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Viewpoints
Our
Views
Due honors
The Perry Area Chamber of
Commerce had a very successful annu
al meeting, with a big turn-out, a first
rate speaker and two notable high
points the presentation of the pres
tigious Seabie Hickson award ana the
recognition of the Volunteer of the
Year.
Foster Rhodes was an excellent
choice for this year’s Seabie Hickson
Award which is given for notable
community service. A popular local
businessman, Rhodes is known for his
good humor and easy-going ways as
well as for his dedication to his com
munity, his family and his church. One
of his most noteworthy (and seldom
recognized ) achievements has been
his service on the Agricultural
Exposition Authority since its incep
tion.
We applaud the Chamber commit
tee’s choice.
Linda Easterly, the dynamo behind
Leadership Perry, was honored as
Volunteer of the Year. Easterly has an
impressive record in her chosen career
as well, serving as Director of Nursing
at the Perry Hospital.
Awards of this kind are very impor
tant setting standards for all civic
minded people, and acknowledging
the critical importance of volunteer
efforts to the growth of the local econ
omy and the well-being of the com
munity.
Fire protection
Houston County’s unincorporated
areas now range from highly-devel
oped subdivisions in the north to rural
farm lands in the south presenting a
real challenge to government officials
seeking to provide equity in fire pro
tection.
Nothing could have underscored
that point more than the recent con
troversy over . the County
Commissioners’ decision to build and
operate a fire station cooperatively
with the City of Centerville.
While we fully sympathize with the
need of the Henderson Fire
Department and all county fire depart
ments for facilities in good repair and
shelter for fire vehicles, there’s little
question that the agreement between
the county and Centerville made good
sense financially for county taxpayers.
In a nutshell, without such an agree
ment, Centerville (which has substan
tial state funding for just such a pro
ject) could have built its own fire sta
tion and operated as a separate entity,
protecting only those within the
Centerville City Limits. That would
have left the county with the full cost
for improving fire protection in the
densely-populated (and growing)
north end of the county.
Consolidation is clearly coming
and clearly necessary, if ad valorem
taxes are going to be kept under con
trol and services are going to be pro
vided equitably.
In the meantime, however, we hope
to see the County Commissioners
keeping a closer eye on the needs of
the different county fire departments
and making a conscious effort not to
forget the south end of the county.
The outrage of the firefighters both
volunteer and paid clearly caught
their attention, and was, we belifeve, for
more about longstanding needs and
poor communication than about the
fire tax.
Houston Ttaes-Jomial
P.O. Drawer M • 807 Carroll St. • Perry, Ga. 31069
email timesjrn@hom.net
(912) 987-1823 (voice) • (912) 988-1181 (fax)
Bob Tribble President
Jj Johnson Editor and General Manager
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Jggj^
Falcons in the Super Bowl? Wow, this is fiction!
That the Atlanta Falcons will play
for the Super Bowl title this weekend is
a feet I’m still sorting out. Who, among
us, living out our lives in middle
Georgia, could have imagined the
Falcons might actually get to the Super
Bowl?
The Birds have caused the jokesters
on the internet to come alive. Here are
a couple I received this week you might
enjoy.
•••
A new arrival in Hell was brought
before the devil. The devil told nis
demon to put the man to work on a
rock pile with a 20-pound sledge ham
mer in 95 degree heat with 95 percent
humidity. At the end of the day, the
devil went to see how the man was
doing, only to find him smiling and
singing as he pounded rocks.
The man explained that the heat and
The Peanut Gallery
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POR THE WfHA/ER
©AMM ‘99 raytoonslfthom.net
Memories of a hazardous childhood
From time to time, when I’m driving
through a pleasant tree-lined residential
area, it strikes me that one thing has
really changed since my childhood.
You practically never see unsuper
vised children playing outdoors.
When I was growing up in
Montezuma back in the neolithic era,
children weren’t allowed to play indoors
unless there was a tornado on the way.
We operated by two simple rules, which
I assume were in effect in Perry, too.
1) Grownups ruled all indoor spaces
with an iron hand.
2) Children, when they weren’t in
school, stayed outside and just had to be
home in time for supper.
So the grownups got peace and quiet
and the kids ran in tribes all over town
and sometimes beyond the city limits,
too. Looking back, I’m amazed that I
even survived my childhood. I won’t say
that the world was a more dangerous
place then. Kids were more dangerous.
Let’s start with the trains.
Montezuma, as many of you may
know, is a town that was built around
two sets of railroad tracks. Back in the
1940 s and early 50s, trains came
through the downtown business area all
day long actually stopping at the
depots.
These were not trains pulled by the
wimpy little engines they have now.
These were titans monstrous, black
steam locomotives with billowing
clouds of steam and coal smoke, driven
by engineers who figured that trains had
the right of way and. everybody knew
what the whistle meant.
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Page 4A
Wed., Jan. 27,1999
Jj
Johnson
Editor
hard labor were very similar to those on
his beloved farm back in Georgia.
The devil told his demon to turn up
the heat to 120 degrees, with 100 per
cent humidity. At the end of the next
day, the devil again checked on the new
man, and found him still happy to be
sweating and straining. The man
explained that it felt like the old days,
when he had to clean out his silo in the
middle of August on his beloved farm
back in Georgia.
At that, the devil told his demon to
lower the temperature for this man to
Charlotte
Perkins
Times-Journal
Staff
There were no red lights or safety
guard bars. The trains came roaring into
town and the children ran to get across
the tracks before all traffic was stopped
for 15 minutes or more.
That’s something few kids today will
never experience the rush of adrena
line that comes from hurtling across the
railroad tracks with a locomotive thun
dering right toward you.
Well, we had important things to do,
like catching up with our friends, get
ting cherry Cokes at the drugstore, or
arriving at the picture show in time to
see the cartoon before the Hopalong
Cassidy movie.
My friends and I also walked across
the railroad trestle more than once.
Why not? We knew what to do if we
heard a train coming. Just jump 20 feet
into the creek.
Sure, we were scared of a few things,
like the principal’s wooden paddle, but
we just had no fear (and even less sense)
when it came to the outside world.
We were little savages at heart. We
always had skinned knees and elbows,
bruises, scratches, cuts and splinters. We
explored snake-ridden gullies with no
shoes on, climbed towering pecan trees
and jumped out of them, crawled into
storm drainage pipes to see where they
occupied by the error.
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minus 20 degrees with a 40 mph wind.
At the end of the next day, the devil was
confident that he would find the man
miserable.
The man was instead singing louder
than ever, twirling the sledge hammer
like a baton. When the dew asked him
why, he was so happy, the man
answered, “Cold day in hell, the Falcons
must have won the Super Bowl!"
•••
Bob received a free ticket to the
Super bowl from his company.
Unfortunately, when Bob arrived at the
stadium he realized the seat was in the
last row in the comer of the stadium.
He was closer to the Goodyear Blimp
than the field!
About halfway through the first
quarter, Bob noticed an empty seat 10
rows off the field right on the 50-yard
line. He decided to take a chance and
E
led, got stung by outraged bees who
didn’t want to live in glass jars, rode
bikes on state highways and careened
down sidewalks on skates, “putting on
brakes” by wrapping ourselves around
trees or slamming into garage doors
with the palms of our hands.
Toys? We had a few in the house, left
over from Christmas. Outdoors, we had
weapons.
When I was growing up, everybody I
knew boys and girls had a pocket
knife. Not those sissy Swiss Army
knives, either. These were real knives
you could buy at Western Auto when
you got S 5 for your birthday. Mother
of-pearl handles. Two or three different
blades.
With a cap pistol in one jeans pock
et and a pocket knife in the other, we
were all reasonably well-armed year
’round. And beyond that, we had sea
sonal opportunities to light cheap fire
crackers and throw them at each other.
There was, of course, some gender
discrimination. Girls, in my memory,
seldom .got 8.8. guns for their birth
days. (That’s why more men than
women in middle Georgia are walking
around with 8.8.’s permanendy lodged
in their skulls, courtesy of their best
friends.)
All of this may explain why there
aren’t many unsupervised kids playing
outside anymore. Kids from those “good
old days “ grew up to be profoundly sus
picious parents. 1 know that I watched
my own children like a hawk to make
(See PERKINS, Page SA)
Houston Tines-Journal
made his way through the stadium and
around the security guards to the empty
seat. As he sat down, he asked the gen
tleman sitting next to him, "Excuse me,
is anyone sitting here?" The man said
“No;
Very excited to be in such a great seat
for the game, Bob said to the man next
to him, “This is incredible! Who in
their right mind would have a seat like
this at the Super bowl and not use it?”
The man replied, “Well, actually, the
seat belongs to me. I was supposed to
come with my wife, but she passed
away. This is the first Super Bowl we
haven’t been to together since we got
married in 1967.”
“That’s really sad,” said Bob, “but
still, couldn’t you find someone to take
the seat? A relative or a close friend?”
“No,” the man replied, “they’re all at
the funeral.”
Bob
Tribble
Times-
Journal President
Prayer works
One Saturday afternoon when I was
14 years old and growing up in
Lavonia, I decided to take the family
car and drive up town to see some
friends. I was showing off really. You
know how that goes. Our folks were
out of town for the afternoon, so 1
seized the opportunity.
I can well remember that old brown
1942 Pontiac I motored up Main Street
in. It was one of the first made with a
hydraulic gear shift on the steering
wheel. Driving that car was really a
delight because I had learned to drive
at an early age in a ton and a half truck.
All went as planned. The Pontiac
carried me to the spot in the center of
town where I was going. I parked it on
the curb near the poolroom where
some of my friends usually were. We
talked, joked, and I showed off with the
car for a short while before it was time
for me to head back home
I certainly wanted to get back before
my parents did. To do otherwise wdtild
mean a licking with one of my dad’s
favorite hickory sticks.
I got back in that brown Pontiac, put
the key in the ignition, turned it and
absolutely nothing happened. It did not
even grunt! There I was uptown in
Lavonia in a “stolen” car and if I wasn’t
home inside of about 30 minutes I
would get the licking of my 14-year
old life.
As I sat pondering my options, it
suddenly occurred to me that it was
now time to say an old-fashioned
Baptist prayer. I dropped my young
head and asked God to spare me a
behind whipping by letting that old car
crank, and if he would do that He could
count on me never again to do such a
thing.
No sooner than I had said the
prayer, I quickly reached down, turned
the switch and the sound of the starter
spinning to crank the motor was simply
beautiful. When 1 got home, 1 said
another prayer, this one a prayer of
thanksgiving. And I never told my par
ents what I had done.
Folks, prayer really works, especially
when you have the faith. As soon as I
finished praying that Saturday after
noon many years ago, I just knew that
car would crank.
The last week has been a rather
tough one for our family, and our
already active prayer life has become
even more active. Charmaine Arnold,
an employee of our Manchester area
newspapers for several years, and a
grandmother of our three wonderful
granddaughters, pasted away rather
unexpectedly early last Friday morning.
I assure you, Charmaine will be missed
greatly by us, and more especially by
her family, who she continued to do
many things for, even when she wasn’t
able.
Most of you will remember
Charmaine had a lung transplant four
years ago and she has faced some tough
days since then. She reminds me of the
(See TRIBBLE, Page SA)
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