Newspaper Page Text
♦ FRIDAY, JULY 27, 2007
4A
OPINION^
Daniel F. Evans
President
Editor and Publisher
Julie B. Evans
Vice President
Group Marketing
An issue that brings us
(them) to their knees
You probably remember us mention
ing these, but they “bare” repeating
based on the gist of this editorial.
A couple of years ago we watched a young
child - approximately 10 - engaged in youth
baseball head
out to the field
with his pants
pulled down
four-to-six
inches below
his waist -
underwear a
shining. And
this was not
the common
one-size-fits
all (only it
doesn’t) uni
form problem
common to
growing boys
and girls.
"His grand
mother, we
presume based
on her age it
was her grand-
mother, saw him and immediately shouted
out something to the effect of: “Boy, if you
don’t pull them pants up right now I’m
going to come out there and spank your
butt.”
About a year earlier we witnessed a foot
ball player taking part in a conditioning
exercise. The drill had him carrying two
dumbbells - what looked to be 10 pounds
each - one in each hand and from point A
to Point B. Because it was preseason he was
not in pads or uniform, choosing instead to
wear sweatpants, and once again, of a size
large enough to droop well past his waist.
His biggest problem was as he walked the
pants began to fall. Fearing a good yelling
from the coach if he waivered, he ignored
them - even as they made their way to his
ankles.
Such has become the condition of our
society. We have children - mostly teens
- who simply don’t know how to wear pants
properly.
OK, “properly” is a debate to them.
“Fashion” would probably be the word they
use. “You look stupid,” is the advice us “old
schoolers,” would give, but it would fall on
deaf ears.
No, this is not a new issue. In fact, most of
us had hoped by now it would have gone the
way of bellbottoms (yes, we know they made
a brief resurgence) and/or other trends.
But, it’s been back in the news as of late,
what with the Town Council in Delcambre,
a small Louisiana town, recently passing an
ordinance on overly saggy pants. (We also
seem to recall a report last week about a city
in Georgia attempting to get one passed at a
council meeting but could find no record of
it on the web.)
Delcambre Councilman Albert Roy, accord
ing to reports, wanted to assess fines in the
$25 range when he introduced the ordi
nance. But, apparently the Council was
also old-school as they reportedly decided
offenders could receive up to six months in
jail and a SSOO fine.
Would we like to see something like that
enforced in Houston County? Well, the
thought of our law enforcement officials
spending their time chasing down saggy
pants violators (as if saggy-pants violators
could actually run) versus drug runners and
robbers doesn’t exactly appeal to us.
What does? The thought of grandmoth
ers, and more importantly MOTHERS and
FATHERS, spanking a few butts BEFORE
they leave the house.
Send your Letters to the Editor to:
The Houston Daily Journal
P.O. Box 1910 • Perry, Ga 31069 or
Email: hhj@evansnewspapers.com
Foy S. Evans
Editor Emeritus
Don Moncrief
Managing Editor
Would we like to
see something like
that enforced in
Houston County?
Well, the thought of
our law enforcement
officials spending their
time chasing down
saggy-pants
violators (as if
saggy-pants violators
could actually run)
versus drug runners
and rohbers doesn't
exactly appeal to us.
Is it 86L or 4789873029?
86. That was our telephone number
when I was a child and youngster
growing up at Swift and Third
Streets in Perry. We were on a “ party -
line”. By that, it meant the other
party(ies) on the line with us could
“pick-up” at anytime and hear our con
versation. The operator could, also.
I learned, early on, that you shouldn’t
say anything over the telephone you
didn’t want repeated all over Perry. In
retrospect, what in the world would
that have been? In those times, we
probably didn’t ever say anything
that anyone would want to repeat.
Then we got off the party-line and got
our own telephone number. It was 86L.
I could remember the “L”. In my mind,
the “E’ stood for Larry.
Our neighbors could no longer pick
up and hear our conversations, but the
operator surely could - and would. She
might interrupt to give you informa
tion about a death in Perry or where
the fire was last night. Perhaps she
would have an inquiry: “Is it true
that your aunt has been visiting”?
Today, our telephone number at home
has seven digits - 10 if you count the
478.
Then, I have a cell phone, as does
Janice. And, she has an office phone,
as do I. All of our children have home
phones and cell phones, and three of
them have office phones. Some of our
grandchildren have cell phones. And,
of course, our children have email
addresses and some have fax numbers.
It goes on and on, but the point is: It’s a
lot to keep up with. But, keep up we do.
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Painting reminds me of what is important, what isn't
People ask how I come up with
ideas for this space. It’s easy. I
look for the thinnest skin I can
find and make a beeline for it, like a
sand flea finding an ankle. Certainly,
there is no shortage of thin-skinned
targets to skewer. I scored a direct
hit last week. While most of the reac
tion to my column applauding the
appointment of a female minister to
the First Baptist Church in Decatur
was positive, including mail from a lot
of Baptists, I did hear from a few self
righteous Bible thumpers who took
strong exception to women in the pul
pit. Jethro, for example, explained to
me how Jesus had been persecuted and
then proceeded to inform me that I was
missing my private parts. Bible thump
ers are weird.
The Bible thumpers say I am a lost
cause. Too mean, and a Methodist
to boot. Maybe they would be less
judgmental if they knew I have a soft
side as well. What they don’t know
is that once the commas are in place,
the adjectives honed to a razor-sharp
edge, and my column is shipped off to
the editors, an amazing change comes
over me.
I put away my stiletto and my snarl,
gather up canvas and oil paints and
scurry off to JCristopher Meadows’ art
class like an eager first-grader. All 1
am lacking is a Spiderman lunchbox.
My classmates can’t believe that the
person who slings arrows of righteous
indignation on these pages weekly is
the same one who happily paints mag-
OPINION
Two good things: we are not worried
about our neighbors nor an opera
tor listening in on our conversations.
But, we do have bigger worries: Is our
government monitoring our calls, and
how safe from “listening” are our cell
phone conversations? Frankly, I believe
that the operators and neighbors of the
‘sos were less of a problem than the
anti-terrorism agents of the 2000 s.
Let me get to the point: We live in
complicated times. Most of us live bet
ter if you quantify “living better” by
creature comforts. We have more. We
don’t do as much hard, manual labor.
Machines do much that we used to
have to do. Have you ever picked cot
ton, by hand, or stacked peanut hay?
What about cutting grass with a non
motorized lawn mower or even one
that was motorized but was not self
propelled?
What about washing clothes, then
running them through a ringer, then
putting them on a clothes-line to dry?
It wasn’t too long ago that this clothes
cleaningprocedure was considered “very
advanced”. Have you ever washed and
folded cloth diapers? You get the picture.
High blood pressure is rampant in this
nolia leaves and grapevines and enjoys
every living second of it. It is a trans
formation worthy of Dr. Jekyll and Mr.
Hyde.
I have always had an interest in and
a slight affinity for art. At one stage of
my life, I thought I might like to be a
political cartoonist for a newspaper, but
chose instead the life of a robber baron.
Frankly, it paid more and I didn’t have
to wear cheap ties and Hush Puppies.
Upon retirement, the Woman Who
Shares My Name thought it would be a
good idea for me to pursue my interest
in art. Not only would it fulfill a lifelong
ambition of mine, but it would also get
me out of the house. She reminds me
frequently that she had married me for
better or for worse, but not for lunch.
I think it was my efforts to reorganize
her kitchen that did the trick.
So far, under the tutelage of Kris
Meadows, I have produced everything
from still lifes to portraits. I am told
by people who have no reason to pull
their punches that my work is pretty
good. That is nice to hear, but that isn’t
why I paint. I paint because I enjoy
it. There is something magical about
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Larry
Walker
Columnist
lwalker@whgb-law.com
fw
Dick
Yarbrough
Columnist
yarb24oo@bellsouth.net
HOUSTON DAILY JOURNAL
country. Heart attacks are the number
one killers of Americans.
Why? Lots of it is related to life
style. Lots of it is related to stress,
which is related to lifestyle. If you
plowed with a mule every day, you
might eventually wear out, but your
heart would probably be “as strong as
a mule’s,” no pun intended.
I’ve seen my Walker Grandparents’
tax returns from the ‘so’s and early
‘6os. Papa died in 1957 and grand
ma died in 1964. I never saw one of
their returns where the taxable income
reached $2,000. Remarkable.
And yet, I don’t think they suffered
from a lack of things. And, they ate
and slept good. I don’t believe they
had nearly the stress on them that I
have on me. Oh, they had a telephone,
alright. It was a hand-crank telephone,
and they probably made two or three
telephone calls a week.
Occasionally, very occasionally, they
would make a long-distance call. And,
they certainly didn’t want to get a call
after dark, for it had to be “bad news”.
Our telephone number is at the top of
this column (not the 86L, but the other
number).
Call me if you want to talk about this
article, or anything else. If we don’t
answer, we are not at home. We don’t
have caller i.d., and we don’t have an
answering machine. If we are at home,
we’ll talk. If we’re not, we won’t. And,
please don’t call after dark. It could
be bad news, and I’m already under
enough stress. I guess you just inherit
those kind of feelings.
putting paint to canvas and seeing an
image appear. I enjoy learning as much
as I can about the craft and I have
a lot to learn. I enjoy the camaraderie
with my classmates, all of whom can
paint rings around me. Most of all, I
enjoy working with Meadows, a terrific
artist.
The late actor Christopher Reeve
of Superman fame, had one of
Meadows’ paintings hanging in his
office; a rare honor since Reeve received
tons of unsolicited gifts over his career
and gave most of them to charity.
Kristopher Meadows has a letter from
Reeve saying that his painting was
too good and too special to give away.
It occupied a special place in Reeve’s
office until he died.
Meadows is finally getting the rec
ognition he deserves as a serious art
ist. He is now being represented by
the Catherine Kelleghan Gallery in
Atlanta and will have his paintings on
display there along with other local
and national artists.
I am not into the art scene, but I
predict great things for Kris Meadows’
career. The boy can paint up a storm.
But as good an artist as he is, his real
genius lies in reminding me weekly that
there are a lot more important things
in life than a few narrow-minded and
self-righteous Bible thumpers. There is
art. Thank you, sweet Jesus.
You can reach Dick Yarbrough at
varb24oodcbellsouth.net, P.O. Box
725373, Atlanta, Georgia 31139, or
Web site: www.dickyarbrough.com.