Unemployment rate jumps to 5.5 percent in May

Anyone seeing a repeat of history here? Daddy Bush left office with the economy in ruins and it looks like Jr. is too. At least Daddy won his war with a real coalition.

Publically Stupid Comment Takes The Cake

I heard the most stupid statement on the radio (NPR) today. Some person (gender not important) said, “With the recent Barack Obama and his church problems, I complete went from a liberal Democrat to a Conservative Republican and I’m very proud to say I’m going to vote for John McCain this year.”

Can anyone give me a reason why such a drastic change of political point of view should occur from such an occurrence? Are we all to be haunted by the actions of those we once associated with?

Miller's Grocery and Deli

Christiana, Tennessee is a very small community with a Post Office just off Highway 231 between Shelbyville and Murfreesboro, Tennessee on state road 269. It is literally just across the tracks as you turn east off of 231. But you may miss it because there are no signs on 269 telling you to look left for the town. You may wonder why I bother to bring this up.

Emily heard from a friend about this little place to eat there. Saturday we decided to run some errands and take a drive up that way with the idea of checking Christiana out along with Bell Buckle, Tn. We missed the town on the first pass so I got out the GPS and used it to find our way to the little town. There is a sign off 231 telling you when to turn but after that you are on your own. The place we wanted to try out is called Miller's Grocery and Deli. Here is the only clue you will find telling you where to look.

Here is what the place looks like and I think you would agree, it isn’t the most inviting store front. But it truly hides a great eating establishment.

As the sign says, it doesn’t open until 11 and Em and I were the first two customers to arrive. We looked it over and reviewed the chalkboard menu then sat down on the bench outside. It wasn’t long before other cars started pulling into the gravel parking lot. None the less we were the first two in and that is how I got pictures of the place without customers.

The food was very good with me having meatloaf and Em having fried oysters. I know they looked good because an old woman walking by stopped to take a good look at them and told Em how good they looked and she would have to get her husband to order some. Now two things about this: 1) with the reputation oysters have as a sex enhancer, one might question her motivation and wonder why Em ordered them as well and; 2) only in the South do folks consider it ok to stop by and comment on a stranger’s choices off the menu. And you wonder why we call everyone family down here?

Our waitress was a very attractive young woman with too much mascara. I wondered why some guy hadn’t grabbed her up and taken her off to some populated part of the world. She asked how we came to know about the place and Em told her it was by word of mouth. The young girl told us her Mom had worked there 10 years and they never advertised the place. I guess she was surprised anyone ever came by considering how out of the way it is. But let me tell ya, word gets around when you have good food. At least four groups of people ate while we were there and one carryout which was the woman who owned the antique store called “Hunny Bunny” just up the street. It was the only other store on that street. Hell, it was the only other building on that street. Inside Miller's as you can see is a time capsule of stuff. It is very popular these days for junk to be hung and shelved all over restaurants, but those that have local junk still hold my interest.

We filled our bellies and Em ordered two deserts, both some form of chocolate. She started one and it was so rich she ended up taking the rest of it and the other one home.

Here is their menu in case you're interested.

We headed out for Bell Buckle, TN and upon arriving we couldn’t get into town because an 18 wheeler had gotten itself pinned in while turning off a side street.

It is a small town, but kind of well known for it’s Moon Pie and RC Cola festival it holds every year. Bikers like it too. There is going to be some kind of Bikers gathering there this coming weekend.

But this little town is also know for its Webb School. It was built by Sawney Webb, who’s goal was to build moral character, make ladies and gentlemen of his students, and prepare them for any challenge that may come their way. The school has accomplished this for over 135 years through a solid liberal arts education, a strong sense of honor, and an interactive school community. The School has produced 10 Rhodes Scholars and its graduates have gone on to attend prestigious colleges and universities across the nation and to lead important, successful and fulfilling lives in business, education, and the arts. Which if you ever get a chance to visit is quite an accomplishment for a little place out in the grass lands of Tennessee.

The town has many fine old homes and the business district is a row of old stores selling antiques and sappy god loves you signs. Not a lot different from any other place trying to survive with no other industry around.

We headed out into the country and drove the back roads back to the house. There was going to be a hell of a storm that night but you would never have known it by the way the day went. It was a good day and we ended it at Tammy’s Outback with a steak cooked by Farnell. But that is another story all together.

Jackson, Zen, And A Long Drive In One Weekend

Things change and sometimes it can be felt below the belt even if it is a good thing. I took Emily to Nashville for her Lasik enhancement this weekend. It was our plan to visit some sites up that way after her day of darkness. We altered that plan a bit by going to my old high school after we visited The Hermitage.

It was a unusual school in that it was round. The gym was in the middle and two floors of classrooms were built around it. Our assistant principle married one of our teachers during my time there, which I think is kind of out of the ordinary. I remember sitting in Economics class with a teacher that not only was teaching a boring subject, but was a boring person himself adding to the tendency to fall a sleep. Only on the days when the band would practice marching around the building playing “Up Up and Away” (5th Dimensions) over and over again would my sleep be interrupted. The standing joke around the school was “old dogs walked themselves to death looking for a corner to piss in.”

It was really Emily’s idea to revisit my old school. For some reason she wants to see my past. I can’t imagine why. After this trip, I’m not sure I ever want to revisit my past. It was a “Zen” moment to say the least. First the little round school (with it’s lovely stand of old oaks) over the inlet and out in the country east of the town proper of Hendersonville was now a Middle School in a business district with a grassy soccer field in front and the only thing round was the roof over the gym since they added to the building expanding it out into the old student parking lot. The new high school was now to the west of the athletic field which was behind my old school. I wasn’t into athletics (I was and still am an explorer) so the football field doesn’t hold any nostalgic value for me. However, looking into the glass doorway of my old school did bring back memories. Like most schools it has the admin offices located by the front door, but looking down to the curved hallway is what did it for me. I walked that circle many times.

The idea that my old high school isn't good enough for the current generation was disconcerting. I guess I just never felt obsolescence so strongly before. I know things have to advance, but I couldn’t help but think that there was an arrogance of modality at play here. That is to say, the current generation of parents needed a new more modern facility for their offspring to highlight there change to a modern little city over the once sleepy little community in the country it use to be. I felt no connection with the town. It is an ugly little shopping spot with a park on its part of Old Hickory Lake.

My old house and neighborhood was a joy to see. I use to walk out the back of the school and past the athletic field into a meadow where I would often scare nesting birds off their nest in the spring time. I enjoyed knowing the signs of such things. As a Boy Scout, I knew that when a bird faked a broken wing it was trying to lead me away from the nest. It was cool knowing that back then. There are some of us who don’t see life as one competition after another, but rather a wonderful place to explore and learn about and from. My neighborhood was just past that meadow and in those days it had nice brick houses but not much in the way of landscaping. Today it still has nice brick homes with well cared for yards and lots of big trees. My old house which was a corner house with trees lining one side was nicely cared for and the trees were still there and looking magnificent (nearly 40 years later).

It didn’t help that we visited the Hermitage first and got a dose of a self made man who imposed a lot of cruelty on people as part of his legacy. Jackson has never been my favorite president. He is one of those men who’s effect on history I view as a point in which life really could have been significantly different if he had died at birth. I don’t mean to say Jackson was a monster of a person. He, like all of us, is a product of his upbringing and he did many great and kind things and his persona had a powerful influence on the people of Tennessee. His presidency did shape this country and some of those changes are what I find fault with. Not to debate the pros and cons of Jackson, but rather to make a point that few of us are given opportunities for greatness and most of us are not. Not to say we can’t be influential during our life time, but most of us are most effective in a much smaller pond. Mixing that idea with the visit to my past, I have to come to grips not only with how small my pond is, but how little a ripple I’m leaving.

Falls Mill

Started this weekend out by going to a little craft fair down at the local park that wasn’t much to see. At least not for a guy. Emily didn’t find too much to her liking either. We left there and did a little grocery shopping at the local Wal-Mart and then tripped over to Tullahoma to a Kroger’s. That was 30 miles away. Long story but the jest of it is they ordered her some Walden Farms 0 calorie 0 sugar products. They hadn’t come in, so it ended up being a lunch at Red Lobster.

After lunch we took a little trip over to Falls Mills. Its a private non-profit venture that is trying to save a little piece of American industrial and agricultural history on the banks of Factory Creek near Belvidere, Tennessee.

“This attraction holds great appeal for those interested in the antique machinery and process used in both the printing of early documents and the grinding of agricultural products. Built in 1873 as a cotton woolen factory, the mill was later converted – first for use as a cotton gin and then as a woodworking shop. Today, a 32 foot steel water wheel (over 100 years old) powers millstones the grind cornmeal, flour and grits (which can be purchased on site). The building containing the mill also houses a two story museum where you can see a printing press, hand looms, power looms, spinning wheels, and wool-carding machinery. Adjacent to the mill is a bed and breakfast log cabin for overnight guests.”*

It is a quite picturesque place. The really cool thing about it is it is an excellent example of privatized hydro power. In this case it turns a huge water wheel and powers grinding wheels. But the same concept could be used for electrical power if you happen to have this kind of water resource around. Not a lot of us will ever have it, but still it’s a cool idea for pollution free energy.

The area around the mill is very pleasant and it’s worth a visit. The owners are nice and when you see their home -pictured here - you kind of turn green with envy.

The mill itself is a fun place to explore and the owners let you have the run of the place for $4 a head and after watching a 5 minute video history presentation. Kind of serene too.

You’ll find lots of fun stuff here and there.

Oh, yea! Their overnight cabin is cute.

* This description came from Charles and Daniel Frew's (father and son) book 52 Weekends in the Tennessee Valley. ISBN 0-9777415-0-8

Sometimes I create art - but mostly I just take snapshots

Over the years I run into many people with different ideas on “Art”. Most understand that, like any subject, there is room for debate and disagreement. But, all too often I find that people can’t distinguish between skill and creativity. Folks who lived before the 1850s considered art as a way to document what was around them. Today, I’d agree with Sculptor Henry Moore who said, “Art is the expression of imagination, not the duplication of reality."



As an amateur photographer, who leans toward finding new ways of seeing reality (I also just like to record what I see), I bump into photographer friends who think they create art because they have a spiffy camera and a few lens and know how to read a light meter. What rubs them raw is when I tell them they just take snap shots. That is all they do. Yes, they read the meter and may have a little skill with a few filters, but they never try to go beyond recording the object they are taking a picture of. They never attempt to manipulate the environment of their subject. They never stage a shot. They never create what is in their head. They attempt to make the scene look like what they see with their eyes. This is OK and requires a good deal of skill, since the camera and medium (film or digital) do not record light the way our eyes do. But it is not Art. There is no imagination to it, no creativity. They never think of a picture they want to make then precede to make it. They see something – sometimes interesting - and record it. An artist can make a great picture from cheap, even defective, cameras because they understand visualization, composition and lighting. They have a command of light and color. They can do it with a brush, knife, paper mache or a camera.



There is nothing wrong with making pictures. Recording events – historical or personal – is an important application that photography is good for. Doing it well and mastering the demands of the subject are worth while goals. Technical mastery helps the creative process, but it doesn’t make the process creative.



Have a look see here.

One Exposure

Clinton Smith

Chema Mandoz

David Chapelle

My return to Tennessee after 37 years.

I’ve pretty much completed my move to Tennessee. I’m not all that far from Huntsville, but I’ll be sporting Tennessee tags on my truck soon and my mug is already decorating a Tennessee State driver’s license (which in getting also made me a registered voter).

Sold my house in an unbelievable two days. At least that was as long as it was publicized. Emily treated me to a week in Gatlinburg during my birthday week. The week before I interviewed three Realtors. Two where recommended by my out of state bank, USAA. They have a program for helping sellers. However, as I inquired, I realized that they just get a commission for every bank customer that takes up one of their recommended Realtors and they really haven’t done any checking on the Realtor’s capabilities. Of course I could have gotten cash at closing for using one of them, but the amount of money wasn’t really an incentive after I got past the initial marketing effort.

I also called on Dave Ramsey. For you who don’t know about him, he is a “Christian” financial adviser with a radio show. Yea I know what you are thinking. Chet!!!! Have you found religion!!!! No, I haven’t. But, Ramsey gives out excellent financial advice for those who will not face the reality of debt. I use to go out for lunch buying a sack meal and finding a tree shaded area off the road there on Redstone. His station was the only one what would come in static free. He was followed by Rush Limbaugh, so I made sure my lunch was finished by the end of Ramsey’s show. His religiosity isn’t a big part of his show although he does try to insure his ticket to heaven is good with a few scripture readings and a smattering of JC is Lord. But 90% of the show is excellent hard hitting financial advice. Call him the Dr. Phil of Finance. I’m not a fan of Dr. Phil. I see a big difference in rough, honest, straightforward financial advice and deeply emotional beatings.

One of the side issues Ramsey makes money from is advertising from companies that he claims he has researched and interviewed and tested. So, I left an email on his site saying I was looking for a Realtor in my area. Both his and USAA’s recommended realtor’s called within 24 hours. They all had great presentations and handled my questions pretty well. But one had one thing the others didn’t. Yea, she was cute and full of energy and she had a great personality and most definitely knew the company line since she leads it here. But in addition to all the others offered, she also offered free use of a truck to move with. Just fill up the tank and bring it back when you’re done. Not only that, but once I use her services, the use of the truck is a life long offer. Yep, if in a few months I want to haul a big group of illegal aliens to Chicago, I can call her up and reserve the truck. Now how is that for an incentive? Well, maybe for some of you, hauling your own stuff is the last thing you want to do in such a transition, but I’ve done it all my life so this was a real cost savings.

Who is this master of the Realtor business? Amanda Howard, Ring the Team, of Weichert Realtors.

So, having chosen Howard to handle the sale of my house, Emily and I took off for Gatlinburg. Howard’s team came out to the house and took pictures for a visual-tour. If you want to see how well they did, click here. Yea I cleaned the place up. They got the sale posted to the web on Wednesday and on the drive back from Gatlinburg that Friday I got a call that I had four offers and one was in excess of my asking price. Wow, I never thought it would go that fast. When I bought it four years earlier it has been on the market for months. Needless to say I was pleased - more money than I asked and no repairs or home improvements necessary. Two weeks latter I moved out and closed.

Now, living in Fayetteville, TN isn’t like living in the big city. It is a lot like my Dad’s home town, Noblesville, IN, use to be. (I say “use to be” because Noblesville has been consumed by the urban sprawl of Indianapolis.) There is a town square filled by the county courthouse. Fayetteville is the county seat of Lincoln County which is not named after Abraham Lincoln. Fayetteville is named after the city of Fayetteville, NC – a place I use to live as well. Seems some North Carolinians from Fayetteville came west and settled in Tennessee. But you can read all that if you are interested on Wikipedia.

It took a week for me to settle in here and get myself back on the Internet in the privacy of my own place, although, it isn’t my place, its Emily’s. The 29 mile commute is a pain but coming home to a significant other is worth it. I have changed my morning habits to miss the bulk of the traffic going to Huntsville. Seems a lot of Tennesseans commute to either Huntsville or Redstone Arsenal to work. No longer do I while away the morning hours doing whatever my over active mind desires then rush to work in 10 minutes. I miss that. But life in a small town is suiting me at this stage of my life. I’m still looking for a few acres to build my final house on and this area has just the kind of picturesque landscape I’m interested in. Click these links for a few snap shots I’ve taken driving around the county.

Stable on a Foggy Morning

Barn-in-the-Mist

Deer-in-Meadow

Home-on-Lynchburg-Hwy

Stone-House-in-the-Meadow

I am scouting out best places and times to photograph this area. Even got me a new GPS to help me get back to some of these really back woods locations. I’m looking forward to recording Lincoln County for these times. Landscape photography isn’t my biggest photographic interest but I’ll strive to do the county justice.

Expect more to come now that my transition back to a Tennessean is nearly complete.

Gatlinburg Birthday

Em treated me to a week in Gatlinburg for my birthday. I was more than happy to go, but I have to confess I wasn’t too excited about a week in the “Dollywood” entertainment capital of the Appalachians. I’ve never been a big fan of theme parks and pageant like entertainment. I’m not saying anything is wrong with them, it just isn’t my cup of tea. But Em had a few things in mind that would make this a great week. For starters she rented a log cabin just outside of Gatlinburg high in the hills and back in the woods. This particular cabin was part authentic log cabin that was added on to with modern log techniques so we had the best of both worlds. It came with big flat screen TV hooked to satellite TV and there was a nice hot tub on the deck. The hot tub was to be the best toy of the week. We did a lot of walking and that tub was just the right tool for easing tired old bones and muscles. The cabin was nested on a ridge such that we did not have to climb stairs to get in and out and we didn’t have a neighbor 15 feet off to one side or the other like some of the places we saw. In other words we had privacy, which was needed considering the lack of dress we wore to, in and from the tub.



We did a few of the traditional Gatlinburg / Pigeon Forge things. Em got us tickets for “Dixie Stampede”, a Dolly production. I enjoyed that evening but the best part was the intro period in which we sat at long tables with a drink and peanuts/popcorn and listened to live music from some relatively unknown performers. They were very talented entertainers and the closeness to the raised stage made it a more intimate form of entertainment. The main attraction was a utensil free meal and a pageant/rodeo show. A war between the South and North theme in which one side of the arena is pitted (playfully) against the other. It ended with a big screen TV patriotic song by none other than Dolly Parton herself, which was kind of cheesy. I enjoyed the show and it was everything I expected it to be which in hindsight was a good thing.

One day we took a long winding ride thought the Great Smokey Mountains National Park (GSMSP) to Cades Cove. It is a wonderfully relaxing drive and even though it was very late winter, spring was in the air. It was such a good day I think I’ve convinced Emily to invest in a camper with me. LOL I do want to go back to that area during different seasons and camp and photograph my heart out. I know it’s been done by others, but I shoot pictures for my own pleasure and remembrances. I’m not out to out-do anyone, just have my own experience. There is something exciting about getting up before dawn – no matter what the season – and finding new discoveries the new day brings.






Most of the time the weather was good but we did have a day of rain and dreary skies. On the rainy day, Em and I drove a car tour of the GSMSP that took us into the clouds. It was a cool looking ancient rain forest. The trees were still bare but the rhododendron was green and thick soft moss covered rocks and decaying tree trunks. The road was narrow with many vistas that included a look straight down into deep ravines. The gray dampness and clouds gave everything a soft gentle look. Peace was all around.

That afternoon we drove into Pigeon Forge. Erin, my son who is studying in England, wanted a coffee cup that distinguished him as a southerner instead what the Europeans so blatantly label us – Yanks. I expected to find those silly “The South Will Rise Again” cups with the fat old bald Confederate waving a Confederate flag. Thankfully, that little iconic representation of the south seems to have lost its popularity, since I found none like that. There was a lot of “Rebel” crap – mostly with the defiant look and color of hate – to be found. That was disappointing. There is so much about southern culture that is good and friendly but our hateful past just will not let go. I did find a cheap cup that said “Proud to be a Rebel” with a Confederate flag. I got it knowing I’d have to supplement it with some good hiking clothes for his birthday.

We looked for pottery too that afternoon. Em wanted a sun burst for her porch. We didn’t find anything to her liking but as always, we supplemented the day with good food. In fact we ate like royalty that whole week. Not much of it traditional southern cooking either. There are lots of options throughout that area for good food of just about any cuisine you want. Probably the worst food we had was at the ski resort. Nothing special about it at all and rather mediocre. We had a bad meal at a seafood restaurant too. That bad dinning experience was compounded by poor service as well. It was probably a one night issue but it was the night we were there and that is the one we took home with us. Because I feel it was a one time thing, I’m not going to mention the name of the place.

The whole week was a great birthday present from Em (there were packaged gifts as well) and I hope I can do as well for hers this coming May, although it is going to be spent at her time-share. Got to get the creative juices going “fer sure”.

The future holds a short disconnect

To day I had a BAG meeting. Sounds like a sack lunch over a conference room table, doesn’t it? That’s not too far from what it was. BAG is short for Benefit Advisory Group and I was getting the low down on how my retirement was shaping up. I’m not going to stop working for a few more years but need to see how the road map was compared to the real course I’ve taken. It’s looking good, but could be better. One thing for sure, I’ve taken good care of those within my influence to include the former Mrs. Dailey. She’ll be taken care of latter too unless she should depart this life before me. That is not very likely nor do I wish it. She comes from a line of upper eighties early nineties departurers and I come from a mix bag of late fifties to mid seventies bucket kickers. In any case, I don’t think I’m going to have to prep for a career as a Wal-Mart greeter.

I’m going to be going off line for a few weeks. I’ve decided to move in with Emily and live in the little town of Fayetteville, Tn. So, I’ll be selling my house and as such ending my internet access for a short while. Emily is treating me to a week in Gatlinburg for my birthday. Yea, that’s the home of Dollywood and the like, but it is also at one of the entry points for the Great Smokey Mountain National Park and I’m sure I’ll spend more of my time in the woods than at the pageant type entertainments. More on that latter. The week I get back I have overtime scheduled so I’ll be getting home late and tired. I’ll probably hire a realtor the week before taking the trip so they can do their thing without me having to keep a tidy place for at least the first week which is probably the most showings it will get in a prescribed time frame. I’ll kill my cable service then too, so I don’t end up paying for a full month of service when at best I would really only get another week of use. Killing cable will terminate the internet access. Looks like reading is going to fill my evenings. I’ll have the office machine to look with, but work being what it is, I don’t expect to do much communicating from there. So despite my best intentions of being more prolific on line, I’m going to have a lot of dead air time for the next month. LOL I know this disappoints my huge fan base but fear not, I’ll be back.

Rambling Thoughts of a Morning

Emily pulled a book from my bookshelf this morning and said, “This looks interesting.” It was “Getting It On” by Lewis Grizzard. She thought it might be a sexually raunchy book, not that I have a lot of them, but in my head life unfolds that way. I got to thinking about Grizzard’s life, what little I know of it. I know in his early life as a comedian he was a racist and his humor reflected that racism, but I did not find that out until after his death. I just remember him as a purveyor of southern humor rich with simple southern life. He understood the charm of a steak dinner at Waffle House if you get my drift. I also thought about how I’ve changed my reading habits in my merging autumn years. As I thought about this I remembered I had read Herman Hess’s “Siddhartha” this week at work and how out of character that was for me these days. It was a slow week and nothing crossed my desk to do and once I got all the unimportant things done that no one asks you to do but you know they expect you to do, I had time on my hands. I got Google books up on the computer and searched for Steppenwolf thinking I would read that story again since I last read it in a previous life and couldn’t remember why it was considered worth reading by the literary world. Well, actually, I was tired of reading my critical thinking book and wanted something different. I found it, but got side tracked to Siddhartha and for the life of me I don’t know why. I had never read it before and knew nothing of it. Hess was known to me as a German writer of strange philosophical undertakings that bored me to tears in my youth. I started with an introduction to Hess himself and was struck by a lot of similarities between his life and his thoughts and mine. We are not all that identical, but there were some remarkable similarities of thought. I finished the book by the first hour of the second day and have pondered its meaning off and on the rest of this week. I realize it means far more to me now than it ever could when I was 19 and built “like a rock”. I can’t help but think teachers waste a lot of effort on high school kids trying to get them to read and enjoy the classics when one really needs a lot of life experience and the wisdom that comes from that exposure to really relate and see the real value of the authors writings. It’s like expecting a high school biology student to understand the instructions of a brain surgeon at work. What a waste.

For those who have not read Siddhartha, you may want to pick it up some time and give it a try. It is less than a hundred pages and you don’t have to worry about in-depth character studies because that is not Hess’s style. You may find his insight into life and value of human interaction and experience insightful.

Just something I thought was funny.

What do you think when you see an event announcement such as “Historic Mobile Home Tour”? Well, you could think it was a house trailer tour or you might think, “oh wow another RV gathering”.

When I saw this announcement it reminded me of a night in a hotel in New Mexico some years ago when I was watching the local news. The western news announcer was telling a story about Mobile, Alabama. I didn’t understand what he was talking about at first because he pronounce the city’s name instead of . When I realized what he meant, I laughed.

The aforementioned Mobile Home Tour is a tour of selected historic homes in Mobile, Alabama. If you want to know more you can check it out at www.historicmobile.org.

It's all about education, stupid.

When I read this article I felt I could replace the word "Florida" with just about any state in our nation and most assuredly I could pick any southern state. Just image if we spend the kind of money on our educational system that we wasted in Iraq this last 5 years. Our return on investment would be so much more rewarding.

Our reputation for flakiness is at stake
Posted on Sun, Feb. 17, 2008

By CARL HIAASEN
In a move that could endanger Florida's flaky backwater reputation, the state Board of Education is poised to endorse the teaching of evolution as a science.
This is a dangerous idea -- not the presentation of Darwinism in schools, but the presentation of Florida as a place of progressive scientific thought.
Over the years the Legislature has worked tirelessly to keep our kids academically stuck in the mid-1950s. This has been achieved by overcrowding their classrooms, underpaying their teachers and letting their school buildings fall apart.
Florida's plucky refusal to embrace 21st century education is one reason that prestigious tech industries have avoided the state, allowing so many of our high-school graduates (and those who come close) to launch prosperous careers in the fast-food, bartending and service sectors of the economy.
By accepting evolution as a proven science, our top educators would be sending a loud message to the rest of the nation: Stop making fun of us.
Is that what we really want?
On Tuesday, , the Board of Education is scheduled to vote on a proposed set of new standards that describe evolution as the ''fundamental concept underlying all of biology'' and ``supported by multiple forms of scientific evidence.''
Certainly that's the position of every reputable academic group on the planet, including the National Academy of Sciences, the American Association for the Advancement of Science and the National Science Teachers Association.
But forget the fossil record, OK? Forget DNA tracing. Forget the exhaustively documented diversification of species.
This battle is about pride and independence; about boldly going against the flow, in defiance of reason and all known facts.
In recent weeks, the Board of Education has been swamped by e-mails and letters from religious conservatives who advocate teaching creationism or intelligent design, and who believe evolution should be discussed strictly as a ``theory.''
For those who wish to see Florida standing still, if not sinking, this is a fantastic strategy. In fact, it could be expanded to revise other educational doctrines.
Let's start teaching gravity as a ''theory,'' too. And don't forget the solar system -- what proof do we really have, besides a bunch of fuzzy, fake-looking photos, that Mars really exists?
At a recent public hearing in Orlando, opponents of evolutionary teaching rose one by one to assail the proposed curriculum standards. Some had traveled all the way from the Panhandle, and were, like presidential candidate Mike Huckabee, exclusive believers in the Bible's version of creation.
According to The St. Petersburg Times, one speaker compared Charles Darwin, the father of evolutionary science, to Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin, well-known tyrants and mass murderers. Such loony gibberish is actually good for the anti-evolution crusade, providing the best evidence that the human species has not advanced one iota in the last 100,000 years.
With this in mind, several school boards in North Florida have passed resolutions opposing the teaching of evolution as fact. True, students in those same districts have produced some of the worst science scores on the Florida Comprehensive Assessment Test, but who needs Newton or Copernicus when you've got the Corinthians?
The notion that humans descended from apes has never been popular among fundamentalists, but what of the apes themselves? Given the gory history of Homo sapiens on Earth, no self-respecting chimp or gorilla would claim a genetic connection to us.
The outcry against evolutionary instruction has been so heated that 40 members of the committee responsible for the new science standards felt compelled to sign a letter stating, ``There is no longer any valid scientific criticism of the theory of evolution.''
Caving in to groups that question the soundness of science, the letter warned, ``would not only seriously impede the education of our children but also create the image of a backward state, raising the risk of Florida's being snubbed by biotechnology companies and other science-based businesses.''
Nice try, pinheads, but there's no sin in being a slightly backward state with extremely modest expectations for its young people. That's been the guiding philosophy of our tightwad lawmakers for years, and the degree to which they've succeeded is illuminated annually in the FCAT charade.
If snubbing is to be done, Florida should be the snubber, not the snubee. Keep your elite biotech payrolls up North and out West -- we've got hundreds of thousands of low-paying, go-nowhere jobs that require little training and minimal education.
Should state officials vote this week to put evolution on the teaching agenda, it will be a small yet radical step out of Florida's backwarding-thinking past.
Resistance is not futile. We've worked hard to keep ourselves so far behind in education, and we must stay the course.

Just a Ponder

History is what was and the cause of what is. We can never know what it could have been. I think of this every time I think how different the world would be today if Al Gore had won his own state in his bid for president in 2000.

A term that serves to degrades the user

I heard a self professed “freethinker” say the Flying Monkey Arts Center “looks wayyyyy too artsy fartsy for my tastes”. Too many times I’ve heard the expression “artsy fartys” used to denigrate creativity. It is a term used by the ignorant who think creative people are outside their capability for understanding. They relish their self inflicted ignorance of creativity wearing it like a badge of honor. I’m particularly disturbed by a person who calls themselves open minded using this term. This person is really a self claimed atheist who likes to claim she thinks outside of the restriction of dogma, but is in fact encased in her own restrictive inhibitions to examination of the world. She slaps a label on a concept that she thinks is cute but is really belittling.

I’ve heard others use the term in question. Why do they fear opening their minds to someone else’s creative expression? If they don’t like it, fine, they should say so, but don’t degrade it with shitty “cutesieism” rational. Don’t turn it into an “us verses them” issue. The artist is trying to open lines of communication. Take advantage of that opportunity and explore.

They only good thing about that term is it goes a long way towards identifying fakes and I guess I should be grateful for that.

Good People - Good Community

I’ve wanted to write about an experience I had a few weeks ago that revived my faith in community. These days, with the current administration so negative about everything none American, the news media so willing to expound on the negative with no regard for the positive and business running skittish thus ruining so many peoples financial well being, it is rare that something can help get me past all the negative exposure. What I experienced went way beyond just getting past the negative. It gave me hope for the future and a great respect for local influence in our lives.

Emily is a RN and works at a retirement home and was, until recently, tagged the “Wound Care Nurse.” That is, along with the normal nursing responsibilities, she was the nurse called when a resident/patient developed an open wound. This responsibility is mostly for liability purposes, but don’t rule out compassionate care of the clients. She is called to not only care for the wound but to adequately document it – size, location, probable cause, etc. She works closely with another Wound Care Nurse, Gloria. Gloria’s husband, Doug, had a transplant a while back and after the extreme traumatic experience of the surgery, they have gone through some hard times with his recovery. There is insurance, but there is disagreement over what is covered. Meanwhile the pressure to pay the bills ignores the disagreement between the pained and the profiters. To help out, the little community of Boonshill put on a Grand Old* Opry show at the Boonshill Community Center. This is just a little place out in the country in the north-west corner of Lincoln County. If you looked up the stats most of the categories will read, “significantly below state average.” There are as many Indians are there are Blacks although its population is decidedly white. The community center is an old now unused public school building and, trust me, it wasn’t updated when it shifted purposes. It is a big building with some A/C on a good day. On this very hot July night it wasn’t up to the task.

The event was a multi-phased presentation broken into two functions. First there was a dinner which cost $10. The nursing staff at the county nursing home where Emily works provided the kitchen staff and it was served in the old school cafeteria. I got to meet a lot of the women she works with and let me tell you, they are good people. All that friendliness you read and hear about Southerners was there in abundance. That’s saying a lot for a bunch of women who were working in a steamy hot, un-air conditioned kitchen serving lots of people looking forward to a good meal. Not a lot of national chains in Boonshill, none to be exact. It’s a place where Mom is still respected for her cooking abilities. So a night out is A NIGHT OUT!

As I was in line working my way up to the service line and being introduced to all of Emily’s working buds along the way, I noticed pictures all along the walls of graduation classes. The early classes (70’s) had maybe ten people in the senior classes. As the years progressed the numbers grew, but not by much. The last picture had a respectful 30 or 40 seniors. All the pictures were black and white and faded to that old sepitone quality. Each individual’s picture in the early years was individual head shots in oval inlays. The years were showing on the photos, but the style of proper dress for such an important life event was more revealing. Most definitely something I could identify with.

The dinner was spaghetti and garlic bread. One of those hard to eat meals when the last thing you wanted was tomato sauce stains on your yellow shirt. There was a choice of deserts and the drinks were one’s choice of the national soda brands over ice in a plastic cup. Refills were expected. We sat at old folding tables and metal folding chairs with the only relief from the heat coming when the door opened letting people in or out. It was for a good cause so allowances were made.

$10 bought your way into the second phase which was a music regalia, silent auction, a not so silent pie/cake sale and a gas card and country ham raffle in the old dark wood gym with a stage at one end. The basketball goals were cranked to the ceiling. The hard steel folding chairs populated the gym floor all dress-right-dress and a couple of huge (5 foot) fans were placed here and there in front of the ancient bleachers. I captured a couple of chairs in front of one of those huge fans for the evening. Along the back wall the items up for bid during the silent auction were displayed. The items ranged from exercise equipment and office furniture to candles, country painting and song birds complete with wood cage. Many of the restaurants from Fayetteville put up dinners for two and several hair salons offered haircuts, manicure and pedicures. I went through when I first got there and made a few bids. Emily would pass through several times that night refreshing her bids after someone would out bid her until they reach her limit. She also donated a quilt to the silent auction. It would net the proceeds $200. That surprised me, but not her. She knew it would bring that much.

It is hard to describe this phase of the evening. So much was going on and people were everywhere. After we had made our initial bids and took our much envied seats, Emily continued to introduce passer-bys. I had a little time to observe the people. All ages were represented and while tee-shirts won the most worn category, there were lots of folks in clean neat plaid shirts and jeans or nice colorful summer tops and caprices. Older white haired men wore clean baseball caps with neatly trimmed haircuts. Younger men were well tanned and either had very long hair or closely cut but not quite crew cuts. The older women carried purses and fussed over the kids and the younger women tended to be knockouts in tight jeans and healthy long flowing hair. The teens were teens, boys and girls alike. They fully accepted the style of the times. The little kids . . . well let’s just say I knew they were there but they never slowed down long enough for me to get a good look. A few of the entertainers were standing around waiting for their time on stage wearing the recognizable clothing of the singer they were going to portray. A few had square dance dresses that were brightly colored and lots of ruffled slips. No one was a stranger and no one was out of place. A few of the teenage boys had the “I need an identity” fright in their eyes, but everyone else was as comfortable being there as they would be in their own living room.

When the show started it was just like the Grand Old Opry. For you who don’t know, I lived in and around Nashville during my high school years. My folks loved country music. I have lots of pictures of them taken with the likes of Grand Pa Jones, Porter Waggoner, Loretta Lynn and the like. So when I tell you that I was floored by the talent of these country folks, I know of what I speak. Their attempts to look like the stars they pretended to be may have only gone as far as the costumes they had on, but their talent was right up there with the real country singers of my youth. When I heard Andea Delap as Patsy Cline, I was transported back in time as her voice was indistinguishable from the real Patsy singing “I fell to Pieces”. Charles Sullivan singing Conway Twitty’s “15 Years Ago” had me doing a double take. Michelle Hardiman as Jeanie C. Riley singing “Harper Valley PTA” moved me to join in. As much as I wanted to rib Emily (an avid Tennessee Vols fan) when Mary Ann Tackett sang as Dolly doing “Rocky Top”, I just couldn’t because it was so good. That night’s stars ran the gamut from Merle Haggard to Elvis Presley and Connie Smith to Emmylou Harris. All of these performers were backed up by the great sounding Boonshill Grand Old Opry Band. Emily says when they are out on their own they call themselves "The Carpenters."

The graceful Sharron Reavis sang a special tribute to Doug and Gloria, who were front role video taping the entire performance. Mrs. Reavis has her own beautiful voice and it lend itself nicely to the evenings performances. Now remember, these are local folks who do this not for money or fame, but for a good cause and to give a helping hand, not with cash, but with their gifts of song.

There was a brake in the performances for the raffles and cake sale. Emily was sitting on the edge of her chair when they called out the winner for the $50.00 Gas Card. I guess driving to Huntsville as often as she does, this was a real deal. Alas it wasn’t destined to fill her gas tank, so she got up to refresh her bids back in the silent auction.

The cake sale was interesting not because the cakes were brought to the announcer by cute little 10 to 12 year old girls nor because the pointers in the audience hurriedly ran around pointing out who was bidding nor because there were so many cakes up for bid. No, what made the cake sale interesting was the sale of one cake in particular. I so wanted to find out the history behind this cake but couldn’t. See, most of the cakes and pies went for $7 to $10. However, the gym was brought to a stand still as the bidding for one cake rose to over a hundred dollars finally selling for $130. There were “ooos” and “awwws“ as the price rose and a thunderous applause as it was finally raveled sold. Imagine a $130 dollar homemade cake. I’m sure it didn’t come from a box.

As the evening grew long they finished the silent auction just before the 4^th portion of the show. Emily’s boss, Debbie, got the ergonomic office chair and Emily got two dinners at Tammy’s Outback, not to be confused with the national chain with the Aussy image. Tammy is a realtor broker by day and runs a Bar at night that serves great food. Emily just happens to be neighbors with Tammy’s best cook, Farnel, who works full time at a local appliance manufacturing plant. I’m telling you these people are interesting.

There was recognition for Doug and Gloria and the tough times they had so far endured with still more to come. This little fund raiser with all the events brought them $10,000. Not bad for a community of around 1500 people. Granted a lot of outsiders came like me, but one evening’s take like that just adds to my early testament of the talent of these voluntary performers and the generosity of this community. Its good to know that there are places where people can be this generous with their time and talent and community recourses and not get hog tied by policy, regulation and political correctness.