The McCollumn - 1/28/11: A few 'Cliff Rules'

We all govern our lives by a set of personal beliefs and mantras.
Some have a firm grounding in faith; some subscribe to more self-developed rules and ethics.
While I have a solid foundation in Biblical laws and teachings, I do occasionally feel the need to cover items not necessarily covered by the good book.
I have “The Cliff Rules,” an ever-increasing list of advice and guidelines to help make life a little easier.
I don’t claim to have an answer to everything (most of the time), but my rules help get me through the day.
This week, I offer you just a few of them.
(Yes, it was, in fact, difficult to think of something to write this week. I’ll do better next week; you have my word.)
The inside of your car is an extension of being in public. Don’t do anything in there you wouldn’t do in public.
This one isn’t as tawdry as it sounds, although it was born from my friend Jessica and I catching a couple going at it in their car at the top of the library’s parking deck.
With a sincere concern for their well-being and safety, we drove around them several times blasting French cabaret music and holding a sign out of the window that said “Use protection.”
The guy laughed. The girl seemed not so amused.
This rule can also apply to impromptu red light dance parties. Twice this year (and I do mean 2011), I’ve been jamming out at a red light, only to look over and see people I know (including local clergy) staring back at my awesome dance moves and usually laughing.
Spare yourselves the embarrassment, dear readers. Keep it private.
Establish a high base level of crazy.
I’ve worked hard over the years to cultivate a certain air of insanity. This column has played an integral role in that, allowing me a public forum to broadcast my far-from-normal ideas and thoughts.
The blind date column. The “Cliff thinks he has mad cow disease” column. Et cetera, et cetera.
Why make yourself seem slightly insane?
Honestly, it’s because people known to be crazy are allowed to speak their minds.
I’m not certain when speaking truth and saying how you feel about things became abnormal, but it appears you’re only allowed to do such things if you’re elderly (the “advanced age” argument) or nutbar crazy.
We should feel free to say what we feel and tell people the truth about what we think of them, but this is the South.
We wear the polite mask of manners, as the generations before us did. We stand pat, forcing ourselves to silence our inner voices for the sake of maintaining the status quo.
We need to be able to express that voice. It isn’t healthy to stifle yourself.
So, add a little whackadoo into your life. Create a few eccentricities, let them blossom into full-blown well-established crazy and then enjoy being able to say and do whatever you want.
Trust me, it’s a phenomenal thing to be able to do.
Making biscuits makes everything better.
This is not so much a Cliff Rule as it is a Janie Ruth-ism.
My grandmother was happiest and at her best in her kitchen.
Her food was a way for her to give and show love in a pure, wonderful fashion.
Her pride and joy: her homemade cats head biscuits.
Three simple ingredients: flour, buttermilk, and shortening; when combined together, though, perfection and joy.
When I’m feeling down or blue, I reach for the sifter and start punching dough.
Of course, I usually make far too many for me to eat, so I end up making biscuit runs all over the county.
Taking biscuits to folks, I get to see the happiness I assume my grandmother saw when she made them for us.
They may not always be perfect, but as the platitude says, “It’s the thought that counts.”
Maybe biscuits aren’t your thing, but I imagine we all have some dish, some way of showing love, kindness and friendship that we can give to one another.

The McCollumn - 1/21: Moving past toleration of tolerance

“It may be true that the law cannot make a man love me, but it can keep him from lynching me, and I think that’s pretty important.” – Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Every Martin Luther King Day, we’re reminded of the struggle King and other civil rights leaders went through in order to gain the basic human right of equality.

We’re treated to politicians and civic leaders preaching about the virtues of nonviolent protest, community organization and the power of collectivity.

We’re also bombarded with a virtue King held dear: tolerance.

When King was fighting for basic civil rights in the South for African Americans, tolerance was a virtue. Hatred and vitriol for African Americans ran so deep in pockets of the South that lynchings and acts of violence were not only heard of but commonplace.

I applaud Dr. King’s accomplishments and think celebrating his birthday is something we should do as a nation. We need to remember the less than savory parts of our history so that we may never repeat them.

However, I do believe it is about time to move past thinking of tolerance as an admirable and redeeming virtue.

Acceptance. Empathy. Compassion. These are virtues and traits to be respected and admired.

Tolerance is a gateway virtue. It should lead us to better understanding and increased cooperation.

Tolerance should, in a perfect world, lead to acceptance and love. Unfortunately, it hasn’t thus far.

Our society seems to be stuck in the tolerance mire.

We collectively recognize each other’s right to exist, agreeing that equality for all Americans is something we claim to hold dear.

We’re moving toward equality, but we’re still largely separate.

In elementary schools, one can see little black children and little white children playing together, enjoying the company of their fellow classmates without attention to color and creed.

By the time they reach middle school, though, these young students inevitably separate into their respective color communities, and the division will usually continue throughout the rest of their lives.

The color barrier is not the unassailable wall it once was, but there are many other facets of our society that broadcast the limits of tolerance.

Civil rights are no longer simply a matter of color; creed and beliefs now play their role, too.

If we are truly a nation of equals, we must work to remove barriers in our laws that create inequality and separation.

If all cannot be married and have their union recognized by the government, enjoying the benefits given to other Americans, then the government does not need to be involved in the marriage business.

If we cannot guarantee equality and equal protection under the law for all, then we should not and must not continue along this path.

Tolerance has gotten us this far.

We’ve made great strides since the days of Bull Connor and fire hoses.

But, we still have a ways to go.

We’ve not yet reached that great mountaintop Dr. King spoke of.

If we are the America we claim to be, the land of equality and opportunity for all, that shining city upon a hill for all the world to see, we must cast aside tolerance in favor of acceptance and compassion.

Then, and only then will we see that change that’s been “a long, long time coming.”

I used to say, like Sam Cooke, that “I know a change is gonna come.”

Now, I simply say I hope that change may come.

I hope we are who we claim to be.

The McCollumn -1/14: "Football - so much more than a game"

All eight of us ran out of the door of the trailer, scarcely paying attention to closing the door as we ran to the cars.

“Did someone grab the toilet paper,” someone called out in the mad dash.

We had to go. We had to hurry. We had to get to the Corner.

As I sat in the back of the car watching Seth expertly maneuver the insane, honking traffic, I had time to pause and reflect on this year, this amazing, once-in-a-lifetime Auburn season.

“Who is this Cliff,” I asked myself. Good question, indeed.

I’ve never been a person to care about sports. Most of you are not surprised to hear this.

I was a passive Auburn fan. I wore the orange and blue not out of diehard fandom and loyalty, but of a passive “It’s what my friends and family do” sort of mentality.

I didn’t even want to attend Auburn. I fought like hell to get out of this place and that fate, applying to NYU, Washington and Lee and Centre College, a tiny liberal arts school in Kentucky.

Auburn paid, and here I stayed.

My first semester of freshman year was the undefeated 2004 season, largely hailed by Auburn fans as one of our best years, the year we should have been in the National Championship.

I went to one game, the first one, and only stayed for the first quarter. I’m certain I brought a book.

Football wasn’t something I generally cared about. I enjoyed the tailgates and the food, but when the game would come on, I’d easily lose interest.

But not this year.

Aided by a genuine desire for change and an attempt at social normalcy, I set about to make myself enjoy football.

I thought it would be an arduous task.

I thought having to stand through a game might put me into a coma.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I ended up skipping being a judge at the Trumbauer District Drama Festival to see the LSU game. Old Cliff would never have done that.

Football is interesting not because of the game itself, the runs and the passes.

It’s interesting because of the people you surround yourself with whilst watching it, the interactive social nature of the game.

It’s having Adam Cooner there to explain plays using Star Wars and Star Trek references, fields in which I find myself comfortable. It’s also having Cooner there for our trek to Bryant-Denny Stadium, that “wretched hive of scum and villainy” to all true Auburn fans, for an Iron Bowl experience I’ll remember until the day I die.

It’s having Stephanie Koehler (a Centre undergraduate) there to scream and yell at the team when they do something stupid. Rabid fandom is a beauty to behold.

It’s hearing Seth Oster bellow players’ names when they do something great. I didn’t think we’d ever replace the raw power of his “Tate!” scream, but “Cam!” was even more powerful.

It’s having Hillary Jarrett, Ashley Jones and Joanna “The Greek” Lianos there for non-football commentary, for those moments of weakness where the game wasn’t enough to hold my attention and I needed stimulating outside conversation to keep me from falling asleep. For example, Lilith from “Frasier” and smallpox blankets were among the topics of discussion during the title bout.

It’s Kate Latham showing up to the BCS title game a bit late, but getting there. I need someone to lock eyes with occasionally to say “I don’t enjoy this as much as the rest of them do, either.” That’s Kate, and I thank God she was there.

It’s texting Amber Harris Kimbrell up in Rhode Island to make sure she’s asleep. We play better when she’s unconscious.

And, for the away games, it’s Jordan Gentry and his trailer with stadium seating and three TVs playing the different games, our own personal sports bar minus the high tabs and insane crowds. It’s watching Jordan’s brother Scott and former Plainsman colleague Jill “Ace” Clair cuddle, sometimes oblivious to the game.

This season was a great season, and the team was a pleasure to watch.

But, to me, this season will be the season of “The Vet School Crew,” and the joy and light they collectively bring to my life, that I’ll really remember.

Football is nice, but it’s only as good as the people you’re watching it with.

Find your crew, your group of people that bring you joy, dear readers, and I promise you, too, will have a wonderful and amazing season.

Cliff Attempts to Write a Sports Story: "Hometown boy shines for Seattle Seahawks, Opelika"

Hometown boy shines for Seattle Seahawks, Opelika

By Cliff McCollum
City Reporter

Sunday night, any Opelikian on Facebook or Twitter was privy to an interesting sight: local citizens getting deeply involved in a Seattle Seahawks game.

“First interception in the NFL! Game changer!”

“Shoutout to Will Herring of the Seahawks! OPELIKA BABY!”

“My dawg from Opelika … Will Herring #54 just picked Bradford off … Reppin' my city well.”

The inspiration of all of these quotes: current Seattle Seahawk and former Opelika High School and Auburn University football player Will Herring's interception of a pass intended for the St. Louis Rams Brandon Gibson during the second half of their game Jan. 2. The Seahawks went on to win the game 16-6, qualifying for the NFL Playoffs.

For Herring, it was just another game. For Opelika, it was a hometown boy shining on a national stage.

D. Mark Mitchell, sports editor for the Opelika Observer and host of the local sports radio show On the Mark, said he wasn't surprised at all to see Herring do so well in Sunday's game.

“He's just such a great person that could play wherever you put him,” Mitchell said. “Any position on the field, he could play it.”

Mitchell has observed Herring's sports career since he was involved in recreation league sports back in childhood, and said that one seldom sees athletes of Herring's make and caliber.

“He has the best work ethic of anyone you'd ever find. He's a great guy and was raised right. He has the right attitude and he puts in the work necessary to get the job done,” Mitchell said. “I'll bet if you asked (Seattle head coach) Pete Carroll, he'd say he wishes he had 50 Will Herrings on his team.”

Herring's entire family was in attendance for the game that evening, including parents Dr. Ron and Libba, siblings Laura and Rusty and their spouses, as well as Will's wife Ashley.

“When Will caught that interception, the end zone we were in started shaking,” Libba said. “All of us started jumping up and down. No one had a clue we were related to Will until we were still cheering and jumping three plays later.”

The interception was Herring's first in the NFL, helping to add to his stats that include 36 combined tackles this season.

Ron said he and Will's younger brother Rusty had the opportunity to be on the sideline for part of the game, and they got to give some familial advice to Will.

“Rusty said to Will what he's been saying for a while: ‘It's time to not just play the game, but time to make the play, player,” Ron said. “A few plays later, and, bam, there's the interception. There's the play.”

Libba said she and Ron try to attend as many games as they can, often seeing Will play when the team plays its away games.

“It's so much fun to see him play,” Libba said. “To see your kid live out his dream is just an awesome blessing. We all feel blessed.”

Libba said while Will may live in Seattle, part of his heart will remain here in Opelika, his hometown.

“He loves it when hometown folks come to visit and see him play,” Libba said. “He loves being reminded of Opelika.”

Ron said Will and the family feel blessed by the response and well-wishes they get from the community.

“I've had so many patients come in and say things like ‘I saw how well ‘Our Will' did…' He's not just our kid. He's the community's kid,” Ron said. “He's a product of this community, of this town.”

Ron also said Will gets chided by his teammates and the media in Seattle for being proud of his Alabama roots.

“They say he's always going on about the food back home, the hunting and fishing, and Auburn football,” Ron said. “He gets this reputation of being this country guy from Alabama, and he has no apologies about it. He loves where he's from.”

Mitchell agreed, as he was reminded of a speech Will gave to the Bulldog football team before one of its big games.

“He said that he was in the NFL and had played for Auburn, but he said his favorite place to play was Opelika,” Mitchell said. “He said playing for seven or eight thousand people who know you by name and not as a number can't be beat. The team went on to win that game.”

Mitchell also said you can tell Will's heart is still in Opelika because of the free football clinic he does every year for local kids with former OHS and Tuskegee player Sajason Finley, the “Back to the DawgHouse Camp.”

Libba also credits the foundation Will got in Opelika sports with his continued success in football.

“Will has had this opportunity to play because he had outstanding coaches at Opelika like Spence McCracken,” Libba said, “and great coaches when he was at Auburn, namely Gene Chizik, who was defensive coordinator for three years while Will was on the team.”

Libba maintains that Ron was Will's best coach, however.

“His very best coach was always his father,” Libba said. “If something went wrong, he'd tell Will to pick himself back up and move forward.”

Ron didn't necessarily agree with his wife, saying “He's always been coachable. We never pushed him toward anything, we're there to boost him and our other kids to be the best at whatever they want to do.”

The McCollumn - 1/7/11: "Public private moments"

Public private moments

People watching can be an excellent pastime, even when you aren’t actually trying to engage in the activity.
Monday, I went browsing at Angel’s Antiques with a friend of mine. Neither of us had much to do that afternoon, so we killed time browsing records and taking stock of the various tchotchkes strewn about the store.
Who could pass up an Elvis painting on velvet? For the $200 asking price, I certainly could.
However, more important and interesting than the Elvis memorabilia and the lovely cobalt blue martini glasses were the things we saw and heard whilst making our way through the store.
We passed by a bickering young couple. The young man wanted to stay and look at something; the young woman was pushing the cart along, saying “Come on” in a rather exasperated tone. An older woman walking by them said to the man, “You stay right there, honey. She can wait.”
The young man smiled and thanked the lady, looked at his gal and said, “Yeah, but it’s probably not worth it.”
The older woman smiled, nodded, mumbled something about the keys to marriage and went about her way.
There was an older woman who let out a fairly loud fart when my friend and I walked by her. I think she thought we were too deep in our conversation to hear it, but we did, and doubled over with laughter in a nearby booth for about five minutes after we got out of her earshot.
We’re still laughing about it. Maybe the eight-year-old me inside of 24-year-old Cliff is still in charge of the part of the brain that finds bodily functions hilarious.
Public is still public, even if you are having a private moment.
Just because you’re having a conversation with someone else doesn’t mean that someone nearby isn’t listening or watching. In fact, just go ahead and assume they are.
We all think we carry our right to privacy around with us wherever we go, as if it were some sort of insulation bubble protecting us from our harsh public surroundings.
When we’re with a group of people, we tend to act as though we’re in some quasi-private setting, allowing us to act and speak as if we were gathered together in one of our homes rather than a public place like a restaurant or the movies.
The odd things I’ve overheard and seen over the years could more than fill the pages of this paper.
I’ve been getting by off bits of found dialogue for years. Some of my funniest and best jokes involve stories I’ve observed (or eavesdropped upon) when folks think they aren’t being listened to or watched.
Of course, the other side of this coin is that I myself have engaged in public private behavior more than a few times.
Those of you who know me well know I have a penchant for extreme truth-telling that can be a bit boisterous and extreme at times.
Lord only knows how many people I’ve startled and offended by the out-of-context comments and “truth bombs” I’ve lobbed over the years.
We should all remember to be careful when in public.
While we may be having a discussion we believe to be confidential, know that eyes and ears around you are watching, listening and waiting.
“Act like somebody,” Tim Gore used to tell the McCollum and Gore kids when we were little.
Act like somebody, Opelika.
Don’t become fodder for one of my columns.