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Page A— Wednesday, April 6, 2022, The True Citizen
OPINIONS
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LOOKING BACK
{this week in Burke County history}
10 YEARS AGO -APRIL 11,2012
Burke County was ranked the sixth worse of 156 Georgia
counties in the category of community health. Extremely high
ratios of teen pregnancy, obesity and sexually transmitted dis
eases were mostly to blame.
William Gordon Bartlett, 73, was killed when he was kicked
by a horse. He was kicked in the face and head when trying to
protect his granddaughter who had been thrown from the horse.
Brown’s Quality Seafood opened for business behind the
Comer Store on West Sixth Street. Remer and Denise Brown
were the owners of the new business.
25 YEARS AGO-APRIL 9,1997
David R. Carpenter, 35, was killed when his crop duster he
was piloting crashed into a swamp and exploded near Porter
Carswell Road.
A federal judge dismissed Marvin Jones’ $10 million lawsuit
against the City of Waynesboro and former city policeman
Doyle Windham. Jones was critically injured when Windham
shot him in the face during a training session in March, 1996.
James M Andrew was named vice-president of the National
Rural Electric Cooperative Association. He was chairman of
the board of the Jefferson EMC.
50 YEARS AGO APRIL 6,1972
Sandra Kennedy of Midville became the first woman in the
Georgia Baptist Convention to be licensed as a minister. Rev.
M.F. Price, pastor of the Midville Baptist Church, presented
her with the license.
According to statistics released by Dun & Bradstreet, there
were 144 businesses in the Waynesboro area.
The Waynesboro Housing Authority announced plans to
constmct a $73,000 swimming pool in the recreation complex
on Davis Road.
75 YEARS AGO-APRILIO, 1952
Burke County School Superintendent A.H. Gnann said that
Burke was one of 14 counties approved for special state school
building funds.
Horace Mallard announced that he had purchased Superior
Cleaners from Floyd Edenheld.
Advertisers included Powell’s Flower Shop, Pintchuck’s
Dept. Store, McKinney Wholesale and Blanchard Tractor
Company.
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Don Lively
“I talk to the trees, but they
don’t listen to me.”
So sang Clint Eastwood, yes,
Clint actually sang himself, in
the classic musical western,
Paint Your Wagon.
Later, in the same movie, Lee
Marvin, yes, Lee could sing
too, portraying Ben Rumson,
sang, “When / get to Heaven,
tie me to a tree, or I’ll begin to
roam and soon you know where
/ will be.”
Clint was singing about fall
ing in love.
Lee was singing about being
born “under a wandering star”.
I identify way more with Lee
than with Clint.
But musical numbers are re
ally not what this week’s scrib-
blings are about.
Let’s talk about trees.
Here in the Blessed South,
unless you work in the pulp
wood or the lumber industry,
you probably don’t spend much
time thinking about trees. Trees
are just a part of the landscape.
We all live within a stone’s
throw of thousands, probably
millions, of trees.
Trees are just trees, there to
be taken for granted.
That’s not the case in other
parts of the fruited plain.
When I lived in the Texas
panhandle, I learned that trees
in that part of the country were
something that you bought
as a seedling, planted in your
yard, watered and fertilized and
prayed for its survival.
My year spent in Lubbock,
while it led to to the begin
ning of my brood, was not my
favorite era.
One of the reasons I wasn’t
crazy about that part of the
Lone Star State is, I really, re
ally like trees.
Several years ago, when the
outer edges of Hurricane Mi
chael visited our neck of the
woods, a huge tree was blown
down at The Pond, the nearly
sacred site that belongs to my
extended family. The tree’s
root, after the fall, spanned at
least ten feet from top to bot
tom. I briefly mourned its loss
but then decided that the wood
could be put to use. I’d been
considering trying my hand at
carving wooden bowls using
handheld power tools and the
UP A TREE
demise of the pond tree seemed
like a sign to get busy.
When I made the first cut
with my trusty Husqvarna, I
tried to count the rings since
I was very curious as to how
old the tree actually was. I just
knew that it had been there and
had always seemed huge, my
entire life. Anyway, I lost count
at 120 rings. I suspect that the
tree predated my Granddaddy
Jim Tac. Realizing how old the
tree was, how much history had
passed by as it grew, I took a
cue from Clint Eastwood.
I talked to the tree.
I congratulated it on the long
life it accomplished until Mi
chael blew it down.
I apologized for cutting it up.
I even told the tree about
other trees I’ve known.
Like the old sycamore tree
that stood just outside the
hedges at the house where
Mama and Daddy brought me
home from the hospital. There
weren’t any low limbs on the
sycamore so it wasn’t good for
climbing, but there was a very
large oak out by the road at the
end of the driveway. The oak
was perfect for climbing so,
naturally, I nailed a couple of
boards between limbs and built
myself a perch where I spent
many hours reading and learn
ing that I cherished my solitude.
Both trees stayed there until
they were unceremoniously cut
down and the entire property
was razed to make room for
more crops.
The house where I raised
my children Out West was two
large elm trees in the backyard.
I risked life and limb as a parent
climbing high into one of them
to secure a rope for a tire swing
that my kids swung on for hours
at a time.
The wooded enclave, as the
name suggests, is surrounded
by trees and, frankly, most
of them are unremarkable.
But there’s one white oak that
stands out. I’m in the process
of clearing out around it and
making it a showcase, and,
naturally, putting in a tire swing
for when the grandkids visit.
I’ve made close to twenty
bowls, and a few charcuterie
boards, from the pond wood,
all now owned by kinsmen,
becoming instant heirlooms.
The tree did not die in vain.
When I was at
The Pond a few SEE
days ago, I found LIVELY,
that another very 5
P.O. Box 948 • 629 Shadrack Street
Waynesboro, Georgia 30830
Telephone: (706) 554-2111 • Fax: (706) 526-4779
Published every Wednesday by The True Citizen, Inc.
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Advertising Sales; Roy F. Chalker, Jr., Printing Manager.
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Michael N. Searles
In 1935, Langston Hughes
wrote a poem entitled, “Let
America Be America Again.”
In each stanza, he expresses a
longing for a past seared into
our collective imagination—a
dream, a promise, and a land
of freedom. He, however, ends
each stanza with a parenthetic
phrase (America never was
America to me).
Eighty-seven years later,
the phrase still haunts us. E
pluribus Unum is Latin for
“Out of many, one” and is a
traditional motto which ap
pears on the Great Seal of the
nation. While the phrase refers
to a nation made up of various
colonies or states, there has
been a seemingly vain hope that
it also referred to all the people
who lived, worked, and helped
build the nation.
In our country, because there
is a yearning for “America to
be America Again” we bor
row phrases to move us in that
direction. When the U.S. Con
stitution replaced the Articles
of Confederation, the phrase
“to form a more perfect Union”
referred to that transition, but
as time passed, the phrase has
broadened to mean a continual
process of improvement in the
country.
The Founding Fathers real
ized the challenge of govern
ing thirteen geographically
dispersed colonies as a single
democratic republic. However,
they did not imagine how much
more difficult it would be to
integrate Native Americans,
Asians, and Africans. In the Be
Human Project, the dilemma is
clearly stated. “At our core, we
humans are tribal. Constantly,
our subconscious is bombarded
with clues that identify who is
“us” and “them.” Perceived
similarities of status and values
make it much more likely that
we will connect and form last
ing bonds with those who look
like us. This tendency has tre
mendous survival values, since
without strong cohesion,human
groups from hunter gatherer
societies to business organiza
tions, and even modern nations
could not adequately meet the
constant challenges they face.”
The challenge facing us as
LET AMERICA BE AMERICAN AGAIN
a nation is “Can America ever
be America to everyone?” In
some ways, it is amazing that
we have made as much progress
as we have. Our country has
embraced or accepted more
people from different ethnic,
religious, and racial groups than
any other society, and these
achievements should be consid
ered significant. We currently
have a Vice President of Afri
can and Indian racial heritage.
We elected and re-elected an
African American as President
of the United States. Few,
if any, modern nations have
elected a person of a different
race to head its government.
In many ways, America
has a head start in making his
tory. Racial, ethnic, religious,
gender, and sexual acceptance
in our society have not been
achieved without challeng
es. America is predominantly
white and there are those who
want to maintain that numerical
majority. Much of this concern
does not stem from racial hatred
while some of course does; it
comes from our tribal nature.
We live in racially exclusive
communities, we attend racially
organized houses of worship,
we belong to racially consistent
social organizations, and we are
buried in racially designated
cemeteries. We have a greater
deal of comfort when speaking
and sharing space with people
who have our same complexion.
Some have raised the ques
tion why Ukrainians have re
ceived an acceptance not ex
tended to Syrians, Haitians,
Guatemalans, and Ethiopians.
The answer is as clear as the
faces that grace our TV screens.
The faces we see are white and
remind many Americans of their
family, friends, and neighbors.
If those same Americans were
asked to accept a Ukrainian
child into their family, quite a
few would say yes, “I can see
that child as part of my family.”
Today, about 11 million or
17% of married couples in the
U.S. are interracial. It is amaz
ing to think that in the 1950s
about one-half of the states pro
hibited interracial marriages.
While laws have changed and
attitudes have improved, there
is a significant white minority
who neither support nor accept
whites marrying “outside”
of their race. We
know that tribal
identities are diffi- SEARLES,
cult to overcome. 5