Musings

In 1992, I opened my one-man free-lance photography business in Arlington County, Virginia. When you open a one-person shop in Arlington, home of 39 Fortune 500 companies, you don't expect to make much of a dent in the local economy.

Yet, in the first month of business, the county administrator, chairman of the board of supervisors, my local supervisor, the director of economic development, the fire chief and the police precinct captain, dropped by to say "hello" and to welcome me to the Arlington business community. Several gave me their home and cell phone numbers and urged me to call them anytime I had a question or problem.

Over the next 12 years, I had contact with many county officials and most always asked "how's business?" and "is there anything I can do to help?"

In 2004, Amy and I opened a studio in the Jacksonville Center and stayed there for three years. During that time, no county official set foot in the studio or dropped by to say howdy. Last year, we opened a new studio in The Village Green in downtown Floyd. On Sunday, a member of the town council dropped by -- not so much to visit but to discuss a recent story critical of town government. He was the first town council member to pass through the door.

Newcomers and those interested in relocating to Floyd often ask me if the area is friendly to small business. I usually tell them of the contrast between the welcome I received in Arlington and the indifference in Floyd. Floyd is not unfriendly to new business. It's just indifferent at best. It might offer rent subsidies to a Volvo-owned company that wants to locate a recycling plant in the industrial park but it is, by and large, benign when it comes to the many small, more entrepreneurial operations that form the backbone of new business in the county.

During a break at a recent meeting of the county board of supervisors, which I attend each month to cover for The Floyd Press, I told the story about the treatment of small business owners in Arlington and noted that no supervisor has ever set foot in my either of my earlier businesses in the county or come to the front door of my home.

Virgel Allen, newly-elected supervisor of Little River District, overheard the conversation and said: "Doug, if I were your supervisor, you would have heard from me."

I laughed.

"Virgel," I responded. "You ARE my supervisor."

Times of crisis bring out the best of people. We've watched with pride as Floyd Countians rallied to help the Cantrells and the Harmons when their children faced their battles with brain cancer.

We see it now in the efforts to help Lydeanna Martin in her fight with another form of cancer.

Local musicians are teaming with country music star Rhonda Vincent next month in memory of Robert Pauley, who died in a motorcycle crash last year. Proceeds will benefit Medical Charities of Floyd.

On a smaller, less threatening level, I see it from friends who have offered help while I recover from rotator cuff surgery scheduled next month. Offers to mow our massive lawn, take care of the studio, run errands, assist in typing and help with photographic work have flowed in.

Thanks to all who have offered help. It's much appreciated and I hope I can return the favor some day.

The orthopedist didn't mince words.

You have muscle tears in three places. There is compression in the shoulder and a bone spur that causes damage every time you raise your arm. Frankly, I'm surprised you're able to use that arm at all. If you don't correct the problem, you won't be using it much longer.

Diagnosis: Arthoscopic surgery on the right shoulder; four to six weeks in a sling; two to three months of physical therapy. Prognosis: 70 to 80 percent use of the arm and shoulder after all is said and done -- if I'm lucky.

A week ago, surgery was a final option. After more tests, it became the only choice. The doc wanted to operate on the arm next week but I have a full schedule for May and the high school sports season doesn't end until the State Track Tournament in early June. After some debate, we settled on June 9.  I agreed to take it as easy as possible on the arm and shoulder to avoid further damage.

Apparently, the problem goes back more than that morning three months ago when I woke up with pain and numbness in my right arm. The bone spur has been wreaking havoc in the shoulder for a long time.

"You must be used to pain," he said.

Yeah, I am. Pain has been such a part of my daily regimen for so long, I've forgotten what it must be like to go through a day without it. Bad knees, a bum hip, calcium buildup from too many broken bones over the past 40 years -- all add to difficulty in doing many of the things others take for granted. I can't lift my left arm above my head because of a broken upper arm and dislocated shoulder some 20 years ago.

H.L. Mencken put it best:

If I had known I was going to live this long, I'd have taken a lot better care of myself.

Over the past three months, doctors have offered various opinions and treatments for the mixture of pain, numbness and tingling inflicting my right arm: tendinitis, trapped nerves or just plain old age.

A long stint on the MRI table Tuesday brought a new diagnosis: a "through and through muscle tear" at the rotator cuff as the primary cause along with arthritis as a contributing factor and, of course, age.

In other words, a torn rotator cuff -- or a variation.  Of course, this means bringing in an orthopedist and an evaluation on whether we can fix the thing through surgery, physical therapy, anti-inflammatory meds or that classic orthopedic standby: Cortisone.

Some years ago, I messed up the rotator cuff on my left arm and an orthepedist in Arlington promised to fix it. After he finished, I couldn't raise my left arm above my head. Still can't.

Amputation appears to be off the table -- for the moment at least.

Good thing I'm left-handed.

Amy is a fan of mystery writer Nancy Bartholomew, so I was surprised to find, via Technorati, a reference to Blue Ridge Muse, on Bartholomew's blog, Naked on Rollerskates:

I always check out Doug Thompson's blog.  His pictures were the initial draw but his fearless confrontation of local injustices and bigotry is always cogent and succinct.  What I'm trying to say is, he doesn't take s**t off nobody! (I like to imagine him as a loveable curmudgeon...with a torn rotator cuff.)

Bartholomew lives down the road in Greensboro, NC, with her two teenagers, four dogs and a "completely insane cat" and pens zany mysteries like Stella Get Your Gun. She describes her books as "action adventure novels about strong women with take-charge attitudes and kick butt talents."

She also has a cabin in Franklin County and is a fan of local author Fred "Fragments From Floyd" First and he doesn't even have a torn rotator cuff. (Book cover image courtesy of Amazon)

The first call a year ago came from an old friend who ran a wire service assignment desk in Washington.

"How far are you from Virginia Tech?"

"About 40 minutes away. Why?"

"There's a shooting there. People may be dead."

As I grabbed my cameras and headed for Tech, I thought "Christ.Not again. Probably another escaped prisoner."

On Aug. 21, 2006, the first day of classes, prisoner William Morva killed a security guard at a nearby hospital and a cop. He fled onto the Tech campus and school officials locked the campus down until Morva's capture.

But this was worse. Much worse.

By the time I got to the campus, the first reports that suggested a domestic argument in a campus dorm ended in a shooting were only the beginning. Others reported shots fired elsewhere on campus. Then we found out a mentally-ill student went off the deep end, killing himself, 32 students and faculty. Another 25 lay wounded.

I've covered a lot of death and violence over the years but the images of that day still bring nightmares: A cop walking out of Norris hall and vomiting; another sitting in the back of a SWAT-team truck and crying. Later, a State Police investigator choked up when he talked about being in silent classroom filled with bodies and hearing only the sound of vibrating cellphones as anxious parents tried in vain to reach loved ones.

The horror of the day had not yet sunk in when the network news crews descended on Blacksburg like vampire bats. Anchors flew in on their private jets, crews drove their heavy trucks over manicured lawns and double and triple parked on the Tech campus and in downtown Blacksburg.

Some so-called "journalists" called local hospitals, pretending to be relatives, trying to gain access to shooting victims.

On campus, a Tech student with tears streaming down her eyes looked at the gaggle of reporters, photographers, news trucks and satellite dishes and screamed:

Get out of here you god damned vultures!

Leave us alone!

Let us mourn in peace!

Go home!

You don't belong here!

I had to agree. I did my job for the service that hired me for that day, sent my photos in and went home. I have not looked again at the images taken that day and doubt that I ever will. What happened at Virginia Tech a year ago was a tragedy. But my profession turned it into a spectacle. I watched in horror as the talking heads, the news networks and even some local papers milked the story over and over.

The coverage of the Tech tragedy was, for the most part, over the top. The news profession went too far. My greatest fear is that they will do it again on this one-year anniversary.

Water is the topic du jour at Floyd's observation of Earth Day this Saturday in the Floyd County High School auditorium and the schedule of speakers features a lot of people with long lists of academic credentials and lots of initials after their names.

Ordinarily, such a large collection of eggheads would send me screaming into the hills. I approach presentations from academic types and "experts" with the same trepidation as a root canal. These are the folks who think a 200-slide PowerPoint presentation is a "brief summary" and use words that drive up sales of encyclopedias and thesauruses.

But even glutenous consumers like myself must recognize that the earth's resources are running short. So I'll probably be in the auditorium listening intently and hoping the PowerPoints are kept to a minimum. Jason Rutledge is on the program and at least he uses words that even a country boy can understand. Also, Fred First promises that his presentation contains only "sixty Floyd County digital images."