The McCollumn - 12/28: "An open letter to whomever broke into my house Sunday"

‘Twas two days before Christmas,

And all through my house

Not a creature was stirring

... Except for a louse.

Yes, dear readers, some time Sunday between noon and 2 p.m., someone (or ones) broke into my beloved McCollum Cottage and absconded with several small electronics items in tow.

They took it upon themselves to wait until after my petsitter had left, kicking in my front door and helping themselves to the relatively scant pickings available in my home.

When I returned home from Anniston Sunday, I noticed the front door was ajar due to the abnormal amount of light in the living room, and from there was treated to bouts of anger and sadness for the remainder of the day.

Here at Christmas, when we are all supposed to be filled with the milk of human kindness and are told to feel compassion and goodwill toward our fellow man, some low-life had made off with my stuff.

Rage was the natural first emotion.

I wanted to get my hands on these turkeys and beat their skulls in with a spiked baseball bat, a’la Raekwon the Chef (one of my favorite members of the Wu-Tang Clan).

At the very least, I wanted to be able to kick them in the nads and watch them writhe around on the ground in pain for a bit.

Not very Christmasy, I’ll grant you.

As the afternoon progressed into evening, however, my perspective on the ordeal somewhat softened.

So, to the person or persons who robbed my house Sunday, I have just a few words for you, from me:

Dear robber or robbers,

I don’t know what made you choose McCollum Cottage to rob, but, as you can see by what you made off with, there really wasn’t much to steal.

See, I’m a journalist. We don’t make much money, so I try to live simply and within my means (even if I have to borrow the money to do it). No expensive electronics, no fancy artwork - just a no-frills country existence in a house that exists largely as it has since it was built in the 1950s.

I don’t have cable or internet out there; there aren’t any lines to run to the house. My Internet was through a small Verizon Wireless card, but you took that, and I cancelled it yesterday. It’s of no use to you now.

Within the laptop you stole, you may find the first disk of Season 6 of ‘Will and Grace.’ There are some good episodes on that disk. I hope you enjoy them; Harry Connick, Jr., guest stars in a few. If you find yourself not wanting the disk, feel free to slip it back into my mailbox. It’s going to be a pain in the butt to replace just that one disk, and I don’t think you really want it.

Thank you for not harming my dog Fitz. You may not have even known he was there, but I was glad to see that nothing had been done to him. Had you harmed him, I might have had to hunt you down like Liam Neeson does whenever someone takes one of his kids in a movie. The result would not have been pleasant - for you or me.

I’m not sure why you felt the need to rob my house. If it’s because you’re down on your luck and need money, well ... don’t we all. Robbing a low-income person like me isn’t going to get you there, though.

None of the items you stole are pawnable.

Half of them don’t even work properly.

If you’re giving them as gifts, you may have difficulty explaning why they seem so well-used and old. Good luck on those explanations.

I began my afternoon Sunday feeling mostly angry with you, but, now, in the light of a new day, I feel sorry for whatever decisions you made that have led you down this path.

Whoever you are, something tells me that your momma didn’t raise you to be a thief, and I dare say she’d be disappointed in your actions in this.

In a season where we’re supposed to show love and kindness to one another, you have shown greed and malice.

I want you to know I’m praying for you.

I hope God will show you that the path you are on will only lead to more destruction, more sadness and nothing of the goodness or light of life.

I hope you are able to turn your life around and are able to get back some of your humanity and a spirit of kindness.

You may have broken into my home and stolen from me both items and a sense of comfort in my own home, but the Devil is stealing your soul from you, and that’s more worrisome to me.

Just ask on Jesus’ name and beg His forgiveness.

Do that, and you will have mine as well.

May God find you and make you His. That’s my Christmas wish for you.

Sincerely,

Cliff McCollum

The McCollumn - 12/14: 'Sometimes, you wanna go where everybody knows your name'

Years ago, it was the grey building known as ‘Charlie’s Fundrinkery.’

Then, if memory serves, it was a pet store for a brief amount of time.

But, to me, the now vacant, lonely green building on Samford Avenue in Opelika will always be only one thing to me: the site of “Grown Folks Blues and More,” or, as the Bar Food Night Crew preferred to call it, simply “Miss Nancy’s.”

We discovered it completely by accident.

While I had driven by hundreds of times throughout my life, I had never felt an overwhelming urge to stop at that particular establishment; being the child of teetotaler Southern Baptists, bars were still somewhat of an anathema, especially bars in my hometown.

The rules of Bar Food Night and the goading of Drs. Adam Cooner and Jordan Gentry were enough to get me in the door.

The kindness, laughter and happiness exuded by the staff and patrons of Grown Folks (and Shorty’s awesome karaoke set-up) were what kept bringing us back time after time.

The patroness, Ms. Nancy, was always ready with a stiff drink and some loving words of wisdom - as well as an ever-present basket of fried okra, a necessary staple for our table.

She’d ask about school, our love lives and anything else she could think of that would matter. The Vets-in-Waiting would talk of classes and surgeries; I, of city council and school board meetings.

Her sister, Ms. Tootsie, would always be the first up for karaoke, singing her staple - the Luther Vandross version of the classic “A House is Not a Home.”

A few more Pink Flamingos (for me, at least), a fish platter and then we’d all be up in front of the bar and its regulars, belting out anything from Sinatra (me) to David Allen Coe (Cooner) and even Weird Al’s “White and Nerdy” (Jordan).

We’d have our fill and then slowly amble out, always sure to get a hug and parting bit of advice from Miss Nancy.

“Smile, baby,” she’d always say to me. “You know you’re too blessed to be stressed.”

Those days are gone now.

Due to a dispute with the building’s owner, Blues and More isn’t there any more, leaving another empty space in the heart of all of us who love our quirky local watering holes.

We were occasional visitors in the world at Grown Folks; there were folks there who came every week, sat at the same places, did the same things and talked to the same folks.

What happens to the cast of regulars when an iconic place just up and closes?

Do they all matriculate to some other stop, attempting to blend in with established regulars at another joint, or do they just grab a bottle from the ABC store and stick close to home?

We all need a place where we can go and just ... well ... be, a place free of judgment, pretense or shame.

We want our version of “Cheers,” that place “where everybody knows your name” - who you are, what you do and why none of that really matters.

When you’re at that bar, you’re just another face in the crowd. Who is less important than Why, as all are there to have a nice drink and forget about their troubles in the world outside.

“Grown Folks” was that place for me, the Vet School Crew and countless others who we tried to spread “the gospel of Ms. Nancy” to.

No bartender will ever dispense wit and wisdom the way Ms. Nancy did.

No taste will ever match the crispy fried okra dipped in the slightest hint of ketchup.

No beverage will ever equal the simultaneous potency and sweetness of the strawberry-flavored Pink Flamingo - and nor will I ever be able to order a pink drink in any other bar without raised eyebrows from others.

Goodbye, Grown Folks, and thank you for everything you allowed me to see and learn.

Bars may come and go,  but the memories and experiences we had in them will last a lifetime. Raise your glasses, readers; here’s cheers to the end of an Opelika institution.

The McCollumn - 12/7: "Our seniors deserve better than this"

Author's note: This week's column makes more sense if read after the article on which it is based. My visit to the Boykin Center was equal parts joyful and heartbreaking, and I am thankful to the Auburn Adult Day Center for letting me share their story.
Read the article, then read the column, please.

http://opelikaobserver.com/community/902-state-budget-cuts-could-soon-close-area-adult-day-center

Marian Johnson and Raymond Pogue smile as

they await their lunch at the Auburn Adult Day Center.

Thanks to budget cuts from our state’s legislature and governor, 28 adult care centers across the state, including our own located at Boykin Center in Auburn, will be shut down by the end of February 2013.

18 senior adults here in Lee County will go from having a loving, familial environment filled with attention and care from trained professionals to being left alone to fend for themselves all day, with only the television to keep them company.

It only takes around $160,000 a year to fully fund the adult care center here - and only $2 million to keep all the centers running statewide, but our current budget apparently doesn’t prioritize the needs of more than 400 lower-income seniors.

Nevermind that, at $26 a day, the programs are far cheaper than the nursing home alternatives that most of these seniors will be placed into.

Thanks to advances in medicine and technology, we’re all living longer, and we ourselves could end up in programs like this one - but only if they still exist.

I encourage all of you to visit the Boykin Center to talk to the patrons and to see the happiness it brings to their lives.

For many of the people there, that center is a staple in their life, and the other patrons are de facto family members.

Go play some dominoes, help Mr. Pogue with one of his word puzzles and see what a remarkable difference a little care and attention can bring to someone’s life - and then let Montgomery know we need this vital service.