The Liberation of Stalag VII at Moosburg, Part One

 

 

 

 

NOTE: This  account of the liberation of Stalag VIIA at Moosburg, Germany, on April 29, 1945, was posted by Glenn M. Strong nine years ago on the armyairforces.com site  (http://forum.armyairforces.com/Liberation-of-Stalag-VIIA-April-291945-m75144.aspx?high=Stalag+VIIA ) honoring the 60^th Anniversary of the Liberation. An amalgamation of various sources, accounts, conversations, Strong’s piece captures the intense pandemonium, jubilation, and joy of that day. His father was among the POWs liberated. My father, Lt. John Cravey, was also liberated that day. Spittin’ Grits thanks strong for permission to re-post and will run Part Two tomorrow.

 

 

 

It is 0600, 29 April. The attack of Combat Command A is due to be resumed at this moment. The command post is located in Puttenhausen, Germany.

 
The 47th Tank Battalion is eight miles to the southeast where it halted operations at 2300 last night. Lieut. Col. Bob E. Edward's 68th Armored Infantry Battalion is three miles north of the command post, having run into hard resistance late the preceding day and having been ordered to halt in Mainburg to avoid running into a known night ambush.

 
Soon now, reports should arrive that the battalions are moving, and the guns of Joseph J. Murtha's 500th Armored Field Artillery Battalion should be heard. At one minute before 0600 a strange group strode into the headquarters of Combat Command A, to meet Brig. Gen. C. H. Karlstad, Combat Commander. It consisted of a German Major, representing the commander of the Moosburg Allied Prisoner of War Camp, Col. Paul S. Goode of the United States Army and a Group Commander of the British Royal Air Force, the senior American and British Officers respectively, imprisoned in the Moosburg Camp; a Swiss Red Cross representative; and Lt. Col. James W. Lann. The German Major brought a written proposal from his commander for the creation of a neutral zone surrounding Moosburg, all movement of Allied troops in the general vicinity of Moosburg to stop while representatives of the Allied and German Governments conferred on disposition of the Allied Prisoners of War in that vicinity.

The German proposals were rejected and the party was given until 0900 to return to Moosburg and to submit an unconditional surrender offer - or receive the American attack at that hour; a CCA staff officer was dispatched to General Smith.

German SS troops moved outside the city and set up a defense perimeter. They opened the fight.

 
By 1030 the SS were lying dead in the fields and along the roads, grey-white faces and open mouths, twisted and staring sightlessly at the cold, blue sky above; and American medium tanks were roaring through the cobbled streets of the ancient city.

 
The 47th had split in two columns, one led by Maj. Kirchner and the other by Col. Lann; and Gen. Karlstad went into the city with the 47th. Gen. Karlstad picked up a German officer as guide, and with Lieut. Joseph P. Luby and Lieut. William J. Hodges took off for the prison camp proper.

 
The jeep mounted a .30 caliber machine gun; as it swung up, there were several score armed German guards outside. Luby rolled into their midst, his jeep stopped, and with his hand on the gun called: "Achtung!" The group surrendered.

General Smith arrived at the camp shortly thereafter; an American flag was raised.

Official estimates of the total Allied prisoners freed at Moosburg were 110,000, including an estimated 30,000 Americans, officers and men. Besides a series of seven prisoner of war camps, the Division captured a German garrison of 6,000 men at Moosburg.

 
Once the sharp, pitched battle by the SS was over, the German defenses crumbled. The 600-man 47th Tank Battalion took 2,000 prisoners; the 600-man 94th Reconnaissance Squadron took 2,000 more. Division total for the day was set at 12,000.

 
Scenes of the wildest rejoicing accompanied the tanks as they crashed through the double 10-foot wire fences of the prison camps. There were Norwegians, Brazilians, French, Poles, Dutch, Greeks, Rumanians, Bulgars. There were Americans, Russians, Serbs, Italians, New Zealanders, South Africans, Australians, British, Canadians - men from every nation fighting the Nazis. There were officers and men. Twenty-seven Russian Generals, sons of four American Generals. There were men and women in the prison camps - including three Russian women doctors. There were men of every rank and every branch of service, there were war correspondents and radio men.

 
Around the city were thousands of slave laborers, men and women.

 
All combined to give the 14th the most incredible welcome it ever received. The tanks were finally slowed to five miles an hour as they went through the camps - the press of men in front of them was so great. Men, some of them prisoners five years, some American Air Corps men prisoners two years, cried and shouted and patted the tanks.
"You damned bloody Yanks, I love you!" shouted a six-foot four Australian and threw his arms around a jeep driver.

 
A weary bearded American paratrooper climbed on a tank and kissed the tank commander. Tears streamed from his cheeks. The women had flowers, and they threw the flowers on the tanks and in the jeeps. Italians and Serbs, tired and drawn, jammed around the vehicles, eagerly thrusting out their hands to touch their liberators, weeping.
An American Air Corps lieutenant kissed a tank. "G*****n, do I love the ground forces," he said. "This is the happiest day of my life!" "You were a long time coming, but now you are here!" There were no words to express the feelings of these men.

As the German guards were formed in columns of four and marched away, each man carrying two or three loaves of black bread, some of the tankers took the bread from them and tossed it over the fences to the Allied prisoners.

Tec/5 Floyd C. Mahoney of C-47 freed his own son, a lieutenant in the Air Corps.

Part II, tomorrow’s post.

 

The Allied Command at Liberation

 

 

Other sites: http://www.moosburg.org/info/stalag/indeng.html,

 

Technorati Tags: Moosburg POW Camp,WWII Stalag VIIA,Liberation of POW Camp,WWII

Honoring Two World War II Liberations

On May 7, 1985, a clear and sunny late spring day in Alabama, my father, my aunts (his sisters), my husband and children, our dog and cats, maybe my sister and cousin — all gathered outside on the patio to eat. Dessert was a huge pound cake I had made — dad’s favorite — with real butter and bourbon instead of vanilla. My paternal grandmother, who may never had had a drop of whiskey in her life, taught me that little trick. So, how did she know the bourbon would make a great substitute?
We were there to celebrate dad’s 70th birthday. Seems like we celebrated most occasions with food, lots of food.

After eating too much, I saw dad sort of staring into space. I asked him if he wanted anything.

Still kind of off in space he said, “You know, on my 30th birthday, I was wandering the streets of Moosburg with a friend from camp begging for food. He was an architect, as I recall. No thanks, I don’t need any more food.”
Preserving the Past for the Future
 
 

The tower at Stalag VIIA. More pictures are available at
 http://www.moosburg.org/info/stalag/indeng.html
 
At Thanksgiving 2012, my sister, Susan Cravey, first cousin, Emory Kimbrough, and I were in my study going through the fragile scrapbook my mother had put together during those years, trying to decided how to save and preserve all the pictures, telegrams, documents, letters, pieces of parachute, German money — all manner of stuff. I came across a yellowed crumbling piece of paper which was a handout to the POWs explaining how they should eat in the days after being liberated and in a starving condition. It read something like the following (on the Web at http://ww2db.com/doc.php?q=165):
 
Hints on Diet During Recuperative Leave for Liberated Prisoners of War
1 Jan 1945
As a result of the privations you have endured as a prisoner of war, you have probably lost weight, and it is natural to think that the more food you eat the sooner will you recover your lost weight and strength. But you must remember that your physique as well as your weight may be temporarily below par, and this includes your digestive system. Just as you need rest at first and your muscles require gradual retraining, so your digestive system requires rest at first and then retraining in the handling of the sort of foods you normally like to eat.
To get your digestive system back to normal as quickly as possible a few simple rules that you should follow, especially if you are having trouble with your digestion, are given in the dietetic instructions below. You should show these notes and the following instructions to anyone who is giving you your meals, so that they can understand why you have to be careful about eating for a time, and what they should give you to eat.

1. Don't overload your stomach. Avoid heavy meals, and instead, eat small amounts frequently. Try eating three light meals a day, with three snacks of biscuits and milk variety - two between meals and one last thing at night.
2. Remember that your digestion is weak, and at first give your stomach foods easy to handle.
   Eat: Foods such as milk and milk puddings, eggs, cereals, toast or bread, biscuits, preserves, cake, and fish and tender meat if you can eat these without discomfort.
   Avoid at first: Fatty or fried foods, bulky vegetables, raw salads or fruit, highly seasoned dishes, twice-cooked meats, pickles and spices, rich, heavy puddings and pastries, strong tea and coffee.
   Beer and other alcoholic drinks are hard on a weak stomach, and you should take these very sparingly, if at all, for the first few days at least.

 
Freedom
Tomorrow marks the 69th Anniversary of two major World War II Liberations that were occurring at just about the same moments on April 29, 1945: first, the unspeakable Dachau, on which much has been written and reported and which we can all honor in our own ways. (See http://www.thirdreichruins.com/dachau.htm, for example.)

And of Stalag VIIA, Moosburg, Germany. Moosburg, (sometimes spelled Moosberg), as that stalag has come to be known, was built to hold about 10,000 German Prisoners of War (POWs).

On 30 April, 1945, the New York Times wrongly reported: "Huge Prison Camp Liberated...27,000 American and British prisoners of war at a large camp at Moosburg."
The following day, the Times printed a correction: "The Fourteenth Armored Division liberated 110,000 Allied prisoners of war at Stalag 7A at Moosburg, instead of the 27,000 prisoners previously reported. This was Germany's largest prisoner of war camp."
 
Tomorrow Spittin’ Grits will honor that liberation of 110,000 German POWs, including my father, by running a two-part account by G. M. Strong, the son of another of those POWs, a piece which he wrote commemorating the 60th anniversary of the Liberation. Following is the Preface to his account:
 

Liberation of Stalag VIIA, April 29, 1945

Today is the 60th Anniversary of the Liberation of Stalag VIIA Moosburg, Germany. Thousands of Allied airmen and soldiers, as many as 80,000 were in the Lager (all nationalities). Some had been POWs for over 4 years. American and British airmen had been marched in the bitter cold in January from Sagan SL III and from SL IV. This was the single largest liberation of POWs in Europe and a day not to be forgotten. As one of Patton's tanks tore a huge hole in the wire, thousands of men were now free once more. As the American flag rose over the clock tower in the town there was first silence and then pandemonium of cheers and tears. Later, when General Patton came in and addressed the Kriegies, his first words to them were said to be, "I'll bet you sons-a-b*****s are glad to see me.” They were. My dad was one of them. Bless'em all.
 
 
The Lt. Col. John Thomas Cravey WWII USAAF
and USAF Careers Collection

™
The Lt. Col. John Thomas Cravey WWII USAAF and USAF Careers Collection is protected by copyright_© 

Technorati Tags: WW II Liberations,April 29,1945,Moosburg Germany,WW II POWs,POW liberation

Veterans Day 2013: Saluting Two Lt. Craveys

Lt. John T. Cravey: Facing the Storm
Sixty-nine years ago, an unknown pilot took this picture of my father, Lt. John T. Cravey, flying his P-51 Mustang. Look closely and you’ll see a second person behind him. This must have been autumn 1944, when he was a flight instructor at Key Field in Mississippi shortly before he boarded some ship somewhere that would take him across the Atlantic, likely to North Africa. From there he would probably fly to his home base destination, the U.S. airdrome in San Severo, Italy. He arrived in January 1944 at the height of the coldest winter in European history. What became known as The Battle of the Bulge was not yet finished in the Ardennes.
 

The mission of the fighter pilots at the airdrome was primarily to escort bombers to targets in Germany, where they were to bomb Nazi infrastructure. The fighters had their own targets as well, mostly in Bavaria around Munich, and those were often termed “freelancing.” In order to reach those rendezvous with the bombers and targets, the fighters flew over the southern Tyrol into Austria, near Innsbruck, and headed left toward Munich.
 
 
Historic Mission

On February 22, 1945, he took off on a mission into southern Germany to fly with the bombers and do as much damage to rail lines and other targets as possible. As it turned out, this was a historic turning point in the War. The headline and body copy in a United Press report from London printed in a newspaper I can’t identify, said:

9,000 Planes Pound Nazi Rail Lines: Greatest Air Fleet of War Deals Kayo Blow. In a massive coordinated attack, planned and mapped to the last detail, warplanes from all the air forces in the European theater blasted rail lines in western German and [other sites]. . . One Air Force spokesman said the unprecedented strike was aimed at ‘crippling German communications’. . . . Every kind of plane at the disposal of the Allied air chiefs was thrown into combat
 
The article notes that when the Russian Red Air Force planes over the Eastern Front were counted, the total in the air that day would be closer to 11,000 planes. After this air offensive, World War II was all but over.
Hitting the Silk
My dad’s first problem that February afternoon about 2 p.m. was that he took flak and had to turn back toward home base. The officer for whom he was wing man, Capt. R.H. Zierenberg, was accompanying him. He watched the whole thing. Dad’s second problem was that his P-51 engine conked out, and by now they were over the Tyrolean Alps. His third problem was that he had to bail out onto a 10,000-foot mountain peak. And his fourth problem, the most life-threatening, was the extreme cold.
In April, Capt. Zierenberg wrote my mother a long letter telling her everything he knew about dad’s bailout. At the end of the letter, he hand drew a map of the area where dad went down (pictured below). That was all he knew. And that was all mom knew. She spent the next few months relentlessly chasing information, much of which is preserved in the scrapbook she eventually put together.

 
His story is one of dedication, determination against all odds, and survival. How he survived his descent from Zukerheutl, the mountain he landed on, and the following few months in a forced march in the continuing cold to the German POW camp, Moosberg, remains as astonishing as it is unlikely. Nevertheless he survived.

 
My father’s POW picture
taken by the Nazis at a POW processing center

My sister’s and my story of discovering details of his survival and return to the United States and home in June 1945, which began only a year ago, is also as astonishing as it is unlikely.
Those are stories for another day. On this day I want to remember my father and my brother. Dad survived; my brother, Lt. John James Cravey, did not. His name is one of the 53,000 on the Viet Nam Memorial. I miss them deeply.

Technorati Tags: Veterans Day,P-51 B,World War II,Tyrolean Alps,bailout,German POW,Moosberg,two Craveys,San Severo airdrome

A Remembrance

Today, the 10th anniversary of the horrendous Sept. 11, 2001, airline hijackers’ destruction of New York’s World Trade Center Towers, Washington’s Pentagon, and their failed third attempt thwarted by the heroic efforts of the passengers on the airliner, we remember the nearly 3,000 lives lost to such insane fanaticism. We remember where we were and what we were doing. We praise the efforts of all the first responders and other heroes who helped save many lives.

Let us also take time to look into tonight’s sky and the beautiful September full moon. Maybe there is balance in the Universe. I hope for that, as well as the ability to keep moving forward away from 9/11/01.

Several home projects are luring me away from Spittin’ Grits. I feel the need to get them done. I will therefore be the Wayward Blogger for a while. I hope to return by October 1. I hope you will bear with me and also return.

Ear Popping and Hair Raising in the Operating Room

What do you do if you’re in the operating room, May 22 at 5:41, working on a patient at St. John’s Regional Medical Center in Joplin, Missouri, when an F4 tornado hits your town?

A view of the devastated interior of St. John’s Regional Medical Center, Joplin, MO. More pictures here.

This seems like a stupidly outrageous question. It probably wouldn’t even work as fiction, let alone reality. Except, it happened, an event that answers the outrageous question. Of all the incredible tornado stories to come out of the month-long super tornadoes outbreak, this story stands out, even in the large field of stories of heroism and amazing survival.

As a resident of Tuscaloosa, Alabama, which suffered an almost identical day a month ago, April 27, this story is hair-raising and made more so by the fact this all happened to a close friend’s son.

Dr. Dusty Smith, son of Dr. Jay Smith, a dermatologist in Montgomery, Alabama, is an orthopedic surgeon in Joplin. That infamous day, Dusty was performing emergency surgery when St. John’s took a direct hit moments after a staff member said, “My ears are popping.”

Here’s the rest of the story.

This amazing story has lots of facets, some obvious, some less so. But it reminds me the heroic effort that airline pilot Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger made in landing his disabled U.S. Airways airliner into the Hudson River in New York, saving every one of the crew and passengers. A modest man, he credits his experience and training in keeping his cool under such pressure.

Dusty has a few words about the value of good training.

If I could tell the residents of Joplin one thing, it would be that driving through all the devastation even a month later is very hard, very anxiety-ridden, even depressing. I think it will be like this for a long, long time

.

Technorati Tags: Joplin Missouri,Joplim tornado,St. John's Regional Medical Center,St. John's operating room,Dr. Dusty Smith,Tuscaloosa tornado

Tuscaloosa, Alabama: Shocking Vistas

So, what’s next for our city ravaged by the April 27, 2011, Mutant Tornado.

That’s easy: Disaster relief, disaster relief, disaster relief.

Once the National Guard began to open up the hardest hit areas of the city, I went to sites to shoot video; I wasn’t sure why at the time. Now I think it was for two reasons: catharsis and the need to appeal – for some time to come – for disaster relief.

I interviewed several survivors along Crescent Ridge Road and Holt, arguably the hardest hit. Until I went to shoot video, and even though I had been using that road for decades, I had no idea the reason for the name of the road. Almost immediately, the question was answered. Once the Mutant Tornado went through and took almost everything, shocking vistas opened up.

I was standing on a ridge. From that ridge I could see for miles and miles, southwest over devastated Alberta City toward town until the hospital and football stadium finally blocked the view; and northeast all the way over Brookwood to Jim Walter Mine #7, according to one survivor, 35 miles away, until the next ridge blocked the view.

Christmas Future

Tuscaloosa will need all the help it can get for the long haul. The amount of debris, closely equivalent to the amount of debris left at the site of the World Trade Center after the 9/11 terrorist attack, tells the story. (See the previous post.)

The 5,000 – 7,000 damaged or destroyed structures in the city tell the story. Many, many people are in dire need of the most fundamental supplies – food, shelter, clothes, school supplies, children’s toys, hygiene products – name it.

This need for the most basic supplies will continue well into the future. The clean-up is likely to take a year. Who knows how and when structures and housing will be rebuilt.

Too soon the need will be for Christmas presents for Tuscaloosa’s displaced children.

The Odor

Finally, it was the odor, the stench, on the ridge that drove home to me the extent of the devastation. As far as I know, by the time I shot video (about five days after the tornado), all the human bodies had been found and retrieved, but there could easily have been remains of people whom no one knew to report as missing. The odor was certainly the animals and pets that were killed and covered up by debris.

It was not rotting food. Rotting food alone (which I admit I’ve had in my refrigerator from time to time) does not smell like that. It was bodies.

Hints

When I turned onto Crescent Ridge, the scene only hinted at what was to come: broken tree limbs, trees with too few leaves, entire oak trees that have been sawed and piled on the side of the road, twisted road signs, mail boxes in yards, homes with odd lettering and numbering spray-painted on the front, huge root balls of trees sucked up from the ground. Then damaged structures and blue tarps.

Survivors tell their stories about the April 27, 2011 Tuscaloosa tornado

Then the shocking vistas where people and their lives had been. Then some survivors -- the few who were able to stay in their damaged homes or a small number of people standing dazed on what used to be their property.

Then I met one man, who pointed out Jim Walter Mine #7 in the far distance, some family members, and a mother dog with about five puppies; they are living under an open-type tent and in his storm shelter, about 12-feet below ground, which saved their lives. There was nothing left on the cement slab that was his front porch, living room, and house. They were cooking on a grill.

For some distance, there was a strange stillness up there, broken only by birds’ chirpings and songs. Then As I neared the area of a direct hit, I began to hear all the heavy equipment working to bulldoze or pick up debris into piles of like materials. Cars and trucks, drain gutters, bikes and other metal stuff in a pile. Tires and man-made materials in piles. Pieces of wood and housing materials in a pile. Huge tree trunks and large branches in a pile. Root balls in a pile. Unidentifiable stuff in piles. Ice cream and popsicle trucks. Toys. What was left of swimming pools, filled with trees and belongings. Lone cement stair steps leading to nothing.

I saw this for miles until the scene became countryside with an odd wide path cut out where whole forests had been standing five days before.

Finally the remains of my favorite gardening nursery. And then Holt Elementary School. All gone.

Disaster Relief

Tuscaloosa will need all the help it can get for the long haul. And frankly, the best, most needed, donation is good ole MONEY. Following are some agencies, churches, and places where donations and money can be made, and there are many more besides these.

Agencies and Organizations

The United Way of West Alabama disaster donations

The Salvation Army of Tuscaloosa, and here, disaster relief; 1-800-SAL-ARMY

The Red Cross of Tuscaloosa, Disaster Online Newsroom; 1-800-REDCROSS

Tuscaloosa Disaster Relief Fund

Tuscaloosa Emergency Services, 205-758-5535

Samaritan’s Purse

West Alabama Chamber Foundation, which you can donate to through Joe Namath’s “Broadway Joe” site.

Aid for Tuscaloosa’s three elementary schools destroyed by the tornado

Catholic Social Services Tuscaloosa, 205-759-0168

Churches

St. Mark United Methodist Church, 2605 Skyland Blvd. E., 205-553-4929

Hargrove Road Memorial United Methodist Church, 1812 Hargrove Rd. E., 205-553-7271

Woodland Forrest Baptist Church, 6701 Hargrove Rd. E., 205-553-1494

Church of the Nazarene, Hillcrest, 340 Patriot Pkwy., 205-758-3297

I will post these disaster relief agencies and sites on and off on Spittin’ Grits for months to come. It’s what I can do for my city.

Technorati Tags: Tuscaloosa tornado,April 27 tornadoes,survivors stories,mutant tornado,Tuscaloosa Alabama,disaster relief,tornado disaster aid

How It Becomes Personal

We see and can get glued to the ravages of a disaster. The images are often horrendous. Sometimes we’re thankful, even relieved, when another news story replaces the disaster.

But here’s how a major disaster becomes all too personal:

As the monster tornado entered the city, my husband and I were watching James Spann at ABC 33-40 in Birmingham who was showing it on the tower cam. It was so huge that Spann lost his composure. Then we grabbed our dog Maggie and dove into our laundry room in the center of our house.

Later that evening I got a text from a young woman who helps me with Joanna Leigh on weekends. She was on the balcony of the Links apartment complex in south Tuscaloosa, only a short distance from where the tornado entered the city limits. She took this photo, then ran for the bathroom.

The photographer later understood how dangerous it could have been.

Early Thursday morning, when I knew there had been massive damage in the city but knew little else, my son, who had been watching the news from Texas and keeping us informed, called extremely upset. He had just learned that a friend of his whom he had played football with at The University of Alabama had found out about 1 a.m. that his daughter had been killed by the tornado. I think I must have caved. I packed up Joanna Leigh and myself and left for Montgomery where I had family and friends. I knew I’d be able to get gas on the way out.

While I was there, a friend sent me a picture of the entrance to Windsor Drive.

I lived for 25 years on Windsor Drive in the Alberta City area of Tuscaloosa. Alberta City was where President Obama walked to see the damage up close, and it was so ravaged by the April 27 tornado that I could not recognize where in Alberta City he walked. Even a week later we are still disallowed to enter that area.

Those who have never seen Windsor Drive might not know from the picture how extensive the damage is, but the picture bears no resemblance to the neighborhood entrance I knew so well. The picture (below) was the first indication of how hard it would be to come home and see the damage with my eyes.

The entrance to Windsor Drive in Tuscaloosa

I then got an e-mail from a student friend of mine with a link to a video he had put together of what remained of his condo. I have had dinner at that condo. He was in a basement at a friend’s house, but his brother was on the condo’s kitchen floor with a metal pot on his head when it went over and sucked out nearly everything.

Then my first cousin called his mother (my aunt) in Montgomery; I was sitting there and he recounted his encounter with the tornado. I will post his account later, with unpublished pictures.

At some point I knew I had to return home and face what had happened.

Tuscaloosa is a small city of fewer than 100,000. Nothing that the tornado hit is far enough away from anyone to allow for distancing themselves from the damage. We will all have to drive through it for years to come.

And driving through some of it was the big step I had to take. I took video. Yet I know it is only a small bit of what is out there to have to see soon. The city is slowly opening up closed areas like Alberta City.

The day I shot video, May 3, was unseasonably cold and rainy, like a December day. The video footage I put together is on streets I drive to get anywhere, including picking up Joanna Leigh from her school. I will see it over and over and over.

On the radio in the background is WTXT, programming converted to call-ins telling what they need or volunteers telling what they have available and where. “You’re on the phone. How can we help you?” said the announcers over and over.

One woman from the decimated Cedar Crest area was expressing her gratitude for all the help. She then said that her cat, Peanut Butter, was still missing and that she believed she would find her. She asked that people let her know if they sighted a tortoise-shell cat with a brown blob on its head that looked like peanut butter.

The first half of the video shows the intersection of two main arteries serving the city: 15^th Street (east-west) and McFarland Boulevard, Highway 82, (north-south); I was driving north on McFarland and then back. Cozy landmarks, like Hobby Lobby, Big Lots, Tide Clean, Krispy Kreme, and many, many others are debris that will be loaded on dump trucks.

The second half is the route home from Joanna Leigh’s school, and you can hear her voice in the background: from 15^th Street (west of the main intersection) and turning south onto Hackberry/Hargrove Road, then making my way back to 15^th Street to turn east and go home.

On the Hargrove Road segment, you see Wood Manor, where my friend Nathan’s condo was; a little way up, you can look northeast and see the hospital several miles away, something I never imagined. There’s nothing to block the view now.

Video shot May 3, 2011

Emotional recovery will take a lot longer than the other kinds.

If there is any doubt what kind of monster could have done this damage, watch Mike Wilhelm’s raw footage on YouTube or here:

 

Notice the monster’s tentacles reaching out and down.

Technorati Tags: Tuscaloosa tornado,tornado Alley Annex,tornado damage,Tuscaloosa Alabama,WTXT,15th St. and McFarland,Windor Drive,James Spann,abc33-40,Alberta City

Facing It

Right now, on May 2 in Alabama, it is 50 degrees and expected to fall into the low 40s. The strange temperature will likely break records for May 2-3. And thousands are without power, homeless, in damaged houses, in shelters, with no warm clothes.

I knew I had to face it, the devastation. I had to go to the pharmacy across the river, as my regular one in the Alberta City area of Tuscaloosa is inaccessible. Then I had to pick up Joanna Leigh at her school, very near the football stadium on The University of Alabama campus.

I took my video camera. I thought that trying to take video might distract me from the awful sight I knew I would see. I hope to post the video tomorrow or the next day.

When I rounded the curve on Hargrove Road heading east, I looked toward my friend Nathan’s condo. It was gone. I wanted to throw up.

From Hargrove road, I could see the hospital. That should have been impossible, against the laws of physics or something, but there it was, with nothing to block the view.

Tomorrow will be one week since the horrendous tornado that has torn our town into this disaster area. In places it looks like Lebanon looked at its low point.

And it will go down to 43 degrees tonight. In May, in Alabama. That’s supposed to be nearly impossible, too.

Technorati Tags: Tuscaloosa tornado,Alabama tornado damage

Celestial News

Tomorrow night presents a rare show for earthlings: an extreme full moon.

According to NASA, our moon will be a mega-perigee moon, the biggest and brightest  in 20 years. No, it hasn’t grown; here’s how NASA explains it:

Full Moons vary in size because of the oval shape of the Moon's orbit. It is an ellipse with one side (perigee) about 50,000 km closer to Earth than the other (apogee): diagram. Nearby perigee moons are about 14% bigger and 30% brighter than lesser moons that occur on the apogee side of the Moon's orbit.

NASA demonstrates it on YouTube. That’s worth a look. The video suggests that to get the full effect, watch it come up over the horizon where trees and buildings influence how we perceive it.

I think I’ll go outside on my patio and howl at it.

Vernal Equinox

The very next evening is the Spring Equinox: March 20, 7:21 EDT, 4:21 PDT, 23:21 UTC, at which time the sun returns to the Northern Hemisphere. It rises exactly due east and sets exactly due west.

It’s a day and night of equality: the same amount of daylight and dark everywhere on the globe.

Krakatoa in the next post.

 

Technorati Tags: perigee moon,full moon,vernal equinox

Numbers Games

Today, on 1/1/11, numbers just jump to the forefront. Prime. Primal.

Another set of numbers: The Alabama Crimson Tide, ranked No. 1 last year and No. 15 this year, just beat the Michigan State Spartans, ranked No. 7 this year, 497, a huge margin. Nobody predicted a score like this. We believe, here in the southeast, that the SEC is always underrated. Miss. State also beat Michigan handily.

When Alabama’s #42, Eddie Lacy, made his second touchdown, the camera cut to Coach Nick Saban who mouthed something like, “Oh, come on.” He apparently never meant to run up a score like this. But the fourth-string players deserve to score; they practice too.

My prediction: Watch Eddie Lacy next year. My other prediction – and this will do it – says that Auburn – and I’m choking – will beat Oregon on 1/9/11.

Eleven football players are on the field at one time.

Eleven. A strange number, it seems. Google “eleven” and you’ll discover a bunch of stuff: It’s the first three-syllable number. World War I ended the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. The first Lunar landing was the Apollo 11 mission, which gave us memorable words and images, like “The Eagle has landed” and “That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.”

A “hendecagon” is an 11-sided polygon. It looks like this:

And it’s the inside rim of the American Susan B. Anthony circular dollar coin. It looks like this:

This coin, the first coin with the image of a real woman, was “unpopular.” How can a coin be popular or unpopular? Some say it is “collectible.”

A total eclipse of the sun was observed all over Europe on 11 August (my birthday) 1999 at 11:11 a.m.

And, of course, there is 9/11.

Anyway, I will make one last prediction: 2011 will be an interesting year.

Happy New Year from Spittin’ Grits, and please come back.

 

Technorati Tags: Alabama Crimson Tide,Michigan State,eleven,Susan B. Anthony dollar coin,hendecagon,Spittin' Grits

An Internet Purse

I’m not in the business of pushing products, but I’m making an exception. Understand that I am not getting anything from this product. I just think it’s a really useful and FREE internet service. It almost shut down, and I had a conniption fit. Not that my conniption had anything to do with saving it.
It’s kind of like a purse. Or accordion file folder.
And let me say, I’m picky about my purse. I loathe digging around in a bottomless pit passing itself off as a purse. I have to know where stuff is when I start fishing around for something without being able to look inside, like when I’m driving.
Ooooops. It’s not like texting!
Digging around and fishing for Web sites and blogs: You know the drill. You’ve got find the internet URL address, maybe in your Favorites or history; then you have to either register or sign in; then you can get e-mail from them or sign up for an RSS feed; then you’ve got 153 e-mails to sort through, which leaves no time for checking out your favorite sites and blogs.
Help in the Bottomless Pit
There’s help. It’s Bloglines, at http://www.bloglines.com/. You can stash all the stuff you want to skim or to read from the Web in one place, like in a purse with lots of compartments or in an accordion file folder, including most of your RSS feeds, Web addresses, and blogs.
You don’t download anything. You just go there and register. Then you set up your site by “subscribing” to your chosen Web sites, blogs, and RSS feeds; then they magically show up in the left file-folder column.
No fishing around for Web addresses. They’re located in one place. Alphabetically.
It looks like this:

Blogs
I’m way into made up words, so a New York Times blog called Shott’s Vocab,  is a favorite. I went to my Bloglines account and simply clicked on Shott’s Vocab, rather than do it the GSFCSC way:
Go to the New York Times site, click on Today’s Paper, sign in, go over to their left column, find “Blogs” and click on it, scroll down through the blogs, and FINALLY, click on Shott’s Vocab. A process I call GSFCSC! Which I just made up. Aaaarrrrghhh.
Today’s (11-18-10) word is one I want to use: sofalising. Really funny. So I went up to the Blogline tabs at the top of the left column and clicked on “Clippings,” where I put that sofalising piece from Shott’s. Aaaaahhhhh!
Sites
Some of my favorite blogs and sites, like SpaceWeather.com and Refdesk.com, don’t have RSS feeds and cannot be added to my Bloglines list. I got on their e-mail subscription lists, which lets me decide whether to go to the actual site to see something of interest. But more and more internet and Web sites have RSS feeds and can be added to your Bloglines list. The Pew Research Center, for example, often has interesting news and information and has an RSS feed, which means I can add it to my Bloglines list. I did, in fact, add it.
Try it out. If you like it, how about adding http://www.spittingrits.blogspot.com. Thanks.

Technorati Tags: Bloglines.com,RSS feeds,Shott's Vocab

Spittin’ Grits on The Stir

I want to thank featured blogger K. Emily Bond at The Stir for her interest in Spittin’ Grits and her post last week of the interview with me about being a parenting grandparent. Our hour-long conversation covered many topics and details, and I’m pleased at the ones she picked to include in the post.

The Stir is part of the parenting site CafeMom, which offers its huge community of readers support, friendship, information and advice on a wide range of topics of interest to parents, particularly moms.

The Stir is a place on CafeMom for the featured bloggers to post topics that readers can respond to with comments that begin a conversation where everyone can join in.

The Numbers

My guess is that when all the Census 2010 figures shake out and are digested, those numbers Bond cited will be higher. (You can read the Pew Research Center publication here.) As Bond said, Spittin’ Grits deals primarily (but not exclusively) with drug addiction and being a parenting grandparent. My next guess is that as drug addiction numbers increase, so will the number of parenting grand- and great-grandparents.

Way Up the Mountain

Her insight that my most visible approach to parenting our granddaughter is finding practical solutions is correct. It’s part of getting real about the circumstances.

For example, when I recognized our granddaughter’s suffering and grief for the loss of her “mommy,” even at her very young age, I knew I needed help and guidance.

I am very clear that we are fortunate in being able to get the help we need. My 65-year-old husband recently accepted an offer of full-time employment (not easy to find these days) to ensure we could continue to give our granddaughter what she needs, plus all the extras.

The caveat, however, is that significant steps in the process of finding ways to care for grandchildren whose parents are drug addicts, criminals, imprisoned, mentally ill, or abusive/neglectful can be extremely difficult or impossible: getting the children away from bad parents, getting custody, getting the parent(s) to consent to adoption, finding financial or physical or emotional support – it’s all an uphill battle, and the system is not kind or supportive in most of it.

Sites

A grandparents parenting site I didn’t know about contacted me because of The Stir’s post: GrandsPlace. The Legal Resources link includes a post on a law needed to facilitate adoption and other solutions:

New laws covering the rights of children whom neither live with their parents nor are under the umbrella of the foster care system is needed. We need a law that will protect the rights of children being well cared for by relatives who are not able to adopt them while enabling the grandparents and other relatives to adopt if they choose and are qualified to adopt. Children being cared for by relatives should be accorded the same rights as foster children. If a grandparent or other relative wishes to and is qualified to adopt, the same time limits should apply. If the parents fail to rehabilitate themselves within a reasonable amount of time the rights of those parents must be terminated and allow a qualified grandparent or other relative who have been caring for the children in their absence to adopt those children. Only then can children, grandparents and the special others who are caring for the children depend on the promise of FOREVER.

Another very helpful grandparents parenting site is http://www.grandparentingblog.com/.

Somber Realities

One of my gravest concerns that the Pew Research Center reported in its on-line publication about parenting grandparents is the number who are close to or below the poverty level. Going through any or all of the steps cited above costs money, and some steps are more expensive than others: hiring attorneys, getting professional counseling, paying for medical care, sending the kids to pre-school or schools that require tuition, clothing the kids, seeing to the nutritional needs, and much, much more.

“Nearly one-in-five (18%) are living below the poverty line, while 47% have household incomes that fall between one- and three-times the poverty line. In comparison, among the population ages 50 and older, 8% are below the poverty line, and 32% are living on an income that is between one- and three-times the poverty rate,” according to the Pew Report.

This story is about the children. And the facts are abominable.

America has to find the will and the resources to help these children, starting with the growing numbers of drug, alcohol, and pill addicts among young people and moving on to those who are caring for the children of these addicts.

Once again, I thank K. Emily Bond in helping to bring these issues into the light.

Technorati Tags: K. Emily Bond,CafeMom,The Stir,Pew Research Center,grandparents parenting,GrandsPlace,grandparentingblog

The Birdiest

It’s a word! It’s a word actually being used, and I’m not kidding. Words being used are best, even if they aren’t in a dictionary. Birdiest is SO being used that being named one of the birdiest places is governed by rules.

Undaunted by even the BP oil disaster, millions and millions of birds are making their annual migration over the Gulf of Mexico, and lots and lots of them are flying over the Alabama Gulf Coast. Right now, the birds are flying south for the winter. And right now is one of the best times to go birding in Mobile and Fairhope, Alabama. To add lots of value to your birding experience, sign up for the 7^th Annual John L. Borom Alabama Coastal BirdFest, Oct. 14 – 17.

Photos: Lisa Comer. Above: Black-bellied Whistling Ducks, taken at the BirdFest
Below: Great White, Snowy, and Cattle Egrets, taken at the BirdFest

 

Places in this area, specifically the Dauphin Island Bird Sanctuaries and Sea Lab, have been named one of the birdiest in America. You’ll see all kinds of shapes, colors, and species; you’ll hear warbles, songs, and experts talking about the sights and sounds. And you can walk, walk, walk.

According to John Borom, currently director of Faulkner State Community College and president of the Mobile Bay Audubon Society, birding is not only a special pleasure, it is “big business in Alabama.”

“It is eco-tourism, and the emphasis is on conservation of habitat,” he said. “Proceeds from the BirdFest go toward support of the Dauphin Island Bird Sanctuaries. Over the years we have been able to donate $65,000.”

 

The opening night reception will feature BirdFest and other photos by Lisa Comer. Above, American Avocet.

Faulkner State will host a free event that promises to delight the whole family: the Bird and Conservation Expo is scheduled for Oct. 16, 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. at Faulkner State and the Fairhope public library.

Becky Collier and raptor friend will be at the Expo again this year.

 

Borom also suggests the 240-mile long Alabama Coastal Trail. “It is a hot birding area,” says Borom.

 

Birders on the trail

 

 

 

He also notes that the BP disaster has raised awareness about the critical importance of conserving habitat, as the marshes and breeding grounds for all kinds of bird and sea life have been adversely affected by the catastrophe. “We don’t yet know how it has affected the food chain. We’re going to be watching closely. Only time will tell,” he said.

He emphasizes that the migratory birds are unaffected, and this year’s BirdFest promises to be as good as ever.

For updated information on the oil spill and how it affects travel in the Mobile Bay area, visit these websites: http://www.mobilebaytravelupdates.com, www.eschamber.com, or www.gulfshores.com. For more information about the BirdFest, call Fran Morley at 251-928-0987.

Lisa Comer: Above: Blue Herron. Below: airborne raptors.

For one of 2010's birdiest experiences, put the Alabama Coastal BirdFest on your to-do list.

 

Technorati Tags: Alabama Coastal BirdFest,birdiest,Alabama Coastal Birding Trail,Dauphin Island Bird Sanctuaries and Sea Lab,eco-tourism,birding,migratory birds,Gulf of Mexico,Spittin' Grits,John L. Borom,Faulkner State Community College

Wake-up Call

Friday morning, September 10, after making all kinds of arrangements in order to leave town, I was just about to get a suitcase to the car to drive to Montgomery to my Aunt Laurette’s 90^th birthday celebration. NOT.

“Rriiingg, the phone is ringing,” as the Wonder Pets sing.

It was the owner of the café where my husband eats breakfast. “Joanna, Joe Lee has fallen out or fainted or something. We’ve called an ambulance,” said the frantic voice.

I thought I would choke on my heart. “I’m on my way, Barbara.”

I sped to the café, getting there just as the ambulance had pulled out to go to the hospital’s emergency room. The other paramedics in the Fire Rescue truck said, “It’s going to be ok. Here’s his stuff. Don’t speed to the ER. He’s going to be ok.”

My mind’s blank as I drive to the ER.

I get through the ER’s security gate and the guard walks me to the long hall leading to the last room on the left.

“Sit here with this lady, and I’ll see if you can go back yet,” said the guard. I stood next to the desk looking down the hall.

The lady was clicking away on her computer. “What’s your relationship to the patient?”

I jerked my head around in her direction. “Wife.”

“Is your husband’s Medicare the primary and PEEHIP the secondary?”

“Yes.” I kept looking down the hall. The paramedics were just outside the door.

“Is your address still 3403. . . .”

“Lady, this is the emergency room. I’m worried about my husband. Can’t we do this later?”

The security guard was walking toward me. “Not yet,” she said.

I looked past her and thought I saw the paramedic shake his head. “Oh, my God,” I thought. I started crying.

The security guard looked back and the paramedic indicated for us to come on to the room.

“Come on,” said the guard.

I wiped my eyes on my shirt and headed down the hall. It seemed to take forever.

“He’s ok. His blood pressure dropped and he fainted,” said the paramedic. “He’s going to be fine.”

His shirt lay in the floor, split in half so they could get to his chest. His eyes opened.

“Aren’t you going to Montgomery,” he said.

I just shook my head. “Don’t pick now to say absurd things, please.”

So, we spent Friday and the weekend in the hospital. I had arranged for our granddaughter to stay with friends, thinking I’d be at the birthday celebration. That Sunday was Grandparents Day, and what had been a fairly meaningless holiday took on heavy significance.

The experience was worth several lessons.

First, I learned that LOW body stuff can be more dangerous than HIGH body stuff. Like sugar level and blood pressure level. Second, we learned through all the tests he went through on Friday and Saturday that nothing really horrible was wrong. That left some new blood pressure medicine he was taking as the likely culprit.

Third, just when you think you’re kind of skating after, say, a really stressful week, you can be dead wrong. Then at our ages it takes the next week to recuperate from an experience like that.

Fourth, he doesn’t need to be croaking on me and I don’t need to be croaking on him. We have a 3-1/2-year-old granddaughter to raise. There’s work to be done before we can rest in peace.

Fifth, it occurred to me that life is like this train that cuts right through the middle of Tuscaloosa, paralleling 15^th Street. But that’s a topic for the next Spittin’ Grits post.

Meanwhile, my aunt had what she described as “the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Attention, telephone calls, and cards flowed her way.

And last but not least, as I told my aunt, “Laurette, you’re only 90 once.”

Or you’re not. The train can pull into the last station at any time.

 

Technorati Tags: Spittin' Grits,90th birthday,grandparents parenting

Cuba, Up Close and Personal via Photos and Conference

 

Photos: Chip Cooper

The Obama administration loosened some restrictions on relations with Cuba; then Cuba shut down again, at least enough that a stunning exhibition couldn’t take place as planned last year. You still can’t just hop on a plane and go like you might go to Puerto Rico. But The University of Alabama is offering a second chance to take a close look at Cuba, via the photographs and a conference, that hasn’t been possible for most Americans since 1962.

In 2003, The University of Alabama was able to travel to Cuba after receiving an academic travel license to initiate educational development and cooperation. UA photographer Chip Cooper has been several times since then and returned with stunning photos and an agreement to a joint exhibition, “Side by Side,” with Néstor Martí, which has already shown in Havana’s Julio Larramendi Gallery in the Hostal Del Havana, and will show at UA next month.

above: Nestor Marti (l) and Chip Cooper “Side by Side”

 

Havana at night

As part of UA’s second Cuba Week, October 10-13, 2010, you’ll be able to see images of Havana, other parts of Cuba, and the “beauty and grace” of the Cuban people as seen through these photographers’ eyes and lenses.

The exhibit’s opening is scheduled for October 11, 2010, 6:30 p.m. – 8:30 in the Grand Gallery of Smith Hall on the UA campus. The photos will remain on exhibit through December.

For information on purchasing limited edition photos, contact Chip Cooper at ccooper@ur.ua.edu or 205-348-8329.

Longer-range plans include a book-length publication from The UA Press in 2011.

Cuba Week Conference

At this year’s Cuba Conference, UA faculty will highlight their collaborative research along with their Cuban counterparts, and UA students will discuss their Cuban study abroad experiences. Speakers will look at Cuba through a variety of topics, including geography, astronomy, biology, art, architecture, politics, archeology, and much, much more.

 

Technorati Tags: Cuba,Cuba photographs,Chip Cooper,Néstor Martí,The University of Alabama,Julio Larramendi Gallery,Hostal Del Havana,Spittin' Grits

Night Hurts

My husband told me about last night’s upsetting incident this morning.

Our granddaughter has been very wakeful during the night for some time now. Last night she woke up about 1:30 a.m. calling for papa. She wanted him to sleep with her, which he will do in order to get her back to sleep. It took a while for her to fall back to sleep, and it was fitful sleep.

“She was thrashing around,” said my husband. “Then she started crying, ‘Mommy, mommy’. Then she kind of woke up and cried out, ‘Papa? Papa?’. I said to her, ‘I’m here, I’m here’. Then she finally fell asleep,” he said.

This retelling hurts. Knowing she's having such a bad emotional time also hurts. It also confirms to me that these dreams about her mother are interfering with her sleep. I can’t help but wonder about the content that is upsetting her so. Maybe it’s “abandonment” dreams. We all have had them, I think.

My understanding is that part of the function of dreams is cathartic. I hope the experts are right about this.

I am anxious to get an assessment from the children’s mental health professional who is guiding us in how to handle this and help our granddaughter to handle it.

Meanwhile, my feelings about my very ill daughter, who has a serious disease as well as mental health issues, have bottomed out, and these feelings do not feel right or natural. It’s a crummy place to be. I would certainly welcome insights and comments about this situation.

 

Technorati Tags: spittin' grits,grandparenting,parenting grandparents

Special Note: Time Out

Last week was a trying week, and I am behind in posting to Spittin’ Grits. I hope my readers will hang in with me. I hope to be back on schedule next week.

Meanwhile, life is football. To get you in the spirit:

 

 

Technorati Tags: Alabama football,Alabama Crimson Tide,Give 'em Hell Alabama

About Grief: The First Time

I’ve been thinking about grief recently.

Several events and incidents have sparked it: First, Katie Granju’s loss of her 17-year-old son, which she has blogged about at mamapundit.com, and the grief she is experiencing; next, my daughter’s being back in jail on a second charge in four months of manufacturing meth, which will cause my granddaughter once again to grieve for her mother; and the strange kind of grief I feel for my terribly drug-addicted, but alive, daughter, which revived as I scanned the old negatives for the three posts on the Gulf Coast beaches.

When I look at those old pictures of my daughter running and playing at the beach, I wonder who she is today or what happened to that toddler in those pictures. I simply do not know. I have grieved for two decades for the loss of my daughter to drugs. It has been like going to her funeral over and over and over and over.

 

Grief, a Creature

Grief is a strange animal. Unrelenting. But it’s not an animal you’re familiar with until it shows up at your door and parks itself for some time. There’s really no preparation for it.

Unresponsive to kindness or cruelty, grief responds to only two things: attempts to repress it or attempts to control it. Repressing it will cause it to erupt in other places and circumstances. Trying to control it turns it mean and dangerous. Only one thing works: look it straight in the eye and accept its presence.

I remember the first time I experienced grief that has remained in my consciousness. It was Easter season and the first worst day of my life.

I was about ten. I had gotten a pink chickie maybe a month or so before Easter, from Woolworth downtown, and named her Easter Egg. I have no idea how quickly colored chickies begin growing out of the lavender or pink or blue. But on this day, she was growing out of her color.

The Easter of pink Chickie Easter Egg, I also learned that my mother cried and I learned about secrets. I am still not sure how I knew her father, my unknown grandfather, had just died; his death explained why mom’s sister was coming and bringing her Cocker Spaniel. No mention was ever made of any of it. Why was it such a secret? Her father? That made him my grandfather. I had never seen him that I knew of. I didn’t really know he was alive, so how did I know he died? I don’t remember. Whispers, I think. Children understand whispers.

Mom’s father, that grandfather, was a problem drinker, and Granny had put him out decades ago. I don’t think they ever divorced; that would have been far too indecorous in those days. Mom’s sister was to arrive the next day with her blonde Cocker. Until the dog came and we had to find a place for Chickie Easter Egg, I really had no intimations of grief or death. I think that was a secret too.

Easter Egg lived in my room. She followed me everywhere, except outside, of course, where she would be prey for the neighborhood dogs and cats.

Grief, All Tears

Neighbors up the street had ducks, so they had a pen where Easter Egg could stay until the dog left. She was outgrowing her pink and becoming yellow. The ducks were in their pen, and the plan was I would stop by each morning on the way to school on my bike. We stayed long enough to make sure the ducks would let her intrude. They did.

I stopped for two days, I think it was. That third day, I knew something was wrong when I got to the pen. Easter Egg didn’t greet me when I called her.

Then I saw her, floating, pink and yellow, in the big washtub of water the ducks swam in. She drowned in the duck water. Those tears felt like my first real tears. It was the worst day of my life.

Grief, No Comfort

I don’t remember mom or dad comforting me. Mom and her sister disappeared for a day or so – their father’s funeral, I guess. No one talked to me about death or grief. In the intervening years, we had many pets die or disappear; I always cried over pets, and learned to dread the day that something would happen to another one. Grief is just so hard.

Why didn’t mom and dad tell me about all this the day Chickie Easter Egg drowned? About having the worst day of your life. About grief. About death. Real grief and death. About this hole, this well of grief so deep and so cold and so dark that some people never return. Now I know what it must feel like to fall into a well and never be found. What happened to people who fell into wells? Would I ever be found?

This is how I came to know grief, nearly unbearable grief. Maybe grief changes you and defines who you become. In my naiveté, I thought it was enough grief for a lifetime and I would be spared any more.

Technorati Tags: mamapundit.com,Katie Granju,grief,drug addiction,Spittin' Grits,grandparents