Opelika Observer Staff Editorial - 11/25: 'Library must serve citizens first'

While it may not seem like an important issue to many citizens, the Genealogical Society of East Alabama and its quest to change the organiztional system used in the genealogical section of the Cooper Library is important to each and every one of us.

While we all don’t take advantage of Cooper’s excellent genealogical resources, we have the availability to do so and have ample resources and materials from which to glean our families’ histories in this and many other areas.

Er... that is if we can find them.

Having perused the aisles of the genealogical section ourselves, we can agree with the GSEA’s assertions the section is difficult to navigate for anyone not entirely familiar with the Dewey system.

Counties are arranged alphabetically by region. Once you get your head around that, you can attempt to understand how Winston County could be located several shelves above Dale County.

To us, it seems the GSEA’s request to rearrange the section to a system more accessible to its users is not an unreasonable one.

Shouldn’t a library’s first and foremost concern be to serve the needs of the citizens and patrons who pay for and use its resources every day?

While we understand changing the system would make Cooper Library “unique” within the realm of library organization, there is a library staff member on hand to help guide newcomers through the section.

If the people who use this section and love this section are telling you something is wrong and needs to be fixed, perhaps you would do well to heed their advice.

If the library is not there for the use of Lee County and its citizens, who is it there for?

Will the whims of visiting librarians be valued over the names and families that helped build that library and this town to be the great place it is?

Apparantly so.

From the tone of Monday’s library board meeting, it seems only an act of the Almighty will intervene and get the library board to change its mind.

“Unique” is not a happy word when it leaves the mouth of the library board chair; it is said with disdain.

Like Edna Ward said, Opelika is unique, madame chairman and fellow board members.

We will dare not dispute such a fact.

A unique system might make us out of place in the world of libraries, we agree.

But, Opelika is an out-of-place sort of place.

That’s one of the things we’ve always enjoyed about this place.

The library should serve the people who use it the most.

That’s the point we keep coming back to when we discuss this issue.

Re-arrange the darn books the way the GSEA asks, please.

Heck, we’ll even send Cliff over to help catalogue.

We don’t like to leave him without anything to do.

The McCollumn - 11/18: 'On Southern Baptists and buffets'

For decades, the Southern Baptist Convention has been able to gain millions of dollars to support its ministries and works in the world not through traditional church revenue streams like tithes and offerings, but through moneys collected in other ways, less reputable forms of revenue.

I hesitate to share this secret with you, as I will no doubt be bounced from membership for its telling.

Nevertheless, you, the public, have a right to know that whether you are a Southern Baptist or not, you may have inadvertently supported them and their ministries.

Dear readers, for years, it’s often been joked Southern Baptists seem to have a certain natural, inborn ability to navigate and manage a buffet line.

This stereotype rings eerily true: Southern Baptists are uncommonly good at buffets because, well, we helped invent and modernize them.

It was Jesus’ cousin John the Baptist who first pioneered the double-line buffet, as evidenced from these verses found in the Book of John the Baptist, a little-known lost gospel found printed in code in the first printing of the Baptist Bounty:

“And lo, John the Baptist said unto his followers, ‘My children, take the largest of our tables and join them together as they were one. Let us pile them with food, as much as will fit. And then, let the people of the village make two lines, one on each side, so that all may eat and enjoy in the bounty we provide.’”

From John’s brilliant line-splitting idea to the modern day, great Baptist thinkers have continued to make improvements to one of the denomination’s greatest contributions.

In the late 1950s, food scientists employed by the SBC for its hush-hush lab division made one of the biggest breakthroughs.

While buffets were beginning to make their mark in the newly burgeoning casual dining restaurant boom, no protections were offered to protect the giant pans of food from fellow diners and their spawn.

Each time the snot-nosed, death-hacking kid from the next table got up to get another plate, every eye in the place would follow Junior, waiting to see what dish he was near so it could be avoided like the plague.

Enter the Sneeze Guard, the patent that single handedly funded SBC missions throughout deepest, darkest Africa and parts of Ohio (staple of the “Gravy Belt”) throughout most of the 1970s and 1980s.

Cutting Jell-O into cubes and serving them in a chafing dish - not an SBC-approved idea. Must have been those godless heathens who founded Morrison’s.

Even today, Southern Baptist investments into buffet technology and advancements continue to bring joy to the world.

Heavy-handed lobbying and threats of boycotts gave way to the Las Vegas Buffet Bonanza that still exists today.

Endless Shrimp Cocktails for $5? Thanks, Southern Baptists.

Now, admittedly, some of the SBC’s political leanings are a bit ... too conservative for my taste, but for their diligent work in advancing the field of buffet science, I will give them no guff.

Don’t be surprised if Baptists are in line in front of you at Mandarin House or Golden Corral.

Buffets are in our blood, and have been for centuries.

We’ll leave you an egg roll, Methodists. We’ll even sprinkle some soy sauce on it for you. We hear you aren’t so much a fan of dunking.

Opelika Observer Staff Editorial - 11/11: "Celebrate Veterans' Day every day"

In this country, we have two major holidays celebrating the men and women of our armed services, the people who keep this place “the land of the free” and who put the “brave” in “home of the brave.”

Memorial Day commemorates largely those veterans we’ve lost, who fought and gave their lives in the service of our country.

Today, Veterans’ Day, celebrates primarily those veterans still with us, members of the military’s branches who served this country with distinction in two world wars, Korea, Vietnam, Grenada, the Persian Gulf and who continue to serve anywhere and everywhere else someone decides we are needed.

We are America — the world’s police force, or so we have been for more than 100 years.

Our volunteer-based armed services comprise the world’s second largest army, with bases and stations across the globe, helpng to keep the homefront safe.

However, less than one half of a percent of all Americans can claim military service - 1.7 million out of a population of more than 300 million.

Thank goodness for that 0.5 percent.

In an era where more at home and around the world seem to be asking for more but contributing less, it seems almost amazing there would still be people willing to put themselves in harm’s way for the rest of us.

Sometimes we worry some future gneration may think this nation and her ideals are not worth fighting for — may we never see such a day.

However, when we continually see stories of how veterans receive ineffective treatment upon their return from service, we take pause.

These young men and women are often put into the heat of battle, taking fire and facing injury and death so we can live our lives in the all clear.

The least we can do, as a society, is to ensure proper treatment and care for any and all wounded, for whatever they need.

Even with a Congress attempting to cut an ever-increasing national budget, funds that supply needed aid and assistance to veterans and their families must be kept strong and fully funded.

They fought for us, without question or pause. 

We owe them basic care and kindness for that service - medical care included.

VA hospitals should be models of medical care for the rest of the nation, a beacon in trauma and urgent care.

To our veterans, we say “Thank you” once again, although we know there is no way to fully express the gratitude and debt we feel for your service.

No gleaming memorial, no triumphant celebration can replace the lives of young comrades cut short before your eyes.

No flowery prose can make up for the sleepless nights spent by loved ones back home, always wondering whether the knock at the door might be bad news from the front.

Find and thank a veteran today.

Thank them for what they’ve done, for how they’ve protected each and every one of us, regardless of how they’ve served.

But, do this every day, as many times as you can - whenever you see a veteran, you thank them.

It’s not a way to fully pay back what we all owe them, but it’s darn sure a start.

The McCollumn - 11/11: 'The generational gap: to Google or not to Google'

From time to time, I find myself in my editor’s office, listening to Observer Editor Fred Woods impart the occasional story or tale from his long and storied past.

I enjoy these moments, getting to see a glimpse of Washington, D.C., from the perspective of his years of experience within the USDA.

He’s seen America and regions abroad, and always has a story from these journeys.

Earlier this week, Woods was discussing an experience he had with a particularly troublesome member of Congress, someone who seemed to continually have it out for him.

Ever attentive to detail, Woods paused for a moment to try to remember the home state of the cantankerous congressman.

“I can’t remember if he was from Louisiana or Florida,” Woods said. “One of them, I’m sure.”

He then rattled off the name of the offending member, but said he wasn’t sure of the state.

Sitting in front of Woods on his desk: a relatively new Apple computer with a fully working, relatively high-speed Internet connection.

I jumped out of my chair and typed in the password, opening up Safari and preparing the fingers on my left hand for typing as I moved the mouse with my right hand to click the Google bar.

I typed in the name of the Congressman. Wikipedia’s entry was the third link on the page.

I clicked, and there to the right of the page, next to his honorific title of Congressman, his home state - Louisiana.

“Louisiana,” I said.

Woods began scanning the page, looking at the assembled information on his former semi-nemisis.

“That’s the difference between your generation and mine,” Woods said, as he was reading. “No one my age would have thought to look it up like this. Yours does it immediately.”

Yes, Mr. Woods. Yes, we do.

My generation, with our iPhones and our mobile internet connections, have access to as much information as we want whenever we want it.

We have the whole of the world’s knowledge at our disposal every day; all we need do is ask.

We can find our answer, usually, within a matter of seconds, not even having to click on the link to the page if we don’t desire to do so.

We click, we see ... and then we almost immediately forget.

We take immediate access to information for granted, as if it will always be there for us.

Only information we truly learn, that we take the time to process, digest and discuss - this is the information we will know and remember.

Sometimes the Internet may not work, but only the Lord or a hunchbacked Igor can take your brain and its knowledge from you.

The older generations have an advantage on us in memory recollection because they didn’t have the ability to instantly look things up.

What they know they know because they took the time to work hard and dedicate that knowledge to memory.

You didn’t have the computer; you had a list of books to get from the library and, hopefully, a kind reference librarian to help you.

As members of the younger generation, we ought to take a page from their book and crack open an actual book now and then, not just drifitng from webpage to webpage.

Then, well ... maybe then, we’ll actually start to commit an item or two to the part of our memory that lasts longer than a tweet or Facebook post.

Joe Waggoner was a Congressman from Louisiana.

I learned that this week.

The McCollumn - 11/4: "Cliff, why are you wearing tuxedo pants?"

I’d like to think I would have gotten away with it.

No one would ever suspect me.

I’m a white guy with a beard; not only do I fade into a crowd, I am the crowd.

“Just play it cool and no one will even notice,” the Inner Voice said as I pulled up to my assigned spot in the grass pasture. “Just play it cool, boy. Real cool.”

I had on my overcoat and my gray Polo scarf. I looked prepared for 20-degree gale force winds or a quiet walk around TriBeCa.

I had subject changes locked and loaded, little conversational tactics to unleash should the conversation trend toward the topic I most feared.

Yes, I’d have gotten off scot-free, if wasn’t for that meddling city clerk Bob Shuman and his keen eye.

As I sat down behind him next to planning director Jerry Kelley, Shuman leaned to face me and uttered the words I had been dreading to hear:

“Cliff, why are you wearing tuxedo pants?”

I rattled off a quick response and began busying myself with other things, attempting to skirt the issue.

Surrounded by the upper crust of Alabama’s economic development community at Monday’s big Pharmavite announcement, I did my best to seem nonchalant, making small talk with trusted city department heads and longtime friends rather than seek out Governor Bentley, Speaker Hubbard or Congressman Rogers as the rest of my media brethren and sistren were trying to do.

I didn’t want to interview or be seen by anyone important, anathema to my duties and role as news editor.

This past Monday was no ordinary Monday. The normal rules of behavior were deemed not to apply.

In fact, a new personal rule was derived from the incident in question:

Never wear your Halloween costume to work if you’ll have to be in public.

Thankfully, I wasn’t dressed as Barney the Dinosaur or Antoine Dodson, costumes that would have been impossible to hide.

No, I went for the refined, debonair sophistication of a discontinued tux I had the fortune to snag for $20 at a closing tux rental place.

With my handy tux, my costume was complete: I could be any Republican president with a beard from 1865 to 1896.

(Let’s just say Rutherford B. Hayes and be done with it.)

Yes, I wore my tux to work with pride, thinking my coworkers would get a kick out of my previously undiscovered “fun” side. They did.

I simply made the mistake of not remembering that my work more than often requires public interaction, and, while I wish they all did, not every member of the public knows and appreciates my many eccentricities.

My co-workers don’t bat an eyelash if I show up in an outlandish getup. They know me.

I even showed up to cover some items at the high school later in the day without the overcoat and scarf, in full costume. Few, if any, paid any attention, because, they, too, are used to me.

But, I dare say one of the “bigwigs” on the dais Monday might have thought it more than a bit odd for a bearded chap with a tux to shove a reporter’s notebook into their face and ask questions.

The governor’s bodyguards would have undoubtably taken me out before I could get anywhere near him, I’m sure.

While I often get a reputation for taking joy in the crazy persona I’ve cultivated for myself here, I didn’t feel the need to spread my infamy statewide.

I’m okay with all of you knowing I’m nutbar crazy, because, well, all of you are similarly afflicted.

It’s the Opelika in us, and, no, there is no cure.

But, just because we have inborn crazy within us, it doesn’t mean we always have to broadcast it.

Sometimes, we have to throw on the overcoat and the scarf, even if it’s 58 degrees and you’re sweating more than Big Cheryl from the Richard Simmons’ exercise videos.

There’s a fine line between crazy and insane, no doubt.

I love crazy, but publicly wearing a tuxedo to cover a major economic announcement for my town?

I may be crazy, folks, but I’m not insane.

Well... not yet, at least.