Missouri Press Association
Serving Missouri Newspapers Since 1867
This week’s prose comes to you from Room 6172. The location is Mercy Hospital in Springfield, sixth floor, where I’m banging out a Monday column while sitting in a mechanical bed that’s pretty much been my 24-hour-a-day domicile since Friday morning.
When you read this week’s newspaper, realize it wasn’t written by me. The authors were people who care every bit as much about this community as I do, folks who I’ve come to know and also love through their respective association with this business over the past three decades.
In a way, the June 3 edition of the Citizen is a flashback from two decades ago in 2006 when Fred Spriggs was my reliable news editor, and Whitney Wilkins (now Whitney Keith and married for 17 years) was my trusty intern.
Fred has a column this week where he reminisces back to that exact aforementioned year, which makes this edition all that more unique.
Whitney covered the crime beat back then. The only difference in today’s edition is that instead of harassing former Seymour Police Chief Bill Johnson (and giving Bill a needed summer break from Fred), she’s questioning current chief Steven Pogue, who is her younger brother Noah’s age.
I’m not going to bore you with the details of my hospital stay. Suffice to say, if health instead of age was a consideration for receiving senior-priced meals at the Seymour Senior Citizens’ Center, I’d qualify for all benefits.
But what I will tell you about is Seymour.
My Seymour.
Our Seymour.
Health events, even a glimpse at one’s mortality, give you perspective. In my most-recent journey that’s lasted about a week, the blinders came off.
If I were a cat, and if cats truly have nine lives, I’ve got five left. Yet here I am, writing about it, and you’re reading a newspaper produced solely to cover the community you care about more than any other.
The Citizen produced this paper.
That’s why the Citizen is Seymour’s oldest business, dating back to 1907, because the product is bigger than the people who have produced it the past 119 years.
Fred is retired in his 70s.
Whitney works in the healthcare field.
Scott Nicholson just retired as a teacher.
Matt McFarland is one of many talented writers who has worked for this publication.
Lilli Hickey is in her second year as my office manager.
And my son, Rob, is a water-system operator in Republic.
Yet the six of them produced this paper while I sat in Room 6172.
None asked for financial compensation.
None hesitated when called into action by my longtime companion and love, Alicia Hagen, as each was asked to help produce a paper for you.
Whitney took the lead, which I would’ve expected.
Fred came through with a timely column, one of his best ever, although he ignored Whitney’s subject suggestion, which I also would’ve expected.
Matt pounded out a couple of great business features.
Scott hadn’t written a column since January, then came up with a doozy.
Lilli kept the doors open and became the collection point, while Rob made sure the month-end billing was completed in every facet, despite a plethora of technical problems. He also joined Alicia at my side at the hospital.
Best of all, the community kept pouring on prayers.
They worked.
Early Friday, a chaplain was called to my side in Mercy’s intensive-care unit.
My kidneys had shut down. My red-blood-cell count was dangerously low, as was my blood pressure.
Enter the prayers.
As a result, I began healing.
Visitors came. They prayed for me.
Alicia couldn’t keep up with the calls and text messages from people expressing their concern and, most of all, prayers for me.
When I checked my cell phone early Monday, I had more than 130 messages. Can you guess what more than 100 of them were?
Yep ... prayers.
Late Monday, I came home.
My 86-year-old dear friend Ruby Owens said it best.
“Nothing heals a person like a prayer,” she said. “I’ll tell you this, Dan, I know they were pouring in for you, and that’s why I’m talking to you now.”
Often I hear people gripe about Seymour. I suppose all small towns can be this way.
But if you want to hear about the virtues of Seymour, the compassion of Seymour, the love within Seymour or the specialness of Seymour, stop by the office.
I’ll tell you all about it.
Dan Wehmer is the Webster County Citizen’s editor, publisher and owner. This column was originally published in the June 3, 2026 edition of the newspaper.
