Newspaper Page Text
opinion
Thursday, July 8, 2021 • Page 4A
Send your letters to: Editor, Upson Beacon, 108 E Gordon Street, Thomaston, Ga 30286 or email to: dlord@upsonbeacon.com The opinions expressed on this page are
not necessarily the opinions of the Upson Beacon staff. Please limit letters to 400 words. All letters must be signed and accompanied by a telephone number for verification purposes.
Telephone numbers will not be printed.
Letter to The Editor:
Local Workers Should Build
New Fire Department
To the Editor:
Am I mistaken? Is this
another example of how
our tax money is being
spent? Didn’t Georgia
pass a law to make it ille
gal for illegal Mexicans to
work and get paid on
projects paid for with tax
payers’ money?
If so, no one is looking
to see who is building our
new fire department. The
ones I talked to could not
speak English. If it is a
law, isn’t it a good idea
for the police to check to
see that our laws are
being enforced in Thom
aston?
I am concerned that
this building should be
entirely built by U.S. cit
izens, preferably by
Upson County citizens.
Ken Whaley
Bridge Turner
Managing Editor
I’m Just Say in’:
My Choice for Role
Model: Pot Smoker
Olympian Gwen Berry re
cently turned away from the
American flag, staring into the
distance, hand on hip, ignoring
the playing of our National An
them, then draped an “Activist
Athlete” T-shirt on her head
after placing third in the
hammer throw.
Meanwhile, the winner and
second-place finisher in the
event stood with hands on
hearts, facing the Stars and
Stripes.
“I feel like it was a set-up, and
they did it on purpose,” Berry
said afterward, according to the
Associated Press. “I was pissed,
to be honest... It was real dis
respectful.”
It’s ironic that she felt she
was on the receiving end of dis
respect. Olympic officials said
the National Anthem is played
every day according to a pre
viously published schedule, re
gardless of who is on the
podium.
“My purpose and my mission
is bigger than sports,” Berry
said. “I’m here to represent
those... who died due to systemic
racism. That’s the important
part... That’s why I’m here
today.”
There is the overused buzz
phrase: systemic racism.
The definition of systemic is
“throughout the entire system.”
Sometimes we hear systematic,
which means “done or acting ac
cording to a fixed plan or system,
methodically or intentionally.”
Both mean too percent of an
entity is affected, and one means
it is planned. Of late, the phrases
are directed at law enforcement
specifically and the country in
general.
This would mean that all po
tential law enforcement officers,
when considering a career path,
choose the path based on a de
sire to mistreat minorities, injur
ing or killing them whenever the
opportunity presents itself. It
also would suggest that every
American, regardless of race, is
racist.
Ridiculous. And our Pres
ident promulgates it.
Biden’s proposed “domestic
terrorist manual,” which I’m
sure he didn’t write, claims that
racism and white supremacy are
atop the list for identifying do
mestic terrorists. By description
and definition, if all Americans -
particularly all whites - are rac
ist, we all are domestic terrorists.
And cops would be the most do
mestically terroristic of all.
Sadly, Olympic sprinter
Sha’Carri Richardson was sus
pended recently after testing
positive for marijuana. We can
debate the sensibility of the rule,
especially since pot is legal in
many states, but it is a rule, non
etheless. And it’s a world rule,
not an American one.
Richardson has handled the
misfortune with grace and dig
nity, not once blaming anyone
but herself, and not flinging de
fault accusations of racism. Un
like fellow Olympian Berry, she
did not claim she was targeted or
victimized, and did not “make it
about her.” The Olympics, after
all, are based on representing
one’s country, not driving a po
litical narrative.
But Alexandria Ocasio-Cor-
tez jumped in to play the race
card. The Democrat Representa
tive from New York said the sus
pension was racist, based on a
bunch of “word salad” that links
minorities with weed, or wha
tever. AOC did nothing more
than lump a respectful athlete
into a common pile of crap, the
latest of which includes the ge
nius opinion that speaking cor
rect English is racist.
Much like the “Me Too Move
ment,” I believe the current ob
session with racism is
desensitizing our country to the
point of not recognizing when a
situation warrants attention. Did
children stop reading the story
of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf?”
Maybe our politicians and woke
snowflakes should brush up on
it.
I Googled the phrase, “A hit
dog will holler.” I always thought
it was “Hit dogs holler loudest”
but either way, it means this: An
offended or defensive response
to a statement suggests that the
statement applies to the person
complaining.
In other words, a knee-jerk
reaction can be an admission of
guilt.
Most Democrat politicians
must think most Americans are
stupid. There’s no other explana
tion. Otherwise, they wouldn’t
expect us to believe that they are
responsible for the COVID vac
cine and pandemic recovery, are
not responsible for the border
crisis, not responsible for a surge
in crime, and that it was the Re
publicans’ idea to defund police.
It’s “opposite day” every day
in the White House.
Minorities should be particu
larly insulted at Democrats’ in
sinuation that they are incapable
of succeeding without an
“equity” boost from the federal
government. That’s one reason
why we all should reject Critical
Race Theory.
I don’t think most people,
much less all people, focus on
race as a determining factor in
every decision made. In fact, I
think very few people fall into
that category, as should be the
case. But that number is growing
because race is jammed down
our throats constantly, used flip
pantly to end conversations with
conflicting opinions.
At best, it is sad. Worse, it is
dangerous.
So next time someone claims
racism where it’s unclear, think
first about The Boy Who Cried
Wolf. Then think about “a hit
dog will holler,” and consider
possible ulterior motives in the
mind of the accuser. It could be
an eye-opener.
As for the two talented, fe
male athletes I mentioned ear
lier, one will move on to compete
in the Olympics and one will not.
I’ve read their quotes, studied
their actions and photos, and
considered their “accountabil
ity,” which is another current
buzz word for the left.
Two competitors, same race,
same gender, but a difference in
character. If forced to choose be
tween the two for a role model, I
would pick the sidelined pot-
smoker.
B. Waine
Kong, Ph.D., JD
Waine’s World:
Earth’s Greatest Hits:
In 1931, It Will be
a Show for Stargazers
I hope it doesn’t surprise you
that space rocks from deep
space and debris from man
made satellites (almost always
unseen and unfelt usually in our
oceans) daily hit mother earth.
But about every 10,000 years,
an asteroid measuring over 300
feet hits the Earth, causing huge
impact blasts, fires, shock waves
and tsunamis.
While Haley’s Comet won’t
be seen again for another 75
years, very recently, and I mean
just last week, the largest comet
ever spotted (Comet 2014
UN271 or “Comet Bernardinelli-
Bernstein”) appeared in our
solar system. But not to worry,
this one has no chance of hitting
Earth. Unlike this huge comet
(which is 10 times larger than
the six-mile-wide chunk of ex
traterrestrial rock) that
slammed into the earth and
killed off the dinosaurs 66 mil
lion years ago and leaving a 110-
mile-wide crater in the Yucatan
peninsula close to Cancun, Mex
ico (the Chicxulub Crater).
There was also the one that
struck Ukraine (Boltysh hit)
650,000 years later as well and
the one that hit Arizona 20,000-
50,000 years ago creating mas
sive killing fields. Our moon
deflected at least four of these
hits that were headed for us.
The survivors of these hits
were resilient because they were
small creatures like birds, tur
tles and mammals who adopted
by protecting themselves flying
out of the affected area, going
underground or living in water.
For all their dominance over
Earth’s landscape for the pre
vious 160 million years, the land
bound dinosaurs all perished
except for those that could fly
and evolved into chickens and
other birds of a feather. Accord
ing to NASA, over 4,000 space
rocks have collided with Earth
with about a thousand classified
as potentially hazardous. On a
positive note, mark Nov. 18 on
your calendar to witness fire
works from the heavens. The
next meteor shower (shooting
stars) is predicted for your view
ing pleasure. Too bad they
didn’t coincide with July Fourth.
A major comet, planetoids,
asteroids, and meteoroids (com
posed mostly of ice, rock and
dust) collide with Earth about
every million years causing eco
logical disasters (along with
pandemics, climate change
causing fluctuating sea levels
and volcanic eruptions) over the
history of the world but also the
most devastating cause of ex
tinction.
So, I repeat, this newly dis
covered 60-mile-wide comet is
not expected to come anywhere
close to earth. You see, with all
the rocks and space junk that is
moving around in our universe,
some occasionally but predict
ably go bump in the night. This
partially explains why 99 per
cent of life forms that ever ex
isted on earth are extinct.
Today, I am glad I am alive
and kicking and consider myself
lucky.
The traditional time to die
in my family is in the spring or
summer. I believe it has to do
with one of our dominant genes
that makes us really like mak
ing folks feel uncomfortable.
Funerals are uncomfortable
enough, but when you throw in
some good ol’ Georgia heat and
humidity and a black wool suit
you have a real recipe for ex
treme discomfort. Throw in a
couple of deviled eggs wafting
in the non-existent breeze with
some wilting lilies, and good
times here we come!
My Aunt June decided to
depart one sweltering July
when I was a teenager. She was
one of my favorite family
members and I have fond
memories of playing video
games at her house when I was
younger. She would buy the la
test video game consoles and
had no problem with my
brothers and me playing until
our eyes were red and saliva
dripped out of our gaping
mouths. She would feed us
Chris Walter
Kudzu and Clay
June
in July
cookies and talk about the
stock market.
I wish I would have listened
to her instead of focusing on
the cookies, but what can you
do.
When Aunt June died, she
lived in Cleveland, Ohio, and
requested to be buried in her
hometown in Georgia. Every
one I have ever known of blood
relation has been cremated so
it wasn’t that big of a deal to
burn her up and fly her down. I
can remember being intrigued
by the whole ordeal and when
the mailman came to the door
with a small but heavy package,
I remember announcing,
“June’s here!” like it was any
other visitor.
June was somewhat frugal
and had expressed that we cut
out all the middlemen when it
came to her burial. She did not
want a funeral home involved.
We did not even know if that
was possible. Can you just bury
someone’s remains in your
family's plot? Not sure about
now, but back then the answer
was yes, if you had the proper
authority and permits.
I thought it was a great idea.
We didn’t have to worry about
the creepiness of the funeral
home. We could do our own,
weird, intimate thing. Although
I realized we would not have
the luxury of one of those mas
sive funeral home tents which
are essential to a Southern fu
neral in the summer. We would
also be without those Jesus-
themed fans that are just a pic
ture of Jesus with a popsicle
stick attached to it. We had to
do something about that. No
fans, no funeral.
After we received the proper
documentation from the au
thorities, we loaded up in my
dad’s big red van and made it
out to the family plot in the
sprawling local cemetery. It
was mid-afternoon and my dad
handed us each a shovel and
told us where to dig. It wasn’t
supposed to take a long time,
the hole only had to be three or
so feet deep and rather narrow
for the small marble urn that
housed our dear, departed
June.
The minute our shovels hit
the dried-up brown grass, the
familiar “clink” of steel hitting
solid, sun-baked clay rang
through the obelisks. We had a
problem. It had not rained for
a month. The ground might as
well have been a palette of
bricks. After some obscenities
and head-scratching, my father
grabbed a couple of crowbars
and a five-foot, post hole rod
from the treasure trove of tools
he housed in the back of his
van.
For the next couple of
hours, we sweated away, chis
eling out June’s final resting
place bit by bit. The only thing
that kept us from not murder
ing each other was knowing
that June was probably looking
down on us having quite a
laugh.
When we had chipped away
a perfectly square hole, I
thought we were done, but my
dad kept going. He dug a small
cylinder hole in the middle of
the square. Then he went to his
van and pulled out a bag with a
pint of bourbon and a pack of
cigarettes, put them in the cyl
inder, and covered it up. One of
June’s favorite pastimes was
drinking a non-alcoholic beer
and chasing it with a shot of
bourbon. I still can’t wrap my
head around that one. She was
also an avid smoker, probably
what killed her in the first
place.
For whatever reason, my
dad thought she would need
that in the afterlife, and seeing
that we couldn’t put quarters
on her eyes, maybe she could
trade the booze to the ferryman
for passage over the River Styx.
The next day we donned our
funeral attire, hydrated accord
ingly, and carried the urn to the
cemetery. My mom surprised
us by setting up a small canopy
before we got there, and we
also made fans out of paper
and wrote “Walter Funeral
Home” on them. The service
was pretty rough around the
edges, but it wasn’t quite ama
teur hour. We lowered June
into her hard clay resting place
above her secret chamber of
contraband and read a few
bible verses and headed home
for some deviled eggs.
I may never know for sure,
but I think she probably en
joyed every minute of that awk
ward charade.
Chris Walter is a Georgia
writer and artist. He “grew up
right down the road” in Bar-
nesville and likes to tell stories
about being raised and living
in the South. To learn more
about him and his book,
“Southern Glitter,” and view
his art, please visit kudzuand-
clay.com.
Walter, who will submit a
guest column monthly in the
Beacon, said, “I am honored to
share my work with the people
of Upson County.”