Thursday, March 31, 2011

Opelika Observer Staff Editorial - 4/1: Never forget

Last Friday, Henry Stern, one of our owners and a longtime Opelika resident, spoke to a group of Opelika Middle School students about his experiences and reflections as a Holocaust survivor.
For those lucky kids, it was a chance to see the pages of their history books take human form before their eyes, a living, breathing example of the past here in the present.
For the rest of us, it’s a reminder of a past we seem to rapidly be forgetting, as members of the “Greatest Generation” start to dwindle in number.
Stern is the last living Holocaust survivor in East Alabama. Only 21 remain in the entire state of Alabama.
Most of us can not say we’ve ever met a Holocaust survivor; sadly, this is how rare they’ve become.
The survivors of that horrible genocide carry with them the scars and emotional baggage of having family members, friends and loved ones taken from them and swiftly and brutally murdered.
Some have searched for decades for remaining relatives, holding out hope that there were others out there, more who made it through.
Stern was lucky enough to find family still alive. Others were not so blessed.
Six million Jews were killed by Hitler’s Nazi regime and countless scores of lives were never the same again.
Nor should they be.
In the case of atrocities so horrible as this, no flowery prose or emphatic words can adequately or accurately reflect upon it.
What sort of hatred lies within our souls that allows something like to happen?
How can man turn so swiftly against his fellow man?
We don’t know.
What we do know, what we must know, is that remembrance of the horrors that happened are the best preventive measure for them never happening again.
Human history is well-known for repeating itself in cycles, but the level of violence, bloodshed and hatred that accompanied the Holocaust should never and must never be allowed to repeat again.
As Stern was leaving the OMS class Friday, he signed small cards with the Star of David and two words, “Never Forget,” printed on them for the children to take home as a keepsake, a reminder for the children that the Holocaust happened and that they had met a survivor.
We may not all have a card, but we, too, must remember the message.
Never forget: two small words that carry with them an enormous amount of weight.
Each of us must accept the challenge to bear the weight and remember the words.
Never forget.
Never again.

The McCollumn - 4/1: 'Trash goes in the trash can'

Last weekend, I spent the better part of two days in an uncomfortable state.
I’ve always been a creature of habit, someone who enjoys a good routine and abhors changes in my well-planned little world.
My house had become indicative of this particular quirk of mine.
Stacks of papers littered any and every available flat surface, collecting dust as they waited to be read.
Dozens of DVDs lay strewn about the living room, staying in their position so long that they had began making indentations in the mottled brown carpet that’s been a feature of my house since the Bicentennial.
Dust and debris were everywhere.
There may have been a sock in the crisper of the fridge, and, no, I have no idea how it ended up there.
Longtime friend and virtual family member Bobby Beauchamp helped me in the quest against clutter, all out of the goodness of his heart and his genuine desire to see what sort of random stuff could be found at McCollum Cottage.
In fact, I have it on good authority that when asked about his weekend by others, he’s replied that he was doing “community service.” He’s not far off, sadly.
Throughout the cleaning process, Bob kept making references to “Hoarders,” the A&E series about people with compulsive hoarding disorders.
There were no pet carcasses or rooms filled with giant mounds of trash, but it was messy enough for me to be embarrassed to have friends over.
Why not just clean it up, Cliff? Why let yourself get bogged down in the mire like that?
I honestly can’t answer those questions.
It goes beyond simple laziness. I had the time to clean and tidy up, but no real desire to do so.
I honestly think I was feeling so depressed about other aspects of my life that the house just started to personify those issues.
I was slightly off kilter, so the house engaged in a little cosmic sympathy.
Thank God for friends who pull us out of our tailspins.
We vacuumed, dusted, arranged and rearranged for hours.
My need to keep numerous amounts of random knick-knacks was called into question several times.
My argument that “Some of this junk has been in this house since before me, so what right do I have to get rid of it” was summarily dismissed as nonsense, especially when I couldn’t identify what the items in question were actually used for.
But, by jove, we finished the job, and sat and enjoyed a nice drink and an episode of “30 Rock” when we finished.
The place looked hardly recognizable.
I dare say it looked better than when I moved in several years ago.
I’ve maintained that going through this process has forced me to examine my behaviors and turn over a new leaf.
Dishes will be washed directly after use.
Floors will be swept and vacuumed weekly.
My new mantra has become, “Trash goes in the trash can.” It seems to be making it thus far.
And, as for socks, they may occasionally still show up in the crisper.
Socks are mysterious in that way.
It’s just true.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

The McCollumn - 3/25: Have 'the talk' with your kids

As a dedicated people watcher and collector of found dialogue, I often can’t help but listen to and overhear conversations that happen around me in public places.

While having dinner the other night, I overheard a family with two teenage children in an uproar over the Fox television series “Glee.”

“I’m 15,” the daughter said. “Why can’t I watch a show about folks my age?”

“Because,” her mother retorted, “those actors aren’t kids and I don’t want you exposed to all of the sex and homosexuality that’s goes on on that show.”

Both kids let out sighs of exasperation, and I returned to my sandwich.

The mother wasn’t wrong in stating that “Glee” seems to have become hypersexualized this season, with plotlines involving the young glee club members experimenting with one another and having sex.

She was also right in noting that the current season has put a great deal of focus on homosexuality, as one of the main characters, Kurt, deals with both persecution and finding love as a young gay man.

Do these parents have every right to tell their kids not to watch the show? Of course.

But, will this sheltering keep their children from hearing about or learning about these things? No, not at all.

Whatever “evil” influences we want to blame on television and movies, we seem to forget that the behavior of young people is generally molded more by their peers and friends.

I learned more curse words from my fellow students in high school than I ever did watching movies.

I heard more depraved tales of sex and wild lust from high school friends than I ever encountered on late-night cable TV (largely because Homer and Liz wisely chose not to get “those” channels).

Sex education might be abstinence-only here, but I’m not certain it’s a message that’s being listened to or taken to heart.

Whether you like it or not, parents, your children are going to be exposed to things you may not approve of through their classmates.

Kids talk, kids brag and they all learn things about one another that adults would be ashamed to say to one another. Extreme openness about such private behaviors is one of the hallmarks of adolescence.

You can filter your home internet connection, install blocking software and put parental controls on every TV and electronic device in your home, but you won’t be able to stop the dissemination of information coming to your child.

Your only hope to not have them exposed to those “dangers” is to homeschool them and completely remove them from the situation, which could more than likely lead to them being exposed to all of these “negative” influences in college and them going buckwild (I can cite precedent, if you need).

Rather than let your kids hear about these things from peers who know little more about them than they do, you could take some time to have honest, frank conversations with your children about these matters.

It won’t be comfortable or fun for anyone involved, but you, the parent, can provide better insight than your child’s 14-year-old classmate.

I don’t know when in this country we shifted the responsibility of the “sex talk” from the parent to the school, but I feel this probably wasn’t the best move and it’s high time for parents to reclaim that role.

Don’t entrust those duties to some well-meaning social worker, school nurse or volunteer abstinence expert.

You’re their parent, and you need to step up and act like it.

Ban “Glee” if you want to.

Refuse to let them see any movie rated above PG-13.

Refuse to leave them alone with a computer. Lord only knows where they may end up if you don’t.

But, please know that the influences you’re trying to battle will still probably reach your children, and you need to be prepared to talk with them and help them with their questions.

Openness and honest conversation will do more good than bans and parental controls ever will.

Just open up a dialogue and see where it leads.

Your kids have questions, and you have the guidance they need.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Staff Editorial: One person's fall affects us all

This week's staff editorial in the Opelika Observer:

When the most revered among us stumble or falter, something within us makes us take pause and notice.
We’re taken aback. We wonder how such a thing could happen to such a person.
We become sad and disillusioned, finding out that our hero’s armor is perhaps not-so-shiny, the steed not-so-noble.
We hurt when those we put our faith in fall, but we can all share blame in the sadness we’re caused.
We have a dangerous tendency to mythologize our leaders, making them impervious to the problems the rest of us have and deal with in our lives.We then judge them by a more rigid standard when they falter.
The fact is they are people, just as we are.
Their mortality is as real as our own, their problems the same as ours.
There are no heroes, no glimmering golden gods sent from the heavens to give us mortals something to model ourselves after.
There is only humanity, flawed and imperfect.
We all fall short.
We all stumble and have moments where we are less than who or what we should be.
We all make mistakes, small and large.
Expecting absolute perfection from anyone is absurd and pointless. Perfection is not naturally occurring.
We do ourselves no favors by constructing these fantasies.
Eventually, reality will surface and we’ll see the marks and scars our hopes and wishes have hidden from our eyes.
The perfect hero or heroine is best left to the realms of literature and film, places where reality can be bent to the will of the writer for purposes of entertainment and enjoyment.
Rather than focus on finding perfect heroes in our world, we must turn our focus inward.
Instead of lifting up others onto pedestals from which they will ultimately topple, we must strive to live in ways that do no harm, a continuing plateau of normalcy.
No dizzying highs, no terrifying lows – just simple, no-frills everyday life.
If we can simply muster the strength to be better people, to be somebodies, that’s a start.
We can treat each other with civility and kindness.
We can stop ourselves from taking joy in the destruction and fall of others.
We must seek help when we need it, letting go of our pride and sense of self in order to let others’ love and wisdom reach us.
For that matter, we must do better about giving help to those in our lives who need it.
Rather than remain silent if we see a problem, we owe it to our friends and neighbors to point out inconsistencies and issues we notice.
We may tread a fine line between concerned friend and self-righteous twit, but action should generally be preferred to silence.
A bruised ego is better than an unchecked person hurdling toward self-destruction.
When action is deemed necessary, we must go directly to the individual at risk and their family rather than trumpet the problem’s symptoms publicly for everyone to hear.
No public good is served by delighting in the problems of prominent people; there is only hurt, sadness and pain.
Anyone who does take joy in seeing such failings should examine themselves and see the shortcomings and failures in their own life and then ask themselves if they would like their issues broadcast in such a fashion.
We think such a notion would be met with hesitance.
Falls and failures require recovery time.
In those times, we must remain pillars of support and encouragement, there to remind our friends of the great things of which they are capable.
They may no longer be flawless, but they never were to begin with and they never will be.
One fall should not destroy a legacy; one mistake should not destroy a life.
Love, support and encouragement – these are what we have to offer and these are what we should offer.
Show love. Stand with those who are going through rough times. Spur others around you to be and do better.
Then, and only then, will we possibly see a world where heroes are real and unimagined.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

The McCollumn - 3/11: "Cliff and yoga: the saga begins"

Over the last few weeks, I’ve attempted a semi-serious effort to try new things, branching out from my usual realm of familiarity and comfort to seek new experiences.
I started attending yoga classes at the White Lotus Health and Wellness Center, a new yoga studio here in Opelika, namely because my colleague Hilary Hawks goaded me into it.
“You should at least give it a try,” she said. “You never know, you may actually enjoy it.”
I went into these classes with a healthy amount of skepticism. I had long ago written off yoga as one of those “hippie dippy left-wing nutbar crazy” things that rational people such as myself did not do.
Of course, I then remembered that I’m seldom rational.
I’ll admit that my attendance at classes has been sporadic at best. My schedule as City Reporter has interfered with my attendance, as has my penchant for napping and needing decent amounts of free time to maintain what little sanity I have left.
I’ll also admit that my fitness level is both sadly and hilariously low. One look at me ought to be able to tell you that.
Over the classes I’ve been to, I can say that I feel I’m not terribly good at doing yoga. I’m not sure that the practice of yoga is something that can necessarily be quantified with adjectives like “bad” or “good,” as I don’t think the point of yoga is to be competitive with one’s fellow classmates.
However, I can view my yoga mates’ poses from an aesthetic standpoint and come to the simple realization that their poses seem fluid and unforced. Mine usually resemble awkward shuffling or something not unlike having some sort of drug-induced seizure.
Because yoga also requires the frequent changing of body position and movement, there is the added fear of passing wind that gets added to each and every class. The fat guy is generally going to get blamed for such things anyway, but I haven’t wanted to give ammo to that argument.
My classmates are, for lack of a better term, winning at yoga. I, as I am with most sports or anything that requires even a modicum of physical activity, am not.
Such things happen when you spend a lifetime avoiding most meaningful forms of exercise as I have.
When telling my various friends about undertaking the classes, I received the requisite amount of scoffing and incredulity that I’ve come to expect from the people I love. It sounded crazy to me, too.
I come home from classes with sore muscles and sweat pouring down my face, looking not unlike Richard Nixon in the 1960 debate.
The pain is almost always worst the next day, as I hobble around cursing under my breath the pains in my lower back and legs.
There are good things to come from yoga, in spite of my unwillingness to fully give myself over to its powers.
The focus on taking deliberate, well-trained breaths has actually been a godsend.
I may not be able to hold a downward dog pose for any meaningful amount of time (I think my body may naturally reject any pose that seems vaguely like a push-up), but I can breathe like a champion.
The ability to put the yoga mat down on the floor, lie on my back and just take 10 minutes out of my day to relax and focus on just breathing is phenomenal.
When stress appears, I go into my breathing and it gets a little bit better.
It may not fully fix the situation, but it certainly doesn’t make it worse.
I’m sure there will be more to learn and more to come, and maybe along the way I might even find the path to true enlightenment and happiness. Then again, maybe I won’t.
But, I’ll soldier on, pushing myself to continue this strange experiment for as long as I see its worth.
Namaste, dear readers.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Cross-Blog Promotion: The Alabama Liberal

Occasionally, people think I'm more credible and legitimate than I actually am, and I get asked to do interviews for up-and-coming blogs like this one.


Continue to read Brody's posts, folks. Good stuff is found there.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

The McCollumn 3/4: "For heaven's sake, just show up"

Monday evening, several other Opelikians and I completed our month-long commitment to the Opelika Planning Academy, a free series of lectures and presentations from the city’s Planning Department held to help us regular citizens better understand the subtle nuances and intricacies involved in the planning and maintenance of Opelika.
We learned about the Comprehensive Plan, building inspection, historic preservation, licensing and the zoning board of adjustments, just to name a few of the plethora of topics covered.
Jerry Kelley and the rest of the folks in the Planning Department did an excellent job providing great information paired with real-life examples and issues being faced in our city.
In exchange for our efforts, we were all given framed certificates of our attendance that I interpret as endowing all of us with the honorary title of “Citizen Planner.”
Using my powers as an English major to interpret and modify the meaning of words, I interpret such a title to mean that in cases of the overthrow of our city government or during some sort of major cataclysmic disaster (Godzilla attack, zombie apocalypse, etc.), we, the graduates of the Planning Academy, could attempt to step in and fill the void. Perhaps it’s a broad interpretation, but I favor wide, expansive definitions.
My Planning Academy experience was overall a positive affair.
Ward 3 City Councilman Joey Motley was a fellow attendee, and took time to praise the Academy during Tuesday’s city council meeting.
Some of Motley’s words rang loudly, however: “It was a great experience, we learned a lot and I wish more citizens would have taken advantage of the opportunity to come.”
I agree, Mr. Motley.
We’re all fairly quick to complain about issues and problems that arise in this town, but, as a citizenry, we aren’t great about getting out and learning more about how to fix and address those problems.
We’re blessed to live in a democracy where we have the right to vote on our leaders, but we don’t always to the best job of being an informed, energetic electorate.
Public meetings and public information sessions like the Planning Academy are undertaken to help us better understand the business of how Opelika works.
As citizens, we need to do a better job of taking part in these events and meetings.
“Decisions are made by those who show up,” the old adage tells us. It’s true. If enough of us show up and voice our opinions on these decisions, we can further control how such decisions are made.
The rest of the Planning Academy graduates and I took four hours out of the month of February to learn more. That’s four episodes of “Law and Order: SVU,” and certainly we can all afford to miss just a few of those.
The management of this city is no small task, and the men and women we have in place to keep things moving are vital in our continued success.
Good city planning does not just happen. It does not exist freely in nature, some untapped element waiting to be used.
It requires dedicated public servants taking time to do their jobs to the best of their ability, honing their knowledge and skills and using them to keep the rest of us safe, healthy and aesthetically pleased.
Take an interest in this town. Get out and take part in how your city is run.
Do it, or lose all rights to complain about the state of things to me.
“Decisions are made by those who show up.”
Let’s show up, shall we?