By Keith Kappes - Publisher
CNHI
August 20, 2010 —
Today marks the end of my first week as publisher and this is the first of many weekly columns I hope to write in this space.
My original plan was to spend most of my space today on recollections of “The Publisher’s Pen,” the personal column written for decades by the late W. E. Crutcher, legendary owner and publisher of this community newspaper and others in Carter and Greenup counties.
Rather than resurrect the title long used by Mr. Crutcher, I have opted instead to apply a title that is tied both to newspapering and to the digital age. Like the columns of Mr. Crutcher, I am hopeful that what I write will amuse some readers, annoy others and generate public and private conversations about our neighborhoods, community, state, nation and world.
But those reflections on “The Publisher’s Pen” will have to wait for another column. My plan was scuttled early Thursday morning when one of my daughters called with the terrible news of the death of Collin Thomas, a young man I have known since he was a fifth grader.
Yes, I had been looking forward to getting back into reporting mode and writing news stories but I did not want my first article to be about the death of a courageous young warrior who told me as a high school freshman that he was going to be a Navy Seal.
Like you, I often pause in respect when I learn of the death of a man or woman in uniform. During my years in the military, I participated in several funerals and I always dreaded being the ranking officer who had to present the folded flag to the next of kin at the graveside. Most often, those being honored were strangers and it was a job that had to be done.
But the news of this combat death was not just the name of a KIA from somewhere else, this was someone I knew and respected as a member of what many believe is the best fighting force in the world, the Navy Seals. This was a superb athlete from RCSHS who endured nearly two years of the most arduous training imaginable before he even could go on his first mission.
One of the toughest assignments for any journalist is to contact the next of kin of those who have died. You are torn between getting the facts and feeling like an insensitive lout intruding into a family’s grief. Four calls after I started looking for information, I finally dialed the number of his parents in North Carolina. His father is a retired Marine lieutenant colonel and, if I had the authority, I would give him another medal for having the courage to talk with his heart still breaking.
But like the good soldier he taught his son to be, he collected himself and told me what he could while respecting the security restrictions on those in special operations.
His grief was compounded by earlier memories of his exposure to the savagery of terrorism. Lt. Col. Clayton Thomas recalled that he lost his best friend and 19 young Marines under his command when a Marine barracks complex was bombed in Beirut, Lebanon, in 1984.
And those emotional wounds were reopened on 9-11-01 when his nephew, Eddie Earhart, became the first U. S. serviceman to die in the war on terror when a hijacked airliner crashed into the Pentagon where he was working as a Navy weatherman.
As Thursday wore on, I had two more contacts with Lt. Col. Thomas and I knew he was fully focused on what had to be done for his only son and for his grieving family members.
He arranged for us to get a recent photo of Collin on duty in Afghanistan. And he gave our phone number and e-mail address to the Navy public affairs office so we could be notified of the grim details of shipping his remains, the Navy’s memorial service and the day of the final homecoming in Morehead of a brave young warrior who regularly put his life on the line.
The photo we received of this handsome Navy Seal clearly shows the embroidered U.S. flag he proudly wore on his chest…and in his heart.
May he rest in peace.
