Eighteen years and two months after the biggest day of our life, we took our oldest to college today. When Torrie was born, we were thrilled, a little overwhelmed at having a real live baby in the hosue, and then suddenly she’s a college freshman.
She was so scared she could barely speak, her voice more like a whisper, so uncomfortable and nervous she was unable to sit straight in a chair.
Her name was Cheri Beth Taylor. She was 15-years-old. And she was on the run from Colorado City.
Just a follow-up to the blog I wrote after the helicopter accident last month. First, and foremost, I want to thank everyone who wrote, emailed and said hi when you saw me at the ballgame or the mall. We all tried to get back to everyone, but we were in the middle of an email switchover, and I’m told some emails got lost in the shuffle.
Here you go people, the picture called 100 movies. Enjoy!
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Three days after the Choppers for Choppers ride I am still in disbelief at how many of you showed up. That has to be one of the classiest and coolest turnouts my biker friends have ever displayed. In case you missed it, we held a memorial ride for our Newschopper 3 friends Scott Bowerbank and Jim Cox and channel 15’s Rick Krolak and Craig Smith. Money raised went STRAIGHT to the family of Phoenix police officer George Cortez who was tragically killed in the line of duty that same horrible day.
I thought we would have a nice turnout but was absolutely blown away when bikes started coming in from as far away as Yuma, Tucson and Flagstaff. It made me so proud to be part of such a group of giving, caring people. My co-workers still come up to me amazed at the turnout. My reply to them? “Those are the bikers of Arizona, they do this sort of thing year round.” From the bottom of my heart, Thank You!
Have you ever felt like you have so much to say, but you don’t know where to start? Well that’s how I feel right now. After all our community has been hit hard by tragedy theese past two weeks.
Personally, the past 14 days have been the most difficult period of my life. The day after I lost four colleagues to a tragic helicopter collision, my father died. And just last week, I found out the optimism that I had defeated cancer was a bit premature. The doctors tell me my cancer is growing and I will have to undergo more treatment.
But I don’t want to focus on the negative. Instead, I’d like to share with you, what I consider, the most important lesson my father taught me before he died. And how that lesson is helping me cope with the loss of my friends and the fear that cancer can trigger.
First of all, allow me to introduce you to my father. Frank Camacho was born in 1921 here in Phoenix. He never knew his biological father who, according to family legend, probably was killed in the Mexican revolution. My father was a man of extraordinary intelligence. But because of the depression, he never made it passed the 8th grade. In fact, by the age of nine he was working full time in the cotton fields around Laveen while attending elementary school. He was beaten and verbally abused by his step-father. My father did not live an easy life. There were many disappointments in his life. But he rarely talked about them. My father was a success as a cotton farmer….until he lost everything in 1960 through a tragic combination of circumstance. My dad was happiest growing things. He truly was a “man of the earth.”
In life, my father was fighter. He had to be in order to survive. His death mirrored his life. It was a struggle. About ten days before he died, an extraordinary event occurred. As he lay struggling to survive,
he looked up with a look of serenity that we hadn’t seen in months.
He calmed down considerably and actually smiled as he weakly muttered, “Gracias. Gracias. Gracias.” ” Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” His face actually glowed with peace and joy. He told us that he was thanking God for the beautiful life that He had given him.
In so many ways, my dad had already said his goodbyes to us. One of the things he said repeatedly, was that his biggest regret was not being the best person he could’ve been. You see, my father was very human and made many mistakes. A few days later, he died.
His death came the day after my friends perished in a horrible accident. He died a day after a Phoenix police officer was gunned down in the line of duty. With all the grief, it took me a couple of days to see the gift my father had given me.
This simple, humble often grumpy man reminded me that, with all its heartbreak and disappointments, life is a beautiful and wonderful gift from God. It is a treasure that becomes apparent with a grateful heart and a willingness to take responsibility for your life.
Which brings me to Jim Cox, Rick Krolak, Scott Bowerbank, Craig Smith and Phoenix police officer, George Cortez. Of the five, I knew Jim and Rick the best. I know they lived life like it was a gift to be savored, enjoyed and not wasted. Virtues they had in common with Scott, Craig and George. My heart aches that these wonderful men are gone. But I thank God for their lives and the fact that I could call Jim Cox and Rick Krolak friends. For me at least, it makes their passing a little less painful. All of these men lived full lives. All too brief, but full nonetheless. I hope their families can take some solace in that knowledge.
I mourn them, as I mourn my father, with love and gratitude in my heart. It is love which will keep them alive in our hearts and in that wonderful gift of memory. In the catholic funeral service there is a beautiful line that says ” Live has not ended. It has merely changed.”
They are not dead. They are with us as long as the love we have for them lives because Love can never die.
The way they lived their lives inspires me as I prepare to do battle with cancer. They remind me that life is a gift from God. They remind me love is so much more powerful than anger and hate. They remind me that people are loving and caring. I’m amazed by the outpouring of community support. I know cancer will never win, no matter what happens.
I want to thank all of you who so beautifully have expressed your condolences on the death of my father. Words fail to convey how much your expressions of love have meant to me and my family.
Thank you again and please remember me in your prayers.
Next time you see a red tail hawk, smile…because last Saturday, 8/4, the good people of Liberty Wildlife in Scottsdale did a wonderful act of love.
I was reminded recently why it’s never a good idea for a reporter to get too close to a story. It can hurt too much.
I’ve seen and heard from a lot of old friends in the last week. One of the good things that comes from tragedy. The email below is from one of the first pilots we had in the early 1980’s. In the picture Pilot Pete Johnson is on the right, and photographer Luis Olivas is on the right. We were getting ready to fly to the Grand Canyon for a raft trip during the floods of 1983.
Life is slowly returning to normal in the newsroom. Nobody is feeling any better about what happened, but 3TV is a place full of life and characters, plus we all know Scott and Jim would be getting tired by now of all the moping around. I have one more funeral to go to for Rick Krolak, then it’s time to fully get back to normal
I am at a loss for words. I can’t believe it and I don’t want to believe it. How can it be that Jimmy Cox is gone? This is a nightmare. I know Jimmy wouldn’t want us to be sad. He would want us to move on and remember him as the fun, loving guy that he was.
During the grief and chaos of this past week, a friend of mine (who does not work at 3tv) said to me that he was sick of hearing viewers say they were part of “Arizona’s Family.” He said those viewers don’t know us, and “Arizona’s Family” is just a creative marketing slogan. I love my friend but this comment really upset me.
Maybe it started out as a marketing slogan, but that’s not what it means to any of us anymore. Channel 3 is a unique place. When you love where you work and who you work with, those people become family. When you go on “road trips” and spend many long days together, enjoying each others company while respecting each others work, you are like family. I am fairly new to 3TV, heading into my third year now in the weather department, but even when I first started here, I knew this place was different. Actually, I knew that *before I even started.
Channel 3 is known all over the country for several reasons. First, it’s uncommon for an independent (non-affiliated) station to have such success in television ratings. But more than that, so many people who previously worked at 3TV, remember it as one of the best places they ever worked.
Then there are the people here now. At most stations, there are a few people who’ve been at a station for a long time. At 3TV there are many…and I think that says something. I grew up watching Dan Davis and Frank Camacho. (They hate hearing that 
Now, I work side-by-side with them. I also used to watch Patti Kirkpatrick and Royal Norman.
Soon after I started at 3TV, I caught a cold and had to call in sick. Royal brought me chicken soup….it was homemade! Olivia and Claudia took me out for drinks when I was stressed out planning my wedding. There are many little stories I can think of like this that make me think fondly of my co-workers. And just like family members, we don’t always get along. We tell each other what we think and sometimes fight. I can think of a time or two when I’ve wanted to smack Brad Perry, in fact. But time goes by and we are friends… and family again. Brad even offered to work for me on a Sunday night this past December, so my new husband and I could go to the company holiday party.
As for viewers not being part of our family….that’s just ridiculous. I think our whole goal is to “connect” with viewers, and judging by the public’s reaction to this past week’s tradgedy, I think we have. When I go to the grocery store, people I don’t know congratulate me on my recent wedding. We are familiar to people, and because of that, they let us in their homes, not just when they watch the news, but sometimes to tell their own stories. Just the other day , I covered the story of a Valley family who lost their home to a monsoon thunderstorm. They were devastated, but yet they still let me and the photographer in to share their story. I am amazed at that. So many people these days don’t trust the media, but our viewers are different. They know us and they treat us with respect. And I’d like to think that’s because we treat them the same way.
Thank you to everyone who emailed condolences, dropped off flowers or food, and especially to those said a prayer for us this week. I may not know you, but I am thankful you are part of Arizona’s family.
In addition to the lovely poem read at the Cox- Bowerbank memorial, I’d also like to post another sent by a viewer. This one is a familiar one, it was part of the services for fallen soldier, Lori Ann Piestewa, killed in Iraq. It is the Hopi prayer, and is a beautiful sentiment.
Many of you wanted access to the poem Jim Cox’s sister read at Tuesday’s service.
Elaine was kind enough to email it to me. Here it is, as written by Ruth Ann Mahaffey:
