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!

Facebook

“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 60^th 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-medicine perspective – either way our health care system needs to be reformed.

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?

Enough!

“Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Being willing is not enough; we must do.” Leonardo DaVinci

Enough of the shenanigans from local government and school system officials! It’s time for a return to ethics, reason, accountability and personal responsibility, which means it’s time for some spring cleaning.

Let’s start with Barrow County. The board of commissioners needs to formally request that Chairman Yearwood resign. While this man’s intentions may be good, his actions have been nothing short of disastrous for this county. We’ve lost 15-plus department heads under his leadership, and had fire trucks manned with only one person sent to our fires. We’ve had job posting, training, hiring and equipment maintenance delays. We’ve had more than our fair share of public antics and temper tantrums. And, we’re spending WAY too much tax payer money on legal fees.

Currently $140,000 in county funds has been budgeted for the investigation and defense of race and gender discrimination claims and law suits filed against the county, the chairman and department director Lyn Clement.

Some $42,000 of that was spent on investigating if the chairman and Mr. Clement actually talked about lynching an African American department head, if the chairman joked about the human resource director’s weight and slapped her backside, and if “the N-word” was used by several county officials.

The findings of that 37-page report are as appalling as the actions investigated. While it was acknowledged that “a bad choice of words” had been made, “no racially derogatory intent or motive” was found. And, while there were witnesses to the other allegations, nothing they said was considered substantial enough to refute what Mr. Clement and the chairman said in their own defense.

I’m sorry, but this is just wrong. Why is this level of outdated backwoods behavior being tolerated, even for a minute?

In an effort to shore up the damage, the board of commissioners voted to restructure some of the county departments, demote Mr. Clement and send the chairman and Mr. Clement to anger management/cultural sensitivity classes at their own expense. Not good enough! It’s time to make personnel and management changes so that this kind of behavior ends for good. Mr. Yearwood and Mr. Clement need to go.

Human resources director Norma Jean Brown probably needs to be replaced, too. After all, where was she when all the staffing problems and EEOC claim generating behavior was going on? Isn’t hiring, firing, dealing with personnel issues and keeping the county from being sued part of her job? Instead of preventing legal problems, Ms. Brown is one of the complainants in a suit against the county. I’m sure Ms. Brown has done a lot of good things for the county, but sometimes a system becomes so poisoned the only way to get things back on track is with a thorough clean up.

While we’re at it, the City of Winder could use some ethics revitalization, as well. While business as usual seems to function pretty well at city hall, the pending sexual harassment suit against the city, finance director Ginn and city administrator Beck contains some very unsavory allegations. If there’s anything to this story of a failed romantic three-way, inappropriate sexual advances and a retaliatory job loss, more than just the “reprimand” that was given needs to occur. Rather than spending tax payer money on legal fees for law suit foot dragging and posturing, maybe the city council could call for a prompt set of depositions and, based on what they reveal, a settlement. If there were breaches in ethics and professionalism, those involved need to be shown to the door.

Several of our school system officials have their share of ethical egg on the face, as well. What about that mess with the teacher (Ms. Payne) who is suing because she was (allegedly) encouraged to resign by principal McGee, in response to an anonymous e-mail superintendent Saunders received about a photo of her holding beer and wine on her (private) Facebook page. No hearing, no investigation into who sent the e-mail, just “Good bye!” To top things off, public relations coordinator Leighton made it sound like the tip wasn’t anonymous until it was proven that it was. Not good! It’s probably time for a settlement there, too.

Long story short, Barrow County, the City of Winder and the Barrow County School System are full of competent, professional, ethical people who work hard serving the public at their jobs each day. They do it without generating headlines or law suits, and most of them get paid a lot less than the folks involved in the tomfoolery I’ve been talking about. These people deserve top notch leadership and so do we.

It’s time to put an end to compromised ethics; for that to happen, changes have to be made; these changes are not going to happen on their own. Our boards and councils have to act, even if all they have the power to do is demand that the people in power do the right thing.

Wii

“These things are fun and fun is good.” - Dr. Seuss

I am a serious person who tends to take herself way too seriously. Raised in a home of hardworking perfectionists, this acorn didn’t fall far from the tree. I’m a nose-to-the grind-stone, no nonsense type, who is quick to judge and hard to please. Add high personal standards and more than a dash of perfectionism, and you’ve got someone who has a hard time lightening up.

I don’t do well at telling jokes and I’m really bad at just hanging around. I’m not one for office water cooler chatter and any notion of how to play a practical joke completely escapes me. I’ve never been good at games - in fact, they annoy me. (Thankfully, my husband and children do not share these characteristics, so on family vacations and holidays, they are more than happy to wile away hours laughing and playing cards, while I sit in the corner reading – glad to be near their happy voices – but wondering, “How can they do that for so long?”)

These things said, it won’t surprise you to hear that I don’t like exercising. I like physical activity – gardening, biking, hiking, walking my dogs - goal oriented activities with a distinct beginning, middle and end. I don’t like exercising just for exercise sake. That doesn’t stop me from slogging it out at the Y on the stepping machine three or four times a week, getting that recommended 20 minutes in. I still do it - I just don’t enjoy it – at all.

One of my new year’s resolutions was to lighten up, find some joy and stop taking things so seriously. So, on my kids’ recommendation (and with Mr. Clark’s okay, times still being tight as they are…) I used some of my Christmas money to buy a Nintendo Wii and two games – Wii Fit Plus and Dance Dance Revolution, Hottest Party 3. And, oh my Lord, has that ever done the trick – at least where exercise and self-importance is concerned!

It is virtually impossible to take oneself seriously when one sees oneself - actually one’s Mii (a little character in the game you design to look just like yourself) flopping around on an iceberg in a penguin suit, jumping for fish and way too often, falling into the water. My Mii looks equally foolish flapping unevenly through the air, swooping and falling erratically, while dressed in a chicken suit. And, don’t even get me started on how silly me and my Mii look in our drum major outfit, leading the band, or in our ski jump gear, rolling head over heels down the ski slope after yet another unbalanced take-off.

The Wii fit thing comes with a board and some hand controllers. You stand on the board and hold the controllers while you flail about trying to play the games. One of the real highlights of the thing is that every time you get ready to play the games, it weighs you, gives you some balance, agility or focus tests, then tells you your Wii age for the day. My best age so far was 40 – not bad, given that I’m 52; my worst age is 67. I’m not sure what was going on that day…

In addition, your Mii gets fatter or thinner, depending on what the scale in the board reports, and a cute little voice either congratulates you for losing weight or says things like, “Ohhh, that’s overweight!” Talk about Weight Watchers with an edge. A room full of real humans weighing in has nothing on that little Wii voice and that ever fatter or thinner Mii!

As for Dance Dance – my, oh my! If you’ve got dancing skills like mine and nearly no sense of rhythm, you can really have some fun, burn off some calories and look ridiculous trying to keep up with the little arrows on the screen that tell your feet what they should be doing on the big pad you flail around on while watching video clips of the songs you’re “dancing” to.

You can pick anything from ‘80s hits like Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like a Wolf” and New Kids on the Block’s “The Right Stuff” to Rianna’s “Dilerious” and “Viva La Vida” by Coldplay. All I can say, is if you’re as dance-move and rhythm-impaired as me, shut the drapes and close the door because no one wants to see how much fun you’re having looking so bad!

So far, my dance, balance and agility skills seem to be improving – slowly, but steadily – while my sense of self-importance is beginning to decrease. There are some days when I can’t wait to get home, don that penguin suit with my Mii, lighten up and have some fun. Even though I still go to the Y, the drudgery of it has lessened because now the little Mii voice in my head says encouraging things like (in the words of Dr. Seuss) “You’re in pretty good shape, for the shape you are in,” which will help melt seriousness, as well pounds (we hope), away.

Clutter

Twenty years is a long time. It’s an especially long time to go without cleaning out your drawers, closets and cubbies; and, that is exactly what I’ve done. Initially my excuse was that I was too busy - the kids were little, I was working, and there was a lot going on. The next excuse was that I was still too busy – the kids were in high school, I was working more, and there was still a lot going on. After that the kids went to college, I was still busy, so all those drawers, closets, nooks, crannies and cubbies stayed cluttered.

Most lately, my excuse for letting what was once clutter turn into chaos has been that I had to work all the time because Mr. Clark was down-sized and the job search wasn’t going well. Now that Mr. Clark is employed again, I am taking a break from overwork and my primary goal is to regain control of my life, one room at a time. It’s a daunting task, but it really is time!

I started with the kitchen, which was a good choice because it was evident there that I had crossed the line from chaos to crazy. The pantry had some items in it with expiration dates in the late ‘80’s. In one of the four junk drawers, I found my cork collection. Why I saved hundreds of wine and champagne corks is beyond me; I think it had to do with a picture of a bulletin board made from corks I saw in a magazine years ago…Good bye cork collection!

The contents of another junk drawer included five rolls of electric tape - all half used, four bales of thin wire – also half used, six boxes of emergency candles – I guess I was expecting quite an emergency, a bunch of new and half-used birthday candles – all out of the box, seven bottles of various types of glue – all too old and hard to use, and several toy Crash Test Dummy heads and bodies – broken and in need of some of that tape, wire and glue. My married, adult children haven’t played with Crash Test Dummies since they were in the third grade, so that tells you how long that drawer had been neglected.

In my desk, I found 10 rolls of scotch tape, some 32-cent stamps, a couple of my son’s school progress reports – from the eighth grade, several menus from restaurants that went out of business in the mid-‘90’s, about 500 loose paper clips and thumb tacks, and a fine collection of warrantee cards and instruction booklets for appliances and tools that have long since died and gone to household heaven…Good Lord! How nutty do I really need to be?

Five large trash bags, four bulging Goodwill bags, two big rolls of shelf paper, and eight drawer organizers later things are looking pretty good in the kitchen. I still have to give everything a thorough cleaning and I may even decide to repaint the walls…It’s just a start, but it feels good to begin to regain control.

During a break in my kitchen rampage, I read an article by a woman who calls herself “the most organized person on Earth.” Deniece Schofield is her name and she writes books and conducts seminars on getting organized. Not surprisingly, she has some pretty good tips:

- Working room by room, put things in four boxes – Trash, Donate, Goes to Another Room and Don’t Know Yet. Put the Don’t Know Yet box in the garage or attic, and if you’ve not opened it six months later, donate or trash the contents. (I’m eliminating the Goes to Another Room box and the Don’t Know Yet box to streamline my process…)

- Store infrequently used objects. The tendency is to leave them in easily accessible spots, which creates clutter. (This means the card table chairs that have been collecting dust in a kitchen corner for two years have to find a new home…)

- Use drawer dividers. (Amen!)

- Find an organizing buddy to help keep you motivated and on track. (“No! You don’t need to keep those beaters, in case the mixer they go to shows up,” says Mr. Clark…)

And last, but by no means least: Eliminate floating bits of paper. This is a big one for me, as I have newspaper clippings, magazine articles, recently and not-so-recently paid bills, notes to myself, letters to write, to-do lists, and who knows what else – in piles everywhere. I even have a closet full of Nordstrom and Macy’s bags – the big ones with the handles – that contain piles of “floating bits of paper” that I have scooped up in an attempt to create space (and look less crazy) before company arrives…Ms. Schofield would be appalled.

I don’t know why I keep all these things. I think it has to do with being a sentimental person who is often worried about impending disaster. It’s as if by keeping things in piles and rarely-opened drawers, I’m keeping memories alive or feeling more prepared. Of course, that’s not the case; it just creates clutter. So, from here on out it’s the Schofield plan for me. After all, it’s never to late to change!

Holly Trees

“My husband and I never considered divorce – murder perhaps, but not divorce.”

– Dr. Joyce Brothers

Our front yard looks like a tornado blew through – the signs of destruction are everywhere. Huge piles of holly limbs, branches and other shrubbery fill the area between the sidewalk and the street, forming a berm so high you can barely see over it. Where stately old holly trees and large mature shrubbery once stood, now there are only barren jagged stumps. The welcoming canopy that used to soften the height of our columns and muffle the size of our house is gone – replaced by a barren wasteland that screams, “This old house needs to be painted, and caulked, and patched up, and fixed - Now!”

It was not an act of God that did all this; it was Mr. Clark. In a matter of only a few hours, my husband and his tiny electric chain saw managed to ruin 20-plus years of carefully tended front yard neglect – a look I worked hard to achieve and was quite fond of.

I am from Colorado, where things don’t grow the way they do here. It is much drier there and the winters are harsh. In Colorado, unless you’re a farmer battling an invasive weed, you don’t pull it up or cut it back; you just let it be. This is a place where people actually plant privet - on purpose. Moving from a lean landscape like that to Georgia’s verdant green amazed me, and 22 years later, I am still not used to the lushness that surrounds me.

I can’t believe I cut gardenias anytime I want from the bushes that thrive in my yard and bring huge bouquets of hydrangeas inside all summer long. And, I’ve never gotten used to the sight of my camellia bushes covered with blooms - in February! Before moving to Georgia, I had no idea so many different kinds of birds could nest in one yard, and the only cardinals I’d seen in the winter were on Christmas cards.

For these and other reasons, I’m not a fan of the neatly trimmed landscape. Give me wild, overgrown and slightly un-kept. Let me see butterflies flitting from flower to flower - even if some of those flowers are weeds. And, let me hear the birds sing – even if some of them nest in holes they’ve pecked in our columns and eaves.

Don’t look for me with a rake as soon as the first fall colors appear; and don’t expect to hear my leaf blower, blowing hour after hour, as the battle with leaves goes on and on, until that final leaf falls. I am not a fan of the neatly kept lawn; and, to be brutally honest, the sight of a perfectly edged lawn creeps me out – like, that is SO not what Mother Nature intended when she created grass.

I’m not being judgmental; I’m just saying there are different styles of yard management and mine errs in the direction of “less is more.” Why spend all that time trying to rein in nature? Why not just enjoy her as she is?

Mr. Clark has been talking about taking down those holly trees and cutting back those unruly old shrubs for years. And, for years I’ve been putting him off, with things like, “Not this year, maybe next…” or “You don’t really have time for a project like that…”

This year his insistence became more and more firm, and so, in a rare move for me, I gave in. Part of me felt like, “If he really feels this strongly about it…..” and part of me felt like, “Is this really a marital fight worth taking on?” It turns out, it was. As soon as the first holly tree came down, I was devastated. By the time he hacked the first big old shrub nearly to the ground, I was in tears.

“Does this look like an improvement to you?” I cried. “Yes, it does!” was his reply. And, so he went on to take down the second holly tree and hack down the other old shrub, dragging their dead carcasses to the curb like a victorious hunter.

The birds who used to spend their days in those holly trees flitted from the phone line to the remaining bushes, calling frantically – their once well-sheltered feeders either gone or standing brazenly out in the open - as if to say, “Hey, Mr. Hawk! Come get me!”

My tears continued and when night fell it made me very sad to see so many of the birds I used to see at my holly tree feeders flitting for shelter in the pile of dead holly limbs by the street…Mr. Clark and I had a big fight that night and aren’t quite done being “too quiet” with each other yet.

Marriage is hard sometimes because (at least between Mr. Clark and me) it’s never the big stuff that matters – it’s the little things like holly trees and shrubbery. Judith Viorst said, “One advantage of marriage is that, when you fall out of love…it keeps you together until you fall in again.” And, she’s right. Spring will come and in no time, those jagged stumps will start sprouting again…

Why

“Breathe, pray, be kind…In dark times, give off light.” - Anne Lamott

I never know how to react to a major disaster like the earthquake in Haiti. It feels like I should do something grand – more grand than write a $30 check to the Red Cross. In the face of the ongoing news coverage of devastation and death, it feels like the things I fill my days with shouldn’t matter – like I should be doing more. How can I spend a Sunday reorganizing my pantry when there is unimaginable pain and suffering going on in a place not so very far away?

These are the kinds of thoughts that fill my head anytime I read or hear about death, destruction or disaster. War, the wars all over the world…children, civilians and soldiers suffering pain and injury…a hurricane…a plane crash…a flood…a suicide bomber in a market…I have a strong faith and I believe God watches over us, but I have never been able to resolve the reason behind catastrophe.

One of my favorite authors is Anne Lamott. She writes with clarity, wisdom and humor about life’s big questions and small situations. In her book Plan B, Further Thoughts on Faith, she wrestles with the war in Iraq by saying: “We remember that God is present wherever people suffer. God’s here with us when we’re miserable, and God is there in Iraq. The suffering of innocent people draws God close to them. Kids hit by bombs are not abandoned by God.”

I like that thought and I call it to mind when my brain begins to spin about “bad things happening to good people”…Suffering draws God close to them. In the ER (where I work part-time as a social worker) we see plenty of bad things happen to good people, and it is easy to get caught up in asking, “Why?”

Why does that miserable, mean-spirited, angry 62-year-old drunk get to keep on living, while a young father of two is killed in a car wreck? Why does the abusive mother of six get to keep having kids, while one of the nicest, sweetest, kindest nurses in the ER pays for fertility treatment after failed fertility treatment?

Why is the single mother of two battling breast cancer for a second time, while a habitual over-dose patient survives yet another “suicide attempt” by taking a few too many ibuprofen? Why is the long-time wife batterer in perfect health, while the loving husband of a couple married for only 15 years passes suddenly, from a completely unexpected heart attack?

Why? Why? Why?

The answer is, we don’t get to ask questions like that and expect answers. Faith doesn’t work that way. We don’t get to see the big picture. We just have to trust that God has it handled.

In the same chapter, Lamott asks: “How do we help? How do we not lose our minds?” Her pastor answers, “You take care of the suffering.” “I can’t get to Iraq,” Anne laments. “There are folks who are miserable here,” is her pastor’s reply.

And, it’s true.

“Be a ladder, be a lamp, be a life boat,” was the slogan on my desk calendar yesterday. And, boy! Did I fail miserably. It was a busy day in the ER and I got stuck dealing with one of the meanest, angriest, most manipulative black holes of a human being I have ever met. He is a legend in the ER, because he is always so difficult to deal with. On a scale of 1 to 10, his pain is always a 10. He rides his call light like a rodeo champ. He makes demands and yells and waves and curses angrily at whoever comes in his room or even walks by, and, he’s passed every mental health evaluation he’s ever had. The guy is not crazy, he’s just horrible.

Within the first 10 minutes of dealing with him, I let his darkness overtake my light and began to respond in kind. Within a half hour, I was actively being mean, cold and angry right back at him, and that made it a very long, very tiring, very angry ER day.

Jesus said whatever you do to the least of his people, you do to him. And, I did a pretty good job of beating Jesus up in the ER yesterday…I can’t go to Haiti, and I’m not going to write any really big Red Cross checks. But, I can do a better job of simply breathing and being kind to those I encounter along my way.

Homeless

“We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty.”

-- Mother Teresa

It has been so cold, for what seems like so long – at this point I’m not sure I’ll ever be warm again. Part of it is our old house is so old and drafty; part of it is we don’t have any super cold weather clothes because it is so rarely super cold here; and, part of it is I am cold natured. I have always had a hard time feeling warm when the wind kicks up or the temperature drops below freezing.

Perhaps that is why I feel so bad for the homeless when the winter rain turns to sleet or things begin to freeze. I simply can’t imagine being homeless on a bitterly cold or relentlessly rainy night.

We see a lot of homeless people in the emergency room (where I am a social worker part-time.) Some are homeless because of mental illness or drug or alcohol abuse. Some are homeless from war traumas. More recently, some are homeless because they’ve lost jobs and houses and ways to pay the rent. They tend to be luckier and more resourceful, as the homeless go, because some still have cars to sleep in and live out of, and those who don’t are better at keeping track of things like how to get into the Salvation Army shelter and stay there night after night without missing the check-in deadline or getting kicked out.

A common thread in most homeless people’s stories is that they have no one to turn to for help. Either they’re alone in this world or they think they are. Sometimes they’ve burned all their bridges with drug and alcohol abuse or by constantly going off their mental health meds. Sometimes they really are all alone because of death or divorce or years and years of failing to meet even the most basic of expectations.

Rarely, a homeless person actually has family or an ex-wife or an estranged adult child who still cares enough to offer help when a hospital social worker calls. It comes in form of a bus ticket, a new coat or pair of boots, a meal, a ride somewhere or maybe even a place to stay for a few nights. My observation - not judgment - is most of the time the homeless person manages to mess up (yet again somehow) and end up back in the tent or box or shelter or doorway where he or she started. What a cycle to be trapped in…

It is easy to judge the homeless harshly. After all, how does a person mess up so badly that he or she ends up completely alone in this world without even a roof over his or her head? All I can say is they seem to come by their state in life honestly, for all the reasons described above. My impression is that most of the homeless would do better - if only they could. They just don’t have the tools the rest of us take for granted.

One of my coworkers in the ER, another social worker, had an epiphany the other night, about how our tendency is to judge rather than simply see. She was working with a recently crippled man who had been hurt in a work accident on a job where the boss didn’t carry workman’s comp. His back was badly injured and he ended up in a wheel chair. He didn’t have insurance at the time of the accident nor did he have any way of getting it, once his list of pre-existing conditions became an arms-length long and he lost his job and his ability to work – all because of the accident. To make things even worse, the man had two little kids he was trying to raise alone, without any apparent help from family.

Due to his chief complaint of “back pain,” the wheelchair, and his anger level, the man was quickly labeled a “pain meds seeker, ” which meant he was on the fast track for discharge without having his true needs, whatever they might be (if, indeed, he had any…) addressed.

At some point during their interaction, the man broke down and started to cry, as he told my coworker what had happened to him and how it had made his life almost unbearably difficult and complex. He told her about his frustration about not being able to provide for - or even play with - his kids; and, he talked about the big unwieldy medical care system he seemed to be plummeting through the cracks of. Something about his sincerity touched my coworker’s heart and she began to actually hear what he was saying…

“It’s much easier,” she told me later, “ to picture yourself in someone else’s shoes than to see the person standing there in his own shoes…It’s easy for me to tell that man what I would do if I were him. It’s much harder and much more challenging for me to actually figure out a way to help him from right where he is.”

I liked what she said and I took it to heart. It’s not enough for me to feel bad for the homeless; I need to do more to tangibly ease their pain. I’m not sure what form that will take, but it needs to be more substantial than the extra blanket, hot meal or bus-pass-and-sandwich-to-go I’ve been offering…It’s a welcome challenge to face, as I wait for my world to thaw.