From the Desk of The DBeazy One-Man-Think-Tank

*** Note:  There were some reports earlier of readers having trouble with the link below when viewing on a cell phone. I apologize for the inconvenience. The problem appears to be resolved, but if it is not, you can always use the following link to “Exit TO HOME,” and look up the first Chief Fan story in the index.

 

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Before you read further, click on the link below to visit the Original, “The Only Chiefs Fan I Ever Knew”

 

https://dbeazylife.com/the-only-chiefs-fan-i-ever-knew/

 

About this time one year ago ….. HOLY CRAP! What words just leaped upon my screen. Yes, HELL YES, I read my own words as well. I am practically at a loss for another word at the moment. At least a word that is on topic for the subject matter that I had in mind.

Bear with me for a moment, rest assured that I will get back to where I was, but right now, I’m like the legend of the Rougaroux. It seems that in the swamps and cane fields of South Louisiana there lives a creature with the body of a man, the head of a wolf, and burning orange eyes. The Rougaroux roams the area in search of children who refuse to obey their parents. The only defense against the Rougaroux is to nail 13 pennies to a plank outside one’s door. According to legend, the beast can only count to 12 and when it encounters the 13 pennies, it spends all night counting and recounting until the sun begins to rise and it is forced to retreat to its lair. The Rougaroux is derived from its French counterpart, the Lougarou, but not to be confused with the creole Lougaroux, which is a creature that either takes on the characteristics of a bird and flies, or sheds its skin and becomes a ball of fire, flying around in search of children to kill. To my knowledge, 13 pennies won’t stop this one, because the Lougaroux is always a female who converted to this being because she committed certain actions that were displeasing to a Voodoo priest.

Specifically, with regard to those first words above, my mind instantly became like the beast counting the pennies, except my mind was stuck on all of the things that are different today than they were just 365 days ago. Just 365 days ago, we had absolutely no idea what lay ahead.

Ok, Wow, now that I mentally ran down that rabbit trail, let me get back to where I meant to go. Last year, I publically announced the existence of dbeazylife.com. I published a story on Super Bowl Sunday about my “unlikely” friend who left this world way too soon, in a most horrendous manner, and who was the only person I ever knew who was wholeheartedly a Kansas City Chiefs fan.  I can remember that my hand shook as it hovered above the enter key before publishing the story, nervous as a haint that I would embarrass myself or that my writing would not be met with kindness in the eyes of the world. Since then, I’ve written about crazy cows, Elvis impersonators, Soybean trucks, dancing with HOT women, motorcycle rides, floods, miraculous babies, firefighters, the promise of youth, and the list goes on and on, and on. But I wrote the story one year ago about my friend and my last conversation with him is one that is still fresh on my mind. I can tell you where I was when I heard the news that Elvis had died. I can tell you exactly, with peripheral storylines, where I was when the space shuttle Challenger exploded. I can tell you exactly where I was when the Twin Towers fell, and I can tell you where I was and where Chunk Mitchell was the last time I shook his hand and I can still see in my mind the exact moment when his spirit left his body. In almost 32 years, I’ve seen a lot more tragedy than the hospital IT guy should. But in those 32 years, I’ve worked in smaller hospitals and my work often requires my presence in the Emergency areas. Chunk was not the first friend or loved one I encountered in that emergency room, and I’m sure that he won’t be the last. On that January day, in 2019, I was on my way out of the ER. It was time for me to pack my gear and begin my weekend, besides, when serious cases are brought to the ER, I make myself scarce. But on this day, the clinical staff was trying to determine who the patient was, I think everyone knew him only as Chunk. I texted my daughter, (one of Chunk’s schoolmates) because I think I was a little in shock and wasn’t thinking straight. I asked her what Chunk’s first name and she responded with, “it’s Shawn.”

It serves no purpose to elaborate on any details as to the manner of Chunk’s death and I certainly wouldn’t want to interfere with any legal proceedings that are yet to come. All I will say is that a senseless act of violence permanently altered the lives of many people that day.

I sat just a few nights ago, staring at a blank computer screen, considering many an idea or thought, searching for the topic of my next contribution. My process is that way. I realized that it had been a year since I had published and announced publicly my internet presence through the story of my friend, the Kansas City Chiefs fan. Immediately, I messaged Chunk’s mom about a possible Chief’s Fan 2.0 story and she responded in mere seconds.

I framed the question to Beth, “Hey, can you give me an update on Chunk’s children and anything else you can think of to say about my friend.” Within minutes Beth responded and when I awoke the next morning, I realized that I had not even considered the time. I’m surprised that she even responded after 10 PM on a school night. I mention school night because Chunk’s parents now have custody of Chunk’s children.

I have to pause just a minute here because I am trying to put myself in Fred and Beth’s position. My children attended Columbia Academy with Chunk and DB, (Chunk’s younger brother), so I can definitely relate to the morning rush of getting children up, fed, ready, and dropped off at school and I remember getting to work, and breathing a huge sigh, feeling like I’d already worked a full 8 hours. But that was years ago, back when I was filled with youth and vigor, not the age that I am today. So I think about this couple who, with one muzzle flash, had their very foundations rocked. Not only were they visited with what I can only imagine to be the absolute worst news any parents could encounter, but they had to immediately face the very sobering reality that their strength was about to be tested with the responsibility of a 9-year-old and a 3-year-old. I mean, left to simultaneously eschew their own shock and grief to be the solid and steadfast pillars that Chunk’s daughters would need. I can think of no words worthy to describe the emotions that I imagine Fred and Beth were experiencing at that moment. Anything I could come up with, I’m sure would pale in comparison to their actual emotions.

After messaging Beth, we began conversing back and forth. Beth is or at least to me, seems to be very open and willing to discuss that painful day in January 2019. She is unabashedly willing to share her story and is quick to mention the reliance that she and Fred have upon the Lord God Almighty who has been a constant source of comfort and provider of strength. As Beth told me about the children and she answered questions that I had, she revealed to me a little of what their world is like.

I am a guy who needs to know the details, someone who needs to see all of the little parts and mechanisms in order to understand how it all comes together and functions in the big picture. Beth explained to me that it is she that drops the children off at school in the morning and Fred’s schedule allows for him to pick them up in carline in the afternoon. She says they see God’s hand in this because not long before Chunks death, Fred’s current job as Meat Market Manager at Sam’s Club in Hattiesburg just kind of fell into his lap. His work schedule now allows for Fred to be off of work early enough to make it to the school and babysit until Beth gets home. Careful to give God 100% of the credit, she explained how she thought, “I can’t start over with a 3-year-old and a 9-year-old.” Doubting her abilities more about the 3-year-old, Beth explained that in her doubt, God spoke to her and told her, “Yes, you have a 3-year-old. But she will be 4 and then she will be 5.” Beth says she understood that God was telling her to keep moving forward.

Perhaps the most telling of Beth’s testimony though is when she told me another specific thing that she has been able to do. Early in our conversations, Beth wanted to let me know that she had forgiven “her.” She said a co-worker convinced her that not forgiving would take over everything. The co-worker told her that “justice cannot rob mercy.” In other words, Beth said, “Without forgiveness, I would not be able to be the Grandmother that Marlee and Emma need.”

Beth shared with me the difficulty that DB, Chunk’s younger brother had in dealing with this tragedy. DB and Jordan had their first child in September of 2018, a daughter named Oaklyn, and Chunk was only able to hold Oaklyn once. DB told me that Chunk talked about how beautiful Oaklyn is and how he was proud of DB and Jordan. I was beginning to wonder if either of the Mitchell boys could produce a son, but I’m told that DB and Jordan are expecting a son that will be here shortly.

As for Marlee and Emma, well, they are now 5 and 11 years old. I understand that Marlee is a little on the sneaky side, that she likes to hide, and that she loves Barbies.  From the picture, my lord, she looks so much like Chunk. Beth says that it is her prayer that Marlee doesn’t suffer any long term psychological effects from the events she witnessed 2 years ago. Emma, well, my goodness, this young lady has taken on the role of the biggest Chief’s fan in Marion County Mississippi. I’m told that she is into working out with her personal trainer and that she is working with one of the best fastpitch softball pitching coaches around. Beth tells me that she has plenty of Kansas City Chiefs clothing and accessories. DB says that her love of the Chiefs is her way of connecting to her dad.

 

I think about my friend often. Every time I play poker or watch poker on TV, every time I go by the old Meat Masters or the location of the grocery store by Tractor Supply, I can see him walking out with that infectious smile, that handshake, and I can still hear his voice saying, “What’s up Mr. Donny?” Of course, as long as there is a Kansas City Chiefs football team, ole Chunk will find his way into my memory. As DB reminded me the other day, it wouldn’t matter if the Chiefs were good or bad, Chunk would always say, ”This is our year.”

Finally, as you read this, please remember that you never know what tomorrow will bring. Remember this family in your prayers, that this family still deals with loss every day. And when you tune to the game today, if you don’t already know, remember that in Columbia, Mississippi, a family will be cheering for those Chiefs, and they will be cheering on behalf of the only Chiefs fan I ever knew.

By-the-way, if you are wondering how the Rougaroux fits into the story of my friend the Chief’s fan, well, it really doesn’t, at least not directly. But by way of explanation, it is the EXACT image that came to mind when I typed that first partial sentence. One year ago, on Super Bowl Sunday, we were less than 45 days away from the commencement of a period that we now know as a WORLD IN PANDEMIC. When I wrote those first 6 words, I froze, I took a breath and I thought about the Rougaroux counting the pennies and myself, contemplating the world that we live in today.

                                                                                   

 

 

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