My parents were high school sweethearts raised in a small town in Eastern Colorado wheat country. She was the class president and he was the class clown/naughty boy and together they cut quite a rug for 20 years or so. Both had big dreams and not such a fondness for small town life, so they left their town right after they married and never went back, except to visit their parents – my grandparents – after I was born a couple of years later.
I have such fond memories of those visits. I was the first grandchild for both families and they spoiled me rotten. My mom’s parents were wheat farmers who lived out in the country. My dad’s dad was a dentist with an office right downtown and my dad’s mom was a stay at home mom.
I used to spend a lot of time in my grandpa’s dental office. He’d let me go through his drawers of gold and silver for fillings and crowns, and spin his old dental chair around and around. He’d let me put on one of his dental aprons and pretend to fix his teeth, using a tray of his real tools. And, he’d take me around, buying me treats and showing me off to his buddies who owned the other downtown businesses.
There was a jeweler and a department store, a sandwich shop, an ice cream parlor and a five-and-dime. There was a shoe store with a shoe repairman in the back. I always liked the way that shoe store smelled – like leather and saddle wax and, faintly, of the bubble gum the shoe man always gave me when I visited his store with my granddad.
I remember the fondness with which these men greeted each other and the clear bond of owning businesses downtown they seemed to feel. I remember how they always knew their customers’ names and how jovial and excited they seemed whenever a customer came in. It seemed like a nice community – safe, kind, caring – yet business-like. There was no more chatting or joking around once a customer ask a question or wanted to make a purchase.
In many ways, my memories of that small town downtown are similar to the stories I’ve heard about the way downtown Winder used to be. And, how I’d like to step back in time and visit that downtown, just for a day.
It was a bustling place with pretty much everything anybody needed, right there within a few blocks of Broad Street. There was the a hotel and a movie theater, a restaurant or two, a grocery store, a jewelry store, a department store, and a general merchandise store that sold a little bit of everything, from boat parts to tires to furniture and house wares. There was a bank and a post office and plenty of foot traffic; Winder was a (manufacturing) plant town back in the day the workers did their shopping at lunch time and on Wednesday afternoons when the plants closed down.
Some of the owners of some of those businesses are still downtown, greeting customers and working long days, they way they have for years and years - Larry Evans, Larry Jones, G.W. Steed, some of the folks at The People’s Bank…Imagine the changes they’ve seen.
It makes me sad that downtown Winder is struggling – struggling the way all small town downtowns struggle when the winds of change blow through. My grandpa’s downtown is almost gone now; most of the businesses have either gone out of business or relocated up by the “new” interstate. My grandpa’s dental office has been boarded up for years; no one wants to invest in such a rattle trap place…
Until we moved to Winder, I’d always lived in big towns. An odd set of circumstances landed us here some 21 years ago and, while it’s been an adjustment, I have no regrets. I like it that my kids got to grow up in a small town. I like it that they grew up with people they still call close friends. I like it that my daughter and a surprising number of my kids’ friends ended up marrying their high school sweetheart, just like my parents did. And, even though many of these children, now adults don’t live in Winder anymore, they always come back for holidays. It’s good to see them and to know that their roots run so deep.
Downtown Winder may be in a time of transition, but that doesn’t mean it can’t change into something kids will still have good memories about.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Mother's Day
“Making the decision to have a child – it’s momentous. It is to decide to forever have your heart go walking around outside your body.” - Elizabeth Stone
Mother’s Day is a day of mixed cheer for me. It is happy in that I have two wonderful grown children who I wouldn’t change a single thing about. In fact, they’re so wonderful they both married people I also wouldn’t change a thing about. In addition, they have jobs and homes and happy, full lives; they live close by and visit often. From my point of view as a mom, you can’t be any better blessed than that.
The down side of the day for me is that my mom died when I was 19 and she left a hole in my life that nothing else has ever filled. I can’t really remember what it felt like to have a mother and, even though my dad’s a great guy who’s always more than been there for me, I still feel like an orphan on Mother’s Day.
Of all the jobs I’ve had, being a mom has always been my favorite. It’s the only thing I always knew I wanted to do and one of the things I’ve been really good at. As a child, I toted dolls around, taking gentle care of them. And, as a young woman, I couldn’t wait to be a mom. I was in such a hurry that I had kids before I figured out what else I wanted to do – a move which complicated things later, but in a good way.
By 25, I had two little ones, born 13 months apart, and things were pretty wild at our house. Mr. Clark was a young computer guy with a good job, so we made the decision that I would be a stay at home mom. At the time it seemed like the only way to go, but I remember our mostly much older parent friends shaking their heads at the foolishness of me choosing to be mom at the expense of any other career path.
Financially, they were right; emotionally, I’ve never had any regrets. Being able to be a central part of my kids’ lives without having to juggle them with a career is another blessing I’ve had that I wouldn’t change a thing about.
It makes me sad to hear young women talk about returning to work full-time (and putting their baby in day care full-time at 6 weeks) as a reality they can’t do anything about. And, while I understand in some cases that might be true, it makes me even sadder to hear something like, “Of course I’d like to stay home with the baby, but we’ve got two car payments and we can’t make them if I don’t go back to work…”
Was driving older cars ever even considered?
My mom always stayed home with my brother and me, and while I remember getting the sense at times that doing so made her a little nutty, I also remember how nice it was to grow up feeling like the center of our own safe universe. Mom was always there; dinner was always on the table; we always had a ride wherever we needed to be; and, if someone tried to wrong us, the lioness in her would rise up in our defense.
I tried to provide my kids with the same sense of safety and stability. And, while I opted to work part-time once they went to school, my kids were my unequivocal priority and they always knew that.
Recently I was hired to photograph mothers and daughters at a luncheon celebrating the girls’ high school graduation. It was a pleasant event that brought back happy memories about how much fun it was to have kids at home – to be so connected with them, their hopes, their dreams, their friends, what’s going on in their lives. It’s different and, at times, awfully quiet once everyone is grown…
Listening to those moms talk, it struck me - how vivid mothers’ memories are. There is a clarity about our memories of our children and our experiences as mothers that belays the time that has passed. We remember our pregnancies, our babies, our toddlers, children and teens as if it all happened yesterday – with a clarity of memory we save for few other things.
Abraham Lincoln said, “I remember my mother’s prayers and they have always followed me.” Maybe that’s the reason for the vividness of memory – as mothers we put more hope, prayer, love and energy into our children than any other part of our lives…
Sometimes I wonder what my mother would think of her 50+ year-old daughter and those adult grandkids; and, I wonder how our lives would’ve been different, had we had the benefit of her prayers and interest all these years...One things for sure, as long as I have a breath left in me, my children will be followed by my prayers and interest, no matter how many Mother’s Days go by.
Fear
“I’m not afraid of storms, for I am learning to sail my ship.” - Louisa May Alcott
Fear is a big deal for me; it always has been. For reasons that can be explained by events in my life and for reasons I’ll probably never understand, I am an excessively fearful person. In my world, disaster lurks around every corner and calamity is only a blink or two away. As you can imagine, this is no way to live.
I’ve done a lot of reading about fear – in the Bible and self-help books; I’ve gone to seminars about fear; and, talked to more than one therapist about it. Fear, it seems, is universal; I just carry it way to far.
I’m on the constant look out for new ideas about fear and new strategies to deal with it, so, when the televangelist on the stair-stepper TV at the YMCA started talking about how Jesus talked about fear more than any other topic during his brief time on earth, I stopped in my stair-stepper tracks, turned the volume up and took note.
According to this man, whose name I did not catch, while Jesus talked a lot about love, God’s love and how we’re supposed to treat each other, what he talked about most was fear - or, rather, how not to be afraid. What an amazing thought! I had no idea fear is such a big deal that even Jesus talked about it all the time way back then. What a balm to my fear-weary soul…
The man on the stair-stepper TV went on to cite numerous examples of Jesus talking about fear – how “God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of sound mind.” (II Timothy 1:7)…How “His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me” (an interpretation of what Jesus said in Matthew 6:26)…Jesus said, “Fear not! Take courage! Do not fear!” (and similar encouragements) before working the miracles he worked and solving the problems he solved…It seems that wherever Jesus went, he helped people deal with fear.
One of my favorite Biblical fear stories is the one about Jesus and his disciples crossing the Sea of Galilee. (Mark 35-41) Jesus was tired, so he fell asleep during the journey. A strong storm came up and the disciples got so afraid they woke Jesus up. A probably still groggy and slightly annoyed Jesus asked his disciples, “Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?” Then he “arose, rebuked the winds and the sea;” and calmed the storm.
I can’t begin to imagine how tired the human side of Jesus must have gotten, dealing over and over again with people putting fear ahead of faith in their dealings with him – and life.
My friend, Josie, is dealing with her second round of breast cancer. The chemo is nasty and her prognosis isn’t good. Yet, she maintains great faith in the face of what could be great fear; and, one of the things that helps her do this is her unfaltering trust in God.
We were talking the other day and, ironically, the story of Jesus and the disciples and their trip across the Sea of Galilee came up. Josie said the part of the story she likes best is the very beginning – before they even set off – when Jesus told the disciples, “Let us go across to the other side.”
“That’s a lot like having cancer,” she said. “You don’t know where you’re going; you don’t know what the journey’s going to be like; probably it’s going to be pretty scary. All you can do is what Jesus said - just stay focused on ‘getting across to the other side.’”
The televangelist ended his message with the notion that fear is a tool that teaches us when to pay attention. Fear is “trying to tell us something,” he said, adding that all we have to do is listen to the message, then put our faith back in God and do good.
“You need to have that conversation with fear,” he said, “but you don’t have to invite fear in for dinner and you sho’ ‘nuf don’t want to ask fear to spend the night.” I got similar advice some years ago from a Buddhist therapist I was seeing at the time…”Walk with it (fear); sit with it; listen to it; but don’t invite it in…Be strong; believe in good.”
No one knows when or how Josie’s battle with cancer will end. One thing is for sure, with “God as her refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble,” (Psalm 46:1) she will stay focused on “going across to the other side.” May God bless and keep her as her journey unfolds.
Optimistic
“The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds; the pessimist fears this is true.” – James Branch Cabell
It is easy to be negative - to focus on what’s wrong, rather than what’s right. I’m as guilty of this as the next guy, probably more so, in fact. Too often the first thing I notice is the flaw and the first thing out of my mouth is a criticism. I’m not proud of this, but it seems to be the way I am.
That said, imagine my surprise at a very pleasant change in perspective I am encountering as a result of doing some work for this paper in and around our town.
The last of the spring fundraisers just occurred and one of my jobs for The Barrow Journal is to cover these events. I am a hermit with questionable fashion sense and big social events scare me, so it takes more than one deep breath and gulp of courage for me to get out of the car and actually go into a fundraiser, awards banquet or gala. Too often I’ve just written a harsh column or hurt someone’s feelings in some way, or the paper has covered some piece of news that has folks all riled up…I always expect the worst as I walk in, but I never encounter it.
Instead, I encounter what appears to be genuine politeness from the people I (or the paper) have called attention to and I usually get a warm welcome from the organizer of the event. A surprising number of people go out of their way to tell me how much they like my column or appreciate the paper. And, as the evening unfolds, I get to see, make notes about and photograph groups of people who belong to a community they clearly care deeply about. They applaud the accomplishments of their peers enthusiastically and, even in this economy, contribute generously to the cause at hand.
I walk into these events with a slight sense of dread and I walk out feeling warm at heart, having experienced and documented the connections that make up the glue that holds a community together. And, this community, at least based on what I see at these events, seems like a strong one…
It’s been a rough ride for the City of Winder lately and this paper, myself included, has been right there, reporting and commenting all along the way. Like it or not, difficult news, pointed news, what some would call “bad” news interests people; it generates more buzz than good news. It’s easy to get caught up in the mindset of the latest scandal, lawsuit or controversy and think of our town as a problem-laden place as full of issues as it is snarled traffic…
Then I got the assignment of writing the pieces that accompany the “Why everybody goes to downtown Winder” advertisement page currently in its’ fourth of eight weeks in this paper.
Another set of deep breaths and courage gulps, as I approach local business owners about what they sell and why they’re located downtown. I must admit, I wasn’t optimistic. The recession is still hitting people hard; our county has one of the highest unemployment and foreclosure rates in the state; and, downtown Winder has been in the news quite a bit lately.
Imagine, again, my surprise when what I encounter is cheerful optimism, obvious excitement and nothing but enthusiasm about being located downtown. Sure, they’re struggling; of course they’re working hard; and, yes, they’re worried about the economy. But these people come to work every day with a smile on their face, ready to provide their customers and this community with the best service they can, at the most reasonable price they can afford. They understand everyone’s having trouble right now, and it seems to only make them want to work harder at contributing what they can.
Their enthusiasm, and the enthusiasm I encountered at this season’s events, has completely turned my view of what’s going on in Winder and our community around. It’s not all gloom, doom and scandal out there; there’s some really good stuff happening…
It feels good to be optimistic, especially this time of year. Flowers are blooming, birds are building nests and the trees are alive with song. The first rose just opened on my yellow rose bush and for lunch today, the first tomato sandwich of the season (vine-ripened in Florida, fresh to me via the local produce man – another hard working business person doing what he can to bring the best to his community at an affordable price.)
Sometimes small town life is just what it’s cracked up to be, and oftentimes that is really a pretty good thing.
Free to Good Home
Ask and ye shall receive…Last week was a busy week and I didn’t get a chance to sit down and write my column until this morning - two hours before the deadline. I had nothing, nothing at all to write about. Just as I started to write about how I had nothing to write about – a topic columnists are only allowed to use once in a blue moon – there was a big hoopla at the front door with my dogs sounding more than an adequate alert.
There on the porch was a friendly, but clearly lost, hot and confused Pomeranian. I went out and he ran away, but came back when I called. He was in good shape, nicely brushed and obviously well-cared for. He was definitely someone’s dog who, based on the leaves and twigs stuck to his belly, had wriggled out from under his fence.
Great! I thought, and not in a happy way - a column topic and an animal rescue – both at the same time. Just what I need!
As lost dogs often are, this little fellow was unsure whether he wanted to come to me or keep running down the street in that frantic way a dog who is lost and is trying to get home, but has no idea where home is, runs – usually right into traffic.
As he made the decision to go for it and headed towards Broad Street, my neighbor came out and joined me in running down the street, whistling for the dog, hoping he’d stop before he hit the busy downtown traffic.
Thankfully, he liked her more than me, as he came right back to her and let her pick him up. Once he calmed a little, he was okay with me carrying him back to my house, where he lapped up a bowl of water and tried, but failed, to calm down. I guess Pomeranians are a high strung breed…
I have unruly four dogs who are poorly trained (all rescues – some animals can spot a sucker from a mile away) so complex traffic control issues arise when an animal in need of help crosses our path. After all these years (and countless rescues) Mr. Clark is used to the drill and has no problem sharing his home office with whatever animal we’re aiding next, so up to Mr. Clark’s office with goes this little guy, as I head out to the vets offices to post “Found Dog” notices. I also called animal control and WIMO about him, and made a makeshift sign to stick out front…Surely, his owner(s) will come home and discover him missing soon, I thought, as the time that was supposed to be going to my column slipped away…
Fortunately, the folks at The Barrow Journal are forgiving with regard to column deadlines, so, with a bit of a time extension, here I sit, sequestered in my home office with my four dogs typing away, while Mr. Clark and the little guy upstairs bond, enough, we hope, for him to stop yipping…
Columns, like found dogs and so much of life, are often a surprise. I sit down with one set of expectations, only to have something completely different turn up. Sometimes that’s a good thing and sometimes it results in a bunch of scrambling around and mopping up to do…Sentences that were misconstrued…Animals whose owners never show up…
My most surprising rescue was the elderly, blind, really stinky poodle I actually sent Mr. Clark to retrieve, after I’d seen her shivering, clearly beside herself with fear in a cage at animal control, during one of my visits there to shoot a “Pet of the Week” picture for another paper some years ago.
“We can’t just leave her there!” was my cry. “She’s so old and scared and blind...Nobody’s going to adopt her.” And, so “Blind Dog” or “Beezer,” as we called her, became a part of our lives. I tried to give her away twice and both times she bit the person I gave her to as soon as they got home. I guess “Blind Dog” knew where she belonged and that turned out to be with us for the remaining few years of her life.
“Beezer” had been abused and had several broken bones that hadn’t healed right, so she couldn’t walk very well. She couldn’t see at all and no matter how many baths I gave her, she always smelled bad. She didn’t like being left alone, so we carried her around the house (and when we went out) in a back pack. The other dogs never even barked at her; I guess they agreed with us about how pitiful she was…
“Blind Dog” loved French fries and hamburgers, so one of our frequent trips with her was to the drive through…I even took her to Colorado with me once, to visit family. I put a little pink scarf around her neck and she smiled her wide crooked-toothed smile at everyone she couldn’t see as she rode through the airport in her backpack on my back.
If you had told me (or Mr. Clark) we would not only rescue, but fall in love with a stinky, old, blind poodle we had to carry everywhere, we wouldn’t have believed you. But, life, like columns and found dogs, is full of surprises…Now, if you know of anyone missing a red Pomeranian, please, send them our way!
Our Hopeful Garden
“Who loves a garden still his Eden keeps.” - Amos Bronson Alcott
Mr. Clark and I just finished planting our garden and boy, will we sleep good tonight. Few things are as fulfilling as spending the day digging in the dirt and at the end of it, surveying a garden patch full of new plants, as yet un-sprouted seeds and some freshly spread compost; that is some of life’s most pure hope. Short of a newborn baby, a brand new high school graduate or a pair of newlyweds, there’s nothing quite so hope-filled as a freshly planted garden. It’s just a wonderful sight.
This year Mr. Clark and I compromised on our ongoing seed vs. plants debate by doing some of both. Our agreement was that since Mr. Clark is the seed guy, he will tend to and appropriately thin the seeds – a task which I hate. In exchange, I got to buy some plants that normally he would’ve made me start from seed and just put them in the ground and watch them flourish. We’re both pretty excited about the garden – actually gardens - this year.
You see, in addition to our usual garden, which has been too shady for years, but also got the big-nursery-borne-lethal-
But, as usual, Mr. Clark’s cheery outlook and innate optimism won out.
“The peppers, basil and zinnias did fine in the old garden last year,” he said, wiping the sweat off his brow as he fervently tilled the soil in the new garden. “But, I want tomatoes and squash, beans and peas, and a few greens – none of those survived in the blight garden last year. That’s why I’m digging this new plot”…And doubling our work, I thought, but, he’s right. What’s the point of gardening if there’s no vine-ripened tomatoes in the deal? So, two garden plots we now have.
We went to The Home Depot and the Walmart to get our plants and seeds today – which was Easter Sunday and I felt a little weird about that – like shouldn’t we be doing something more spiritual? But, we were not alone; the aisles were full of enthusiastic shoppers - some in church clothes, others not – all visibly excited about the work ahead.
Something I notice about garden shop shoppers is that they all seem really happy – way happier than people shopping for Christmas presents or shoes or cars or other things. The married couples engage in animated discussions about their plans, while obviously skilled and well-read gardeners debate various types of hybrids and plant breeds. Mothers (or fathers) and daughters (or kids) laugh and joke as they explore the plant-filled aisles. And, there are always the single shoppers, usually older, in deep concentration, intent on finishing their personal landscape with a new set of plant miracles this year…The garden shop of any store is a vibrant, spirited, creativity-laden place this time of year and I’ve always had in the back of my mind that at some point I’d kind of like working there…
I got my love of gardening from both of my grandmothers – one a farmer’s wife, the other a skilled city gardener. I remember experiencing from a young age the wonder they felt as they led me through their gardens, showing me their new trial or well-established and flourishing plants…My one Gramma’s farm always smelled of red and white petunias in the summer, while my other Gramma’s rock garden was an ever changing experiment in new types of plants.
My love of playing in the dirt continued as a young mother, trying to landscape starter home after bigger-but-still-starter home on an always too tight budget. I remember wondering why my friend Brenda (also a young mother - from Connecticut) tried year after year to get Hostas to thrive in (my home state) Colorado’s arid dry soil, only to understand once we moved to Georgia and my lilacs and columbines consistently failed in this hot, red, always too moist soil…
“Bloom where you’re planted” is a slogan I have kept posted in my home for years and isn’t that the task? To be content, honest and aware of who and where we are at any stage of life? Gardening is more than just putting plants in the ground; it’s an affirmation of hope and life, and, if we are to succeed, a statement of where we are…What better day than Easter Sunday to once again experience those things?
Now, if only the new garden doesn’t get the blight…
The Food Pantry
I like to think when the good Lord nudges, I respond. Sometimes it takes a nudge or two before I get it and sometimes He puts me right where I need to be to get the message loud and clear. The latter was the case when I ended up seated next to Al Young recently at an event I was covering for the paper.
Al coordinates the Barrow County Cooperative Benevolence Ministries Mobile Food Pantry which is held at Holly Hill Mall on the fourth Thursday of each month. And, apparently there was some work for me to do there and some lessons for me to learn, because after talking with Al about this effort for only a few minutes, I went home and put the next food distribution on my calendar.
Al is a quiet man, soft spoken and full of purpose; his enthusiasm for the monthly food distribution and for the volunteers, churches and vendors who help make it happen is obvious and contagious. As I bundled up for my first distribution on that really cold fourth Thursday of last month, I wondered what I would find. Was this really going to be rewarding or would it turn out to be a waste of time?
The parking lot was full of cars and people and bustling energy. The people who were waiting to get food had apparently been there for awhile, as they sat in lawn chairs, all huddled up in blankets, in a line – a really long line. The pallets of food had been unloaded; the boxes, carts and bags needed to get each bundle of food to every person in line were in place; and, the volunteers were ready. It was an amazing sight.
One guy’s job was to cut open the boxes of beans, canned vegetables and fruit, boxed milk and jars of juice that go into each food package. A line of volunteers put a certain number of food items - bags of beans, canned goods, frozen blueberries, pork patties – whatever the ministries had gleaned for that month - into boxes that another group of volunteers slid down tables on the food distribution box packing line. At the end, “runners” with grocery carts, kids’ wagons and dollies joined one, two or three of the folks who were there for food and took their packages to their vehicle- wherever it might be in that big Holly Hill Mall parking lot. It was like a well-oiled, human assembly line working very enthusiastically – for free.
That first month my job was white beans – I stood on the food dispersing line and put three (not two or four, but three) bags of white beans in each box. It was really pretty boring and because all I saw were other volunteers, I didn’t really feel like I was in the mix. But, at the end of the morning, when all the food had been handed out, I felt strangely gratified. It felt good to be an anonymous cog in such a big helping machine. I thanked Al for telling me about the effort and told him I’d be back next month.
This month the weather was way more pleasant, but for some reason, there were way fewer volunteers. So, while we were not nearly as challenged by the conditions, the relatively small number of volunteers present made it clear our work was just as cut out for us as it had been last month in the cold. After a little time spent cutting open boxes (I brought my own box cutter this time…) I got to be a “runner,” which was wildly more entertaining than distributing bags of beans.
Rapid fire, load after load, I hustled food packages to people’s cars, trucks or in some cases, grocery carts, where they stood waiting for a friend or family member to come pick them up. In the process of this, I got to actually see and talk to the folks who were there for free food.
As is the case with any hand-out, there were some system abusers – for example, the two well-dressed men in cowboy hats and nice boots who let me load their food into a really nice, new Ford F-350 crew cab pick-up truck, all tweaked out with big new tires and really nice rims. “Shame on you!” I thought, as I rushed back across the parking lot to refill my cart.
The next customer put me back in my place. He was a humble, dirty, very thankful and shabbily-dressed man who helped me put his food in his faded, beat up old car…And, so it unfolded…The single mothers and babies…The young woman with manicured nails, too busy talking on her I-phone to even point her car out to me…And, a moment of tears and a strong hug, when I encountered a young woman who recognized me because she went to school with my daughter…She’s now living with her parents, waiting for a liver transplant…
Pretty quickly it became clear to me that this was not about them - it was about me. The reason I had been led to Holly Hill Mall on the fourth Thursday of each month was to learn to suspend judgement and simply, anonymously serve. Deuteronomy 15:11 states, “Since there will never cease to be some in need…I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy…”
No doubt about it, I’ll be at Holly Hill Mall early in the morning of the fourth Thursday of next month, and the month after that, and the month after that because when the good Lord calls and you answer, you’re always in for a wild, humbling, rewarding ride!
“I never think of the future. It comes soon enough.” - Albert Einstein
It’s happening again. I’m being dragged, kicking and screaming, into a future I’m not sure I want to embrace. First it was cell phones…Why would I carry a phone with me all the time, when I have an answering machine at home to record my messages? Then it was texting…Why do I have to learn how to type cryptic super-abbreviated messages on a tiny (cell phone) keyboard, when I can just pick up the (cell) phone and call?
Now it’s Facebook. My kids, my coworkers, prospective clients for my wedding photography business, my out-of-state family, even Mr. Clark…they all want me on Facebook. And, my question is “Why?” Do I really need another way to stay in constant touch when we’re all already texting, e-mailing, instant messaging, using I-phones, Google phones and talking almost constantly on our cells?
What ever happened to thoughtful, measured communication that didn’t have to take place instantly and at the speed of light?
I am a private person with strong hermit tendencies. It is hard for me to be out in the world longer than the 8-12 hour period working an ER shift or photographing a wedding takes. And, when I get home after doing one of those things, I like to be alone. I like staring out the window at the birds eating from the feeders in my yard or watching the trees in the wind. I like breathing in the scents on the air and seeing how the sunset unfolds. I like the quiet – not talking – just being alone…
So, why in the world would I rush to my computer to see who’s talking about what on Facebook tonight? I just left the hospital. Do I really care what those folks are watching on TV or having for dinner tonight? With all due respect to my ER coworkers, the answer is “No,” and, I don’t expect you really care what my evening plans are either. Sometimes less is more and when it comes to the subtlety and cleverness in most Facebook postings, well, less is, indeed, more.
It seems strange to me that our society has evolved to the point that meaningful communication has been replaced by brief clips of narcissistic postings made in a reality TV show kind of a way. Is this okay? Well, obviously it is, because that is what communication has become…Old school as I am, I miss “the good ole’ days” when conversation was supposed to be engaging and there was time to breathe in between sentences.
My kids have patiently and repeatedly explained the value of Facebook and other types of hyper-connected instant communication. It’s spontaneous; it’s fresh; you can post pictures…My little sister in Colorado is on a relentless mission trying to get me on board. She sends me detailed “How To” e-mails about doing things like posting a picture where currently I have the empty Facebook head…
I listen to Webinars on “How to Market to Today’s Bride” and it’s all about the Facebook page…And so on, and so on…Even Mr. Clark has taken up the torch, triumphantly announcing each day how many Facebook friend requests he’s racked up, while my requests remain at nearly none…I don’t know; maybe it’s time…If not for my own social purposes, for all those brides out there who really need my photographic services…
I remember when I first started using a cell phone. It seemed like an invasion of my privacy – that thing ringing all the time, whether I answered it or not…Then there was the time it took me to master texting…My first text-worthy cell phone only had that setting where it predicted what you wanted to say – it wouldn’t let me type on my own. So, I ended up sending messages like, “Monkle monkle s u v” which meant, “I’m running late, but will be there soon”...My family got the hang of what I was trying to say…
I guess I can start into the Facebook thing. It’s not like I don’t have a lot of competent folks to help me along…After all, as Heraclitus said, “There is nothing permanent except change,” so, I guess, still kicking and screaming, here I go…Look me up on Facebook, but don’t be surprised if you see a blank head where my picture should be, an empty profile and no postings from me, at all…Old dogs, new tricks…it’s gonna’ take me awhile to embrace Facebook as something more entertaining than simply watching the birds at the feeders in my yard.
Hope Floats
“Every pot will find its lid.” – Yiddish saying
My friend Ruth got married on Sunday and what a hard-won wedding it was. It is her third marriage and his second and between them, they have seven kids. Ruth has one set of 13-year-old twins and an older boy who just turned 16. Gregory, her groom, has two sets of twins – 13-year-olds and 15-year olds. I don’t care how in love you are, when it comes to feeding and clothing and nurturing that many kids, you’ve got a challenge on your hands.
Ruth’s first husband left shortly after her oldest son was born and her second husband mistreated her and the kids. It took Gregory two years of a really ugly divorce to gain custody of his kids and free himself from his first marriage - to a woman who was certifiably crazy and also mistreated the kids.
Ruth and Gregory met at a school function a year or so ago – their youngest twins, it turns out, were friends. Ruth’s divorce from her second husband had just become final and Gregory was well into the battle that his divorce became. And, while it wasn’t love at first sight, Ruth and Gregory seemed to instantly forge a bond that came from the recognition of another kind, tired, lonely, open heart with a lot of kids to raise.
In spite of their complex lives – both single parents, working full time – the love Ruth and Gregory share seems simple and true. They clearly enjoy being together; they call each other “Honey;” they smile and laugh all the time. He writes her love letters and she makes meals for him and his kids. They like nothing better than being together, which, given their work and parenting schedules, had been difficult to make happen.
I remember how lit up Ruth was when she announced that Gregory asked her to marry him and how proud she was, showing off her ring. I remember thinking Wow! what are they going to do with all those kids? Can you imagine how much food that many teenagers will eat? And what about all that crazy, raw, hormone energy bouncing off the walls of that house?
Nonetheless, their time had come; there was a wedding to plan and in spite of their obviously very tight budget, this time Ruth and Gregory wanted everything to be just right. I helped Ruth plan the wedding and her family and friends chipped in generously with time, ideas and energy. In the background, however, there was still the matter of all of those kids. What they would wear, and how they would act, and how to incorporate them into the ceremony that would turn their two families into one?
Before the wedding, I’d not met any of the kids. I’d only heard about them - mostly the worried kinds of things friends share when seeking advice or needing to vent about parenting. And, I’ll admit, based on what I’d heard, I was more than a little worried - not only about how the wedding would go, but how the family would meld afterwards.
My worries vanished as soon as I met the kids. All of the boys were pressed and dressed in matching black dress pants and blue button-down shirts. Their hair was combed, their shoes were shined, and, they looked sharp. The one girl was obviously on cloud 9 in her bright blue sparkly flower girl dress. And, you could sense their excitement about the whole event.
I felt a lump in my throat when one of Ruth’s 13-year-old twins said, “Wow, Mom! Is that your bouquet? You look just like a bride!” Another lump came when Gregory’s daughter, the flower girl, asked “Miss Ruth” if she could hold her bouquet “for just a minute” then told Ruth how “very pretty” she looked. One of Gregory’s sons folded origami flowers to decorate each reception table; his older sons took obvious pride in ushering the guests. And, the look on Ruth’s oldest boy’s face as he walked his mother down the aisle was priceless.
The sight of that clearly happy, deeply in love couple standing at the alter surrounded by seven shining faces was quite something. The thing that really choked me up, though, was watching them light their unity candle. Each of the seven kids very solemnly and slowly lit a single little candle then used it to light their mother or dad’s bigger candle. Then together, Ruth and Gregory lit one big candle - uniting all their new family’s love, hopes and light…It was a wonderful wedding in every way.
I missed my friends Lou and John Peterman’s 60th anniversary celebration because I was at Ruth’s wedding. Sixty years together – imagine that! Mr. Clark and I are only half-way there with our 30 years together. Ruth and Gregory are just starting out.
“Hope floats” is an expression I’ve always liked and in the case of a good marriage, isn’t that right? Just give hope a chance to float up and it will, every time.
The City of Winder
I miss Buddy Ouzts. Not that the current mayor isn’t doing a good job, it’s just I miss the way living in Winder felt all those years Buddy was at the helm. There was a spirit of service to the citizens that seems to have faded under the current management.
Don’t get me wrong, I know there were and still are a lot of hard working, dedicated people who work for the city. And, I realize Buddy didn’t accomplish any of the things that were done for the citizens of Winder during his tenure alone. Even if it isn’t obvious in the spelling, there is a “team” in “city” and no mayor gets much done without understanding that.
What Buddy brought to the table was a tone of leadership that said, “We’re here to serve.” That is a tone we don’t always hear coming out of the current city administrator’s office and it is a tone, as a citizen, I miss.
Another thing I miss about Buddy’s management style is the spirit of “Why not?” rather than “Why should we?”
Under Mayor Ouzts, the thinking went something like: “The city has some old empty buildings downtown. Why not turn them into a community college and a center for the arts?” Done. “What? Youth crime is a problem and we have no Boys & Girls Club. Why not put a team together to work on that and get the ball rolling with some city muscle and funds?” Done. “Hmm…there’s a bunch of city buildings that need work and now we’ve got these big projects underway. Why not hire our own contractor/maintenance men instead of farming all that work out?”
Again, I know Buddy didn’t accomplish these things alone; there were, and still are, a lot of people making significant contributions in terms of time, money and ideas. It’s just that as mayor, Buddy seemed to have a gift for seeing what could happen and then building or becoming part of a team that made it work. I don’t see as much “thinking outside the box” going on down at city hall these days. Granted, Buddy served during much better economic times, but shouldn’t the challenges the current administration faces result in some new ideas and action plans?
I applaud the city’s participation in the Livable Cities Initiative. It sounds like that will give the city access to funding for projects that otherwise might never happen, which is a good thing. Now that the LCI study is done and the results are in, the challenge for city leaders will be to come up with a consensus on what should happen, when and then get going on some funds procurement and team building that will end in results. It’s going to take a big dose of “Why not?” thinking and I hope that spirit can be rekindled.
It sounds like our new city councilman, Bob Dixon, is stirring things up a bit by asking questions and making service-oriented suggestions – another good thing. He may prove to be the spark that gets that “We’re here to serve” flame going again.
The recent flap about city utility bills is indicative of how the leadership climate has eased away from a clear dedication to service, since Buddy’s days. Apparently, Winder utility customers had an extra 10 days on their last utility bill, due to some computer and city meter-reading personnel problems. Since those 10 days were amongst the coldest of the year, some really big utility bills went out and initially, the city was not even going to work with people on the late fees.
Minimal citizen/customer service would’ve been to include some kind of explanation flier with those big bills (a comment Councilman Dixon made during the last city council meeting.) Better customer service would’ve been to offer citizens some kind of payment plan and temporarily suspend late fees. The best citizen/customer service would be to offer budget billing to those who qualify – a service the city used to offer, but no longer does, except to those who are “grand-fathered” in.
The point is, Winder has a history of going above and beyond for its citizens and among the reasons for that are the passion for service and vision mayors like Buddy Ouzts have had. The recent trend towards expensive city management - with less mayor and council involvement - is a dangerous one, as serving “the city” doesn’t necessarily mean the citizens get served. I urge Mayor Thompson and the council to take a more active role in bringing a “Can do,” “Why not?” and “How can we help?” attitude back to our city’s leadership.
Building Regulations in Barrow County
The Barrow County Builder’s Association is about to pull a fast one and I hope the board of commissioners doesn’t fall for it.
Last week a spokesman for the BCBA, Terry Dunahoo, asked the board to reduce local building requirements in order to stimulate the local building economy. And, while that might sound like a good idea, the logic behind it is flawed.
According to Mr. Dunahoo, the builder’s association wants the minimum square footage requirement for a single-family home reduced from 1,600 to 1,350. They also request a reduction in buffer and sidewalk easement requirements. They want to reduce or eliminate requirements that a certain number of trees be left or planted on each lot. They are asking that current requirements for subdivision greenspace be removed. And, they want water and sewer tap fees lowered.
The reason the BCBA is making these requests, Mr. Dunahoo told the board, is that the local inventory of vacant new homes fell last year and local builders need help getting the construction industry moving again. The idea is that reducing local building regulations will stimulate construction by making it less expensive to build new homes. Mr. Dunahoo also told the board the changes would help more builders meet the market’s demand for homes that sell for under $200,000.
I’m not sure where Mr. Dunahoo and other members of the BCBA spend most of their time, but the last time I drove through Barrow County there were empty houses and half-built subdivisions in the under $150,000 price range all over the place. And, with local foreclosures at an all time high, there is also a large inventory of bank-owned homes to be had for under $200,000.
There is no shortage of affordable housing in Barrow County.
There is a shortage of qualified buyers and banks willing (and able) to lend. This is not a local problem - it is nationwide. The reason the construction industry has been brought to its knees has nothing to do with construction costs or available inventory. It is because our economy is in trouble, still showing only minor signs of recovery.
With the exception of gainfully employed, first-time buyers who can take advantage of that $8,000 federal tax credit to get a good deal on a home, no one is buying or selling right now. And, due to job loss and other financial problems, a lot of people are losing their homes.
Dumbing down local building regulations will do nothing to stimulate the local economy. It will only make it easier for builders to turn a profit selling less for more when the economy turns around. The battle for the regulations now in place was a long and hard fought one, motivated by a school system that could not afford to keep pace with ever increasing student numbers and local governments unable to afford the infrastructure and services that years of unbridled, uncontrolled housing growth brought.
Even in the current economy, the basic points remain the same: in order to support housing growth, a solid commercial tax base has to be in place. Houses – especially small ones – do not generate enough tax revenue to pay for the public and school services their residents require. The more houses you put in a subdivision, the more residents you have using services. And, without a sound commercial tax base, it’s us tax-payers – not the builders - who pay for those services.
I am not anti-growth, anti-business or anti-construction – far from it. Mr. Clark made a good living in construction software for 25 years before the bottom fell out of the economy and his industry died. I am simply pro-reality and the reality is that it is going to take a lot more than reducing minimum home square footage and lowering tap fees to get the construction industry going again.
If the BCBA and the board of commissioners want to do something to help stimulate the local economy, a better focus would be looking at ways to stimulate commercial growth – that’s jobs, that’s taxes, that’s economic recovery. There’s plenty of already developed, empty commercial space in Barrow County. Why not look at some rent deals and tax cuts and other incentives to help move business into our community?
Local builders aren’t stupid. They’re not going to start building homes again until there are buyers to buy them. All the regulation reductions in the world aren’t going to produce qualified home buyers. All the BCBA is doing is using hard times as an excuse to ensure bigger profit on down the road. I say, leave the building regulations alone and work on other ways to get the local economy going again.
From Athens paper blog:
Mr. Dunahoo was part of the committee which developed these regulations which included citizens, builders, developers, staff, and elected officials. He and other developers got higher densities in exchange for these requirements, which helped offset his cost for implementing the new measures.
Health care
You can look at it from a sweeping national perspective or a personal I-just-need-my-blood-pressure-
To get a glimpse of the big picture, spend a day in a busy emergency room. That’s what I do, one or two days a week as a social worker, and after six years, I am still amazed at how badly the system needs to be overhauled.
Yesterday during my shift at least half or two thirds of the patients we saw did not need to be in the emergency room. The toothache, rash, sore throat, cough or fever they came with could’ve been dealt with just as effectively – and a lot more affordably - at their family doctor’s office or some walk-in clinic somewhere.
A fair number of those people did try to get in to see their doctors, but were told there were no appointments available. A common end to that conversation is, if you think you’re really sick, “go to the emergency room.”
Another group of the people who really shouldn’t have been in the emergency room are folks without insurance who either can’t afford or don’t want to pay the co-pay doctors and walk-in clinics require up front. These “private pays,” as they are called, come to the ER because they know they will be seen without money up front. Some of them do, eventually, pay off their bill; most do not. And, since a large number of them have nothing for the hospital to take and/or no wage to be garnered, that is money lost – for the hospital, and ultimately, us tax payers, as well.
Why do hospitals see these people? Because they have to. There is a federal law requiring emergency rooms to see anyone who walks through the door, regardless of race, sex, age, nationality, chief complaint, insurance status or ability to pay. And, while ensuring that anyone who needs emergency care in our country gets it is a noble notion, the reality is a very expensive sinkhole of non-paid for, non-emergent care that is ever increasing because of rising health care costs and the bad economy.
A lot of people who used to have jobs and health insurance no longer do. Many of them have some medical condition, like high blood pressure or diabetes that requires basic care and a pill or two a day. Without insurance, even basic care is pretty expensive and without a job, paying for that pill or two a day can become nearly impossible. The result? After a month or two or more of going without health care and medicine, folks end up in the emergency room with sky high blood pressure or blood sugar so severely out of whack they can’t function.
Their lack of access to medical care and basic medicines results in a health crisis that becomes a legitimate emergency. Penny-wise, pound foolish – the whole system.
From a personal perspective, I only have one medical problem that requires medicine – high blood pressure. And, I only have to take one pill a day to keep it under control. But, when Mr. Clark was out of work and we had no insurance that became a pretty big deal.
Thankfully, I had the annual check-up just before Mr. Clark got laid off, so I didn’t have to pay the $150-$500 the office visit and blood work would’ve cost without insurance. Would I have had the check-up if I didn’t have insurance? Probably not; like some of those folks in the ER, I would’ve just stopped taking my medicine once the prescription ran out.
Paying for medicine once the insurance is gone is another challenge. The generic version of the pill I take costs $65-$120 per month. I know this because I called around. Finally I found a “mom ‘n pop shop” in Athens that sells my medicine for $14.90 per month. Had it not been for them, I would’ve ended up off my medicine for sure, because the $65-$120 the other pharmacies charge just wasn’t there. If there’s $50-$105 in profit wiggle room on one prescription, imagine how much room for reform there is in the whole system.
Because of my blood pressure, my doctor wants me to have an EKG and a chest x-ray each year. I waited to do that until Mr. Clark’s new insurance kicked in because my co-pay for both was only $20. My blood pressure shot right up, though, when I got my “explanation of benefits” statement from the insurance company and saw that if I didn’t have insurance, I would’ve been charged $583 for those two very routine tests. Apparently my insurance company was able to negotiate a rate of $154, so that’s what the hospital got paid. That $429 in profit wiggle room, again, seems like an awful lot.
There’s a lot of talk about how we can’t afford to reform our health care system; my question is, how can we afford not to?
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