___________________________________ In the final days of presidential campaigns, it is American tradition to ask, Are you better off now than you were 4 years ago? This year, how about we add a few: Are you happier than you were 4 years ago? Sleeping well? Getting along with your neighbors? Confident in the health of your […]
I’ve been following Teri Carter’s writings for at least two years now. She is intelligent, thoughtful, well-spoken, and tough as nails — and she is calling it quits regarding writing for her hometown paper. I don’t blame her. I’ve been so frustrated by such unthinking vehemence that I generally keep quiet. I don’t have the energy to put into battles with people who won’t listen and won’t think about anything outside their insular and immediate experiences. And I’m sad to lose her voice of reason in our increasingly embittered and dangerous world.
I wanted to let you know I have written my last column for this newspaper. There are many reasons for my decision, not the least of which is that the risks finally, after 3 years, outweigh any reward.
In my Jan. 8 column, I asked a hypothetical question about guns and race, a question that has been in the mainstream, national dialogue since Colin Kaepernick first took a knee 1,068 days ago. A hypothetical, by definition, means “imagining a possibility rather than reality.” I have since learned that both law enforcement and the editor of this newspaper took my hypothetical as reality, as an accusation that was neither stated nor intended. A month later, none of these men has asked the one person who knows what she wrote and what she meant. That person is me.
Can I call you Frank? This is just pastor to pastor. Feel free to call me Peter. Anyway, I have to say I was flattered when I learned that your Decision America Tour took a detour off the beaten path to call upon us “small community churches.” We are nothing if not small. We seat 30-40 on a good Sunday. And we are a century old fixture of our small community. Most often we are overlooked and overshadowed by mega-churches and politically influential religious voices like your own. We don’t hold a candle to an auditorium filled with the music of a one hundred voice choir led by professional musicians. We probably will never be recognized in any nationally syndicated media. After all, we don’t do anything really “newsworthy.” We just preach the good news of Jesus Christ; love one another the best we can (which sometimes isn’t…
I’m scared to post this. I’m afraid of alienating people I love, people I interact with on a daily basis, people whose friendships I value. I wouldn’t say this if it hadn’t been weighing heavy, like a 50 pound weight on my tongue every time I open my mouth to say something and stop before it comes out because I don’t want to stir the pot. I don’t want anyone to be mad at me. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. But I can’t, in good conscience, do that anymore.
I live with a certain degree of privilege. Monetary privilege? Not so much. But social privilege? Absolutely. I am part of a demographic that is perceived as the LEAST THREATENING to society. I’m a White Lady. Further, I’m a Southern White Lady. Still further, I’m a Heterosexual, Cis-Gender, Southern White Lady who Happens to be the Married Mother of Two…
I saw this meme on Facebook and thought I’d share it here.
It’s your SENIOR year of high school! The longer ago it was, the more fun the answers will be.
The year was: 1984
1. Did you know your spouse? No
2. Did you car pool to school? I lived 2 blocks away, so I walked/ran (depending how late I was getting out the door) — usually with a cup of coffee in hand.
3. What kind of car did you have? Mom let the kids drive the old 1973 Chevy Impala wagon.
4. What kind of car do you have now? 2006 Kia Sedona minivan
5. It’s Friday night…where were you? If I wasn’t babysitting for someone, I might be hanging out with people from the church youth group.
6. What kind of job did you have in high school? I had some regular babysitting jobs.
7. What kind of job do you have now? Church Administrator (after 22 years as a SAHM)
8. Were you a party animal? No
9. Were you a cheerleader? No
10. Were you considered a jock? No
11. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir? I was in band and choir earlier in high school, but at not at this point.
12. Were you a nerd? No. I was, however, dressing in grunge style before it was cool.
13. Did you get suspended or expelled? Nope. Miss Goody-two-shoes here.
14. Can you sing the fight song? I know it from my first high school (older siblings went there and I spent 9th and 10th grades there, too) but I never learned it for my second high school.
15. Who was/were your favorite high school teacher/s? Doc Hansen (English, Creative Writing) and VanKempen (Drama and stage crew)
16. Where did you sit for lunch? Usually in the cafeteria with a few friends. I could go home for lunch but it seemed like a waste of time.
17. What was your school’s full name? Roosevelt High School
18. What was your school mascot? Roughrider (ala Teddy Roosevelt before he became President)
19. If you could go back and do it again, would you? NO.
20. Did you have fun at Prom? Hmmmm… fun? I suppose so. I’m still not really into the events where you dress up and talk to people while loud music is playing. (I have no problem with going to hear a band — I enjoy that — but trying to talk in a crowd? Not so much.)
21. Do you still talk to the person you went to prom with? We’re friends on Facebook but haven’t seen each other in person in many years It’s nice to see pictures of his family.
22. Are you planning on going to your next reunion? The 30-year reunion was the first one I attended for this school. I’d go to another one if it worked out with my schedule.
23.Did you attend your 25th reunion? No. At the time I was only attending the reunions for my first high school, because I have known some of those people since we were 5 years old.
24. Are you still in contact with people from school? Thanks to Facebook, I am now.
25. What are/were your school’s colors? Green and Gold
Feel free to borrow the questions. Let’s hear your story.