Opelika Observer Staff Editorial - 2/3: "Dangerous debt limit? No, not here"

Last week, we used an old, tried and true journalistic device: raising a question in a headline that we proceeded to answer, or at least attempted to answer, in the story.

We thought we had succeeded, answering the question, “Is Opelika in a dangerous debt situation?” with a loud “No.”

We believed that readers would recognize that a debt repayment ration of 14.3 percent was damn good, particularly in these economic times. 

But, no, everybody didn’t get it, so let’s try to make it clear:

Opelika’s debt is decidedly not at a dangerous level.

We also admit to making a small mistake, too.

We meant to say the 2004 school warrants were being repaid from Opelika’s 16 mils property tax, instead of Opelika’s $16 million property tax.

Darn that spell check.

Questions about Opelika’s debt load are particularly relevant, given the publicity attached to Jefferson County’s and the city of Prattville’s financial problems.

Indeed a citizen has the right to ask almost any question that relates to how his tax dollars are being spent.

The answers to those questions are generally readily available from our city officials, elected and otherwise.

As a matter of interest, none of the risk factors that contributed to the Jefferson County crisis are present in Opelika’s past, present or planned practices.

But, we repeat, the question about similarities is overwhelming reasonable and proper. As proud citizens of Opelika, we are glad the answer is that there are no similarities.

Ratings by Moody’s (Aa2/stable outlook) and Standard and Poor (AA/stable) issued in connection with recent debt issuance by Opelika  contained common themes such as:

– solid financial position

– healthy general fund reserves

– stable tax base

– history of prudent financial management and reserve policies

– history of conservative budgeting procedures that provide for consistency in long-term financial management

Only five cities in Alabama have a higher Moody’s rating than Opelika. One of these cities, Huntsville (AAA/Aaa) actually has a less favorable percentage of Constitutional Debt Limit margin than Opelika.

Following last year’s issuance of warrants, Opelika has a Constitutional Debt Limit margin of $24.6 million or about 40 percent of its 20 percent limit of assessed evaluation.

Huntsville’s margin is approximately 37 percent.

Both rating services caution that several factors could make Opelika’s very favorable debt ratings go down.

These factors include increased debt burden, decreases in General Fund reserves and overall financial position and sizable tax base deterioration.

None of these are foreseen.

Additionally our city officials have been able to maintain a “municipal rainy-day account” of 20 percent of annual revenues in the General Fund.

Does everyone now get it?

Opelika’s debt situation is on solid ground!

The only similarity between us and Jefferson County and Prattville is that we are all in Alabama.

The McCollumn - 2/3: "Mocking wines, brawling beers"

This might be another one of those columns that could get me potentially bounced from the Southern Baptist faith, but I continue nevertheless.

Growing up, I participated in the Bible Drill program, a competition-based activity for children in which Bible verses were memorized, along with the order of the books of the Bible, for the purposes of a game show-like presentation of said knowledge at various churches around the area.

Memorizing random facts has always been a delight to me, even at an early age, so this was right up my alley.

While my memory fades with each passing year, a few gobbets have always remained with me.

Proverbs 20:1 was on our list in the fifth grade, burned into my brain the minute I saw it on that little piece of paper.

“Wine is a mocker and beer is a brawler. Whoever is led astray by them is not wise.”

Fifth grade Cliff took these words to literally mean anyone who chose to drink any alcohol at all must be some sort of mental case and a bum devoid of any redeemable human traits. 10-year-olds can be very absolutist.

25-year-old Cliff, with his beard, English major and fondness for dessert wines and infused vodkas – well  – he’s not quite so sure as young Cliff was.

Now, one wants to look to the second sentence and begin to parse it out.

I don’t pretend to be any kind of Biblical scholar, but I don’t see any outright condemnation of alcohol in that text.

It simply seems to say those “led astray” are not wise. In other words, moderation and forbearance are key.

A glass of wine should be reasonably acceptable; a few bottles is right out.

Having the occasional drink is not the unforgivable sin some would have you believe it is; drinking to get drunk every time, however, is abhorrent and a sign you should probably seek help and treatment.

But, this is my interpretation. It’s a guess based on a short textual analysis, and I wouldn’t put much faith in me. I try not to, at least.

Some of you may hold to that prohibitionist approach. That’s your right.

If you choose to teetotal, I applaud your choice, but it’s your choice. You not drinking doesn’t mean you get to sit in condemnation of everyone who does, however.

Judgement can only truly come from someone we’re all familiar with, and I think it’s best we leave that sort of thing to Him, don’t you?

The McCollumn -1/27: "Does Sasquatch still matter?"

I had the opportunity to take time to be a “mystery reader” in Ms. Adams’ first grade class at Carver Primary last week, a joyful experience I highly recommend to all of you.

Seeing the happiness on the kids’ faces as you walk in the door, saving them from an otherwise humdrum and predictable day of schoolwork.

Ms. Adams had a book ready to go, a short text from the Hallmark people that was accompanied by a small, talking stuffed animal: Bigsby the Bigfoot, the miniscule version of everyone’s favorite Pacific Northwest woodland ape.

Ms. Adams laughed as I read through the text, offering color commentary to the assembled first graders about how we, that is the kids and I, knew adults could easily be fooled into thinking that sasquatches like Bigsby weren’t real. We knew better, I constantly reassured them.

Ms. Adams thought I was joking.

She ought to know me better.

Why not live in a world where the forests of Washington and Oregon are teeming with large woodland apes, entire colonies of sasquatches that try to stay hidden from the rest of mankind?

Who’s to say these noble creatures don’t just avoid human contact because all instances thus far have brought nothing but capture attempts and habitat destruction?

Is the crux of 1987’s sasquatch-ownership documentary “Harry and the Hendersons” true: even the love of a human family can’t dispel a sasquatch’s need for the outdoors?

Most importantly: who are we to tell children about what is silly to put their beliefs in?

I can think of far scarier things people put their faith in than Bigfoots. Newt Gingrich, for example.

We may live in a time that requires a seriousness of thought and mind, as economic crisis and political stagnation take hold around the globe.

We cannot, however, allow this lack of wonder and fantasy spread to the youngest among us.

Theirs should be a world of untold adventures and ultimate possibilities.

Space aliens, magical far-off kingdoms, time travel: all of those should be an easy day’s task for your average eight-year-old, giving them plenty of spar time to throw together an entire war with their plastic army men, if they so desire.

As adults who intrude upon those fragile worlds, let us be careful not to discourage creativity and interesting thoughts in their infant stages.

If we must set boundaries, let them be constructive ones that help our small friends better frame the worlds their minds create.

Let’s not tell them the Loch Ness Montser doesn’t exist; let’s tell them that “monster” is a hateful term, and Nessie, the Creature of Loch Ness, is a peaceful and happy animal that simply prefers a certain lack of human contact and then let them think of a new term we could call Nessie.

Don’t tell them the Mobile Leprechaun was probably a crackhead what got hold of the wrong stuff; have them write you a story or draw a picture about what they think could happen if a leprechaun showed up at their house.

Don’t say “Bigfoots aren’t real”; give your young tykes a chance to explain themselves and then have them work on a collage of potential things they think such an animal might need to eat.

Harness that natural creativity that these kids are wasting and put it to work telling stories, painting pictures and turning the motors of expression and creativity that could be vital for the continuance of this nation.

From this generation of dreamers could come discoveries and ideas that could change society as we know it.

So, parents, could I ask you this one favor?

Could you let your kids know about Bigfoot?

Opelika Observer Staff Editorial - 1/21: "Do it like D-Rock"

DaVonte “D-Rock” Ross, the city’s newly--minted “Athlete of the Year,” is a remarkable young man.

For four years, he’s served as the football team manager, often arriving to practice long before his peers and staying long after, but always maintaining a positive attitude and a spirit of helpfulness at all times.

He inspires his fellow students, offering words of encouragement and kindness to everyone he comes into contact with during his day.

Everyone at OHS knows D-Rock, and D-Rock knows them.

In an era where kids seem to be more self-centered and inwardly focused on what can be done for them, here’s a young man asking what he can do for everyone else.

D-Rock isn’t just an example for his classmates and peers at Opelika High; he should be a model for us all.

We should all be willing to help others in any way we can.

We should all be dedicated and steadfast in whatever jobs or activities we engage in, doing our utmost to give it our all as best we can.

We should all approach each day with a positive attitude and a smile, knowing that happiness can be infectious if we let it spread.

We should all be polite and civil to one another, remembering our manners and the dignity we are all afforded as fellow people.

And, most importantly, we should believe that with hard work and perseverence, we can do anything we set our minds to do.

We salute D-Rock for everything he does for his school and his community. He’s a Bulldog through and through, a young man who bleeds red and black.

D-Rock, thank you for the example you set for your classmates and for all of us here in your community.

Congratulations on your accomplishments, and we can’t wait to see what wonderful things are in store for you in the future.

The McCollumn - 1/20: "Eliminate the imperative"

We speak scores of sentences daily, but we often fail to take notice of how we use the sentences we speak.

What function do they serve?

Are you a steadfast declarative denizen, stating ideas as you see them and think them, simply to inform the world around you?

Are you inclined toward the interrogative, forever peppering friends and random passers-by with a litany of questions, both necessary and rhetorical?

Perhaps you favor the exclamatory. For you, life is full of excitement, vim, vigor and verve, so much so that you and your exclamation pointed sentences must interject yourselves into a conversation before you burst.

These three groupings don’t cause many problems.

Most people fall into the declarative, simply offering observations as information without major amounts of bias or slant. Life doesn’t hold too many unanswered questions or unexpected surprises in the day-to-day, so the no-nonsense, no-frills period-ended sentence is enough to suffice.

However, there’s one other category of sentence users, one I often mind myself drifting into, that’s a sorry state of being to be a resident of: the imperial imperatives.

These are your command sentence users, the creators of statements which seem innocuous (and tend to end in a simple period like their kin the declarative), but actually contain some sort of missive, request, direction, order, instruction or outright demand.

They seem to infer the speaker must be a content-area expert on the subject to which they speak, even if evidence points directly to the contrary.

Every statement tends to come off as a judgment, handed down with a plonking certainty that is seldom taken seriously by anyone but the speaker. No one can be right all of the time, but this won’t stop those imperial imperatives from trying to maintain the illusion of intellectual dominance.

You’ll notice these people in conversations, as they can’t help but want to jump in in the middle of said conversations. You’ll see their eyes dart back and forth as other speakers are talking, as the cogs in their minds start to find a way to interject and take the conversational reins back for themselves.
Listening isn’t actually their goal; it’s just a byproduct of trying to maintain conversational control.

It’s a wonder other people are willing to put up with such nonsense.

Rather than try to impose your authoritative view on the world, perhaps a better way to go would be to drift back to the interrogative.

Question more than you answer.

Listen more than you speak.

Learn that every story from the person you are listening to does not require a spinoff personal anecdote from you that seldom has anything to do with the original topic.

Accentuate the interrogative. Eliminate the imperative. Latch on to the declarative ... and don’t mess with Mr. In-Between.

Opelika Observer Staff Editorial - 'Piddle, twiddle and resolve'

Sherman Edwards may have been penning song lyrics about the enmity in the Second Continental Congress when he wrote these lines, but we think those words may still apply today.

“Piddle, twiddle and resolve; not one damn thing do we solve.”

Heck of a motto, but we dare say the Cooper Library Board couldn’t have written a better one for itself.

With Monday’s meeting, the recent genealogical section disagreement continues on, as board chair Aimee Sikes proposed a survey of genealogical section users be taken, so board members would have access to a “full range of information” before they made their decision.

The proposed survey would ask patrons where they are from and how they found their time in the section, and also ask if any changes need to be made to the section.

This proposal was met with nods and murmurs of approval from the various board members (save Charles Wacker, who seemed to urge greater action than the ‘Let’s put this aside for several months and pray it goes away’ mentality offered by others), while GSEA members, council officials and we members of the news media looked on with confusion, anger or extreme disappointment.

No motion was made and no vote was taken by the library board regarding this survey scheme, so, to the best of our knowledge, it has yet to be officially implemented, and for that we are thankful.

We would point out the survey would be devised by library director Susan Delmas and reference librarian Marsha Sanson, library representatives who have repeatedly stated their disdain of potentially having to reorganize the genealogical section.

In a letter advocating Dewey to library board chair Aimee Sikes, Sanson goes so far as to suggest the following:

“One of the most fundamental library principles is serendipity. this (sic) means that patrons are supposed to be able to find materials accidentally on the shelf when looking for something else.”

Speaking as people who have been library patrons for most of our lives, we say we prefer things being where they should be, in a logical, alphabetical order that makes sense.

We want to find books by choice, not by accident or happenstance.

Instituting such a survey would also fail to reach people who have given up on the Cooper genealogical collection due to its current crop of issues:

- Inaccessibility to older and disabled people due to its cramped, often over-heated third-floor locale,

- Its lack of usable workspace for research purposes

- Or those frustrated with the way the section is filed or the hostility they have encountered from various members of the library staff.

Treat people badly enough, and they stop coming back.

We agree with the library board on one thing: the library should serve all of its patrons.

We just don’t think that’s what’s happening there now.

The McCollumn - 1/13: "Customs, not rules, now reign supreme"

“The Rules aren’t really The Rules any more,” Dr. Ash said during one of our English Education classes, of those irrefutable Rules of Spelling, Grammar and Usage that are said to govern our language and how we use it.

“No, they’re the Rules,” the Inner Voice said. “It’s non-negotiable. We capitalize them because you can’t revoke them. What is she on?”

“We have customs now. Customs can change and  be modified with use, letting the users of the language make choices as the language to continue to grow and expand,” Ash said.

“Absolute twaddle,” the Inner Voice said then, almost two years ago.

The Inner Voice now - well, Dr. Ash may have had a point.

Take the grandfather of all of the Rules, “I before E, except after C,” as a prime example.

We grew up with the bedrock certainty that when questions of spelling arose involving those tricky vowels, our handy mnemonic device would be there to bail us out.

The I would come before the E.

The Rule said it. It had to be so.

It was The Rule, after all.

Ancient. Species. Science. Society. (To name just a few)

All I, followed by E, directly after C.

So much for the rule of The Rule.

Once the monolithic Rules come falling down, it’s easier to pick apart the lesser ones.

Why bother with putting that comma before ‘and’ in items in a series? Folks aren’t going to notice the Oxford comma, and even fewer will know it by its hoity-toity name.

It’s unnecessary, taking up time, space and valuable ink, so journalists are taught to avoid it at all costs.

Even my fellow English majors are split as to whether to teach it to their students, which is why people use the comma at will, changing usage even throughout their own writing.

Truth be told, it isn’t vital. It might provide pause for breath or reflection, so you might have time to say “Well, that is indeed a list of items,” or some such benign exclamatory remark.

We live in the world of customs now, not rules. Customs allow change as change is needed.

Utility, not allegiance to moribund mechanical mores, is the key.

We need our language to be ready to move with us at our speed, and rules just slow that process down.

Activity creates definition, and we are taught to mobilize our language to use it as we choose to, empowering us to be masters of our own lingual destinies.

Verb frequently and explicitly.

(Think of how many times you’ve used the verb “Google,” as in “Google it” in such a fashion. We use it 10 times a day around the office.)

Adjectivize words as you need them.

(Any student of Auburn University’s Don Wehrs knows this trick, as we’re empowered to use Wehrsian adjectives whether talking about the Austenian narrator or Garcia-Marquezian  magical realism.)

Simply do what you feel and worry about defining it later.

We create rules in order to bring structure and function to a world that lacks both, but we strict grammarians should learn not to fight against the natural order of things.

Chaos will always revert to chaos, regardless of the many preventatives and precautions in which we put our faith.

The rule of The Rules is over, and, unlike the customs that replace them,  that seems doubtful to change.