Gilbert Baker left Kansas as soon as
 he could. But, as many around the world celebrate LGBTQ pride month, 
it's worth noting that Kansas also struggled to hold the flag creator 
dear.

By C.J. JANOVY <a href="https://www.kcur.org/arts-life/2020-06-06/rainbow-flags-creator-didnt-celebrate-his-home-state-but-some-kansans-are-keeping-his-memory-alive">Kansas News Service</a>

The iced tea is flowing, and the women of Parsons High School’s class of 1969 are on a roll.

A
 handful of them are circled up at a table in the increasingly crowded 
fellowship hall of St. John’s Episcopal Church, where yearbooks from 50 
years ago are spread out at the front of the room and laughter from old 
stories grows louder amid the white cinder block walls and 
green-and-yellow linoleum-tiled floor. One of the women at the table has
 purple hair – not the subtle tint of elderly ladies’ salon rinses but 
the declarative violet in vogue among queer kids.

All of these 
women have clear recollections of a classmate who got the hell out of 
Kansas as soon as he could and went on to change the world.

Gilbert
 Baker, born in Chanute, Kansas, on June 2, 1951, designed the rainbow 
flag, now flown all over the world to signify support for LGBTQ equality
 and pride.

“He always was into the arts,” one of Baker’s classmates remembers.

“He was a personality unto himself,” says another.

“He was always at our lunch table. He really did feel comfortable with us, and we felt comfortable with him.”

“He loved to act, and help us do the plays.”

They
 remember a dark-haired boy with thick Buddy Holly glasses. “You know, 
he would be the kind to wear a scarf or shawl, whatever you’d call it.”

“This may not be etiquette, but in ’69, we didn’t know what gay was. 
So Gilbert was just different,” says Debbie Sailsbury Burke. “People 
would make fun of him because he was different, but he set the stage way
 before it was ever a norm.”

One time, he asked Patty Eakins 
Edgington on a date. “I’d evidently broken up with a boyfriend. I don’t 
know what I’d done, I was 16 or 17, who knows. And I don’t know why he 
said – that’s just Gilbert – he said, ‘Let’s go to the drive-in.’ So we 
went to the drive-in movie and it was a quote, date, but I kind of knew 
it wasn’t really a date.”

Everyone agrees: “Just a friend — just a friend.”

“The
 next day,” Edgington continues, “I got yellow roses delivered to my 
house: ‘Thank you for a great time.’ He was just a nice guy.”

In 
the decades since they graduated, people began to realize what Baker had
 done after leaving Kansas. Eventually Facebook came along.

“I 
shot a request to him and he accepted,” Edgington says. “I posted some 
stuff over the years because I fiddled around in art, and he’d comment.”

At some point there was talk of inviting Baker back for one of the reunions, but that brought up other memories.

“At
 our lunch table, the guys, the jocks, would come by with their trays 
and they would slap him in the back of the head,” Burke says. “I mean 
some of them were cruel to him. I always felt sorry for him.”

They
 point across the room to Sandy Salyer, who remembers Baker doing 
cartwheels. Salyer says she read an interview where Baker talked about 
being bullied as a kid.

“When I heard that it broke my heart,” she
 says. “We were just innocent and didn’t understand what a gay person 
was. He was a free spirit, loving life.” A lot of people didn’t know 
where he went after high school, but he seemed destined for greatness.

“I’m
 just so proud of what he did and the movement he was part of,” Sayler 
says. And she begins to tear up. “I’m really sorry people treated him 
that way.”

Kansas
 has a rough time staking much of a claim to Gilbert Baker. By the time 
of his death, at age 65 on March 31, 2017, his personality and his work 
were too big even for San Francisco. He’d made his home in New York 
City.

“The rainbow flag has become a universal symbol for 
inclusion, peace and love,” the New York Times noted in his obituary. 
“It has been waved by gay rights supporters in China fighting for 
equality. It has been hung from apartment balconies as a sign of 
solidarity. After the United States Supreme Court legalized gay marriage
 in 2015, more than 26 million people on Facebook changed their profile 
photos to include the flag.”

In his autobiography “<a href="https://www.chicagoreviewpress.com/rainbow-warrior-products-9781641601504.php" target="_blank">Rainbow Warrior: My Life in Color</a>,”
 published posthumously in 2019, Baker devotes a grand total of eight 
pages to his Kansas upbringing. He titled that chapter “Dreaming of a 
Life Over the Rainbow.”

“I was born gay and I always knew it,” Baker writes, before detailing the pain of that knowledge in 1950s Kansas.

As
 a child in his room, Baker pulled sheets off of his bed to fashion 
outfits for a kindergartner’s imaginary drag routine, dancing to songs 
on the radio until he heard someone coming and scrambled to put the 
sheets back on the bed. 

Later, when his parents discovered him twirling in his aunt’s old 
prom dress, his father spanked him. Sundays at the Methodist church were
 no comfort. “In my soul, questions burned: Did God make me gay and love
 me, or was I going to hell for a sin?” He considered killing himself.

Still,
 his work was inspired and ultimately shaped by a quintessentially 
Kansas event: President Dwight D. Eisenhower running for re-election, 
which Baker’s mother let him watch on TV.

“I was mesmerized by the
 hoopla of bunting and balloons and thrilled by the pageantry,” he 
writes. “I especially loved the parade of state delegates, each group 
carrying signs and banners created in crepe paper. There were crazy hats
 and pretty girls in washes of stars and stripes, the national anthem 
and the Pledge of Allegiance. I was especially moved by the sight of the
 American flag.”

Armed with crayons, young Baker became obsessed 
with drawing what he’d seen. But “it was not considered normal to 
imagine greatness and beauty,” he writes. “Being an artist was bad in 
the same way that homosexuality was bad.”

Baker’s family moved to 
Wichita for his father’s law practice. By the time he was 9, he was in 
such distress that he went to the library to try to figure out what was 
wrong with him; in a book about Freud and abnormal psychology, a 
description of “delusions of grandeur” seemed to explain his feelings. 
Fearing his parents would send him to a mental institution, Baker, like 
so many other Midwestern kids of his time, tortured himself with efforts
 to be something he was not. 

He grew obsessed with death. “Only one thing seemed certain about my 
life in Kansas: I would either be blown up by a nuclear bomb or die from
 boredom.”

Peak mid-century TV provided a bit of salvation: 
Phyllis Diller on “The Tonight Show”; the political, passionate and 
kooky Barbra Streisand; the long-haired Beatles and the Rolling Stones. 
“Old people said they looked like girls, so they were definitely pushing
 a button on the taboo of homosexuality,” he writes.

Baker took up
 the trumpet, and music became his teenage means of survival – “the way I
 could compensate socially for being so effeminate and being known as 
the class queer.” Nobody wanted to play Sousa marches, so Baker 
pressured music teachers to include arrangements of Herb Alpert &amp; 
the Tijuana Brass and Blood, Sweat &amp; Tears.

“My efforts succeeded,” he writes, “and I even became popular with my classmates because of it.”

But
 fights with his parents intensified, and he grew riveted to news from 
the 1968 Democratic National Convention. The streets of Chicago were 
exploding, “but the only thing taking over the streets in Kansas was 
tumbleweed.”

By the time he was 19, he knew it was time to leave.

“So, unlike Dorothy, when the tornado came I ran right for it, saying, ‘Take me away!’”

About
 35 miles south of Baker’s birthplace in Chanute, in the far southeast 
corner of the state, Parsons is home to around 10,000 people. Its 
well-kept Main Street and the presence of Labette Community College make
 it feel almost like a city to the kids from nearby towns of just a few 
hundred.

It’s the kind of place where people remember<a href="https://www.kshs.org/kansapedia/zasu-pitts/15496" target="_blank"> ZaSu Pitts</a>,
 an actress who started out in silent films and worked up through 1963’s
 “It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.” Pitts has a star on the Hollywood 
Walk of Fame and a bronze star in front of the Parsons movie theater. 
It’s also the birthplace of a jazz trumpeter named<a href="https://library.umkc.edu/archival-collections/clayton" target="_blank"> Buck Clayton</a>,
 who played with Count Basie, Benny Goodman and Billie Holliday and has 
been honored with a local jazz festival. Cherryvale, 20-some miles away,
 has bragging rights to two people:<a href="https://www.kshs.org/kansapedia/vivian-vance/15499" target="_blank"> Vivian Vance</a> from “I Love Lucy,” and<a href="https://www.kshs.org/kansapedia/pledge-of-allegiance/12172" target="_blank"> Frank E. Bellamy</a>, a high school student who wrote the Pledge of Allegiance.

“We
 jump on every little tiny thing we can to get people to our towns,” 
says Scotty Zollars, the library director at Labette Community College. 
“But why has there never been any mention of Gilbert, who had much wider
 representation than that?”

It would be easy to consider that a 
rhetorical question with the obvious answer that a stereotypically 
conservative place like small-town Kansas wants no part of celebrating 
gay culture. But the real answer is more complicated.

Even 
Zollars, a gay man in his late 50s who has lived around Parsons for 
almost his entire life, had never heard of Gilbert Baker until 2017. And
 that’s not because Zollars has stayed in the closet.

“I don’t 
hide it. Everybody at work knows, my boss knows. My fiancé and I go to 
college events, we go to Mass together, we’ve had no repercussions at 
all,” Zollars says. “We just act like it’s normal. And there’s other 
couples in town who are the same way. My impression is that people in 
southeast Kansas, they really don’t care as long as you don’t shove it 
in their face.”

Flying rainbow flags does, of course, put something in people’s 
faces. But that only partly explains the lack of recognition for Baker’s
 legacy.

It’s also as if Baker, by leaving so early and so thoroughly, helped erase his own legacy in Kansas.

Another
 reason Zollars had never heard of Gilbert Baker until 2017 was that no 
one had made any serious effort to honor him until Aaron Casserly 
Stewart was elected to the city commission. Stewart was an anomaly in 
Parsons for two reasons.

“As a gay, black man, to be honest, I 
didn’t think I was going to be elected,” Stewart says. But he was newly 
back to town for family reasons, and ran for office to honor his father.
 “He was the city building inspector, so anything that was built in the 
town he had to sign off on it. A lot of people knew him.”

Stewart 
doesn’t think the fact that he’s gay had much to do with his election. 
“I beat out an incumbent who had been on the council for a while. I 
think people wanted a change.”

During his own high school years, a
 couple of generations after Baker’s, Stewart had been the president of 
the student council, popular enough to be president of all the southeast
 Kansas student councils. But some kids found his diary, in which 
Stewart had been trying to deal with his sexuality. They took it to a 
party and read it out loud.

“Being outed, at 17 in rural Kansas in 1983, was more than I could 
deal with, so I left,” he says. Stewart finished his senior year in 
Lawrence and, like Baker, then joined the military and left the state.

Stewart
 ended up in Minneapolis, where, possessed of a soulful baritone, he got
 a gig singing with the Sounds of Blackness, a three-time-Grammy-winning
 group whose members ran in the same circles as Janet Jackson and the 
esteemed producers Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis. From there he moved to Los
 Angeles, where he worked as a personal assistant for the keyboardist 
Morris Hayes, who’d been in Prince’s New Power Generation.

By the 
time he came back to Parsons, Stewart had been gone for 22 years. Now in
 his late 40s, he didn’t need anyone’s validation. Dealing with people’s
 conservative views was hard, but Stewart was also surprised to find a 
lot of support.

“Because my husband is British, and we’re an 
interracial, inter-generational couple,” he explains, “there was a bit 
of, how do I say, just, interest in that because we were kind of a 
novelty.”

Recognizing an opportunity to which the rest of the town was apparently oblivious, Stewart got in touch with Baker.

“He had not been back to Parsons since he left, so I invited him back,” Stewart says.

He
 also called some of Baker’s old classmates, and they talked about 
having a day in his honor, with Stewart giving him a key to the city and
 the college hosting a Gilbert Baker Film Festival.

Over the course of almost a year, Stewart had phone conversations updating Baker on the various plans.

“He was really reluctant to come back because of the experience growing up in small town Kansas,” Stewart says.

But both men seemed struck by the fact that no one had ever asked Baker to come back.

Finally, Stewart says, “he decided to come.”

A month before his celebrated return, Baker died.

The film festival went on as planned. Zollars screened the hits “<a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1013753/" target="_blank">Milk</a>” and “<a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt3169706/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1" target="_blank">Pride</a>” as well as “<a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5839198/" target="_blank">Out Here in Kansas</a>,”
 a short documentary about a gay football star from Andover, and he gave
 an award for one of the student submissions. Hardly anyone came – maybe
 15 or 20 people including staff at the college. “It was not a good 
showing,” Zollars says, “but we did it.”

In the year that 
followed, Stewart immigrated to England where he and his husband were 
married. But he stayed in touch with a few people back in Parsons, and 
in 2019, he reached out to one of the city commissioners and asked if 
they’d fly a rainbow flag at City Hall during June.

“I didn’t get a response,” he says.

By
 then, though, another gay couple had moved to town. A doctor named 
Shawn Zimbrunes had taken a job at the hospital, bringing his husband, 
David Matthew, from Washington, D.C. When he learned it was Baker’s 
hometown, Matthew told a reporter for the Parsons Sun, he was surprised.
 “I wondered where is the memorial? Where is the honor of his legacy? 
Where are the pride flags?”

Matthew, who had spent most of his 
life on the East Coast, couldn’t let Pride Month pass without honoring 
Baker. He bought three dozen rainbow flags (which wasn’t easy, since 
they’re in short supply around that time of year). He put the first one 
up in his yard, an act that felt so momentous it brought him to tears.

He
 also approached businesses along Main Street, and the owner of the 
popular Kitchen Pass offered to fly two flags out front and one inside 
in support of LGBTQ friends and employees. There were some questions 
about affixing flag-holders to city light poles, and in general all of 
this was a lot of drama for Parsons. Two of the flags outside the 
Kitchen Pass were stolen, then returned. 

Other than that, Matthew said in <a href="https://www.parsonssun.com/news/article_b8d8be40-949a-11e9-a1c7-8fd4e0254dd0.html" target="_blank">a written statement to the Parsons Sun</a>, the response had been overwhelmingly positive.

“I
 heard heart-wrenching stories about rather awful experiences growing up
 in a town where they felt hated and excluded, where they feared 
admitting who they were. People relayed how it brought them to tears to 
see pride flags flying in a town where they had never felt seen, never 
felt accepted. I also heard from local residents who were absolutely 
thrilled to see these flags to honor Gilbert Baker, to honor their son 
or daughter who is gay, to honor their family and make them visible and 
appreciated in the place they call home,” Matthew wrote.

One city 
commissioner agreed that the town should consider a way to honor Baker, 
and encouraged people who had enthusiasm and ideas to bring them 
forward.

The fellowship hall at St. John’s church has grown loud and humid, crowded with members of the class of 1969.

Les
 Hammett, a State Farm insurance agent who bought a house with his wife 
in Liberty, Missouri, a while back but still drives to his hometown for 
work during the week, finds a place near the yearbook table to make a 
short speech. He explains why a journalist is here asking questions 
about Gilbert Baker and encourages everyone to share their memories.

“As
 far as I’m concerned, Gilbert did a lot to change the world for the 
better,” Hammett says to emphatic applause. “Some of us have been 
talking about trying to do something, just a little plaque to recognize 
Gilbert, maybe up at the city building or at the high school, 
something,” Hammett says. “If you’re interested in helping us, let us 
know.”

By the spring, the city had donated a small plot of vacant land 
downtown to a group called Southeast Kansas Point of Pride (the group’s 
name referring not to LGBTQ pride but rather the civic pride that 
inspires residents to take part in neighborhood clean-ups and plant 
flowers in pots lining downtown streets). The Point of Pride folks 
planned to turn the small, empty grassy strip into a pocket park. 
Renderings show a fountain, a couple of park benches, native plants and,
 along one wall, a plaque in honor of Gilbert Baker.

Hammett 
figured it would be ready to dedicate this fall, perhaps in time for the
 next Gilbert Baker Film Festival at Labette Community College.

“It’s not often that you rub shoulders with a person who changes the 
world,” says Hammett, who guesses it was 15 or 20 years ago when he 
learned his classmate had designed the rainbow flag. He’s been impressed
 ever since.

Hammett’s own memories of high school suggest a 
nearly universal truth – that teenagers in that setting don’t have any 
clue how others perceive themselves or each other – which is especially 
sad in Baker’s case.

“He talked about being picked on in high 
school,” Hammett says. “I’ll be honest with you – I just never saw that.
 I thought Gilbert was well liked. He was in theater and that kind of 
thing, he was a fun person. I think everybody liked Gil.”

But 
Hammett was preoccupied with his own concerns. “My mom died right before
 I started high school, and I lived with my grandparents. I was just 
trying to survive. I didn’t go to dances and that kind of thing. My 
social skills and my social life in high school was not like a lot of 
folks.”

Maybe everyone feels like an outsider in high school, one way or 
another. Certainly it’s easier for gay kids today, even in a town like 
Parsons, which Hammett describes as “pretty straight.”

Rainbow flag's creator: Kan. native who never celebrated his home state

WASHINGTON (AP -RNS )— Each Sunday, Larry Little and his wife, Mary, get ready for church. They dress casually, fill two tumblers with water, climb into their golf cart and drive two miles to The Grove, a grassy field next to their church.

There they find a parking place, turn off the engine and settle in for a live service in front of a Jumbotron and a stage.

The Littles, who live in a retirement community called The Villages, about an hour’s drive northwest of Orlando, Florida, are among the lucky few.

Since mid-March, when state shutdowns forced churches, synagogues and mosques to close amid the coronavirus pandemic, Americans have had to mostly rely on online worship services.

But&nbsp;<a href="https://www.liveoakschurch.org/" target="_blank">Live Oaks Community Church</a>&nbsp;has been able to offer continuous outdoor services — one on Saturday and two on Sunday — with dozens, sometimes hundreds, arriving via their golf carts.

“The only negative is that you don’t have much interaction with the rest of the congregation,” said Larry Little, 77. “Our golf carts are 6 feet apart and they don’t want us outside the golf cart.”

For many, if not most, older congregants living in colder climates or with no access to outdoor services, such options are a luxury.

Unable to find spiritual sustenance or the comforts of community, many are isolated and lonely. They may struggle with using the technology required for viewing online services or connecting virtually with family, friends and community members.

“It’s becoming more of a challenge to figure out how we minister to, and with, these older adults,” said&nbsp;<a href="https://missybuchanan.com/about/" target="_blank">Missy Buchanan</a>, a writer and speaker from Rockwall, Texas, with a focus on older adults.

Some congregations are making phone calls and writing letters to older members. Others have bought them tablets and are teaching the least technologically savvy how to connect to online platforms.

Now, as states begin loosening lockdown restrictions and churches contemplate how to reopen safely, clergy and other religious leaders face difficult decisions when it comes to their senior members.

For older people, there’s a cruel reality to those reopenings.

Mounting evidence suggests houses of worship are probably among the riskiest places for older people. Transmission is much more likely indoors where lots of people come into close contact and where droplets with viral particles might linger in the air for as long as eight minutes. Multiple coronavirus cases across the country have been linked to people attending church and synagogue services or events.

Older Americans are also among the most likely to develop a severe case of COVID-19. Eight out of 10 coronavirus deaths reported in the U.S. have been among adults 65 years and older, according to the&nbsp;<a href="https://missybuchanan.com/about/" target="_blank">Centers for Disease Control.</a>

Many older people like the Littles may not see the insides of a church or synagogue for a very long time.

“When churches regather, older people may be the last to go back,” said&nbsp;<a href="http://amyhanson.org/" target="_blank">Amy Hanson</a>, an instructor in the gerontology department at the University of Nebraska at Omaha who has a consulting ministry to help churches engage older adults. “Some will want to return. But it will be hard for those who do go back. There’ll be no handshaking and hugging — things older adults are missing. They won’t feel all they’re hoping to feel.”

Older American were nearly twice as likely as younger Americans to attend church, synagogue and mosque before the shutdowns. A recent&nbsp;<a href="https://www.pewforum.org/2019/10/17/in-u-s-decline-of-christianity-continues-at-rapid-pace/" target="_blank">Pew Research</a>&nbsp;survey found that 61% of those born before 1945 (the so-called Silent Generation) attended religious services monthly or more, compared with 35% of millennials (born between 1981 and 1996).

In this in-between time, congregations should assess their older adult members, charting whether they live alone or have family nearby. Do they have hearing or vision impairments? Do they have access to chaplains at assisted living or nursing homes?

They would also do well to recognize that older Americans are not monolithic in their needs, said Buchanan, who writes devotionals for older adults. Buchanan has identified four basic groups of older adults: the “go-go’s,” those who are still very active and independent; the “slow-go’s,” those who may have some physical limitations; the “no-go’s,” those who are homebound; and the “not-gonna-make-me-go,” young Boomers who don’t attend religious services on a regular basis.

Many congregational ministries, Buchanan said, focus on only one or two of those groups.

Large churches, such as&nbsp;<a href="https://www.johnsonferry.org/default.aspx?page=4378" target="_blank">Johnson Ferry Baptist Church</a>&nbsp;in Marietta, Georgia, can do a lot more. In the days after the shutdown, the 7,000-member church prepared meals for many isolated church members and made daily phone calls to those living alone.

Now the emphasis has shifted to finding ways to engage older adults and allow them to contribute to the life of the church.

“They’re not here to take up space,” said Peggy Fulghum, minister to older adults at Johnson Ferry. “We want to keep them serving. I try to create ministries for them to be active and serve and give back to the community.”

For example, after noticing that in-person high school graduations were canceled, Fulghum asked older members to write congratulatory cards to high school seniors, encouraging them on their journey to adulthood and sharing a bit of their wisdom.

The cards were mailed to the church and the church staff is now sending them to families with high school seniors.

The church has also started a Tuesday morning Zoom call for older members where they can greet each other, sing a song and pray as a group. They hope it encourages groups of older adults to start their own Zoom gatherings. And the church is retooling its “GrandCamp” ministry to allow grandparents and children to interact through online projects.

Live Oaks Community Church in Florida has recently announced it will resume indoor worship for up to 100 people with social distancing.

The Littles, however, have decided to continue worshipping outdoors — at least for the time being.

“We think the golf cart experience is unique and we enjoy it,” Larry Little said. “It’s completely open and there’s always a little breeze. You don’t feel that sense of isolation. Isolation is worse than the virus for old folks.”

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2020/3/1584278183206.png" alt="google image" />
 <figcaption>google image</figcaption>
 </figure>By YONAT SHIMRONWASHINGTON (AP -RNS )— Each Sunday, Larry Little and his wife, Mary, get ready for church. They dress casually, fill two tumblers with water, climb into their golf cart and drive two miles to The Grove, a grassy field next to their church.There they find a parking place, turn off the engine and settle in for a live service in front of a Jumbotron and a stage.The Littles, who live in a retirement community called The Villages, about an hour’s drive northwest of Orlando, Florida, are among the lucky few.Since mid-March, when state shutdowns forced churches, synagogues and mosques to close amid the coronavirus pandemic, Americans have had to mostly rely on online worship services.But&nbsp;<a href="https://www.liveoakschurch.org/" target="_blank">Live Oaks Community Church</a>&nbsp;has been able to offer continuous outdoor services — one on Saturday and two on Sunday — with dozens, sometimes hundreds, arriving via their golf carts.“The only negative is that you don’t have much interaction with the rest of the congregation,” said Larry Little, 77. “Our golf carts are 6 feet apart and they don’t want us outside the golf cart.”For many, if not most, older congregants living in colder climates or with no access to outdoor services, such options are a luxury.Unable to find spiritual sustenance or the comforts of community, many are isolated and lonely. They may struggle with using the technology required for viewing online services or connecting virtually with family, friends and community members.“It’s becoming more of a challenge to figure out how we minister to, and with, these older adults,” said&nbsp;<a href="https://missybuchanan.com/about/" target="_blank">Missy Buchanan</a>, a writer and speaker from Rockwall, Texas, with a focus on older adults.Some congregations are making phone calls and writing letters to older members. Others have bought them tablets and are teaching the least technologically savvy how to connect to online platforms.Now, as states begin loosening lockdown restrictions and churches contemplate how to reopen safely, clergy and other religious leaders face difficult decisions when it comes to their senior members.For older people, there’s a cruel reality to those reopenings.Mounting evidence suggests houses of worship are probably among the riskiest places for older people. Transmission is much more likely indoors where lots of people come into close contact and where droplets with viral particles might linger in the air for as long as eight minutes. Multiple coronavirus cases across the country have been linked to people attending church and synagogue services or events.Older Americans are also among the most likely to develop a severe case of COVID-19. Eight out of 10 coronavirus deaths reported in the U.S. have been among adults 65 years and older, according to the&nbsp;<a href="https://missybuchanan.com/about/" target="_blank">Centers for Disease Control.</a>Many older people like the Littles may not see the insides of a church or synagogue for a very long time.“When churches regather, older people may be the last to go back,” said&nbsp;<a href="http://amyhanson.org/" target="_blank">Amy Hanson</a>, an instructor in the gerontology department at the University of Nebraska at Omaha who has a consulting ministry to help churches engage older adults. “Some will want to return. But it will be hard for those who do go back. There’ll be no handshaking and hugging — things older adults are missing. They won’t feel all they’re hoping to feel.”Older American were nearly twice as likely as younger Americans to attend church, synagogue and mosque before the shutdowns. A recent&nbsp;<a href="https://www.pewforum.org/2019/10/17/in-u-s-decline-of-christianity-continues-at-rapid-pace/" target="_blank">Pew Research</a>&nbsp;survey found that 61% of those born before 1945 (the so-called Silent Generation) attended religious services monthly or more, compared with 35% of millennials (born between 1981 and 1996).In this in-between time, congregations should assess their older adult members, charting whether they live alone or have family nearby. Do they have hearing or vision impairments? Do they have access to chaplains at assisted living or nursing homes?They would also do well to recognize that older Americans are not monolithic in their needs, said Buchanan, who writes devotionals for older adults. Buchanan has identified four basic groups of older adults: the “go-go’s,” those who are still very active and independent; the “slow-go’s,” those who may have some physical limitations; the “no-go’s,” those who are homebound; and the “not-gonna-make-me-go,” young Boomers who don’t attend religious services on a regular basis.Many congregational ministries, Buchanan said, focus on only one or two of those groups.Large churches, such as&nbsp;<a href="https://www.johnsonferry.org/default.aspx?page=4378" target="_blank">Johnson Ferry Baptist Church</a>&nbsp;in Marietta, Georgia, can do a lot more. In the days after the shutdown, the 7,000-member church prepared meals for many isolated church members and made daily phone calls to those living alone.Now the emphasis has shifted to finding ways to engage older adults and allow them to contribute to the life of the church.“They’re not here to take up space,” said Peggy Fulghum, minister to older adults at Johnson Ferry. “We want to keep them serving. I try to create ministries for them to be active and serve and give back to the community.”For example, after noticing that in-person high school graduations were canceled, Fulghum asked older members to write congratulatory cards to high school seniors, encouraging them on their journey to adulthood and sharing a bit of their wisdom.The cards were mailed to the church and the church staff is now sending them to families with high school seniors.The church has also started a Tuesday morning Zoom call for older members where they can greet each other, sing a song and pray as a group. They hope it encourages groups of older adults to start their own Zoom gatherings. And the church is retooling its “GrandCamp” ministry to allow grandparents and children to interact through online projects.Live Oaks Community Church in Florida has recently announced it will resume indoor worship for up to 100 people with social distancing.The Littles, however, have decided to continue worshipping outdoors — at least for the time being.“We think the golf cart experience is unique and we enjoy it,” Larry Little said. “It’s completely open and there’s always a little breeze. You don’t feel that sense of isolation. Isolation is worse than the virus for old folks.”

As they reopen, congregations grapple with including seniors

OSAGE COUNTY —Law enforcement authorities are investigating a fatal car-pedestrian accident and have identified the victim as 1-year-old Robin Sowers of Melvern. 

Just after 5p.m. Friday, the Osage County Sheriff’s Office received a 911 call reporting a car/pedestrian accident in the city of Melvern on private property, according to Sheriff Laurie Dunn.

A child was struck by a vehicle driven by Jenna L Pollard, 24, of Melvern in a private drive.

Osage County deputies, Osage County EMS, Osage County Fire District #3 – Melvern, and Lifesave air ambulance responded to the scene. 

The child was transported to a Topeka hospital by Osage County EMS in critical condition and later pronounced deceased. 

The accident is still under investigation, according to the sheriff.

OSAGE COUNTY —Law enforcement authorities are investigating a fatal car-pedestrian accident and have identified the victim as 1-year-old Robin Sowers of Melvern. Just after 5p.m. Friday, the Osage County Sheriff’s Office received a 911 call reporting a car/pedestrian accident in the city of Melvern on private property, according to Sheriff Laurie Dunn.A child was struck by a vehicle driven by Jenna L Pollard, 24, of Melvern in a private drive.Osage County deputies, Osage County EMS, Osage County Fire District #3 – Melvern, and Lifesave air ambulance responded to the scene. The child was transported to a Topeka hospital by Osage County EMS in critical condition and later pronounced deceased. The accident is still under investigation, according to the sheriff.

Sheriff: 1-year-old Kansas girl died after being struck by car

SEDGWICK COUNTY — Law enforcement authorities are investigating a Kansas man on child sex allegations.

Just before noon Thursday, police&nbsp; were contacted by an outside law enforcement agency about two juveniles reporting an incident that occurred in Wichita involving 32-year-old Kirk Wittrock of Wichita, according to officer Kevin Wheeler.

The investigation revealed that Wittrock, who is known to the victims, allegedly inappropriately touched the two teens.

Police arrested Wittrock Thursday in the 1200 block of South Emporia without incident on a requested charge of indecent liberties with a child.&nbsp;

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2020/6/1591965788762.png" alt="Wittrock" />
 <figcaption>Wittrock</figcaption>
 </figure>SEDGWICK COUNTY — Law enforcement authorities are investigating a Kansas man on child sex allegations.Just before noon Thursday, police&nbsp; were contacted by an outside law enforcement agency about two juveniles reporting an incident that occurred in Wichita involving 32-year-old Kirk Wittrock of Wichita, according to officer Kevin Wheeler.The investigation revealed that Wittrock, who is known to the victims, allegedly inappropriately touched the two teens.Police arrested Wittrock Thursday in the 1200 block of South Emporia without incident on a requested charge of indecent liberties with a child.&nbsp;

Kansas man accused of child sex crimes involving 2 teens

TREGO COUNTY—One person died in an accident just after noon Saturday in Trego County.

The Kansas Highway Patrol reported a 2005 GMC Envoy driven by&nbsp; Courtney D. Windholz, 19, Bucklin, was southbound on 290th Road&nbsp; four miles west of Kansas Highway 147.

&nbsp;The driver lost control of the vehicle and struck a dirt embankment on the drivers side. The vehicle rolled and driver was ejected. The vehicle&nbsp; came to rest on its roof facing Northwest.

Windholz was pronounced dead at the scene and transported to Schmitt Funeral Home.

TREGO COUNTY—One person died in an accident just after noon Saturday in Trego County.The Kansas Highway Patrol reported a 2005 GMC Envoy driven by&nbsp; Courtney D. Windholz, 19, Bucklin, was southbound on 290th Road&nbsp; four miles west of Kansas Highway 147.&nbsp;The driver lost control of the vehicle and struck a dirt embankment on the drivers side. The vehicle rolled and driver was ejected. The vehicle&nbsp; came to rest on its roof facing Northwest.Windholz was pronounced dead at the scene and transported to Schmitt Funeral Home.

Kansas teen dies after being ejected when SUV rolls

KANSAS CITY(AP) — A Kansas City man who was prosecuted after filming two police officers who he thought were being too aggressive in their arrest of a black transgender woman is suing the city and the officers.

Roderick Reed contends in his lawsuit that the charges against him were an attempt to stop him from releasing the video of the May 2019 arrest of Breona or “Bryia” Hill by officers Matthew Brummett and Charles Prichard.

Police said Reed was arrested because he refused the officers' commands to move his car, which he had stopped in the middle of the street to record the arrest. Reed was convicted of a city ordinance violation, but Mayor Quinton Lucas&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/db41066b7d28cdca8aad6f3317202cbb">pardoned</a>&nbsp;him last week.

A grand jury indicted Brummett and Prichard on a misdemeanor assault charge for “recklessly causing pain” to Hill while she was handcuffed. Prosecutors cited Reed's video of the arrest when the charges were announced.

Reed said in the lawsuit, filed Friday in Jackson County Circuit Court, that he started recording the arrest after he saw an officer hit Hill. Reed, who never got out of his car, ignored officers' orders to move the vehicle and continued recording because he “believed that Hill would be killed" if he stopped.

Reed is seeking $5 million in damages for false imprisonment and malicious prosecution.

Jamie Walker, Reed’s attorney, said the prosecution was obviously retaliation and suggested Reed was a Good Samaritan whom the city should have commended, not condemned.

Kansas City police spokeswoman Doaa El-Ashkar said in a statement that the police department “regrets all of the circumstances surrounding this incident” but could not comment further because of the pending litigation.

Last week, the City Council&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/db41066b7d28cdca8aad6f3317202cbb">approved</a>&nbsp;an amendment to the city code that ensures witnesses aren’t barred from filming the actions of police officers.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2020/5/1589657213001.png" alt="Image from the arrest video courtesy KCTV" />
 <figcaption>Image from the arrest video courtesy KCTV</figcaption>
 </figure>KANSAS CITY(AP) — A Kansas City man who was prosecuted after filming two police officers who he thought were being too aggressive in their arrest of a black transgender woman is suing the city and the officers.Roderick Reed contends in his lawsuit that the charges against him were an attempt to stop him from releasing the video of the May 2019 arrest of Breona or “Bryia” Hill by officers Matthew Brummett and Charles Prichard.Police said Reed was arrested because he refused the officers' commands to move his car, which he had stopped in the middle of the street to record the arrest. Reed was convicted of a city ordinance violation, but Mayor Quinton Lucas&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/db41066b7d28cdca8aad6f3317202cbb">pardoned</a>&nbsp;him last week.A grand jury indicted Brummett and Prichard on a misdemeanor assault charge for “recklessly causing pain” to Hill while she was handcuffed. Prosecutors cited Reed's video of the arrest when the charges were announced.Reed said in the lawsuit, filed Friday in Jackson County Circuit Court, that he started recording the arrest after he saw an officer hit Hill. Reed, who never got out of his car, ignored officers' orders to move the vehicle and continued recording because he “believed that Hill would be killed" if he stopped.Reed is seeking $5 million in damages for false imprisonment and malicious prosecution.Jamie Walker, Reed’s attorney, said the prosecution was obviously retaliation and suggested Reed was a Good Samaritan whom the city should have commended, not condemned.Kansas City police spokeswoman Doaa El-Ashkar said in a statement that the police department “regrets all of the circumstances surrounding this incident” but could not comment further because of the pending litigation.Last week, the City Council&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/db41066b7d28cdca8aad6f3317202cbb">approved</a>&nbsp;an amendment to the city code that ensures witnesses aren’t barred from filming the actions of police officers.

Man sues over arrest while filming Kansas City police

HAYSVILLE, Kan. (AP) — Volunteers have found a woman’s body alongside railroad tracks in a field south of Wichita while searching for a 23-year-old who went missing two weeks ago. 

The discovery was made Saturday near Haysville as 75 to 100 volunteers looked for Savannah Schneider in an area where her cell phone last pinged off a tower. 

The body hasn’t been identified. Sedgwick County Sheriff’s Office Capt. Brad Hoch said the discovery was made in the same area were the Wichita Police Department and Sheriff’s Office had searched with cadaver dogs on Tuesday.&nbsp;

On June 5, the KBI issued a statewide endangered person advisory for Schneider.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2020/6/1591390996010.png" alt="Savanah Schneider photo courtesy Wichita Police" />
 <figcaption>Savanah Schneider photo courtesy Wichita Police</figcaption>
 </figure>HAYSVILLE, Kan. (AP) — Volunteers have found a woman’s body alongside railroad tracks in a field south of Wichita while searching for a 23-year-old who went missing two weeks ago. The discovery was made Saturday near Haysville as 75 to 100 volunteers looked for Savannah Schneider in an area where her cell phone last pinged off a tower. The body hasn’t been identified. Sedgwick County Sheriff’s Office Capt. Brad Hoch said the discovery was made in the same area were the Wichita Police Department and Sheriff’s Office had searched with cadaver dogs on Tuesday.&nbsp;On June 5, the KBI issued a statewide endangered person advisory for Schneider.

Body found during search for missing Kansas woman

TOPEKA – With cooperation from the community, the Topeka Police Department has
identified and made additional arrests for those identified in the&nbsp; June 1, unlawful assembly at the Law
Enforcement Center, according to police Lt. Manuel.

On June 8, 2020, detectives arrested Joshua Adam Simon, 23, of Mayetta and was booked into
the Shawnee County Department of Corrections on requested charges of Riot; Incitement, Criminal damage to property&nbsp; and Unlawful Assembly.

On June 11, 2020, detectives arrested Feliciano Jose Anguiano, 18, of Topeka and was booked
into the Shawnee County Department of Corrections on requested charges of Riot; Incitement, Criminal damage to property&nbsp; and Unlawful Assembly


In addition, on June 11, 2020, detectives also arrested Brett Michael House, 19, of Topeka and
was booked into the Shawnee County Department of Corrections on requested charges of Riot; Incitement and Criminal damage to property

House was also arrested on June 1, 2020 and was booked into the Shawnee County Department
of Corrections for Unlawful Assembly 
Interference with Law Enforcement
Criminal Damage to Property
Disobeying Lawful Police Order

The additional arrest of House was made after further investigation by detectives and great
cooperation from our community, according to Munoz.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2020/6/1591698985075.png" alt="Simon-photo Shawnee County" />
 <figcaption>Simon-photo Shawnee County</figcaption>
 </figure>TOPEKA – With cooperation from the community, the Topeka Police Department has
identified and made additional arrests for those identified in the&nbsp; June 1, unlawful assembly at the Law
Enforcement Center, according to police Lt. Manuel.On June 8, 2020, detectives arrested Joshua Adam Simon, 23, of Mayetta and was booked into
the Shawnee County Department of Corrections on requested charges of Riot; Incitement, Criminal damage to property&nbsp; and Unlawful Assembly.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2020/6/1591994385670.png" alt="Anguiano photo Shawnee Co." />
 <figcaption>Anguiano photo Shawnee Co.</figcaption>
 </figure>On June 11, 2020, detectives arrested Feliciano Jose Anguiano, 18, of Topeka and was booked
into the Shawnee County Department of Corrections on requested charges of Riot; Incitement, Criminal damage to property&nbsp; and Unlawful Assembly
<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2020/6/1591111074275.png" alt="House-photo Shawnee Co." />
 <figcaption>House-photo Shawnee Co.</figcaption>
 </figure>In addition, on June 11, 2020, detectives also arrested Brett Michael House, 19, of Topeka and
was booked into the Shawnee County Department of Corrections on requested charges of Riot; Incitement and Criminal damage to property
House was also arrested on June 1, 2020 and was booked into the Shawnee County Department
of Corrections for Unlawful Assembly 
Interference with Law Enforcement
Criminal Damage to Property
Disobeying Lawful Police Order
The additional arrest of House was made after further investigation by detectives and great
cooperation from our community, according to Munoz.

Police arrest suspects for protest confrontation in Topeka

TOPEKA — Three people were injured in a house fire early Friday in Topeka.

Just before 9a.m., fire responded to a fire at 1828 SW Central Park Avenue, according to&nbsp;Fire Marshal Todd Harrison.&nbsp;Upon arrival, fire crews found smoke and flames coming from the rear of the two story home. 

Firefighters rescued one adult victim from the roof of the structure. Two other adults were able to self-evacuate prior to the fire departments arrival. All three victims were transported to a local hospital with non-life threatening injuries.

A Topeka Fire Department Investigation Unit determined the fire cause to be accidental and started in the first floor kitchen.

 Estimated dollar loss – $10,000.00; of which $8,000.00 is associated with structural loss and $2,000.00 associated with contents loss.

Working smoke detectors were not located within the home, according to Harrison.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2020/6/1591993790768.png" alt="Crews on the scene of the Friday morning house fire -photo courtesy WIBW TV" />
 <figcaption>Crews on the scene of the Friday morning house fire -photo courtesy WIBW TV</figcaption>
 </figure>TOPEKA — Three people were injured in a house fire early Friday in Topeka.Just before 9a.m., fire responded to a fire at 1828 SW Central Park Avenue, according to&nbsp;Fire Marshal Todd Harrison.&nbsp;Upon arrival, fire crews found smoke and flames coming from the rear of the two story home. Firefighters rescued one adult victim from the roof of the structure. Two other adults were able to self-evacuate prior to the fire departments arrival. All three victims were transported to a local hospital with non-life threatening injuries.A Topeka Fire Department Investigation Unit determined the fire cause to be accidental and started in the first floor kitchen. Estimated dollar loss – $10,000.00; of which $8,000.00 is associated with structural loss and $2,000.00 associated with contents loss.Working smoke detectors were not located within the home, according to Harrison.

Fire Marshall: 3 hospitalized after Kansas house fire

FLAGSTAFF, Ariz. (AP) — A federal judge in the nation’s capital said Friday he will work quickly to deliver a ruling in a case centered on who is eligible for coronavirus relief funding set aside for tribes.

U.S. District Judge Amit Mehta heard more than three hours of arguments in the case he characterized as challenging. He is deciding whether Alaska Native corporations, which are unique to the state, can receive a share of $8 billion in funding that Congress approved in March.

Numerous Native American tribes that sued the U.S. Treasury Department, which is tasked with doling out the money, say no.

Mehta earlier ruled to limit distribution to tribal governments while he took on the eligibility question.

The Treasury Department has sent $4.8 billion in payments to tribal governments based on federal population data population and has said it will start distributing the rest no later than Monday — well past the deadline set by Congress.

Attorneys in the hearing Friday picked apart the language included in the Coronavirus Aid, Relief and Economic Security Act and dissected the history of a federal law that gave tribes the ability to deliver services like health care, policing and housing to tribal members through federal contracts.

Attorneys representing the tribes said Congress intended the virus relief money to go to the 574 tribes that have a political relationship with the federal government. Because the corporations are not the recognized bodies of government for any tribe, they don’t qualify, they argued.

“They are not in any scenario able to compete with tribal governments for finite resources,” said Natalie Landreth.

Riyaz Kanji said Alaska Native corporations do not satisfy a clause in the Indian Self Determination and Education Assistance Act to obtain federal contracts without authorization from the tribal governments themselves.

Department of Justice Attorney Jason Lynch disagreed and told Mehta that if the judge finds even one of dozens of regional and village corporations eligible for the funding, all must be deemed eligible.

Daniel Wolff, an attorney representing some of the corporations, pointed to one that he said delivers heath care to Alaska Natives in the Anchorage area with the blessing of Congress and without express approval from all village governments. That circumstance is rare.

“The sovereign tribal villages simply don’t have the resources to get the job done” he said. “That’s the job of ANCs, that’s why ANCs were created.”

In a related case Thursday, Mehta denied a request from a tribe in Kansas to halt further distribution of the funding for tribal nations.

The Prairie Band of Potawatomi Nation sued the Treasury Department earlier this month, alleging it was shortchanged in the agency’s initial distribution of funding. The tribe, whose reservation is north of Topeka, said the Treasury Department should have relied on the tribe’s own enrollment data, rather than population data from the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development.

The HUD data showed the tribe had 883 citizens. The tribe argued it should have received $7.65 million dollars more based on its enrollment figure of more than 4,840.

The Treasury Department has said it used HUD data because it would correlate with the amount of money tribal governments have spent responding to the coronavirus pandemic. Tribal data doesn’t distinguish between members who live on and off reservations, the agency said.

Mehta said he had no jurisdiction over the matter because Congress gave the Treasury secretary discretion in how to distribute the funding.

“The CARES Act thus contains no ‘statutory reference point’ by which to judge the secretary’s decision to use HUD’s population data set, as opposed to some other,” Mehta wrote.

The judge also faulted the tribe for filing its lawsuit more than a month after the Treasury Department said it would use HUD data following a request for tribes to submit enrollment figures.

Carol Heckman, an attorney for the Prairie Band, said the tribe doesn’t use the HUD database and did not immediately understand the Treasury Department’s methodology. She said reports by Harvard researchers who dug into the HUD data showed the tribe it was underrepresented.

FLAGSTAFF, Ariz. (AP) — A federal judge in the nation’s capital has denied a request from a Native American tribe in Kansas to halt further distribution of coronavirus relief funds for tribal nations.

The Prairie Band of Potawatomi Nation recently sued the U.S. Treasury Department, alleging it was shortchanged in an initial distribution of $4.8 billion. The tribe, whose reservation is north of Topeka, said the Treasury Department should have relied on the tribe’s own enrollment data, rather than population data from the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development.

The Treasury Department intends to start distributing the remaining $3.2 billion from a coronavirus relief package approved in March to tribes no later than Monday.

U.S. District Judge Amit Mehta held a hearing Thursday on the Prairie Band’s request to keep the Treasury Department from moving forward. He ruled later that he had no jurisdiction over the matter because Congress gave the Treasury secretary discretion in how to dole out the funding.

Mehta is scheduled to hear arguments in a related case Friday. It is centered on whether Alaska Native corporations are eligible for a share of the $8 billion set aside for tribes in the Coronavirus Aid, Relief and Economic Security Act that Congress approved in March.

Mehta earlier ruled to limit distribution to tribal governments while he decides the eligibility question.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2020/4/1586818253618.png" alt="Treasury Secretary Steve Mnuchin and President Trump during a Coronavirus Task Force briefing in April.&nbsp;The Treasury Department has sent $4.8 billion in payments to tribal governments." />
 <figcaption>Treasury Secretary Steve Mnuchin and President Trump during a Coronavirus Task Force briefing in April.&nbsp;The Treasury Department has sent $4.8 billion in payments to tribal governments.</figcaption>
 </figure>FLAGSTAFF, Ariz. (AP) — A federal judge in the nation’s capital said Friday he will work quickly to deliver a ruling in a case centered on who is eligible for coronavirus relief funding set aside for tribes.U.S. District Judge Amit Mehta heard more than three hours of arguments in the case he characterized as challenging. He is deciding whether Alaska Native corporations, which are unique to the state, can receive a share of $8 billion in funding that Congress approved in March.Numerous Native American tribes that sued the U.S. Treasury Department, which is tasked with doling out the money, say no.Mehta earlier ruled to limit distribution to tribal governments while he took on the eligibility question.The Treasury Department has sent $4.8 billion in payments to tribal governments based on federal population data population and has said it will start distributing the rest no later than Monday — well past the deadline set by Congress.Attorneys in the hearing Friday picked apart the language included in the Coronavirus Aid, Relief and Economic Security Act and dissected the history of a federal law that gave tribes the ability to deliver services like health care, policing and housing to tribal members through federal contracts.Attorneys representing the tribes said Congress intended the virus relief money to go to the 574 tribes that have a political relationship with the federal government. Because the corporations are not the recognized bodies of government for any tribe, they don’t qualify, they argued.“They are not in any scenario able to compete with tribal governments for finite resources,” said Natalie Landreth.Riyaz Kanji said Alaska Native corporations do not satisfy a clause in the Indian Self Determination and Education Assistance Act to obtain federal contracts without authorization from the tribal governments themselves.Department of Justice Attorney Jason Lynch disagreed and told Mehta that if the judge finds even one of dozens of regional and village corporations eligible for the funding, all must be deemed eligible.Daniel Wolff, an attorney representing some of the corporations, pointed to one that he said delivers heath care to Alaska Natives in the Anchorage area with the blessing of Congress and without express approval from all village governments. That circumstance is rare.“The sovereign tribal villages simply don’t have the resources to get the job done” he said. “That’s the job of ANCs, that’s why ANCs were created.”In a related case Thursday, Mehta denied a request from a tribe in Kansas to halt further distribution of the funding for tribal nations.The Prairie Band of Potawatomi Nation sued the Treasury Department earlier this month, alleging it was shortchanged in the agency’s initial distribution of funding. The tribe, whose reservation is north of Topeka, said the Treasury Department should have relied on the tribe’s own enrollment data, rather than population data from the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development.The HUD data showed the tribe had 883 citizens. The tribe argued it should have received $7.65 million dollars more based on its enrollment figure of more than 4,840.The Treasury Department has said it used HUD data because it would correlate with the amount of money tribal governments have spent responding to the coronavirus pandemic. Tribal data doesn’t distinguish between members who live on and off reservations, the agency said.Mehta said he had no jurisdiction over the matter because Congress gave the Treasury secretary discretion in how to distribute the funding.“The CARES Act thus contains no ‘statutory reference point’ by which to judge the secretary’s decision to use HUD’s population data set, as opposed to some other,” Mehta wrote.The judge also faulted the tribe for filing its lawsuit more than a month after the Treasury Department said it would use HUD data following a request for tribes to submit enrollment figures.Carol Heckman, an attorney for the Prairie Band, said the tribe doesn’t use the HUD database and did not immediately understand the Treasury Department’s methodology. She said reports by Harvard researchers who dug into the HUD data showed the tribe it was underrepresented.---------FLAGSTAFF, Ariz. (AP) — A federal judge in the nation’s capital has denied a request from a Native American tribe in Kansas to halt further distribution of coronavirus relief funds for tribal nations.The Prairie Band of Potawatomi Nation recently sued the U.S. Treasury Department, alleging it was shortchanged in an initial distribution of $4.8 billion. The tribe, whose reservation is north of Topeka, said the Treasury Department should have relied on the tribe’s own enrollment data, rather than population data from the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development.The HUD data showed the tribe had 883 citizens. The tribe argued it should have received $7.65 million dollars more based on its enrollment figure of more than 4,840.The Treasury Department has said it used HUD data because it would correlate with the amount of money tribal governments have spent responding to the coronavirus pandemic. Tribal data doesn’t distinguish between members who live on and off reservations, the agency said.The Treasury Department intends to start distributing the remaining $3.2 billion from a coronavirus relief package approved in March to tribes no later than Monday.U.S. District Judge Amit Mehta held a hearing Thursday on the Prairie Band’s request to keep the Treasury Department from moving forward. He ruled later that he had no jurisdiction over the matter because Congress gave the Treasury secretary discretion in how to dole out the funding.“The CARES Act thus contains no ‘statutory reference point’ by which to judge the secretary’s decision to use HUD’s population data set, as opposed to some other,” Mehta wrote.The judge also faulted the tribe for filing its lawsuit more than a month after the Treasury Department said it would use HUD data following a request for tribes to submit enrollment figures.Carol Heckman, an attorney for the Prairie Band, said the tribe doesn’t use the HUD database and did not immediately understand the Treasury Department’s methodology. She said reports by Harvard researchers who dug into the HUD data showed the tribe it was underrepresented.Mehta is scheduled to hear arguments in a related case Friday. It is centered on whether Alaska Native corporations are eligible for a share of the $8 billion set aside for tribes in the Coronavirus Aid, Relief and Economic Security Act that Congress approved in March.Mehta earlier ruled to limit distribution to tribal governments while he decides the eligibility question.

US judge says he'll rule quickly on virus funding for tribes in Kan., nationwide

NEOSHO COUNTY — Two people died in an accident just after 12:30a.m. Saturday in Neosho County.

The Kansas Highway Patrol reported a 2006 Harley Davidson motorcycle driven by Ronald Bigpond, 52, Chanute, was eastbound in the 2400 Block of 200th Road just east of Chanute.

The motorcycle traveled&nbsp; off the roadway to the left, continued across the railroad tracks and over turned ejecting the driver and a passenger.

&nbsp;Bigpond and&nbsp; Richard&nbsp; Standridge, 47, Chanute, were pronounced dead at the scene and transported to Countryside Funeral Home. They were not wearing helmets, according to the KHP.

NEOSHO COUNTY — Two people died in an accident just after 12:30a.m. Saturday in Neosho County.The Kansas Highway Patrol reported a 2006 Harley Davidson motorcycle driven by Ronald Bigpond, 52, Chanute, was eastbound in the 2400 Block of 200th Road just east of Chanute.The motorcycle traveled&nbsp; off the roadway to the left, continued across the railroad tracks and over turned ejecting the driver and a passenger.&nbsp;Bigpond and&nbsp; Richard&nbsp; Standridge, 47, Chanute, were pronounced dead at the scene and transported to Countryside Funeral Home. They were not wearing helmets, according to the KHP.