Newspaper Page Text
4A
♦ SATURDAY, JULY 12, 2008
OPINION
Daddy had his rules
Daddy had his rules.
Yes, Daddy had his rules.
They were probably Mother’s
rules, too. At least, she adopted them
and helped enforce them. She might
have formulated some of them, as far
as I know. There was no “divide and
conquer” in the Walker household.
The rules were the rules, and we were
expected to abide by them. And, we
did.
You didn’t wear a hat inside the
house - much less at the meals’ table.
Today, I see wedding announcements
in the newspaper and the picture of
the grinning couple shows the “man”
wearing a baseball cap. It wouldn’t
surprise me to see the bride-to-be with
a cap emblazoned with a large Atlanta
Braves “A” on her pretty head. Perhaps
my revulsion to this grows out of
Daddy’s rule.
We didn’t slam doors in our house.
Well, that’s wrong. I should say that
if we slammed a door, we were admon
ished.
You didn’t eat before the blessing
was asked. You could sip your tea, but
you didn’t start eating until someone
returned thanks. No exceptions. This
was the rule.
I wasn’t allowed to play marbles “for
keeps”. It was gambling, according to
Daddy, and I was forbidden to gamble.
Good thing. I wasn’t a very good mar
ble shooter and didn’t own a very good
“toy”. Marble shooters who played for
keeps will understand. Maybe if I had
played for keeps, I would’ve gotten
better.
Daddy (and Mother) saw to it that
I kept my hair cut. And woe unto me
if I dyed my hair or tried to grow a
ducktail. I won’t even get into tattoos
or body piercing. I might as well have
tried to rob a bank.
“Strong” language was a big no-no.
71 II ~ y/
{ ...Is that a gun A
( he's carrying? J ”
A jfo //>-.' / ' No, just a j
issuel^^y
Speakerphones - lifting the veil nf secrecy
I hate speakerphones. Specifically
I hate the one on my wife’s cell
phone.
She on the other hand loves it - uses
it every, and I do mean “every” opportu
nity she gets. On the road (which I have
to commend her for). In the shower.
Kidding. In the kitchen and while I have
to admire Cinderella’s desire to kill two
birds with one stone while working, it
can be difficult to hear over everything
else amplified in the background.
“Everybody was kung fu fighting ...”
(My ring tone)
Me: “Hello dear.”
Her: “Hey ... I” Zirrrrrr ... Shissss ...
Zirrrrr ... Shissss ... “won” ... Ggggggg
... Crunch ... Pop .... Snap .... “the”
Gggggg ... “lottery” ... Swish ... Swash
... Swish ... Swash ...
“What! Would you please take me off
of speakerphone? Wow, that’s better!.
Thanks. Did you just say you won the
lottery?”
“No, no. I wish! I said I went and
bought one of those SSOO pieces of pot
tery.”
Stupid dishwasher.
Stupid trash compactor.
Stupid washing machine.
Stupid speakerphone.
And just as big a problem is you just
never know who might be listening in,
which has also happened to me on sev
eral awkward occasions.
“Everybody was kung fu fighting...”
“Hello dear.”
“What cha doing?”
“What am I ‘always’ doing? Working.
What’re you doing?”
Larry
Walker
Columnist
lwalker@whgb-law.com
Probably, I was the only child in the
family who ran afoul of this rule. The
last spanking I ever got was when an
aggravating (and he was!) youngster
reported to my parents that I had used
the word “damn”, by telling them:
“Larry told me they would take my
“d-a-m” pants off if I didn’t leave them
alone”. His exact words and spelling!
We, my brothers and sister, were
expected to vork. Around the house,
yes. But as we got older, “for the pub
lic”.
Let’s see, what were some of my jobs:
mowed lawns, boiled and sold peanuts,
packed peaches, worked at the feed
store, worked at the tractor place,
picked cotton, worked at a men’s cloth
ing store (The Swank Shop), worked in
a steel mill, delivered papers, etc.
And, you should know this. J was
expected to get to work on time,
regardless of whether I had played
football the night before or had gone to
the prom, getting home at a late time
- like, midnight.
The Holy Bible says we (meaning
good, God-fearing Methodists) were to
keep the Sabbath holy. Daddy took this
literally, as well he should, and we fol
lowed suit. We didn’t go to the movie,
fish, hunt, work, or wash the car on
Sunday. We could watch television,
when we finally got one.
I generally don’t bird hunt (the only
hunting I do, today) on Sunday. And,
Don
Moncrief
Managing Editor
donm@evansnewspapers.com
“I thought I would take my mother to
Wal-mart.”
“Oh Lord. I guess I’ll see you tomor
row.”
“Be nice.”
“I am being nice but I’ve been with
you and your mom when ya’ll go shop
ping. She looks at every single thing
on the shelf. And then she looks again
(which is 100 percent true).”
Silence.
More silence.
It clicks.
“I’m on speakerphone aren’t I?”
“Yep.”
“She’s right next to you isn’t she?”
“Yep.”
“And man does that woman have a
knack for finding great deals. I have
never known anybody who is a smarter
shopper than her. I can only aspire that
one day I might be that wise.”
And while I’m .at it, I might as well
vent about those little pieces they put
in their ears.
I know I’m among the masses but I
once had a whole conversation - not see
ing the gadget in Robocop’s opposite ear
- while we were visiting the Tennessee
Aquarium. Some lady - hopefully from
far far away and I’ll never have to see
fiS x
Hu
when I fish on Sunday (which I fre
quently do) or go to the movie (which
I have done, but seldom), I still have a
feeling that of “I am violating one of
Daddy’s rules”.
Now, do I have to tell you how Daddy
and Mother may have felt about drink
ing alcohol or smoking or pre-marital
sex? I don’t think so. We shouldn’t
violate the little rules, much less the
big ones.
I’m not saying we didn’t ever break
the rules. What I am saying is that
there were rules. We understood them,
and we knew that we were expected to
abide by all of them. There were conse
quences for rule-breaking.
Am I complaining? Absolutely not!
I am proud that my parents had rules
- set the parameters, explained the
rules, and expected us to do what they
said. And, there was much love and
support and, in retrospect, tolerance.
Isn’t that the way it is supposed to
work? At least, isn’t that the way it
works best?
‘Fessor Staples had discipline and
rules. He became the “winningest”
basketball coach in the country. Bear
Bryant was a good coach and a great
disciplinarian. Look at his record. The
Roman Army ruled the world for thou
sands of years. They knew about dis
cipline. What about the United States
Marines? I could go on and on.
But, the point is: you can’t have any
thing of much value without discipline.
You need rules and discipline to have a
successful football team, army, govern
ment, church, school, or family.
We’ve lost lots of discipline in our
society. It’s scary. But, perhaps my
view is a little distorted. For, after all,
Daddy and his rules, and I was expect
ed to abide by them.
Thanks Daddy and Mother. You did
good. Better than I did, at times.
again: “Man those are big!”
Me: “They are but I heard they shrink
in captivity.” (Made that up to impress
her.)
“I wonder how much they can eat?”
“Oh about 600 tons a day.” (Made
that up, too. Could you tell?)
“Hold on a minute.” Then she turned.
I saw the chrome howitzer aimed at my
head. She fired. “Can I help you?”
Stupid fish.
And texting. OMG! I came across my
first real bona fide “texter” last week at
the Independence Day celebration: My
niece, about 14 years old, I think. I have
never seen little fingers move so fast. I
can only imagine the strain it puts on
one’s forearms. Will she have Popeye
arms when she grows up? I would sus
pect so.
And, oh by the way, I firmly believe
thousands of years from now when who
ever - aliens or archaeologists - are dig
ging up our bones it’ll go something like
this: “Oh yes. This is a specimen dating
somewhere around 2005 ... 2008. You
can tell by the enormously large butt
bone, characteristic of sitting around
on it all day playing video games and
the unusually dinosaur-ish forearms
and shoulder blade bones characteristic
of texting.”
Stupid LOL-ing.
Come to think of it, I hate phones all
together. (Except for I like searching
the Internet and playing games on my
cell.) I don’t mind talking on them to do
my job. It’s just these “personal” calls I
can’t stand.
See MONCRIEF, page *4
"One voice can make a difference"
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
An interesting year in ‘local’ politics
I believe this is going to be a very interesting and excit
ing year for politics. Please understand that I’m not
talking about the politicians who are hundreds of miles
from Houston County, nor am I talking about those who
are clueless to the fate of reauthorizing the No Child Left
Behind Act.
However, I am talking about the local politicians who
promise to be proactive on issues that include, but not lim
ited to; the millage rate and taxation practices, infrastruc
ture (roads), consistency in law enforcement, rehabilitation
services provided by the Phoenix Center, fire protection
services, alarm systems to ensure the safety of every citi
zen in Houston County, and/or attracting businesses to our
growing community.
Although it sounds easy enough to choose the best can
didates, there is a twist in the process and it is called the
Georgia Primary. On July 15 voters will go to the polls and
will be required to declare their party affiliation or prefer
ence, and vote for a candidate from only that party.
Then in November the “party winners” will face off in the
general election. Fortunate are the party candidates who
go unopposed during the July primary elections because
they will automatically be on the November ballot. Not so
fortunate are federal incumbents and challengers who are
likely to lose crucial votes because of local partisan elec
tions. Especially this year.
Perhaps one day Georgia will do away with local parti
san politics, but until then I have chosen to focus on the
county commissioner primary election. I will vote for the
candidate(s) that I trust the most to make the best informed
decisions that directly impact the quality of life for my fam
ily, friends, and neighbors. Perhaps this may be the year
for change after all.
- Kathy Brown, Warner Robins
Stop the killing, return to our roots
lam confused and alarmed when I listen to people on
the left condemn the military for using less than kind
methods in an attempt to extract information from those
who hate this nation and will do anything to destroy it, at
any cost, including killing themselves in the process by
becoming human bombs.
Meanwhile, these same people defend with unyielding
determination the right to maim, dismember, burn and
kill innocent, helpless Americans at the rate of more than
2,000 per day in this nation, every day 365 days a year for
the past 35 years, in abortion mills ... Americans who would
be contributing to this nation's greatness as they participate
in their right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness with
the rest of us.
These leftists and their supporters have no trouble pro
claiming their compassion for terrorists but there is no
room in their hearts for compassion to the tiny innocent
Americans that continue to be slaughtered in the name of
choice, when, in fact, the only choice a pregnant woman
has is whether her unborn child will come out of her womb
alive or dead.
My heart skips a beat, and my eyes fill with tears, when I
think of what God must be feeling as He looks on
See LETTER, page $A
‘Us’ are the good guys
Regarding Frank Gadbois’ letter of July 2, “Decision
means more will die by guns", I believe Mr. Gadbois
is mistaken as to who will be dying. According to Mr.
Gadbois, many of us will be killed because of the Supreme
Court’s decision to overturn the Washington D.C. gun ban.
It is not “us” that will be killed, it is “them”.
See LETTER i, page fA
Congratulatory note on impact fees
I must congratulate the Perry City Council and the mayor
for recently voting for impact fees. They definitely had
the interests of the majority of their fellow citizens in mind
when they resolutely resisted the false, uninformed,
See LETTER l, page
pLntsimt ptfme Krnmtal
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