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PAGE 4A — THE MADISON COUNTY (GA) JOURNAL. THURSDAY. OCTOBER 8. 2009
Frankly
Speaking
frankgillispie671@msn.com
By Frank Gillispie
A tribute to the
Lewis Family
I have always had the curiosity of a cat, so
when we moved into our new home in Dogsboro
in 1955,1 quickly discovered that we were in an
excellent TV reception area. Dogsboro is on the
divide between the Oconee and Savannah river
basins. A good TV antenna there can pull in sta
tions from three states, so as soon as I had extra
money, I purchased and installed a big antenna
with a rotor. I immediately discovered WJBF,
Channel 6 in Augusta.
That was my introduction to the Lewis Family.
They had a weekly Sunday morning TV program
that featured the great gospel music of the fam
ily, and the antics of "Little Roy.” I immediately
identified with them. They were of the same rural
Southern culture that produced my own family.
They were all about God, family and community,
and having fun without being vulgar or insulting.
So it was with some sadness that I heard of
the family's retirement this year. But it was to be
expected. Sixty years is a long time for any act to
remain on the road.
The first time I saw them live was at the old
Shoal Creek Bluegrass festivals. I had become
acquainted with Billy Dilworth who worked for
the Athens Banner Herald at that time, and he
provided me with tickets in exchange for pictures
and an article. The Lewis Family was one of the
main acts at the festival. The audience enjoyed
their sets on stage. But the most fun, in my opin
ion, was when Little Roy invaded the stage and
raised havoc with some of the other groups. I
remember a very pleasant conversation with Polly
at their sales table where I bought my first Lewis
Family album.
Then when they become regulars at the Comer
fair, I always made sure I was free to enjoy their
music. It was normal to see the grandstand full of
people when they played. Little Roy was always
happy to play “Dixie” when a request was sent up
from the Sons of Confederate Veterans booth. We
appreciated that.
The Lewis Family began performing on front
porches in Lincolnton near Augusta. By the
time they were finished this summer, they had
toured the world, released some 60 albums, and
were installed in the Georgia Hall of Fame, the
Bluegrass Hall of fame, and received dozens of
awards and honors.
Now declining health, and I suspect, fatigue
have let to the end of the family act. But the
greater family is not through. Little Roy is now
touring with Lizzie Long, another Lincolnton
native while Sheri Easter, daughter of Polly, and
her husband Jeff have released a new project,
“Expecting Good Things,” and are engaged in a
project to restore the family home.
My first reaction to the news that the Lewis
Family is retiring was one of concern. I cannot
imagine rural Southern culture without them. But
while they will no longer be on the road, their
music will last forever, and younger members of
the family are sure to carry on their traditions.
I salute the Lewis family with great affection
and fond memories. I wish them all the best, and
look forward to seeing Little Roy at the Comer
fair next year.
Frank Gillispie is founder of The Madison
County Journal. His e-mail address is frank@
frankgillispie.com. His website can be accessed
at http://www.frankgillispie.com/gilIispieonline.
The Madison
County Journal
(Merged with The Danielsville Monitor
and The Comer News, January 2006)
P.O. Box 658
Hwy. 29 South
Danielsville, Georgia 30633
Phone: 706-795-2567
Fax: 706-795-2765
Email: zach@mainstreetnews.com
ZACH MITCHAM, Editor
MARGIE RICHARDS, Reporter/Office Manager
BEN MUNRO, Reporter/Sports Editor
MIKE BUFFINGTON, Co-publisher
SCOTT BUFFINGTON, Co-publisher
FRANK GILLISPIE, Founder of The Journal.
Jere Ayers (deceased) former owner
of The Danielsville Monitor and The Comer News
Periodical postage paid at Danielsville, Georgia 30633
SUBSCRIPTION RATES:
Madison & surrounding counties $19.75/year
State of Georgia $38.85/year
Out-of-state $44.50/year
Military personnel with APO address $42.50/year
Senior rate $2 off all above rates
College student discount rate $2 off all above
rates
POSTMASTER: Send address changes to:
THE MADISON COUNTY JOURNAL
P.O. Box 658, Danielsville, GA 30633
A publication of MainStreet Newspapers, Inc.
Thankful there was no texting when I was 16
So far in my life, I’ve had two
wrecks that were my fault. They
both happened within the first
three months after I turned 16.
One was in the school parking
lot, the other at a busy intersec
tion as I tried to turn left with
the sun in my eyes and the radio
blaring. I played drums on my
steering wheel as I turned in
front of a station wagon driven
by an elderly woman.
Neither of us was hurt, but we
were both stunned. And I remem
ber knocking on the woman’s
window on that bitterly cold day.
She sat still with her hands on
the steering wheel. The radio in
my banged up car was still blast
ing Living Colour’s “The Cult of
Personality.”
I don’t remember who called
my mother. Cell phones weren’t
in everybody’s pocket back then.
But I remember thinking she
seemed so forgiving when she
arrived at that intersection. Now,
I can see that she was surely
shaken, probably more than me.
At what point do we lose our
sense of invulnerability? Well, I
guess some folks never do. But
the youthful feeling of nothing-
Inthe
Meantime
zach@
mainstreet
news.com
By Zach
can-happen-to-me is both a thing
we envy and fear. When you’ve
been stripped of that happy-go-
lucky attitude, you can’t help but
miss it a little. But blind confi
dence fueled by ignorance is not
the same as a deeper confidence
that comes despite a clear under
standing of danger.
At 16, I never felt I was a
danger to myself or others. But
I was. And if I had the tools of
today, I would have been even
worse. Even after the wreck at
16, it was quite some time before
I realized the gravity of the situ
ation, that the woman was OK,
that I was too, that I needed to
change my attitude.
I think of the cell phone in my
pocket now. They are so conve
nient. When I broke down on
Hwy. 316 one winter night years
ago, I realized that I never want
to be without one again. And
had cell phones been around
when I was 16, I could have
begrudgingly saved my parents
some worry.
But I realize, too, that had my
friends communicated through
texting, I would have done
the same, even while driving.
I wouldn’t have thought that
much about it, because I didn’t
think much of danger.
Now, I drive everywhere think
ing of the next car. Will they
respect the centerline? Some
folks swerve way over in your
lane. Some speed up a hill to
pass. I think of the safety seats
in our cars, how nervous I get
at times with the children in
the car. I think of methamphet-
amine, drunk driving, people
searching for the pen on their
floorboard, changing their radio
dial, playing air drums.
Distractions have always been
a part of driving. We never know
who’s in the next car or what
they’re doing. And these days,
there’s a good chance the next
motorist you meet is texting on
a cell phone. I have only sent
one text message in my life and
I can’t imagine how anyone can
operate a vehicle while they do
this. Talking on a phone can
be a distraction for sure, and it
wouldn’t hurt my feelings if the
law required you to pull over to
make a call. Apart from dialing
a number, speaking on a cell
phone is an aural activity, but
texting is a purely visual act.
It requires too much attention
from the eyes on the road.
It’s good to see texting while
driving getting more attention
lately as a public hazard. I think
our state legislature will step
forward and address this in
January. It could prove to be
one of the few slam dunk issues
they face.
The roads are random. We
can’t do anything but accept
that. But we need solid rules
to cut some of that danger. I’m
glad my 16-year-old self didn’t
have the option of texting while
driving.
Today’s 16-year-olds don’t
need it either.
Zach Mitcham is editor of The
Madison County Journal.
a
Mitcham
Empty nest time
As I write this, my son is
steadily moving his stuff out of
his room. Today is moving day
for him - and the beginning of a
new life in a new home.
For his dad and I, it’s a new
beginning too - for the first time
in 27 years, we’ll be alone.
In other words, it’s empty nest
time — a time I’ll admit in years
past that I’ve looked forward to
— but now that it’s here, the
prospect is less appealing.
Our oldest, Miranda, moved
out more than two years ago, and
that was hard, but then there was
still our baby boy at home, all six
feet of him.
Now, having just turned 24 a
couple of weeks ago, Zack is also
going out on his own.
His dad and I are so proud of
both our kids, and like Charles
says, we want to see them both
independent, happy and produc
tive adults, and an asset to the
communities they live in.
But then there is my heart —
By Margie Richards
and it’s a little sore right now.
So many memories come back
to me, unbidden and unexpected.
I look at the man in front of me,
and I see nothing but the little
boy.
I remember how he used to
not want to be away from me
— not even for a little while,
and now here he is a man on
his own, ready to take on the
world. Where in the world did the
time go, and by the way, who is
that (older) woman staring at me
from the mirror?
Wasn’t it just yesterday that
Charles and I would tuck Miranda
and Zack into our bed to let them
fall asleep and then carry them
stealthily to their own beds? We
called Zack the “boomerang”
because for a long time I would
wake to hear the patter of his lit
tle slipper-clad feet heading back
to our bed, waiting to be lifted up
and placed between the two of
us, where he would usually stay.
I don’t remember when that
stopped. But now, I so wish I had
took more notice, not just of that,
but of so many things.
My editor and good friend Zach
Mitcham is at the opposite end of
this spectrum with his little fam
ily; the day my son turned 24, his
son turned four weeks old.
Like me, Zach knows the time
will pass quickly. But he cannot
know how quickly it will go -
cannot know how fast that little
girl of his will become a woman;
how fast that tiny baby boy will
broaden into a full-grown man.
None of us can know the things
we haven’t experienced - we can
imagine, we can empathize, but
we cannot know.
My mama use to tell me that,
and like most everything else,
I now know just how right she
was.
So here we are, Charles and I,
back to where we started, with
just the two of us.
Our babies have flown away
and the nest is empty (except for
a few dogs and more than a few
cats).
But unlike it was for both of
us, whose parents died when we
were young, I hope our kids
will be able to return home to
“daddy and mama’s house” as
often as they like for many years
to come.
And I hope we’ll be around to
watch as they build nests of their
own.
Margie Richards is a report
er and office manager for The
Madison County Journal.
Telephone books go the way of buggy whips
The telephone book was once
a familiar part of everyone’s
household. Some of the directo
ries were big enough and heavy
enough to be used as doorstop
pers, but everybody would use
them at some point to look up a
neighbor’s number or just check
to make sure the phone company
had listed their own name and
address correctly.
But the white pages directory
of residential telephone num
bers is another cultural artifact
that will soon become obsolete,
just as the buggy whip became
unnecessary when Americans
shifted from horses to automo
biles as their favored form of
transportation.
It is well on the way to obscu
rity here in Georgia. AT&T-
BellSouth, which publishes
millions of residential, business
and yellow pages directories
every year, has asked the Public
Service Commission to exempt
the company from its regulation
that requires phone companies
to provide a printed residential
directory to all customers.
Business and yellow pages
directories are still widely enough
used to justify their continued
printing and distribution, accord
ing to AT&T, but most consum
ers just don’t consult their resi
dential white pages anymore.
A major factor in the decline of
the printed directory is that more
The Capitol
Report
tcrawford@
capitol
impact.net.
By Tom Crawford
people have desktop or laptop
computers. It’s usually quicker
and more convenient to look up
a telephone number online than
to drag out a bulky directory and
flip through page after page of
listings.
The phone company has also
— in what I’m sure was a delib
erate strategy — made it all but
impossible for a large segment
of society to be able to read their
white pages directories.
Older people, who don’t see
as well and tend not to use com
puters as frequently as younger
people, would continue to use
the printed white pages if they
could. But AT&T-BellSouth has
shrunk and condensed the type
face of listings so much over
the years that printed directories
are no longer readable for old
geezers like me (I’m sure some
of our readers could testify to
having similar difficulties).
During a recent PSC discussion
of the directory issue, Rockdale
County retiree Cynthia Babb
said of herself and other senior
citizens: “They don’t use the
telephone book because they
can’t read it. They have to go out
and get a magnifying glass.”
Another factor is that many
subscribers, especially younger
ones, don’t use landline tele
phones the way they once did.
A growing number of Georgians
rely on cellular telephones for all
their personal communications
needs, and cell phone numbers
are usually not included in the
printed directories.
There is also an environmen
tal issue: discarded phone books
comprise a large part of the solid
waste that is dumped into land
fills across the state. Eliminating
the printed version of the white
pages would relieve some of the
pressure on those landfills and
save a few trees in the bargain.
AT&T did a trial run last year
by eliminating the printed white
pages for a portion of its metro
Atlanta customers. The company
gave them instead a CD-ROM
computer disk that included all
of the residential phone numbers.
Those customers were told they
could still get a printed directory
from AT&T simply by request
ing a copy.
Only 1 percent of the custom
ers who received the CD-ROM
subsequently called the phone
company to request a printed
copy of the white pages, and
fewer than two percent actually
used the computer disk to look
up a residential phone number,
AT&T said.
“Based on the diminishing use
of the printed residential white
pages directories by custom
ers and the growing reliance on
and desire to use technological
applications to retrieve directory
information, change is in order,”
the company said in a PSC filing.
“It no longer makes sense for
AT&T Georgia to distribute resi
dential white pages directories to
every customer every year.”
“These directories are just not
used as much as they were in a
previous time,” said Dan Walsh,
an assistant attorney general who
provides legal advice to the PSC.
“We do all agree that the status
should be changed.”
The PSC will vote soon on
doing away with the printed
phone book requirement, at least
in the metro Atlanta area. The
white page directories will hang
on for a while in the more sparse
ly populated rural communities
but clearly, it is a cultural institu
tion that is on the way out.
Tom Crawford is the editor
of Capitol Impact's Georgia
Report, an Internet news sendee
at www.gareport.com that cov
ers government and politics in-
Georgia. He can be reached at
tcrawford@capitolimpact. net.