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BELIEF ♦ SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22, 2007 4A Daniel F. Evans President Editor and Publisher Julie B. Evans Vice President Ryan’s story offers hope, change - in us Over at Houston County High School there is a young man named Ryan Joiner. You can read some of Ryan’s story, if you haven’t already, on page lA. “Some of Ryan’s story" is the correct term because there is so much more to Ryan Joiner than words can tell. If you read the story, you know that Ryan was born with cerebral palsy. You also know that Ryan is a sports nut. He loves the Georgia Bulldogs. He loves the Braves, hates that Andruw Jones is now a Dodger and still considers Tom Glavine a traitor because he went to the Mets before return ing back home to Atlanta. But beyond the teams, Ryan loves the games themselves. He loves football for the passes, baseball for the home runs, basketball for the dunks. Can you imagine? These are things Ryan will never get to physically experience, not in the true sense of you and I. Not in the sense we can “run” to first or “leap” for a jump shot. Life has dealt a cruel blow to Ryan Joiner. But the most amazing thing - the miracle of Ryan Joiner - is the way he answers, has answered in kind. “Retreat” is not a word you will ever hear Ryan Joiner say. “Surrender” is not in his vocabulary. Ryan Joiner decided a long time ago to face life head on. Not only that, but his unquenchable spirit is a wonder to behold. To see this young man confined to a wheelchair, his hands often times his own betrayer, and yet to watch and lis ten and see and hear him find nothing but beauty in this world is mind-boggling. Ask yourself how you would respond if were you? That’s the best way we can daily honor Ryan Joiner - the rare Ryan Joiner’s of the world - other than to love him (them) unconditionally; the same way he (they) love. Which, by the way, is no secret at Houston County High School and to the students and teachers and coaches, along with his parents and grandparents and anyone else who has ever met him; taught him in the case of his parents and grandparents. But, search your heart and ask yourself how you would respond if you were Ryan Joiner. In a time of the year in which we often measure happiness by the red and green and gold and silver wrappings under a Christmas tree, follow the lead - each and every day - of a brave young man who believes that life itself is the ultimate gift. Letters to the editor Religion is important in presidential race To say that religion is not important in presidential poli tics is baloney. Religion is very important and should carry a lot of weight in the voter’s decision process; the less religion the better. We’ve had two evangelical zealot presidents in the recent past, one had a dismal record. The other is still working on his. Now we have a Mormon cultist and a Baptist evangelical fundamentalist jockeying for the presidential nomination on the conservative side, and Barrack Hussein Obama, of See LETTER i, page $A Border security should be top priority Morlmmigration is rightly on our national level of concern as we listen to the presidential debates. Border security should be our number one goal because without it the hordes of illegals, drug dealers, criminals, the seriously ill and all the unemployed in Latin America and Mexico will invade us. What we will always need See LETTER 1, page $A HOW TO SUBMIT: There are three ways to submit a letter to the editor: E mail it to hhj@evansnewspapers.com, mail it to Houston Home Journal at 1210 Washington St., Perry, GA 31069, or drop it off at the same location between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. Monday through Friday. Letters should not exceed 350 words and must include the writer’s name, address and telephone number (the last two not printed). The newspaper reserves the right to edit or reject letters for reasons of grammar, punctuation, taste and brevity. Foy S. Evans Editor Emeritus Don Moncrief Managing Editor Saying goodbye to 'Mr. Speaker' This is part of what William Manchester wrote about Douglas McArthur in the Preamble of his classic book, American Caesar: He was a great thundering paradox of a man, noble and ignoble, inspiring and outrageous, arrogant and shy, the best of men and the worst of men, the most protean, most ridiculous and most sublime. . . When I heard of Mr. Murphy’s death, I once again thought of these words - words I had used on one of eight occa sions when I nominated Thomas Bailey Murphy for Speaker of the Georgia House. For indeed, Mr. Murphy was “a great thundering paradox of a man”. And yet, just as Manchester said of McArthur, he was “. . . endowed with great personal charm, a will of iron, and a soaring intellect. ..” I remember it well. We were on one of our many trips and in the large but poor city of Victoria, Mexico. Four of us, Mr. Murphy, Marcus Collins, Johnny Mitchell and I were walking the streets when we met a young boy, a waif. All hurried by, except Mr. Murphy, and as I glanced back, I saw him removing his bill folder to give this stray child money. Often, he was the “best of men”. And, so, I choose to remember the great Tom Murphy. The masterful Tom Murphy. The Tom Murphy who was often grand and inspiring. The Tom Murphy who, after the budget had been balanced and was ready for pre- Christmas memories, it's tragedy today Christmas always has been something special for young people and, as we grow older, memories abound. I remember those Christmases when, after my father died, we had dinner (we had dinner, not lunch, in the middle of the day back then) with friends and the children were then given a dime each and treated to a movie. It seems that the movies they showed on Christmas Day always appealed to children. Early in the morning we had opened our presents - not many of them, but surely appreciated - and enjoyed candy and fruits that we seldom saw the rest of the year. This reminds me that very few chil dren were obese back then. The fed eral government did not have to tell us what to eat or to take exercise. Almost everything we had to eat was healthy food and if we wanted to play or go anywhere we did it on our feet, which added up to plenty of exercise each day. The grammar schools I attended were two miles from my home. So was downtown Americus. I walked back and forth to school each day and thought nothing of it. The city school system did not have buses and we did not have an automobile. Americus’ downtown businesses may have been two miles away, but it did not seem so far. As a matter of fact, my friends and I ran to town, instead of walking, because we were so anxious to get there. And, if we stayed a little lon- Larry Walker Columnist lwalker@whgb-law.com "And, so, l choose to remember the great Tom Murphy. The masterful Tom Murphy. The Tom Murphy who was often grand and inspiring." sentation, required the budget sub committee to re-figure and add funds for the tuberculosis hospital in Rome or for the blind academy in Macon. The Tom Murphy who, like Caesar with a thumbs up or down, chose “up” on the World Congress Center in Atlanta, the Ag Center in Perry, and other worthy projects too numerous to mention, over which he held life or death powers. The Tom Murphy who called himself a “conservative” but was really a populist. Yes, the great Tom Murphy. And, I choose to remember the good and happy times of which there were so many. There was the trip that he and "...First let's see your green card!" Foy Evans Columnist foyevansl9@cox.net ger than we should have, we ran all the way home to get there before dark. The policemen all knew us. So did the firemen. They kept an eye on us when we were in town and our parents felt good about that. Going to a movie was a treat. I was fascinated by what I saw on the screen. The movies were silent. Someone in the front of the theater would play music on a piano or organ, attempting to make the music complement what was on the screen. It was wonderful. I remember the first talking movie. There were just a couple of scenes in which A 1 Jolson sang. Everyone was fascinated and incredulous that some one could actually sing in a movie. Getting to go to a movie on Saturday was something else. Families gathered downtown on Saturdays and when our parents could spare a dime to go to a movie we went to the Rylander Theater to see our favorite cowboys beat the bad guys or the Indians. You could always tell the good guys from the bad guys by the hats they wore. Good guys wore white hats. Villains wore black hats. sip* ■ £ k% wm SkT . jffiH JjHH HOUSTON HOME JOURNAL I took to the first National Speakers’ Conference at Mackinaw Island, Michigan. We landed somewhere in northern Michigan, and as we departed the plane (Mr. Murphy with his big white Stetson hat on and with me tag ging along), a big limo pulled up, and the driver jumped out and inquired, “You are the Speaker, aren’t you”? I replied, “Yes, he is the Speaker,” only to see out of the comer of my eye and across the tarmac, Speaker Tip O’Neal. Speaker O’Neal got the limo and we got the van, but Mr. Murphy was still the Speaker to me! And he always will be. What a grand time we had, much of the time, during the last 15 years or so of his speakership. How many ball games - spring training with the Braves and our sitting together watching the Bulldogs - did we enjoy together? There must have been 1,000 luncheons and receptions. There were those late nights and all weekends working on the budget when most of the legisla tors were at home. I can’t reminisce without mentioning our daily session breakfast meetings at Marcus Collins’ room 292 in the Sheraton Hotel. Mr. Murphy ate cheese toast and I ate cereal and we both reveled in Elmore Thrash’s humor and Bobby Rowan’s antics. And we were so proud of those sound balanced budgets and the won derful progress our beloved state was making. You, as Speaker, with me as your loyal assistant, working together See SPEAKER, page fA Often when the hero and heroine were in danger the cavalry, with bugle blowing (at least the bugler was blow ing the horn, though' there was no sound) would arrive just in time. I remember on several occasions staying at the theater and watching a movie several times to see if the cav alry always arrived in time. It always did. When sound finally was added to the silent movies they were more exciting and thrilling and real, though they were in black and white and full of what we today would call “snow”. Villains from outer space threatened the world. Buck Rogers saved us and the world. Men flew around in outer space with jet packs on their backs. It didn’t matter that they were in outer space, breathing as normally as they could on Earth. We had so little entertainment that a little went a long way. We had so few toys that we invented our own toys. We thought we knew a lot, but today’s children, in addition to being spoiled and having so many toys that they don’t appreciate any of them, know much more than we did and, in my opinion, may be smarter, too. So, with Christmas only a few days away, children await the avalanche of toys and gifts that will come their way. They will look at them, maybe play with them for a little while, and then become bored. That is the tragedy of a world that is so affluent.