Sammy Remembered

Finished with my guitar parts tonight at The Copper Mine. Larry starts his guitar and keyboard work next week. I'm heading to Michigan tomorrow night after the H-W Demons softball game, working for Gus at the beach tournament in Ludington

Most of the time when I'm assigned to cover a press conference about an event, I just shrug my shoulders, get out my notebook and trudge over there.

Press conferences are easy ways to get all the media together in a controlled environment. They are great for the TV and radio guys but most of the time boring for newspaper reporters.

A few weeks ago Illinois Attorney General Lisa Madigan was in town to talk about a sex offender roundup in Adams County. Ten minutes after the press conference was supposed to start, somebody asked why we were still waiting. For the TV guys, of course! I suggested we get going, but Madigan looked at me and said, "Hold your horses. We'll wait for them."

So. I've been told to "hold my horses" by one of the top-ranking law enforcement officials in the state. I wear it like a badge of honor, believe me.

This morning I went to a press conference, and for once I didn't dread it, and it was a beautiful thing. The Sammy Fund is having its seventh annual event this October to honor Samantha Otte, who passed away at age 10 in 2000 from cystic fibrosis complications. Her parents, Chuck and June, decided to do something positive in her memory and the result is an annual event that raises thousands for children's activities in Adams County.

Chuck and June don't like the spotlight and would rather not have to deal with the media, but they believe in what they are doing and they do it with great humility, humor and love. (Chuck and June are in the Funions Hall of Fame, by the way).

They had a short presentation, handed out a fact sheet, thanked everybody profusely, and went on their way. And nobody told me to hold my horses this morning — the TV guys were only a few minutes late.

I admire and respect Chuck and June for perservering in the midst of great personal pain and tragedy.