Tammy Curtis, Publisher

Editor’s Note:This article is written in first person, which is not typical for a newspaper article, but it is the only way I can convey the loss of my friend and editor Mack Thompson, that not only myself, but his family and this newspaper are facing. So, bear with me, please. It is only fair that for his dedication to this newspaper, he gets the front page this week.

This is the day that I have never wanted to face. A day in darkness after the loss of the best friend I’ve ever had in my life, outside of my own family. Anyone who knew him well and shared a chapter of his life will agree, this loss is deep.

I’m faced with moving forward with this newspaper with which he was the other half … alone. I wanted to paint a beautiful picture in words of his long and successful career, his life, his love for his family in a way I have never written before. But, the words just could not come properly. So, I left it to my heart to write, as he always told me to do.

All the wonderful stories he had, the funny stories about his 41 years with the Arkansas State Police, working in every capacity from radio operator to Trooper, Seargant,  SWAT Team co-leader and Criminal Investigator, stand as a strong testament to his career.

Stories about those years, funny, sad, moving and everything in between, made up a life he chose

An attack emu he was forced to shoot after it performed the “emu dance of death” , knocking his “Big Hat Law” hat off was just one. He even forced circus elephants to unload and pull a semi out of the mud to get traffic moving at Highland. We can’t forget the story about the semi truck wreck full of bulk cream cheese, these were among the funniest. 

But he also had heartbreaking ones including when he performed CPR and held the hand of one of my high school acquaintances as she took her last breaths following a car crash. These were all a part of his career, his work, but that wasn’t his whole life as many would make it sound.

Playing Santa twice a year to reliving the wild and wooly days with his collegues, many who he joined in the the sky, were great memories he spoke of often and looked forward to each year.

I was blessed enough to know another side, one gentler and more honest that very few knew. There were so many, including where he was proud to maintain his sideline postion during his beloved Red Wolves games and sending videos of himself with the cheerleaders for my granddaughter, or of handcuffing Howl, the school mascot, for a photo used during his retirement layout. I too, was privileged enough to be entrusted to do.

Mack was something different to everyone, and I understand that to his friends, colleagues, and  SWAT brothers, he was truly a brother in all sense of the words. As a trooper, he was a man who, although he would often lecture motorists after stopping them, something so many have shared with me and he himself has told me. Mack genuinely cared about someone not being hurt. 

He saw reality, and everything wasn’t as rigid as people see it. He had room to bend. He was not perfect, as none of us are. But, the love he had for those he knew was pure, and I know that for certain. 

As I went through pictures, I was torn about whether to run a picture of him in his state police car on the day he retired. Maybe a picture of him killing a deer or proudly displaying coyotes he had killed. Or maybe even some of the hundreds of training photos or blocking a groundhog in a tree and “carefully applying explosives” that he shared with me. But, in reality, the hundreds and hundreds of photos I combed through showed far more than a man behind a badge, a rifle, a face mask, he was a man with a heart as pure as gold who loved his family and children more than anything 100 years of SWAT or State Police could have given him. He showed this daily. He was a man who stood up for what he thought was right and it did not EVER  matter how many people were against him, every single time. He was a man deeply devoted to Jesus, but he struggled daily, as we all do. 

He was also a man who had the greatest love for children of all. He loved all of his nephews and neice, grandnephews, granddaughters, and even his grandsons, whom he had just gotten to spend a special amount of time with. He loved my children like they were his own, and he loved me like I was the best friend I tried to be. 

There was never a day when there was something he would not do if asked. Many times, I didn’t even want to ask, and he offered. He was there for me through the births of all of my grandchildren and the decision to quit a nine-year editor job and later,  purchase what we both knew at the time was a sinking newspaper. He led me through the death of my mother. Every time I wanted to scream, cry, or cuss at the difficulties we had with some of the articles we ran in the newspaper, he was the calm one, the reasonable one and that friendship worked. 

He cheered me on as I bought the newspaper, stood by my side, and helped me rise it from the ashes. Daily, he continued to talk me off the ledge on things that I thought were much more important than they actually really were. I can hear his voice in my mind today as I prepare to lay him to rest, saying. “ None of us get out of this alive.” I can hear his guidance today, as I took my time to pray on the porch, as he did every morning, and he gave me the strength to make it through his funeral service. 

The strength that only he had led me so many times after hearing how hard it was losing his brothers in SWAT, and other officers with whom he had worked for many years. Just last week, we had a conversation about the very thing, after learning of the health of another brother..  and he said, Hey, they’re all dying off around me, and I said, I know. God’s taking them home,” and he said, “Yes, he has.”  

He’s taking them home. And they were truly his generation of police; they were truly the last of a great generation. They made the rules up as they went. 

They set a precedent for so many things, and while I could talk an entire day about the operations he went on in SWAT, the very serious crimes he solved or had a role in solving, or even laugh when he said, “I never had a case that went to court.” The way that his impeccable need for perfection sometimes drove me crazy, to dot every I, cross every T, and then look back and make sure you did it again, and maybe even three times. Everything he did in his life, he did it with 100%. 

One of his favorite things was hosting the 4th of July celebration at his house. He had held it for over a year since his granddaughters were small. He had already begun talking about this year because it was the 250th anniversary or America. I have pictures uphis trips to pick up his fireworks, and show me how many he got for his money, and laugh about how he tipped the little girl that helped him load the fireworks, and was telling me, “ Oh, I bet this year, this show will last an hour.”

The greatest pride he took was when all his neighbors from all around would come and sit in his yard, or in their own yards, and watch the fireworks show he had put on for years, handing the reins over a few years ago to his nephews. The food he would cook for those attending and how he loved cooking. If anyone missed knowing Mack, they’ve truly missed a lot. He loved with all his heart, and he left so many broken hearts. 

But I do not doubt that, as the days go on, the strength I gain will be solely from him, and from God providing it to me through him. As I take the papers in this week to each place that was greeted by a Joke of the Week that he most generally ran by me first, I will know those shoes will never be filled. Regardless of how little some thought about his duties at the newspaper, his heart has been in it for almost 13 years. He was so proud when he won his first award, it was something you would have thought was the best shooting award he ever received.

But I know up in heaven somewhere, he has those feet kicked up on a table, and he is telling some stories that his colleagues before him have probably heard 20 times. But, I can tell you one thing. They are still loving to hear them again and know that it wasn’t a bullet that took him out but maybe his own stubborness and that they are once again relinked.. So, while I am remiss in mentioning the many things in his career, his career was not him. 

That was his work. His life was his family and friends, and those who loved him so much.

Well, I will never tell you all the things Mack has done behind the scenes to help people in his community. That’s the way he would have wanted it. I do know that helping people was his thing. Just like with the breast cancer golf tournament and when our newspaper hosted a recent senior citizen lunch just a few weeks ago. His joy in serving others, whether it be through preventing a death or injury, cooking food, conversation, or sharing a memory or two, he was never at a loss for words, We always laugh about that because we knew Mack was never a nursing home candidate.  But one thing about it, you always knew where you stood with him. As was said on a memorial arrangement sent to his family, “If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.” Nothing is more true. 

I will never forget the story he tod of his own dad passing away, and so many people coming into the hospital while he was ill. There are so many people here asking him questions because of the dignitary status of so many visitors. His dad was also in the State Police, worked in a higher position at Arkla, and served on the state legislature. “Was your dad someone? Was he important? What was your dad?,” were the questions.  And he said, “It took me very little time to answer that question. I simply said. ‘He was my dad’”. So I’m going to end with that sentiment. Despite all his many career successes, roles in various things, including at the newspaper…he was my friend.

Mack died after a short illness on Wed. April 15 at this home in Ash Flat.