About Dawson County news. (Dawsonville, Georgia) 2015-current | View Entire Issue (Jan. 25, 2023)
PAGE 9A 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, JANUARY 25, 2023 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. Remembering the good who die too young On September 13,2008, we got a call while at St. Simons that our grandson, Zachary Earl Wansley, had collapsed and died during a training run while preparing for the Atlanta Marathon. Zack was the epitome of a scholar-athlete. In high school, he had been president of the student body, cap tain of the track and cross country teams, an honor student and winner of the Journal Cup as Outstanding Graduate. An unrepentant Yellow Jacket, he was in his third year at Georgia Tech, had run cross country and was thriving in the institution’s co-op program. And, sudden ly, he was gone. The first call of condolence I received was from former Gov. Carl Sanders who had recently lost a grandson to leukemia. He said simply, “We should never outlive our children or grandchildren.” We should not but we do. I thought about that conversation when I read that UGA football player, Devin Willock, 20, and Chandler LeCroy, 24, a member of the school’s athletic depart ment had been killed in a one-car crash in Athens, less than 12 hours after having celebrated the Bulldogs’ second consecu tive national championship. From the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. Tragically, for the Willock family in New Milford, N.J., Devin had a brother who had also died in a car crash 14 years earlier. Now, his mother Sharlene Willock will have outlived two of her sons. In my annual letter of advice to great grandson Cameron, I said, “It is easy to feel invincible at your age. You are not. None of us are. Don’t take your life — or any life — for granted. We don’t know how long we are going to be on this earth. Consider every minute of every day a precious gift because it is just that.” How true, how true. That column always generates a lot of reader mail. Readers tell me they send it to their children and grandchildren and, in some cases, put it aside for when their young ones will be old enough to read. In my response to readers, I say somewhat facetiously that I have dispensed advice I should be taking myself. Today, I mean it. Death is democratic. It matters not how rich or powerful we are. Nor does it care about our political leanings, our sexual orientation of the color of our skin. Death will come to all. Sometimes it is expected and sometimes, as in the tragedy at UGA or in the case of Zachary, it is not. What death should do is to get us to put things in perspective. If you could know this was your last day on earth would the long line at checkout in the grocery store really matter that much? Or, the fact that the driver in front of you isn’t going fast enough because you are in a hurry to get to, um, what? Would you call an old friend you haven’t heard from in a long time? Would you ask for forgiveness and give it? The last time I saw Zack, as he was leaving he stuck his hand out to shake mine and then remembered that I don’t shake hands with those I love. I hug. And we did. That is a memory I will have with me to the end of my days. Much has been written about Devin Willock meeting up with a young fan during the festivities on Saturday and allowing the boy to wear his national championship ring. In the last tweet of his life, Willock sent love to the boy’s grandfather, who had thanked Willock for spending time with his grandson when he did not have to. What the young man will remember to the end of his days is not Willock’s impressive performance on the gridiron but his kindness. Human nature being what it is, it won’t take us long to get back to all things Donald Trump, the war in Ukraine, the economy, the weather, our aches and pains, the chance of a threepeat for the Bulldogs. But also let us remember to not take life for granted. Consider every minute of every day a precious gift. And while we are here, do some good. Be kind. Be thoughtful of others. Don’t complain. (Nobody wants to hear it, anyway.) Have no regrets. Hug those you love. Then maybe, just maybe, the memory of Devin Willock and Chandler LeCroy and Zachary Earl Wansley will have made us better people even though they left us much too early. You can reach Dick Yarbrough atdick@ dickyarbrough.com; at P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, GA 31139; online at dickyarbrough. com or on Facebook at www.facebook. com/dickyarb. Mia is in raptor stage of puppyhood Little Miss Mia turned two this month. By all puppy lifes pan accounts, she is now considered an adult dog, with a human equivalent of 24 years of age. Those age calculators failed to take in consideration the energy of German Shepherds. German Shepherds have three age ranges. The first being from birth to about 5-6 months of age - pure fluffy adorableness. Following that until around 3 years of age is something similar to a velociraptor, complete with the speed, intelligence, and destruction of the small dino saurs. Mia is definitely still in the velociraptor stage, regardless of what those other things claim. On a daily basis, she finds something to tear up, especially if she is not getting the attention she thinks she deserves. We’ve noticed a direct correla tion with what she destroys and things that my husband uses — the remote and his glasses have all been chewed to the point of no return. I buy him a couple of cheap readers every time I go to the store, telling the cashier when she gave me a curious glance that our German Shepherd has eaten about half a dozen so far this month. She knows how to open the door to go in the bathroom and tears up anything she can in there. We prop a baby gate up in front of it as a deterrent but she knows how to nudge the gate out of her way when she sees fit. She even will hit the door han dle with her nose when it’s locked and she knows we’re in there, especially if she wants to give us good morning greetings. Mia is quite impatient when she wants to go for her walks or to work. Her training routine began when we brought her home and she doesn’t like to miss a workout, even if it’s rain ing or cold. On those occasions she doesn’t get to work off that puppy energy, she destroys even more stuff, sometimes out of spite as if my husband controls the weather. She even has a look she gives us where she smirks and tilts her head as if to say, “It’s your fault, you know I’m a handful.” Even though she is maybe the most destructive creature I’ve ever had, she does not seem to know her own puppy strength or fierceness. The other morning, I heard a loud bark, followed by the front door crashing open and the thumping of her frantic run as she bounded inside. Was it a bear? A huge buck standing in the yard? No, it was the UPS man, deliv ering a package. Since it had rained so heavily the night before, he was scared the truck would get stuck in our driveway, so he walked the box to the house. All Mia knew was there was someone she didn’t know in the yard. Her bark was to sound the alarm for someone else to handle the situation — she was after all still a puppy. A rambunctious, destructive puppy, but a puppy nonetheless and she was not in any way pre pared to handle some man dressed in brown. Mia instinctually ran for Doodle to come to her defense but even the pittie-mix knew deliveries were usually the happy variety of driveway invasion. She still hides behind the smaller dog she has claimed as her surrogate mother, peeking over Doodle's shoulder at what ever it is that sent her running. She’s gotten a bit bolder in her interactions with Sexy Frank, barking at the mini-panther to try to get attention. He still ignores her but is a bit concerned about how she went from being a barely five-pound furball to being a loud, rowdy girl so quickly. Her most recent antic has been jumping over the baby gate that serves as the barrier between the feline and the pup. She discov ered she can jump over as easily as a horse doing dressage and loves to do it several times a day just to get attention. “She’s going to get hurt,” I said. “She’s fine,” Lamar said. “No,” I said. “Frank is not going to like her coming in here. He’s been gunning for her pretty brown eyes since we brought her home.” She’s wild. She has insane amounts of energy. She hates the word “nein” because she knows it usually means she’s doing something we want her to stop. She’s adorable and spunky, but can be a bit obnoxious when she’s not getting her way. All typical for a two-year old German Shepherd too. “I wouldn’t change a thing about her,” Lamar says whenever I comment on her behavior. I wouldn’t either. She’s also lovable, funny, and compassion ate. When Doodle went through a serious health scare a few months back, Mia didn’t leave her side. Now that Boo’s well, the pittie is back to hiding in the crate as Mia also has zero con cept of personal boundaries. Those dog age calculators may consider Mia to be an adult pup at two, but in German Shepherd years, she’s got at least another year before she calms down. “One more year?” I ask tenta tively, wondering if I can expect to stop replacing things on a weekly basis. “One more year,” Lamar said. “Give or take.” Sudie Crouch is an award win ning humor columnist and author. SUDIE CROUCH Columnist Ukrainian women occupy many police jobs By Dr. Larry Anderson Anderson Family Medicine At one point of my trip, I was six miles from the Russian border in the far east of Ukraine. My daughter, a lawyer in Marietta and a woman of humor, wanted a phone call while I was away. During that call she said, Dad, you know the Ukrainian women are crazy. I asked: what do you mean? She replied: they pick up rifles and fight! My response was: you know this country is at war. The next day I met with the medical Chief of Staff at a 60-bed hospital. At the end of the visit, he and his staff presented to me a picture of an attractive Ukrainian woman holding an automatic weapon. The caption read, “Even pretty women fight.” You can see this in my office if you wish. Just drop by and tell Karen or Jessica. This made me reflect on how women were serving Ukraine in the military and National Police. At almost every check point either in the city or countryside, there was at least one woman guard. At some of the checkpoints, all the guards were women. You could tell they meant business. At the police stations, many of the officers and patrols were women. Ukraine is divided into 27 geopolitical regions. The National Police have corre sponding military ranks. The women were Colonels, Lieutenant Colonels, Majors and a few Captains. At least half of the high ranking, responsible positions are held by women. I attended a national meeting of the 27 heads of the Human Rights division of the National Police. Again, a very large percentage of women were present. I asked if this was like affirmative action and they said no. After interviewing candidates, they picked the most qualified and that is how it hap pened. That is the way it should be. Yes, there was one officer I met who had taken it upon herself to make sure no negative discrimination against women or positive discrimination for women would sneak in. Fair is fair. If you want me to come and speak at your group about my adventure, I will be glad to do so. Thanks for reading. Be safe. LETTERTOTHE EDITOR Jammed up, jelly tight I live right on the county lines of Dawson and Pickens and some days I go to Jasper to shop on 515 and sometimes I go to the 400 traffic jam. Or I can drive up 52 to the back entrance to the Ellijay shopping mess. The driving time is about the same any direction. The problem is that the driving time is getting longer and longer no matter which way I go. It is the result of more and more people moving in here to get out of the city and suburbs of Atlanta and the Yankee escapees from up east or even back from Florida. Our road grids are pretty much what they were 25 years ago but the num ber of cars is about triple. If I hit any major intersection at the wrong time I sit in traffic and wait my turn at the lights or stop signs. The angry com muters honk and speed and drive aggres sively as they try to get to work on time or get home in the evening. Tight tailgating like bumper cars is the new norm. We are not getting much help from the state or the feds up here on the roads. Even mainte-nance money is scarce and potholes are everywhere. There are no major proj ects on the drawing boards for new state or federal roads as far as I can find out. That means we are left with local gov ernments to do the best they can with limit ed money. I suggest they look at the key jam up sites and try to come up with fixes that do not break the bank. Sooner or later we will have to raise taxes to fix our transportation jams that are jelly tight or we will have to leave our cars and just walk to the house. Don’t worry. Kudzu will cover up the final traffic jam and google maps will show a big field of green where you abandoned your car. Gary Pichon Marble Hill Letter policy Letters should be limited to 350 words and may be edit ed or condensed.The same writer or group may only sub mit one letter per month for consideration. Letters must be submitted by noon Friday for midweek publication. We do not publish poetry or blanket letters and generally do not publish letters concerning consumer complaints. Unsigned or incorrectly identified letters will be withheld. Mail letters to the Dawson County News, RO. Box 1600, Dawsonville, GA 30534, hand deliver to 30 Shoal Creek Road or email to editor@dawsonnews.com.
