Opinions
08/28/02
The True Citizen
P.O.Box 948
Waynesboro, GA 30830
(706) 554-2111
I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one Nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
Harold
Rowland
Real
Winners
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At a fund-raising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the school’s students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended.
After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question. “Everything God does is done with perfection. Yet, my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is God’s plan reflected in my son?”
The audience was stilled by the query. The father continued. “I believe,” the father answered, “that when God brings a child like Shay into the world, an opportunity to realize the Divine Plan presents itself. And it comes in the way people treat that child.”
Then, he told the following story: Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, “Do you think they will let me play?” Shay’s father knew that most boys would not want him on their team. But the father understood that if his son were allowed to play it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging.
Shay’s father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance from his teammates. Getting none, he took matters into his own hands and said, “We are losing by six runs, and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we’ll try to put him up to bat in the ninth inning.” In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay’s team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.
At the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the outfield. Although no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands.
In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay’s team scored again. Now, with two outs and bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base. Shay was scheduled to be the next at-bat. Would the team actually let Shay bat at this juncture and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn’t even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball. However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher moved up a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.
The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly toward Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball to the pitcher. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could easily have thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have ended the game.
Instead, the pitcher took the ball and threw it on a high arc to right field, far beyond reach of the first baseman. Everyone started yelling, “Shay, run to first. Run to first.” Never in his life had Shay ever made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.
Everyone yelled, “Run to second, run to second!” By the time Shay was rounding first base, the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to the second baseman for a tag. But the right fielder understood what the pitcher’s intentions had been, so he threw the ball high and far over the third baseman’s head. Shay ran towards second base as the runners ahead of him deliriously circled the bases towards home.
As Shay reached second base, the opposing shortstop ran to him, turned him in the direction of third base, and shouted, “Run to third!” As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams were screaming, “Shay! Run home!”
Shay ran home, stepped on home plate and was cheered as the hero, for hitting a “grand slam” and winning the game for his team.
“That day,” said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, “the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of the Divine Plan into this world.”
I don’t know whether this is a true story or another of those legends that crop up now and then. And I must wonder if, in the atmosphere of today’s winning-is-everything attitude, it might actually happen. But it should. Life is so much more than win-loss records. It really is how you play the game. Or do we refuse to acknowledge that we are the basic elements in the Divine Plan!
The Easy Life
 |
Coffee’s
strong at the Café Du Monde, the doughnuts are too hot to touch.
Just like a fool, when those sweet goodies cool, I eat till I eat way too
much.
— Jimmy Buffett
New Orleans.
The Big Easy. As I sit on the famous covered patio of the Café Du Monde,
waiting out a heavy rain, it’s easy to see how the city acquired its
name. I’ve been here less than 24 hours and there’s still so much
to see. At the moment, though, I’m pretty sure I could just sit here,
drinking coffee and eating beignets, and be content to watch the wonderful
strangeness of the city pass before my eyes.
That is, if I could afford more than two cups of coffee.
The Café Du Monde has been selling coffee and doughnuts in virtually
the same spot in the French Quarter since before the Civil War. The café
is to New Orleans what the Waffle House is to Athens on a Friday night.
Twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year, the café provides its simple
menu to writers, musicians, locals, tourists and half-naked drunks. (For the
record, I only fit the category of tourist and sometimes writer.)
One thing is for certain, these folks sure do think a lot of their coffee.
Two cups and an order of three beignets will run you $4.50.
For those of you who opted for Spanish instead of French in high school, a
beignet is a small, square doughnut, fried and covered in powdered sugar.
They’re good, but you don’t have to travel to France or Louisiana
to try one. You can get them at just about any county fair; in Georgia we
just call them funnel cakes. The rain begins to slack off as I finish my coffee,
but not wanting to move just yet, I ask for a refill from our waitress. She
takes her sweet Southern Big Easy time about it, but finally brings us another
round. She then promptly adds $3 to the bill, scrawled on a napkin, and stands
waiting for me to pay, as if I was going to take off down the street with
a mug of hot coffee.
Having finally settled the bill, I lean back in my chair to enjoy the sounds
of a two-piece band made up of two guys with a banjo and a trumpet as they
play and sing “Georgia on my Mind.” This moment can’t last,
however, as the young lady I’m with, digs in her purse for the camera.
She asks some poor guy at the table next to us to take our picture and forever
capture this wonderful moment on film so as never to forget it.
Now would most likely be a good time to explain how I came to arrive in New
Orleans to begin with. In order to do this, I must back up.
I have been seeing a certain young lady for several months now. Her name is
Melissa, but in recent columns I have simply referred to her as “the
girl I have been seeing.” Apparently, this identification is no longer
sufficient for her or her female friends. Melissa works at a certain Waynesboro
bank, the same bank in which I, coincidentally, safeguard my meager savings.
I have had accounts with this bank for a much longer period of time than Melissa
has been employed there. However, in recent weeks these helpful ladies have
turned on me, wanting to know when I was going to identify my girlfriend by
name, as if printing her name in the paper would give the relationship more
meaning.
Having long ago given up on the reasoning of women, and fearing a mortgage
check bouncing, I’d simply like for everyone to know I have a girlfriend
and her name is Melissa. Well, to make a long story short, Melissa and I are
driving to Austin, Texas, to, among other things, see Willie Nelson in concert
on her birthday, Aug. 25. Like any other man, blinded by the courting process,
I helplessly agreed to drive halfway across this country with virtually no
thought to the expense of the venture. This includes spending two nights in
New Orleans.
But then, I didn’t live to be 27 by being a complete idiot, and so I
have learned over the years, that it’s the smallest things that can keep
a relationship on an even keel. So, with that, I put down my cup of coffee,
brush the powdered sugar from my lips, put my arm around my girlfriend and
smile for the stranger holding the camera. This simple act will most likely
ensure that my stay in the Big Easy remains easy, and that, gentleman, is
worth all the film in Louisiana.
contact
benr@thetruecitizen.com
Eu Tu, Tom?
Stand
back, folks! Here they come – The Great Democratic Unity Ticket –
the donkey juggernaut, led by Gov. Roy Barnes, Sen. Max Cleland, Lt. Gov. Mark
Taylor et al. ready to flatten Republicans once again in a 10-week blitz of
smashmouth politics. Look for unopposed Democrat Sen. Zell Miller to pop up everywhere on television, shaking his fist at “those meddling outsiders” (such as the president of the United States) and applauding those noble insiders (such as Barnes and Cleland, both of whom Miller once detested – and defeated).
For Georgia Democrats, happy days are here again. It’s just a matter of counting the votes on Election Day and getting on with governing for another 130 years.
Whoa! Back up, word processor. Don’t get carried way. The Democratic dance may not be that easy.
Just because Roy is squared off against a GOP guy named Sonny doesn’t mean it’s all over but the cheering. Sure, Barnes has raised a gazillion dollars, and Sonny Perdue is virtually broke.
But – Sonny Perdue is not Barnes’ only opponent. Before this election is over, Gov. Barnes may have to figure out how to neutralize an increasingly vocal critic in his own party, one who is not officially running against him yet is sharply criticizing many of his principal policies and campaign promises.
Who is this renegade? His name is Thomas B. Murphy, 78, speaker-for-life of the Georgia House and the true King of the Democrats.
Murphy, of course, has political problems of his own. He is embroiled in a House-seat election rematch with Republican businessman Bill Heath, who nearly defeated Murphy two years ago.
Most folks believe Murphy will win easily this year. Heath had a chance at victory in 2000, and then lost his nerve in the heat of battle. His first opportunity may have been his best one. Murphy is running in a newly configured House district, slightly tilted in the Speaker’s favor.
Still, the venerable general of the Georgia House is taking no chances. His doubts about his own electability may offer the reason that he is break ing with Barnes on several key issues – or maybe it’s just Murphy being his usual cantankerous self.
In any event, the speaker is putting lots of space between himself and the governor. And he has let it be known that he doesn’t care for the following:
•The governor’s pledge to gain approval of tougher ethics legislation. Georgia has just about the weakest ethics (read “financial disclosure”) laws in the country. That’s OK with Murphy. He’s told his pals in county governments and elsewhere not to worry. No major new disclosure laws will be enacted as long as he can wield a gavel.
•The governor’s plan to finance road construction bonds based on future federal allocations. At a recent meeting of the state’s top financial officials, Murphy was the lone voice to speak against the idea. Now former Attorney General Mike Bowers is filing a lawsuit to stop the practice – which was started while Bowers was AG and who apparently thought it was a great idea at the time. “What if the federal funds don’t come as projected?” Murphy asks himself out loud. “The debt service alone could become a problem,” he answers. (A Murphy-Bowers alliance is another oddity that flies in the face of recent Georgia history.)
While no one paid much attention, Murphy has become a persistently annoying problem for the Barnes administration. He torpedoed the governor’s tough DUI legislation and helped gut Barnes’ teen driver bills. He balked at allowing the governor’s men to draw new House districts after the 2000 reapportionment. Instead, Murphy insisted on his own plan for the state House and some congressional districts. He backed Rep. Billy McKinney in tossing out a Barnes-preferred “can’t lose” district for his daughter, congresswoman Cynthia. As you may know by now, Cynthia lost her congressional seat in that new Billy-and-Tom district last week.
Don’t be too quick to dismiss Murphy’s break with Barnes as simply more inside-baseball politics. Barnes needs Murphy. But does Murphy need Barnes? The governor has enjoyed unprecedented success in the Legislature in his first four years in office. Without Murphy’s help, however, the Barnes team would be playing in the cellar.
Consider: Minus Murphy’s active participation or acquiescence, Barnes could not have gained approval of a new flag, education reform, major transportation and environmental legislation, a high-tech information authority and a half dozen other initiatives.
Now, Murphy is balking at further assistance for Barnes and openly criticizing the governor. Such bad-mouthing provides ammunition for Barnes’ Republican rival and could cause the Democratic donkey to stumble before it arrives for the victory parade.
On the other hand, jabbing the governor may simply be a good campaign tactic for Murphy as more anti-Barnes Republicans move into the Speaker’s back yard.
Bill Shipp
is editor of Bill Shipp's Georgia, a weekly newsletter on government and business.
He can be reached at P.O. Box 440755, Kennesaw, GA 30144 or by calling (770)
422-2543,
e-mail: bshipp@bellsouth.net,
Web address:
http://www.billshipp.com
