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DawsonOpinion
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2022
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.
Herschel and his
advisors fumbled
Senate campaign
One of the givens in occupying this space
weekly is that when I talk about politics,
which I do on occasion, anything I opine
will be construed negatively by one side or
the other. It is dif
ficult for some to
comprehend that
I might be in the
middle of the
political road,
unlike many (or
most) columnists
and commenta
tors who see the
world only through a liberal or conservative
prism - and are as predictable as morning
dew.
The best example I can offer is something
I wrote several years ago that got me these
two reader responses in the same week. One
said I was an Obama bedwetting liberal and
the other accused me of being a racist red
neck. One comment. Two opposite reac
tions.
If I criticize Donald Trump, then I must
be a left-leaning liberal. If I criticize Joe
Biden, I am a stolen election conspiracist.
Wrong and wrong,
I think Joe Biden is well on his way to
become our most inept president since
Jimmy Carter. Awake or asleep. Not even
Carter, who confessed to having lust in heart
as if we the American public needed to
know that, asked as did Biden during a
speech at the White House if a recently
deceased congresswoman was in the audi
ence. (Um, she is not, sir. She is, um, dead.)
And we trust this guy with the nuclear
codes?
As for Donald Trump, he needs to face
the fact that the 2020 election is over and
done with before he and his sycophants
destroy the Republican Party. Trump should
take on the role of elder statesman and help
identify and support the next generation of
Republican leaders instead of continuing to
seek personal revenge. Let’s face it, his
endorsement of candidates in our recent
state’s elections had little impact
One of those endorsements was UGA
football hero and political novice Herschel
Walker for the U.S. Senate. Trump gave him
his “complete and total endorsement.”
Walker lost in a runoff to incumbent Sen.
Raphael Wamock, giving the United States
Senate a Democratic majority.
Walker may have run — or his advisors
ran — one of the worst campaigns I have
ever witnessed. Leave it to Dan McLagan, a
longtime Republican strategist who was
helping elect candidates before Donald
Trump was firing people on his TV reality
show, to describe the effort.
McLagan told a reporter, “Herschel was
like a plane crash into a train wreck that
rolled into a dumpster fire. And an orphan
age. Then an animal shelter.” The man does
have a way with words.
I would only add to that: What were
Walker’s advisors thinking? One of the first
things campaign strategists do when prepar
ing a candidate to run for office is to get all
the skeletons out of the closet. Find out
what they are and come up with a proactive
strategy to deal with them. No surprises.
Surely, they discussed the abortion issues,
the children out of wedlock, the threats he
made against his first wife. If they did, they
did a lousy job of execution. Or he didn’t
listen.
Had Herschel asked my advice, I would
have had him say, “Yes, those things did
happen. I made mistakes and I regret them
all. But I have learned from them. I am a
better person today and, as a result, I will be
a senator that you can be proud of.” In my
opinion, that would have played well with a
lot of folks.
It didn’t help that Walker also lied and/or
exaggerated about his academic record, his
law enforcement background and his busi
ness experience. Not to mention vampires
and living in Texas while running for office
in Georgia. Even with all that, Herschel
Walker came within 3 percentage points of
defeating incumbent Sen, Raphael
Wamock, but he fumbled badly.
If Donald Trump or anyone else thought
that winning a national championship at
UGA and the Heisman Trophy would sway
voters, they were badly mistaken. That was
42 years ago, before a lot of them were
bom. Today, the talk is about the current
national champions at UGA and Stetson
Fleming Bennett IV.
Okay, enough politics for the day. You
may agree or disagree with this Obama bed
wetting liberal racist redneck. That is your
prerogative and I welcome your feedback.
In the meantime, I am moving on to more
important subjects like the future prospects
of the current national champions at UGA
and that of Stetson Fleming Bennett IV.
About this, I am definitely not middle of the
road.
You can reach Dick Yarbrough atdick@dick-
yarbrough.com; at P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta,
GA 31139; online atdickyarbrough.com or on
Facebook at www.facebook.com/dickyarb.
Seek early Christmas gifts at your peril
My fascination and
belief in Santa ran deep
when I was a child.
I wanted to know how
he knew when I was sleep
ing.
How he knew if I had
been bad or good.
And how he managed to
get in the house when we didn’t have a
chimney.
I had a house full of adults giving me
logical, rational explanations, with
Granny’s being the most succinct.
“Because he does, that’s why.”
“But how?” I pressed.
“He just does,” she said. “You ain’t
getting too old to believe in Santa are
you?”
I quickly shook my head no.
I had been duly warned when I quit
believing I’d only get underwear and
pajamas under the tree.
“I already get those,” I said smartly.
“You just say they’re for my birthday.”
“You stop believin’, that’ll be all you
get for both gifts.”
I didn’t need another reminder. I was
well aware of the impending threat of
cotton-poly gifts that awaited me once I
stopped believing in the jolly elf.
Each passing year. I continued to
keep the faith, even though I heard oth
erwise from my friends.
Until one day it happened.
I was looking for something in the
bottom of Granny’s chiffarobe as we
were all scrambling to get ready for
church.
I don’t know why every Sunday
morning was full of chaos, but it was,
and I was desperately searching for
something — what I can’t recall — but
I thought it would be found in the bot
tom of her chiffarobe.
As I moved things around in what
was probably some alternate portal to
Narnia, I saw shiny foil paper.
“PawPaw!” I whispered loudly down
the hall. “Come here!”
I heard heavy footsteps in his wing
tipped shoes as he came down the hall.
“What is it? Did you get hurt? You
didn’t get one of your grandmother’s
needles stuck in your hand did you?”
I shook my head as I held
my finger up to my lips
before pointing to the
chiffarobe.
He tilted his head. “What is
“Look.”
I pulled back the quilts all
neatly folded and displayed
the gifts that were stashed underneath.
“Santa?” he asked.
“Santa.”
We exchanged looks of utter shock,
both of us intrigued by the discovery.
His leathery hands reached for a box.
then stopped. Pop was a wise man, and
knew the potential repercussions of
such a find.
“Cover those back up the way you
found them. Make sure it’s exactly like
how you found them, or she will know.”
I wanted to shake the boxes and find
out what may be in there. Maybe even
tear back a corner to see if I could get a
peek. But Pop knew both of our taters
would be mashed if we were caught.
We had an open space, much like a
window, between the apartment Pop
built on to their house for Mama and
me; Granny used it as her lazy way of
hollering for us to come eat and used
the shelves for glasses, medicine and
vitamins, and other knick knacks. It
was a cluttered space and one that my
cat, Jim, loved to use as a shortcut to
get to wherever some food may be.
I came up with the brilliant plan that
if Jim could navigate that window, I
could too. I don’t know how I thought
an 11-year old girl — especially one as
clumsy as myself — could do some
thing a cat could, but I did.
My plan was to get the gifts out of
the chiffarobe while Pop watched his
soaps in the den, take them back
through the window, unwrap them and
then rewrap them and put them back.
It was perfect.
At least in my mind.
Again, I was 11. My brain hadn’t
fully formed the common sense part
yet.
I made it through the first time, clink
ing glasses on the way.
“Jim, you know better!” Pop called
from the den. He was watching Guiding
Light, and I didn’t think he’d get up as
Reva and Josh were in the midst of
another love triangle.
I eased myself down gently to the
floor and padded down the hall towards
their room.
I managed to get one box through the
window and safely back, clinking glass
es slightly each time, and each time,
Pop would holler for the cat to stop.
As I made my way back through with
the second box, my foot suddenly got
caught.
“Lil ‘Un. what are you doing?”
“Meow?”
My grandfather hoisted me off the
sink and saw the box balanced between
our kitchens.
“What kind of nonsense are you
doing?” he asked again.
I sighed. “I just wanted to see what
Santa had for me. I had asked for a few
things that I didn’t think I’d get. So I’m
unwrapping them and wrapping them
back.”
He looked at me for a moment, study
ing me. “You can do that? And make it
look like she wrapped them? You know
she worked in a department store wrap
ping gifts before.”
I nodded.
“Come on,” he said, walking down
the hall. “I got some things I asked
Santa for and I want to know if I’m get
ting ‘em too.”
Of course, we got busted because
someone. I’m not naming names but it
was Pop, pouted about not seeing what
he wanted — a chainsaw — and may
have asked why. She had it, but had it
hidden elsewhere.
She knew we had been in the
chiffarobe. And we knew it.
Surprisingly, the old gal didn’t say a
word.
The next year? I got underwear. In
fact, I think we both did.
Sudie Crouch is an award-winning
humor columnist and author of the
recently e-published novel, "The
Dahlman Files: A Tony Dahlman
Paranormal Mystery."
SUDIE CROUCH
Columnist
The people of Ukraine in need of our help
By Dr. Larry Anderson
Anderson Family Medicine
Dear Gentle Reader, I have just
returned from spending two weeks in
Ukraine. My purpose for the trip was to
observe what was happening and how
the people were responding. This will
take several weeks for me to share this
with you. My accounts will be based on
what I witnessed and first hand reports
from others.
Although I heard a lot from reliable
people, I will only share what I could
verify. You already know about the inva
sion of Ukraine by the Russians and how
they are being repelled. I want to tell
you how citizens have responded and
addressed the needs brought on by this
war.
I will tell you about the Rotary Club
first. The four clubs in this city came
together to address the needs of the city
and the outlying area. These four clubs
together had a wealth of talent: accoun
tants, administrators, logistics, ware
housing and manufacturing.
The need was food. Money was not a
problem but product was. They had
access to 420 tons of chicken meat
donated, but delivery was a problem.
The local restaurants loaned them their
trucks.
They took all this food to the sur
rounding areas for free distribution, and
on the return trip brought refugees to the
city. They continue food distribution by
way of supplies from the United Nations
and other suppliers. Having food in bulk
and then having 47 volunteers daily
repack to manageable family size pack
ets allows them to feed over 35,000 peo
ple.
Their warehouse, which I visited, is
30,000 square feet. The volunteers work
only in the morning, have lunch and
then go home. The reason for this is the
rocket and missile attacks have only
occurred in the afternoon. They want to
be with their families.
Clothes for infants, children, and
adults are available. Food for babies and
even fun food for children are also avail
able. Boxes of food from the UN can
feed a family for two or three weeks.
Before the war started, they were
making blankets that could be used as a
coat liner or as a sleeping bag or a cloak.
The war decreased the amount of blan
kets available to them as the military had
a greater demand, but now they have
adequate supplies to meet their needs.
The funds needed to run this free
organization that is run by the Rotary is
about $300,000 a month. I had to ask
twice to make sure I had the right num
ber. Partial funding is from the Bill
Gates Foundation that matches dollar for
dollar raised. A combination of the other
sources matches a total of $10 for each
dollar raised.
The story does not end here with food
and clothing. During the early days of
the war when Russian troops were in the
country, there was a need to safely trans
port wounded civilians. With bullets fly
ing a regular van would not be safe.
The banks loaned their armored trucks
to help safely transport the injured. All
this is about a community that came
together to meet their sudden needs and
take care of each other. That is the spirit
I saw in Ukraine.
More to come next week. In the mean
time: wash your hands, use hand sanitiz
er. and stay away from sick people.
Thanks for reading.
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