By JACKIE TAYLOR | June 18, 2025

Being kind

So, I took my “new” camper on her maiden voyage – shock, shock, - to Roaring River. I had the pleasure of my granddaughter’s company that weekend so I thought what better way to spend a weekend than fishing and camping.

So, we hit the grocery store, bought the requisite marshmallows and black cherries and boogied southeast three hours Friday midday.

Well, since I’d dubbed the venture the maiden voyage, it was to find out what quirks lurked in the 20’ shelter-on-wheels. I wanted a shorter RV so I could pull it, back it up and get it ready by myself. I realized my mid-five-foot height was just right for the bed, couch, etc. I thought about my tall husband and he’d have never been able to stretch his legs out…

It was a trip where God’s hand was evident; I blew a tire seven miles from Monett, Mo. or about 30 miles from the river. 54 Hwy. was packed as it was the beginning of Father’s Day weekend and traffic was tight and fast.

I felt, and heard, the dreaded blubb, blubb that a flat makes, looked back and saw tire flying all over and the rim over the tire disappear. I pulled over in a somewhat safe spot and began assessing the situation. Though I’d pulled over a fair distance off the concrete roadway, it still felt like I was sitting in the driving lane.

The last words out of my dad’s mouth were to grab a drill and tools. I felt like I had prepared for a flat; I had a bottle jack and what I thought were proper tools to change a tire.

After ‘jacking’ with the jack that I had no idea where the tool to jack it up with was and finding a screw driver to help, I decided the tire won and called a local tire shop seven miles up the road – thanking God I didn’t get the flat on Interstate 49.

They came, the kid jumps out of his truck and we devise a game plan; he sets up his jack and begins the job to get a spare on – all so I could go to Friendly Tire in Monett to purchase two new RV tires.

What I saw when the kid was changing my tire was a bunch of drivers that gave no room to someone trying to change a tire. They were whizzing by at 65 to 70 miles per hour not moving over to give a human leeway on the shoulder.

He got the tire on and I proceeded to go get new rubber on the camper; needless to say, I will be getting a new rim on my wingless jalopy.

After all the messing with tires, I was more than ready to get to the campground. We made it, a new campground three miles outside the park as I’d have had to of made reservations last year for a spot in the park. We unhitched, set up the camper and all was a go. We hit the river and fished for a bit before heading home for roasted hotdogs and marshmallows.

What dawned on me the next day was bullies start at an early age.

It was hot and humid and we hit the swimming hole that had really nice, clear water entering it from runoff from recent rains. We were enjoying the water when a family with two 14-year-old boys came up; one a skinny little guy, the other a hefty kid with a good 75-plus extra pounds on him.

The water was chilly; the heavier kid jumped in with little more than a short breath caused by the cold water. The other kid looked like he was being water-boarded and tortured to get in.

The skinny kid had enough after a bit and got out to warm up; what proceeded was cajoling and harassment from the heavier kid to make the skinny boy get back in. After 20 minutes of listening to it, I’d had enough. The skinny kid was cold and obviously didn’t have the insulation the heavier kid had – but the heavy kid didn’t let up.

The parents didn’t say anything to him; just let him continue. At that point, my granddaughter had enough swimming, so we headed out to grab our poles again.

But on thinking about it, that’s where bullying begins. The boy wasn’t corrected and he was actually getting positive reinforcement when the skinny kid would relent and force himself back into the water.

It wasn’t my dog show so off we went to try to torture a few trout with hooks in the lip. 

The camper worked well; the first shower I had that night made everything worth it. My own shower and bathroom at a campground…ahhh.

Anyway, my thought on the weekend was move over for stopped vehicles and be kind to your fellow man.

Speaking of kindness, please read Barbara Proffitt’s story on Kindness and locals winning the Telly Award on Page A1.