, "cute," over and over again.

"It's Steve's birthday. Wish him a happy birthday." No thanks. I like Steve, but if it weren't for Facebook, I wouldn't know his birthday. Now, when it's Susie's birthday, she's a good enough friend that I don't need Facebook to remind me, so I send her a card or at least a text message to wish her well.

I'm sick of the posts about your dinner. I don't care if you're making "chicken and dumplings. Yum!" Congratulations that your daughters made straight A's. I don't care that you're rooting for Tim Tebow, and not all that interested that the eighth-grade girls are playing basketball again tonight. Facebook has turned into our only mode of communication. We post everything from random rants to anonymous people to our most intimate details. We sell everything from cars to Girl Scout cookies. We send invitations through Facebook and post music videos that no one else cares about. In essence, we crave the attention of 950 of our closest friends.

We are more connected than ever, yet farther apart than we've ever been.

We sit across the table from each other in a restaurant and text other people. We check Facebook 100 times a day from our smart phones. We post pictures and videos of everything, especially things we shouldn't. We pray via blogs and social networking, as if God has a username and profile.

Yet, we don't have a genuine talk with our closest friends for months at a time.

There is something seriously wrong with this picture, and I wonder where it's leading us.

I hear people lament about how Mitchell is heading in the wrong direction. But if your only involvement with the community is through Facebook and the "online community" is the only one you relate to, what do you expect?

In this day and age, I'm beginning to think of text messages as a personal form of communication because it's directed strictly at me and not posted on Facebook for 1,000 of our "closest" friends to see.

It bothers me that I have friends who are only my friends on Facebook. It bothers me that I feel like I need to keep my Facebook account active because I have friends I would never see or hear from if it weren't for the site. It truly concerns me that sometimes the only way I can find people is through Facebook.

So, for the most part, I quit. I'll continue to check for messages, mostly for work purposes, but no more news feed or status updates. Part of my revolt against social networking and the fact that it is seemingly taking over our lives is that I'm going to start sending cards, the paper kind, and for no darn good reason.

Call me crazy, but I still think personal communication is important. I want to sit on my friend's front porch and chat. I don't want a computer to remind me it's your birthday, and if your mother died, I expect a phone call. There are just some things I'm not willing to give up, but Facebook isn't one of them.