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Send a letter to the editor to P.O. Box 1600, Dawsonville, GA 30534; fax (706) 265-3276; or email to editor@dawsonnews.com.
DawsonOpinion
WEDNESDAY, MAY 22, 2019
This is a page of opinion — ours, yours and
others. Signed columns and cartoons are the
opinions of the writers and artists, and they
may not reflect our views.
Its hard to be
influential around
Skeeter Skates
When the telephone rang, I knew who it
was. It was Skeeter Skates. The phone just
sounds different when he calls. He can be
intimidating, even to a telephone.
For those of you who may be new to this
space, Skeeter Skates is the owner of the
eponymous Skeeter Skates Plow Repair and
Stump Removal in Ryo, Georgia, only
never use the word “eponymous” when
talking to him. He doesn’t like big words.
“Hoss,” Skeeter barked, “What’s all this
stuff about you having written up a bunch
of fancy col
umns? Folks
here in Ryo was
talking about it
at coffee the
other morning,
like it was some
kind of big
deal.”
I told Skeeter that I had just published my
1,000th syndicated column. I’m sure that is
what they were referring to.
“Well, I guess I ought to be congratulat
ing you,” he said, “but that don’t sound like
much of a big deal to me. You take apart a
DR PRO XL Stump Grinder with an 11.7
HP engine, 19.6 foot-pounds of gross
torque and tungsten carbide-tipped grinding
teeth and put it all back together and then
you will have done something worth brag
ging about.”
I said maybe I couldn’t do that but that I
had made some very important contribu
tions to society as an influential newspaper
columnist. I am proud to say that I had
helped mold public opinion on some of
society’s most critical issues over the past
two decades.
“Hoss, let me ask you a question,”
Skeeter interrupted, “In all that time you’ve
been molding public opinion on some of
society’s most critical issues, did you ever
get any grease under your fingernails or cal
luses on your hand?”
I told him I did not. Although when I first
started writing, I had an electric typewriter
and always seemed to get my hands
smudged replacing the ribbon. Now that I
am using a computer, there is the possibility
of carpal tunnel syndrome and I occasional
ly take an aspirin to ward off the discom
fort. I want Skeeter Skates to understand
that writing columns is not as easy as I
make it look.
“Have you ever changed the carburetor in
a 208cc Briggs and Stratton engine on a
Yardmax YT4565 Dual Rotating Rear Tine
Tiller,” he asked, knowing what the answer
would be. No, I said. You don’t need to
know a lot about carburetors to mold public
opinion.
“Maybe you should,” he said. “Folks
might take you a lot more seriously if you
dropped in some carburetor talk, like what a
float chamber does or choke valves, instead
of always running on about politics.”
Now it was my turn to scoff. I said it was
my keen understanding of the political envi
ronment, not carburetors, that had earned
me my reputation as a molder of public
opinion.
“If you are so important,” he said, “how
come you can’t stop that ol’ orange-haired
boy who is supposed to be running the
country up in Washington from spending so
much time insulting everybody and picking
fights with that bunch of weenies in
Hollywood?”
I said the president doesn’t listen to me
and to please not use the term “weenies”
because that gets me in trouble with liberal
weenies who don’t like to be referred to as
— well — weenies.
“And what about that big-shot politician
over in Blue Ridge who calls himself a law
yer but is so busy running around raising
money to get himself reelected, he ain’t got
time to get to the courtroom?” Skeeter
inquired. “Have you molded some public
opinion about that?” I’m trying, I said, but
he has a lot of friends in high places.
“You ain’t in a high place?” Skeeter
asked. “I thought you was influential and
all that other stuff you was bragging about.”
I am influential, I protested, but when you
are always battling the possibility of carpal
tunnel syndrome, molding public opinion
can take more time than one might imagine.
Skeeter said, “Hoss, let’s face it. You are
writing a bunch of stuff nobody is paying
much attention to. Unlike the plow repair
and stump grinding profession, what you do
is about as relevant as a turnip. Now, if you
will excuse me, I’ve got to get back to
work. Since I moved my eponymous enter
prise to Ryo, I’ve got more business than I
can shake a Toro-compatible stump tooth
at.” With that he hung up.
I am irrelevant? Skeeter Skates is epony
mous? Well, knock me over with a four-
barrel carburetor dash pot!
You can reach Dick Yarbrough atdick@dickyar-
brough.com; at P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, GA
31139; online at dickyarbrough.com or on
Facebook at www.facebook.com/dickyarb.
"So you had to walk to school in the snow? Well let me
tell you about the Governor vetoing mandatory recess!"
My granddad is someone
I really want to brag about
My grandfather was a very
quiet, modest man.
Other than bragging about
his only grandchild’s grades,
he was not one to boast.
In fact, he was a man of
few words, keeping most of
his thoughts and opinions to
himself.
Of course, he didn’t get
many opportunities to say
much. He was married to
Granny, after all. and trying to
get a word in edgewise with
her was a near impossible
feat.
If she wasn’t fussing, com
plaining, or otherwise letting
us know what we had done
wrong for the entirety of our
lives, she was telling us what
she did.
Granny was a master at
tooting her own horn, and for
the most part. Pop let her,
even though if anyone else
did it. he found it obnoxious.
“Can’t no one else do what
I do, Bob,” Granny would
comment on occasion. “I
don’t get near enough credit
for what I do.”
“No. you don’t. Chicken,”
he replied.
“You know I was smart
enough to be a nurse,” she
would tell him. “I bet I could
have been a doctor, if I set my
mind to it. I know what’s
wrong with all of y’all just as
good as the doctor does now.
I am usually the one that tells
the doctor what y’all got. And
I know how to treat it.”
Granny’s cure-alls were typi
cally either moonshine or
SUDIE CROUCH
Columnist
Milk of Magnesia.
Sometimes, in that order.
My grandfather, being a wise
man, just nodded and agreed
with her.
Anytime she did something,
Granny let us know about it.
“My recipes are going in
the cookbook,” she said
proudly one day.
The cookbook was one my
school had put out as a fund
raiser.
She didn’t realize - or
maybe she did -that every
one’s recipes were included.
“I bet mine will be the most
popular ones in it.” she con
tinued.
“I’m sure of it,” Pop
agreed.
If you had asked what Pop
had done with his life, he
would have just simply said
he had a family and that was
it.
But he had done a lot of
things he didn’t talk about.
He went to college on a
track scholarship before he
quit and joined the Army.
He served in World War II.
He had his own successful
roofing business up until he
couldn’t work any longer
because of Alzheimer’s.
But most importantly, my
grandfather did something
one day that was such a rare
occurrence, there should be a
day set aside in his honor.
He was married to the
Crazy Redhead Prime; and
one day. he rendered her
speechless. It had never been
done before, and I don’t think
it was ever done again, at
least not to my knowledge.
When she came home, her
usual “I reckon speech was
cut short.
It was one we had heard
hundreds of times.
After sewing all day in the
plant where she worked, she
had to come home and pick
up the house and cook dinner
for us ungrateful heathens. All
we did was sit around and
watch T.V. according to her.
Never mind the fact I was
doing homework and the only
reason Pop was there was to
watch me after school.
Granted, we did have our
afternoon soaps on and were
eating a liberal amount of
candy, but it was far from
heathenous.
But this day, Pop had an
idea.
“Let’s do something special
for Granny,” he said.
“What?”
“Let’s pick up the paper that
is all over the den, maybe
even sweep. You can dust.”
I took in a sharp gust of air.
“Granny never dusts; it would
be the death of us, she says.”
He nodded, knowing good
and well the old gal did not
believe in dusting as it stirred
up her allergies.
“Alright, we’ll pick up the
den and sweep. She’s got
something in the crockpot;
you think you can make bis
cuits?”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure what
was in the crockpot, but
Granny always found biscuits
an acceptable side to any
meal.
“We’ll have this all ready
for her when she gets home. It
will be nice for her to come
home and just be able to rest,”
he said. Then he grinned, a
slow, wicked little grin on his
tanned face. “And we may get
a break, too.”
He was right.
Granny came home to a
clean house and dinner that
was ready to eat. She had
absolutely nothing to fuss
about.
He had made her happy.
Most importantly, and signifi
cantly, he took away all of the
reasons she had for complain
ing.
If that wasn’t something to
brag about, I don’t know what
was.
But in true Pop fashion, he
never said a word.
Sudie Crouch is an award
winning humor columnist and
author of the recently e-pub-
lished novel, "The Dahlman
Files: A Tony Dahlman
Paranormal Mystery."
'After sewing all day in the plant where she worked, she had to come home and
pickup the house and cook dinner for us ungrateful heathens. All we did was sit
around and watch T.V. according to her. Never mind the fact I was doing homework
and the only reason Pop was there was to watch me after school. Granted, we did
have our afternoon soaps on and were eating a liberal amount of candy, but it was
far from heathenous.'
LETTERTOTHE EDITOR
Speculative develop
ment is not smart
development
Any benefits to our county from the
Etowah Village project are all purely
speculative and are dependent on
investment in, and completion of, all
phases of this project.
Currently, by admission of the proj
ect engineer, there is only some inves
tor interest in Phase 1 (which includes
a multi-story hotel). This phase may
have raised $7-$12 million, not the
$700 million to $1 billion needed to
complete the entire buildout over a
10+ year period. Where or who are
these multi-million dollar investors?
To complete the “grand parkway”
through to Etowah River Rd. (as part
of the final phase of the project?)
would be mega expensive but crucial
to the success of this development and
would also require the blessings of the
Corps of Engineers (for the bridge)
and Fish and Wildlife for the environ
mentally sensitive wetlands.
Granting the rezoning for the entire
area does not conform to Dawson
County’s Comprehensive Land-Use
Plan. Any variation from this should
be predicated by proof of secured
investments for all phases of the
development with sunset clauses and
completion bonds required.
Additionally, agreement must be
secured for the protection of the environ
mentally sensitive wetlands and conser
vation of any identified native Indian
ancestral sites that this development
would impact. Not to do so would risk
far larger negative outcomes for our
county than just another incomplete proj
ect and massive traffic congestion on
already increasingly busy roads. It would
provide a gateway for similar uncon
trolled, speculative developments to fol
low suit leading to a loss of the very hab
itats and cultures that make this county
desirable and different from Cumming,
Alpharetta and Gwinnett unless safe
guards to speculative developers are rap
idly put in place and adhered to.
Jane Graves
Dawsonville
