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These boots were made for walkin'----

I sang that song on the way home from school one day after my first taste of kindergarten. I had enjoyed the opening round of school--for the most part. I did not enjoy the Back To School spanking I had received earlier in the day from my pretty teacher--Mrs. Bolin, though.

Trust me when I say I never saw it coming.

I was hoping that little scenario would not rear its ugly head again.

The chain of events did teach me the importance of timing, paying attention to instruction and wanting a pair of Go Go Boots to kick off the new school year.

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A celebration of life will be held this week for Shari Carmichael of Aurora.

Shari was a prayer warrior, a champion for underdogs and a powerful role model for women of faith.

Her final moments were full of love, grace and mercy. She was worried about others and firm in her beliefs about Heaven and God's grace.

We will honor her by gathering funds for a playground at her church, Brookline Church of Christ. Nana's playground will ring with laughter and hope in the years to come.

Donations can be sent to: Brookline Church of Christ, 3086 N. Brookline Avenue, Brookline, Missouri, 65619. Put Nana's Playground in the memo.

And, if you get the chance someday when someone needs you, take a chance and just hold their hand.

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Has it really been 60 years?

Time flies when you are having fun; that's for sure.

Aurora Houn' Dawgs were ranked first in state in 1965. Those players will be having a reunion of sorts next month.

They were surprised recently to discover they are joining the ranks of the Houn' Dawg Hall of Fame as the 2025 Class.

60 years in the making, players will walk on to Kelley Field before their hometown crowd once more to hear the roar of the crowd underneath those Friday Night Lights.

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I grew up knowing the Pate name.

Juvenile Shoe Factory is what brought my mom to Aurora from northwest Arkansas after World War II.

The Pate girls were pretty, fun and out-going.

Linda was in my class at school.

Later in life, Gale Pate would help start the Senior Advisory Group for the local Chamber of Commerce. I thought the SAG acronym was hilarious. The glaring stares from him, my mother and my first boss, Carl Wise, quickly put me in my place.

When we celebrated Gale's long life a few days ago on a hot July afternoon, we spoke openly about his love for Aurora, his family, his church, his school and his country.

Our legacies don't get much better than that.

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All Roads Lead Home Mural Number 5 is finished.

America's Muralist Raine Clotfelter has worked his magic once again.

I have enjoyed having his presence in the old armory, aka Aurora Houn' Dawg Alumni & Outreach Center during the month of July.

His talent and creativity is rock solid. His determination, faith and ability to always find the good in any situation is literally contagious. He and his wife, Tricia, have become great friends.

Join me in congratulating him on another job well done as helps preserve, promote and protect our community's story.

I love him dearly. But I'm pretty sure I saw him roll his eyes when I told him I had an idea for "just one more."

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I have been on a new journey this summer.

I have spent a few hours each week diving into all things related to the Community Foundation of the Ozarks.

Well-known Aurora Graduate Brian Fogle and former CFO president once told me that building a legacy isn't always about money. He said it's about donating your time, your talents, your resources and your passions-- while bringing people together for a common cause. I took that to heart.

This summer I stepped into a role that left me with big shoes to fill. I am devoted to carrying on the good work started by Michele Parbury as the Aurora Area Affiliate Coordinator of the Community Foundation of the Ozarks.

I will be serving the towns of Aurora, Marionville and Verona. Their people and this place already own my heart.

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This life.

It is full of joys, highs, lows, surprises and quite often--some hard knocks.

One of my greatest joys is the friendships I have made along the way of my lengthy journey. God always seems to put people in my path just when I need them most.

Wayne Morgan was one of my joys and surprises.

We had been through some tough times together.

One of my hard knocks came this year--when I found out Wayne was going to be vacating his position in Aurora and I would no longer have my buddy--just two doors down.

I consoled myself with the idea that he was still going to be around and we always managed to end up at some of the same places with some of the same people. I guess that's still true--but I'm going to have to wait until I get to Heaven to see him again.

But the friendship and love that he gave me through the years--will be something that I always treasure.

Godspeed, my dear friend.

And--you might have graduated from Marionville, but you still "Ain't Nothin' But A Houn' Dawg.

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I took some time out last week for a working retreat of sorts with my ride or die travel buddy, Ravae Lewis. We have been through a lot together and we have put the miles in, too. (That's not to say we are high mileage. That's not the case, at all.)

We have added up mileage in Missouri, Arkansas, Kansas, Nebraska, South Dakota, Iowa, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee, Maryland and Pennsylvania. We were politely escorted to the boundaries of a reservation during the pandemic and followed around by a stranger in an old cemetery just last week.

She nearly killed me on the side of the road at a fruit stand. (I was in dire need of a bathroom while she listened to some boyfriend's life story.) We have endured a haunted cabin on the battlefield's edge near Gettysburg and I have flagged down a Schwann's Truck in South Dakota. (It was during the pandemic and I was tired of boiled eggs, snack mix and cookies. I needed some real food. He couldn't sell it to me. So we had to follow him to a gas station and beg the owner to buy it from him and then sell it to me. I felt like I was negotiating something illicit. I just wanted some chicken and a hamburger.)

She was chased by a wandering buffalo in the Badlands on a trip to the woods. An older gentleman called me out in a Civil War quilt shop in Pennsylvania and told me he had been to Heaven and he knew I had, as well. "Tell me about it," he quipped as I stuttered. This was right after my ventilator episode and I hadn't told many people about the whole Heavenly experience in the fear that they would think I was crazy.

We have looked for Elvis in Memphis and fell in love with Jon Arthur's saltwater pool oasis in the Mississippi Delta. We have had spa days, swim days and near altercations with wannabe bikers. We have hiked in all seasons, sipped wine and watched late night crime shows, too.

We have played Scrabble and shared stories. We have basked in the silence when one or the other didn't feel well and needed some space. We had some creme brulee to die for last week at The Old Bank in downtown Russellville. If you go there, I will pay you to bring me one home.

We have cooked for one another, too. Her specialties are soups and biscuits. Mine might be brown beans and cornbread. I can also do a mean blueberry muffin. We have thrifted and gifted, laughed and cried and even took an art class last week, too.

We are both over thinkers and hard workers. We love our friends and family to no end. We love each other, too; even though she broke my heart a little when she moved away.

She gets excited about lizards, butterflies, turtles and groundhogs. I like wildflowers, junk and the sounds of crickets and cicadas at night.

This week's column is about yet another one of our adventures on the backroads. I am hoping for more as All Roads Lead Home.