Sarah Stafford – Jim Stafford's BlogOKC

Shining a light on mental illness

NAMI Tulsa — NAMI-Tulsa’s clever ‘psychiatric help’ display caught a lot of attention and photographers at the NAMI Oklahoma conference.

This past weekend, I heard stories about the heartache, disruption and pain caused by the impacts of mental illness on families and their loved ones.

I also heard that there is hope for those suffering.

NAMI Oklahoma held its 2024 Annual Conference in Tulsa on Saturday, and because my wife works for the organization, I tagged along. NAMI is the National Alliance on Mental Illness, an organization that works to end the stigma of mental illness.

NAMI doesn’t provide therapy, but helps connect those in need with critical services, as well as with support from their peers in similar situations.

Our family is among those that have been impacted by mental illness, so I found the conference and its many speakers and topics relevant to our situation.

There were roughly 150 folks in attendance, plus about two dozen vendors who showcased their support at tables outside the meeting rooms.

My intentions were to hear presentations by a couple of folks I know, then take care of our 5 year-old grandson, Solomon, who came with us.

The first presentation I heard was that of Neal Nordlinger in the day’s first breakout session. I’ve had a lot of connections with Neal through the years, first when I worked at i2E, the OKC-based not-for-profit that mentors entrepreneurs and startups. And now I know him as the husband of my friend and former co-worker, Clytie Bunyan.

Neal speaks — Neal Nordlinger leads session at NAMI Oklahoma conference on finding the right rehab.

Anyway, Neal told his audience about how he was confronted with consequences of addiction at 3 a.m. one morning when he received a call that his son was in crisis. He needed to find a treatment center for his son, but didn’t know where to start.

That call started Neal down a path of discovery, where he learned about recovery and rehab centers that treat not only for drug and alcohol addiction, but also provide treatment for mental health conditions.

In his quest, Neal gained so much knowledge about the nation’s rehab industry that he wrote a book called “The Right Rehab,” and founded a business called InCrisis Consultants to help others. He shared with us insight into finding a rehab center that has a good reputation, the required certifications and fits our insurance and financial situation.

It’s quite a maze, which I know from past experience of our family.

As an aside, my daughter, Sarah, has worked for rehab centers in Florida for the past couple of years. I’m proud that she’s discovered her mission in life from her own challenges.

After his presentation, I told Neal that everyone at the conference should have heard him speak, and for good reason. Everyone was there because they have a loved one with addiction, mental health challenges or have gone through them personally.

There is a big rehab knowledge gap for most of us that Neal addressed.

Later in the day, I heard my friend Preston Northcraft deliver an impassioned presentation on turning the pain associated with a mental health condition into something positive.

That’s exactly what Preston, who suffers from a bipolar condition and gambling addiction, has done. He delivered a message of hope for other young people by assuring them they are not alone in their condition, and offered steps to overcome mental health challenges and live a successful life.

Preston has also written a couple of books about mental illness. HIs presentation showed that he has emerged as an engaging speaker. He turned his pain into a positive.

Finally, for me, the most impactful story I heard at the conference was that of keynote speaker, Dr. Christine Kunzweiler, a veterinarian and wife of Tulsa District Attorney Steve Kunzweiler.

Dr. Kunzweiler shared the story of the journey her family has been on after her daughter, while in the midst of mental health crisis in 2022, stabbed her father, Steve Kunzweiler. The incident resulted in the Kunzweiler’s daughter serving a long period in jail before eventually being found not guilty by reasons of mental impairment.

The mental illness her daughter suffered from and the family crisis it created inspired both Dr. Kunzweiler and her husband to become advocates for mental health reforms and services.

While Steve Kunzweiler survived the incident with minor wounds, it is a similar story — but less tragic — to that of Oklahoma Labor Commissioner Mark Costello. Many Oklahomans are familiar with the story of how Costello lost his life when he was stabbed to death by his son, who suffered from a severe mental illness.

Today, Mark Costello’s wife, Cathy Costello, has become a fierce advocate for crisis intervention and speaks frequently on the subject.

I came away from Dr. Kunzweiler’s speech grateful that she’s willing to share her family’s story in a public way when there is still such a stigma surrounding mental illness.

Her experience and story provided something her audience needed to hear — that we are not alone in our challenging situations. Many others face the same challenges.

She gave us hope that we can emerge from dark days with a new purpose and shine a light to help end the stigma of mental illness.

The ‘Inspiration Board’ at the NAMI Oklahoma conference was filled with notes of encouragement

The Best of BlogOKC from 2023

EDITOR’S NOTE: For the third consecutive year, I’ve gone through my year in BlogOKC and pulled the posts that were most meaningful to me as a “best of” column. My favorite may be the one written by my daughter after she saved a roommate’s life in Florida. I was proud of her for jumping in when needed and also proud of her for the way she wrote of the experience. There are also links at the end of this ‘best of’ column that take you to other special blog posts worth reading, including three written as guest posts by friends. The subhead on each favorite blog post is also a link, so you can click through to the actual blog and read it in its entirety, if you choose. WordPress tells me BlogOKC had 7,024 visitors to this point in 2023. I thank you for reading my thoughts.

How to save a life

Sarah Florida — Sarah Stafford poses in her South Florida residence

For the past year and a half, my 24-year-old daughter, Sarah, has worked as a “tech” at drug-and-alcohol rehabilitation centers in South Florida. She is trained in CPR because of the potential for relapse and overdose of recovering addicts. Sarah is a recovering addict herself, and lives in a nearby home occupied by other recovering addicts with house rules that support their road to recovery. It’s not always easy, though. Temptation sometimes leads addicts to relapse with potential deadly consequences. This is Sarah’s story about a recent incident in her home.

Cancelled: Why Dilbert had to go

Cancelled

I went back through my social media history this morning and came across a dozen or more Dilbert comic strips I have posted over the years. If you aren’t familiar with Dilbert, it’s an insightful, often hilarious syndicated comic strip that skewers corporate office life. It features Dilbert, an engineer, his co-worker Wally and the pointy-haired boss, among others. So, it hit me hard when a text over the weekend from a former co-worker at The Oklahoman delivered some devastating news. The paper is cancelling Dilbert, and for all the right reasons.

The Beatles were great storytellers in song

Beatles NY — The Beatles from an early photo as they landed in New York City.

I was introduced to the Beatles in 1964 by my uncle. I was 11 and he was 19 and had purchased the album, ‘Meet the Beatles.’ In my extended family in 1964, buying something as worldly as a secular rock-n-roll record by the Beatles was a pretty bold step. My uncle told me he didn’t care for the music, even if the Beatles were a pop culture phenomenon. So, he gave me the album. Beatlemania washed over me like it did millions of other young Americans. I couldn’t get enough. As I was listening to a Beatles playlist on my iPhone today, it occurred to me what great storytellers, they were.

Chatbot comes alive for OKC audience in demo

Dodd AI3 — Bucky Dodd, Ph.D., founder & CEO of technology firm ClearKinetic, demonstrates an AI Chatbot at a recent OKC meeting.

“If you came here today for answers, I’m sorry, you will probably leave with more questions.” That’s how Bucky Dodd, Ph.D., a long-time educator and CEO of an educational technology startup called ClearKinetic, launched his presentation on Artificial Intelligence last week to a group of association executives at the OKC Convention Center. Dodd obviously follows author Stephen Covey and his 7 habits of a highly effective person. Begin with the end in mind. But Dodd’s presentation was more of a show-and-tell to his audience from the Oklahoma Society of Association Executives. He prompted a Chatbot to actually generate some amazing content for us.

The Walkable City on my mind

Walkable3

I just read Jeff Speck’s “Walkable City: How Downtown Can Save America, One Step at a Time,” and I don’t know where to start with my reaction. Jeff Speck, you might remember, is the urban planner and author who advocates making urban areas pedestrian friendly to encourage both economic development and urban living spaces. He consulted with the City of OKC about 15 years ago that resulted in big changes downtown, especially in the elimination of most one-way streets. I worked downtown in the 1980s, and I can assure you there was little to brag about.

Class Reunion, Party of Two

yearbook ppic — A page of the 1971 Southside High School yearbook, ‘Lifestyles’

I walked into Cattlemen’s Steakhouse a few weeks ago, made my way to a back booth and was greeted by someone I had not seen in 52 years. He was an old high school chum, so it was the ultimate class reunion.

Say it ain’t so

Sellout

I’ve written all of this because, as most people know by now, both Berry and Jenni are leaving the paper. They’re joining a new online venture called The Sellout, Sellout Crowd, or something like that. It should debut later this month, from what I understand. I got wind of Berry’s impending exit about three weeks ago and immediately sent him an email with the subject line “Say It Ain’t So.” Berry responded and said it was so. He said it’s a good thing, not bad, because readers who follow him and Jenni will be able to read their work in a free online newsletter.

A life of divine coincidences

mike magazine — Mike West with magazine opened to classified that advertised Keystone Labels for sale

Was it karma or divine coincidence? I write that because of how I recently met another outstanding couple. Except this time it wasn’t in church; it was at The Joinery restaurant in Bricktown back in October on the occasion of the Sellout Crowd launch party. Sellout Crowd is a new online sports reporting service that launched September 1. As I sat down at a table to consume some complementary food I carried from the buffet line, I found myself across from a couple who were unfamiliar to me. The couple introduced themselves as Mike and Tonia West. And did they have a story of divine coincidence.

3 Old Geezers and the pleasures of podcasting disharmony

Geezers blog — The 3 Old Geezers are (from left) Steve Buck, Ed Godfrey, Jim Stafford

For me, the podcast confirmed that I’m more agile behind a keyboard than with a microphone in my face, while both Steve and Ed have shown the ability to be clever and entertaining on the run. If you haven’t listened yet, I invite you to listen to our latest episode, and then perhaps invest some time in the previous podcasts. We’re all Thunder fans, but take different approaches to our fandom and perceive the team slightly differently. In fact, one Geezer has a tendency to sleep right through some of the games.

The new BRT line is A-OK with me

BRT1 — Our driver poses outside the BRT bus at the Lake Hefner park-and-ride stop along the Northwest Expressway.

The Northwest line is one of at least three BRT routes planned by the city, with two others in the works for the south side and the Northeast corridor. MAPS 4 dollars are paying for the new BRT routes, according to this story from The Oklahoman. Anyway, the bus was clean and new with about 5 people already aboard in the back seating area. I took a seat in the middle, and we headed toward downtown OKC. So, the BRT route gets a big thumbs up from me, even though it doesn’t lend itself to my daily transportation needs.

The OKC origin story of the Dot Race

Dot Race live — The Dot Race as presented on the Texas Rangers scoreboard in the 1980s.

If you frequented the late All Sports Stadium to watch the Oklahoma City 89ers Triple A baseball team play during the 1980s, you probably were a fan of an animated scoreboard feature known as the Dot Race. A form of the Dot Race lives on in the 2020s as between-inning entertainment for the Texas Rangers and other Major League parks around the country. And as time has passed, few people recall that the Dot Race had its beginning as humble, white dots on the 89ers scoreboard in Oklahoma City.

BONUS: Other posts from 2023 to explore:

Flight delay and an airport reunion

For Ed, Cardinals baseball a lifelong addiction (guest post written by Ed Godfrey)

The Wisdom of Linus: Be nice, and always carry a blanket (guest post written by Don Mecoy)

Chicago Woes, Part 2: Cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness (guest post written by Don Mecoy)

Best of BlogOKC - 1

The wisdom of Linus: Be nice, and always carry a blanket

The floor is about the only place to stretch out at Chicago O’Hare International Airport.

Editor’s Note: Don Mecoy is a friend and former colleague at The Oklahoman who retired as the newspaper’s managing editor at the end of 2022. Don recently experienced the challenge of navigating the commercial airline system when multiple flights were cancelled as he attempted to return to Oklahoma City from Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. He shared his reaction to the experience in this blog post.

By Don Mecoy

I recently got a taste of homelessness. I wasn’t actually without a home, but I temporarily lacked access to some basic needs such as food and a place to sleep. It was a frustrating and instructional experience.

I was homeless the way that Barack Obama is jobless. I was fine.

My situation was the same that millions of Americans find themselves in every year — my flight was cancelled and I was abandoned at a large metropolitan airport. My fellow passengers and I were shooed off our American Airlines plane at about 1 a.m. last Sunday — five hours after the planned departure — and told that we would not be flying from Chicago O’Hare International Airport to Oklahoma City anytime soon. The airline offered little to help us deal with the situation or to appeal to our better nature — $12 food vouchers (all the restaurants and stores were closed until 5 a.m.); no hotel vouchers (there were no rooms available within miles of the airport anyway), and no concrete information on when we might get back to good ol’ OKC.

After a lot of waiting in lines, hand-wringing and watching our flight’s self-designated Chad unload on the helpless, but genial gate attendant, we former passengers got down to the business of making the best of a bad situation.

About a dozen simply checked out, heading off to Ubers and Lyfts to whisk them away to someplace with food and blankets, or perhaps to rent a car and drive the 12 hours to Oklahoma City. I’m not sure; I never saw them again.

I could have done the same and returned to my son’s apartment in the West Loop area of downtown Chicago. But it hardly seemed worth it for a few hours of sleep and a very early return to O’Hare, particularly since I didn’t know what time our flight was. Within a few minutes of our flight being scratched, my American Airlines app showed the next departure for my flight changing from 12:30 a.m. to 3 a.m. to 6 a.m. to 10:40 a.m. The gracious gate attendant said she “hoped” that 10:40 time would hold. It didn’t.

The rest of us started cracking open suitcases and putting on more clothes. It was freezing in the cavernous, empty airport. I once interviewed a guy who helped run what is now called Paycom Center. He told me they crank up the air conditioning long before Thunder games or other big events to account for the body heat and activity of the 18,000 or so people who will fill the arena. Perhaps that’s what the airport folks were doing in anticipation for the next day’s crowds. But the A/C never stopped producing a chilling breeze that was unavoidable everywhere except in the middle of the concourse, and I wasn’t going to sleep on those tiled floors.

There are thousands of pieces of furniture in O’Hare, and just like at every airport, they are designed to be impossible to sleep on. You’ve seen them, essentially long couches, but with stainless steel arms demarcating where each individual should sit. They work fine when you’re waiting for a plane. But when seeking a place to lay your weary head, it makes you ponder why they don’t make those arms movable like the armrests on the planes. It’s needlessly cruel. Of course, cities do the same with park benches and walls to discourage those with no bed from making one in a public place. A bed is a very important thing when you don’t have one. And a blanket.

Meanwhile, directly across from the gate where we waited to secure our food vouchers was American Airline’s Admirals Club, an expansive area for the airline’s most lucrative customers that offers recliners, food and drink, showers and other amenities. I bet they even have blankets in there. It was closed. Here’s a suggestion, American: Give the beleaguered gate attendant a key so she can offer something to abandoned folks like us. What a waste.

Seating in the American Airlines Admirals Club at Chicago O’Hare International Airport.

And lest you think the powers that be at O’Hare are heartless. There is a yoga room in the airport. It closes at 10 p.m. I would have paid good money for one of those yoga mats. Instead, I swiped a floor mat from behind a ticket counter to soften the concrete floor covered with — like every airport I’ve ever been to — the thinnest grade of carpet known to man.

I took my pilfered floor mat and began to build a nest in a semi-isolated place. I draped most of the shirts in my suitcase atop the three shirts I was wearing, rolled up a pair of pants for a pillow and tried to nap. It was futile. After what felt like an hour of trying to get comfortable, I had to get up and move to warm up. I dragged the floor mat to a fellow passenger attempting to sleep on the bare carpet. She was grateful. She had a blanket. Man, a blanket. Luxury!

Another annoyance: At nearly every gate in O’Hare there is a TV. All those TVs play the same loop of programming that includes ads for stores and restaurants in the airport. It also features Conan O’Brien interviewing Kevin Bacon on how the star’s life was changed by the recent emergence of COVID. I looked it up: the interview was taped on April 9, 2020. It was impossible to turn off the TVs, or the sound broadcast through overhead speakers. Believe me, I tried.

So I was tired, hungry, bored, but not really upset. I wasn’t missing a wedding or funeral or graduation back home. I had the wherewithal to simply leave if my health or safety was a real concern. I learned that McDonald’s was going to open at 4 a.m., so I was an hour closer to food. My fellow passengers and I seemed to enjoy strategizing about our situation amid our shared misery.

Among our group was the tallest (6 foot 2), most mature 15-year-old I’ve ever met. He was traveling alone, was not allowed to leave the airport and nevertheless was handling the situation better than 90 percent of his fellow refugees. I met the gaze of another parent, and we shared a look that felt like a silent promise that this kid was going to get home. As the sun rose, I had a conversation with a lady from Moore about our favorite books we had read while on airplanes.

After climbing off the floor around 2:30 a.m. or so, I somehow was able to book an 8:30 a.m. flight on my American Airlines app. I hurried to tell some of my fellow passengers about the discovery, but no one was able to reproduce it. A dozen or more were placed on standby for that flight, and at least four of them — including the gangly 15-year-old — boarded along with me.

Our original flight finally took off at 1:11 p.m., roughly 17 hours after it was scheduled to depart. By that time, I was well fed and sound asleep in my bed. With my blanket.

All in all, it was not a terrible experience. And it drove home a couple of maxims that I long have believed true.

Be nice. It costs nothing, and you might make a friend; perhaps even ease someone’s pain. You don’t really know what struggles anyone is dealing with, so cut folks some slack.

If you see someone carrying a blanket or a piece of foam, or wearing layer upon layer of clothing, or trying to beg, borrow or steal some food, they’re just trying to make the best of a bad situation. Have a heart.

MORE READING: My daughter, Sarah Stafford, had a similar experience that I wrote about in this blog post back in January.

How to save a life

Sarah Stafford poses in her South Florida residence

EDITOR’S NOTE: For the past year and a half, my 24-year-old daughter, Sarah, has worked as a “tech” at drug-and-alcohol rehabilitation centers in South Florida. She is trained in CPR because of the potential for relapse and overdose of recovering addicts. Sarah is a recovering addict herself, and lives in a nearby home occupied by other recovering addicts with house rules that support their road to recovery. It’s not always easy, though. Temptation sometimes leads addicts to relapse with potential deadly consequences. This is Sarah’s story about a recent incident in her home.

By Sarah Stafford
Around 1:40 pm on Wednesday, January 11th, my housemate came home and went into her bedroom. About two minutes later she comes out and says, ‘Sarah can you come check on my roommate, I think she’s asleep but I also think I heard the death rattle, so can you wake her up and make sure she’s OK?’

I said ‘of course,’ and got up and went in there. The light was off cause we thought she was initially asleep. I shake her leg and say her name and she doesn’t respond. I shake her leg a little harder and say her name a lil louder, and she still wouldn’t respond. I get up and turn on the light and she’s pale but also blue around her eyes and lips. I notice a trickle of blood that’s come out of the corner of her mouth. I tell her roommate to call 911 and run into the living room and grab a thing of NARCAN. I wait a minute or two and am saying her name and lightly slapping her in the face to wake up. My housemate gets off the phone and is attempting to call our other housemate , whom the girl that OD’d is really good friends with. As I grab and administer another dose of NARCAN. the fire department calls us back asking if she has a pulse.

I check both her carotid and radial pulses, which were there but very faint. The fire department tells us we need to begin giving compressions. I look at my housemate, and she says she doesn’t know how, so I begin giving compressions consistently for about three minutes, and I’m getting exhausted.

The fire department tells me to do five. break two. which I begin doing, and as I start doing that my housemate I’m working on is starting to show signs of coming back. She’s gasping a bit and her eyes are starting to roll back. As the paramedics rush in 8-9 deep, I’m still working on her and she sits up gasping and choking but still isn’t really there. Three or four paramedics help her stand up and assist her outside to the gurney, where they give her a third dose of NARCAN in an IV. She goes to the ER and gets discharged that same evening. I was able to see her more alive and as OK as she can be after something like that as I help her pack her things and she returned to detox that night.

My comments: As scary of a situation it was, I’m grateful we had the best possible outcome for such a thing, and I’m grateful my housemate said something when she did or it could’ve been a completely different outcome. NARCAN saves lives, and I truly got to see that. While I hope to not have to do anything like that again I’m grateful I’ll know exactly what I need to do.

Editor’s note: Sarah, I’m so proud of you for jumping in and putting your life-saving skills to work and saving this young woman’s life. You are making a difference. Stay on this difficult road to recovery and continue to make a difference for the people you live with and serve.

A REAL ID adventure on the Mother Road

Sarah tag agency — My daughter Sarah celebrates after getting her REAL ID license at the Diamond Tag Agency in Chandler

We pulled into the gravel lot of the Luther Tag Agency this morning about 8:40. What luck, the first ones there.

Then I saw the paper sign attached to the door. Tag Agency closed the week of June 14-18.

I laughed out loud. My daughter didn’t see the humor.

Here’s how we got into this situation. Sarah needed to renew her driver’s license by the end of June. It needed to be a REAL ID license.

So, when I was in the Edmond Tag agency to renew a car tag last week, I asked about getting a driver’s license there. The helpful woman behind the COVID-proof plastic window told me I would need to make an appointment. The next available slots were something like two months out.

“But you can go to the Luther Tag Agency and just walk in,” she said.

Perfect. So, this morning we left the house about 8 am on a mission.

When we saw the Luther agency was closed for the week, I Googled the Wellston Tag Agency about 12 miles farther east on Route 66.

We headed down the Mother Road, Wellston bound. We got to the Wellston Tag Agency about 10 minutes before it opened, and were the second customers in line.

After the tag agent finished with Customer No. 1, he asked how he could help us. I said we wanted to get a REAL ID for my daughter sitting next to me.

“We don’t do driver’s licenses here, never have,” he said (with a straight face). “But you can just walk in at the Chandler agency, which is about 15 miles east on Route 66.”

Sarah OnCu — Sarah poses at Wellston OnCue as we head to Chandler.

I was laughing again as we walked out the door. My daughter was fuming, because I had us on a wild goose chase.

We headed east again on the Mother Road. We pulled into the lot of the Diamond Tag Agency about 15 minutes later. There were cars, and people going in and out.

Luck was with us this time. After a wait of only about 15 minutes, the agent called us to the counter.

Yes, he could do a REAL ID license. We turned over our folder of documents, and within about 10 minutes Sarah became the first person in our family with a REAL ID.

We thanked the tag agent, headed out the door and pointed the car back to OKC.

This time, we bypassed the Mother Road and took the Turner Turnpike back to town.

Even if the tag agency gods forced us to drive the Mother Road three towns over, we still got our kicks (and REAL ID) on Route 66.