Where is WikiLeaks when Springfield needs it?

(published in Effingham Now, part of the Savannah Morning News, December 22, 2010)
 
If I lived in Springfield, the WikiLeaks website that's been the source of much recent world consternation sure would come in handy.

Springfield's residents can learn from the Internet the United States trusts no one, the rest of the world doesn't trust Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, North Korea's dictator wears Perry the Platypus underwear and that Canada is boring. At the same time, folks in Springfield can't find out diddly squat about their own elected officials, thanks to their own elected officials.

The Springfield City Council recently voted 5-1 to recommend Mayor Jeff Northway resign for the high crime of selling the Dasher family cane syrup recipe to Russian spies.

Of course, that's a made-up reason for the council's no-confidence vote. But without a self-concocted version of what goes on in those infamously secret council meetings, a summary of those meetings would read like a script from the legendary '70s show "Match Game," with lots of blanks to be filled in by guesses from contestants. In this case, the contestants are Springfield's taxpayers who have to foot the bill for this farce.

It is perfectly legal for the council to hold these closed-door meetings (or, as the lawyers tell everyone to call them, "executive sessions" - the closest some politicians ever get to being an actual executive) to discuss "the good name and character" of a person.  It seems that with a 5-1 vote asking the guy to resign, the councilmen have made up their minds about the mayor's name and character, and they don't think it's very good.

If that's the case, why are they still playing games with secret meetings and attorneys on the city dole investigating goodness knows what? I know the cane syrup is delicious - it's the perfect companion to homemade biscuits - but come on. If the allegations are more serious than syrupy, if there are "multiple things" the council's hired gun claims, just what are those things? What else did the mayor do, raise his pinkie while partaking of a Schnitzel Shack beer boot?

In fairness to the council, we don't know if Northway is guilty of any wrongdoing. Perhaps he is. But if the mayor is innocent of gleaming the hoo-hah as he claims, why doesn't he spoil the council's fun and name the hoo-hah of which he is accused? Northway is just as guilty as anyone on the council of keeping the people who put him in office in the dark.

Well, perhaps we should say the handful of people who put the mayor in office. Calling for public meetings to be held in public only helps if the public takes its eyes off "Dancing With the Stars" once in a while and pays attention. Springfield has more than 2,300 residents, according to the latest Census estimate, yet only 160 bothered to vote in the last mayoral election.

In fairness to the public, that election was held in an off year, 2009. Perhaps it isn't the case in Springfield, but it has long been a tradition among politicians, who wish to concentrate power among the privileged few, to schedule their elections when they know voter turnout will be lighter than an after-church pimento cheese sandwich luncheon.

Bottom line, Mayor Northway is refusing to step down for the high crime of getting a pink Mohawk at Studio 24 instead of a manlier dry cut at the Effingham Hardware barber shop.

The council assures us they are investigating more serious allegations. If that's the case, everyone involved should cut the legalese bull hockey and lay their cards out before the public.

It comes as a shock to politicians sometimes, but voters are adults. It's long past time for the Springfield council and mayor to start acting like adults as well.

A Record Haul for Hope

(published in the Dec./Jan. issue of Effingham Magazine)

Give Paul Mongin ten minutes to tell his story and you will probably give him some money.  “I have been on both sides of the fence,” Mongin says of the United Way.  “I have been a volunteer, and I have also been a recipient of some of their services because of my son with special needs.” Mongin and Natalie Wiser, loaned out from Georgia Pacific to work on the fund raising campaign, are two of the catalysts that helped the Effingham County office of the United Way of the Coastal Empire raise $310,000 this year, demolishing last year’s record total by more than $15,000.

“We worked really hard,” says Bonnie Dixon, area director of the Effingham United Way office when asked if there was a particular reason why so much money was raised, especially when economic common sense should have dictated otherwise.  “We set a goal of $270,000,” Dixon says, “because that was $10,000 more than last year’s goal (though less than the $294,000 raised in 2009). Given the state of the economy, we thought that was realistic.”  Julie Hales, owner and publisher of Effingham Magazine and chair of this year’s United Way campaign, thought otherwise. “Once we got going, I told Bonnie that we would hit $300,000.  Once we started making our numbers, we just kept pushing.  This campaign has proven to me once again what a wonderful community we live in."

The Effingham money is part of the $8.1 million raised by the United Way of the Coastal Empire, which serves Effingham, Chatham, Bryan, and Liberty counties.  “We are grateful for the stellar companies and individuals that stood with us while facing economic challenges of their own to make sure that our friends and neighbors are equipped with the building blocks for a successful life,” said U.W.C.E. board chairman Dale Critz, Jr.  Paul Mongin would definitely count himself as one of those friends and neighbors, and he is also now one of United Way’s most fervent evangelists.

“It’s a privilege,” Mongin says of his time as a United Way loaned associate; Mongin and Wiser were allowed to leave their regular jobs with Georgia Pacific to work full-time for United Way during the three-month campaign.  “I’ve had people pull me off to the side and ask me if this was for real.”  Based on the help he got from United Way member agencies for his son, who has autism and will graduate from high school next year, that was an easy question for Mongin to answer.  “From being here and being able to see the work of some of the agencies up close and person, and especially seeing when people come here with needs - you see their vulnerability laid aside when they say ‘I have a need,’ it just reinforces my conviction that yes, this is for real.”

Despite the success stories of those, like Mongin, who have been helped by an agency that receives United Way funding, the question still lingers – how did they raise so much money this year?  People aren’t supposed to be frugal as the economy emerges from recession.  The money they do have is supposed to be saved for the Holidays.   It also isn’t the easiest thing in the world to sell people on giving to United Way.  “We’ve heard lots of excuses over the years,” Dixon says, as business owners, members of the clergy, and others sometimes refuse to allow her or others a chance to solicit donations.  “They’ll say they heard we refuse to give to the Boy Scouts or that we’ve funded this or that controversial program and it’s just not true.”  In fact, each United Way is autonomous, free to give money however its board sees fit, and both the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts in Effingham County receive United Way of Coastal Empire funds.

Unlike many charities, all donations made to the U.W.C.E. go directly to member agencies thanks to the generosity 50 years ago of Herschel V. Jenkins.  The native of Guyton, former United Way board chairman and longtime Savannah Morning News publisher left an endowment when he died in 1960.  After Jenkins’s last surviving daughter died in 1997, the endowment was donated to United Way to help cover its overhead.  “How many charities do you know that have zero administrative costs,” asks Dixon, rhetorically.  The Jenkins endowment is among the reasons the U.W. C.E. has earned two consecutive four-star ratings for sound fiscal management from Charity Navigator, the highest rating available from the company that tracks the work of more than 5,500 charities across the country.

Wiser says it’s more about relationships than numbers, specifically relationships with the “gate-keepers” - those who must sign off on allowing United Way to give presentations to employees of businesses, members of churches, and others.   “If we can get our foot in the door,” Wiser says, “if we can get just ten minutes to let me talk or let Paul talk, that’s all we need.  I’m not going to just tell you about United Way.  I will spend maybe three or four sentences talking about United Way, and then I will tell stories.  I will tell you a heartbreak story that has a happy ending.  I will tell you something that happened to me while out on the campaign trail where someone got help because of United Way.”  That, Wiser says, is when people start giving.  “I’d say 70- to 75-percent of people who wouldn’t have looked twice at the United Way form, they might have just thrown it in the trash, end up giving after they hear those stories.”

The campaign chair says the messengers were as important as the stories they told.  “(Wiser and Mongin) are two incredibly giving and wonderful people,” said Hales. “Their hard work and determination is a huge reason for our success."   Loaned associates work for United Way for two campaigns with one of them rotating out each year.  Wiser will be back for next year’s campaign while Mongin will be replaced with another G.P. employee.

“It says a lot about Georgia Pacific’s commitment to United Way that they will let us use two of their employees,” Dixon says of one of United Way’s largest contributors in Effingham County.  “In fact,” Wiser adds, “two of the ten winners (for individual fund-raising) in the four-county area were from Georgia Pacific, and two others were from the (Effingham County) school system.  That means four of the ten individual winners were from Effingham County, which is unbelievable.”    The school system joined Georgia Power’s Plant McIntosh in leading off the fund-raising with the Pacesetter campaign.  Together, they raised almost one-third of Effingham’s final campaign total.

All of that money goes to the U.W. C.E. office in Savannah.  Next spring, a volunteer board will determine where the donations will be distributed based on applications filed by member agencies.     “There are four areas of need which United Way concentrates on,” says Dixon, “health and wellness, education and youth, basic needs, and economic independence.  If it doesn’t fall within one of those categories, we don’t fund it.”  Member agencies must file quarterly reports with United Way to ensure donations are spent as the agencies promised.

Effingham County will also get back much more than it gives.  “People might ask ‘well, you raised $39,000 over your goal, where is that extra money going’,” Dixon says.  “In truth, it takes a lot more than $309,000 to run all of the agencies in Effingham who benefit from United Way, so after the application process is done, those agencies will likely get much more than $309,000.” In addition to Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts, dozens of agencies receive funding, among them the Food OutReach Co-op of Effingham (F.O.R.C.E.), the Rape Crisis Center, the Alzheimer’s Association, and the Treutlen House at New Ebenezer, which helps abused and neglected children.  “We worked hard for that money,” Dixon adds, “but we get more than our fair share back.”

Hales says Dixon and her administrative coordinator, Lorraine Harris, deserve a great deal of credit along with everyone who gave.  "I can't thank the community enough for all the support shown in this year's campaign.  Bonnie runs a smooth ship at our service center. She is truly a remarkable individual and her staff is unbelievable."  The loaned associates feel blessed to have played a part.  “No matter what happens, no matter where I live,” Wiser says, “I will forever be bound to the Effingham United Way because I know that it works and that it helps people.”   

You may not always hear them, but rest assured that the people helped by a United Way agency also say thank you to everyone who gave for helping to give them a hand up.

(Note: If you or someone you know is in need, dial 2-1-1 from any phone, and a United Way operator will be available to assist you.  Operators are available 24 hours a day, even on holidays, and all calls are confidential.)

A (Very) good artist

(published in the December/January issue of Effingham Magazine)

This particular paining of Norman Blackwell’s isn’t for sale.  He isn’t sure anyone would want it anyway.  It hangs six feet from the door of the home off a dirt road in Clyo that has been in his family for generations – he half-jokingly says “I’ve got the land grant from King George back here somewhere.”   The still-life depicts an ordinary, solid lavender vase on a table next to a multi-colored floral arrangement.  Blackwell was 12 when he painted it.

“I couldn’t do that again,” he says.  Considering that you are completely surrounded by Blackwell’s other paintings when sitting inside his living room, the statement makes as much sense as Beethoven in his prime claiming he couldn’t write another note.  When asked to explain, Blackwell’s reasoning is rooted in youth.  “I was young when I painted it, and I love young people and teaching young people.  They do so many great things because they aren’t old enough to know they can’t do those things yet.”  If that’s the case, Norman Blackwell must be the youngest 77-year-old on the planet.

Board Game

The square is mostly yellow, with bits of black and red in a variety of geometric patterns.  It is part acrylic paint, part fabric.  Blackwell calls it “Board Game” because, well, it looks like a board game, something he might have played in his youth which, despite his family’s Effingham County heritage, did not begin here.

“I was born in Greensboro, North Carolina because my father was a salesman for International Correspondence Schools at the time,” says Blackwell, the youngest of Roy and Ruby Blackwell’s three children.  That was December 9, 1933, the middle of the Depression that would soon send the family back to Georgia.  “We moved back down here when I was two after my father lost his job.”  Norman’s mother soon moved to Savannah when she began working for a florist, coming back to the former plantation on weekends in those pre-commuting days.  Norman and the rest of the family would follow when the U.S. entered World War II and Norman’s father went to work for Savannah’s shipyard.

Pinball Universe

“I love the old movies, all the movies I used to go see two or three times a week when I was young,” Blackwell says.  He liked them so much he started creating costumes for his favorite actresses, “painting them in water color and tempura,” he says.  When he lost interest in costume creation, he decided to cut up the old paintings and turn them into a collage, and that collage reminded Blackwell of another part of his youth.  According to his website, www.normanblackwellart.com, “When I finished it, I noticed it resembled the pinball machines that were popular when I was a boy.”  Something else that was popular with the young Blackwell was art class at Savannah High School.

Art became Norman’s life calling when he first encountered Savannah High’s art teacher, Margaret Murphy – to this day one of the school’s most popular instructors.  “Miss Murphy was special,” Blackwell says.  “I had her for three years, and she encouraged me so much.  Her encouragement gave me the confidence to want to be an artist.”  That confidence led to his graduating high school two years early in 1950 and enrolling at Armstrong Junior College.  Blackwell then headed west to UCLA, but while there, he was told that he would find a better art department at a well known school much closer to home.

Red and Black

It’s a relatively simple collage; watercolor on strips of paper in vertical patterns of varying width.  The dominant colors are familiar to most folks around here – some white, but mostly the color of the beloved Dawgs of Athens.  Hence the name “Red and Black.”

Blackwell arrived at the University of Georgia in 1952, and pragmatism overcame his desire to do nothing but paint.  “I majored in advertising design because I knew I would need to do something to make money when I got out of school,” though Blackwell quickly adds that he still took every course in painting that was available.  

He became a fan and student of one of Georgia’s foremost artists, Lamar Dodd, who at the time happened to be head of the university’s art department (UGA’s art school is now named for Dodd).  During his senior year, Norman was art editor of The Pandora, the university’s yearbook, and his original drawings for that yearbook are still on display at the UGA museum.  He received his degree in 1956, and Norman was soon off to the capitol city to find work.

Rising Sun

Norman says his inspiration was a blood-red sunset surrounded by golden clouds that he saw as he was walking his dog late one afternoon.  But it’s the canvas of “Rising Sun” that is the color of blood, with pieces of gold lame, all uniquely shaped, surrounding a faint outline of the circular sun.  When the sun rose on Blackwell after he left college, he was not painting as much as he wanted to.  Much of his time was spent at one of the largest department stores in the state.  

“I was an assistant buyer for Macy’s in Atlanta,” a job Blackwell says initially paid him $75 a week.  Not bad money certainly – that’s almost $600 a week in today’s dollars - but Norman says his eyes were opened when a Revlon Cosmetics salesman took him to lunch one day.  “Our lunch bill was $85, which was chump change to this guy.  That’s when I knew I needed to get into sales if I wanted to make some real money and give myself more time to paint.”

Icon

The yellow canvas is resplendent with beads of paint, a technique called Pointillist Dots which Norman uses frequently.  There are simple lines of straight beads, but the beaded border is comprised of patterns common to the clothing of Native Americans.  Something resembling a Celtic cross lies inside a purple circle just above the center, other multi-colored symbols splattered beside and below the cross.  Long before “Icon” was a gleam in Norman’s eye, he made his move to sales inside one of America’s iconic companies.  But devotion to his true love would later spawn a prodigal journey to a new institution that would approach iconic status long after Norman left.

The year was 1960, and Blackwell would join the advertising and sales department at Proctor and Gamble’s headquarters in Cincinnati.  It was also the year he would help his new boss begin marketing its new liquid fabric softener; Downy.  “The next year, it was Pampers, which was the first successful disposable diaper.  Then I worked with Tide, with its box design,” Blackwell says.

As Blackwell neared his 20^th anniversary with Proctor and Gamble, work began to dry up.  “The company began to farm out more and more of its creative advertising work to agencies in New York,” he says.  He loved P-and-G, but he wanted out.  As luck would have it, a tiny art school would bring Blackwell home and closer to his muse.

Savannah College of Art and Design had seven faculty members teaching 71 students when it opened its doors in 1979.  The school wasn’t much bigger when it made Blackwell its first gallery director the following year.  He was home, working with his beloved artists, and had a dynamic boss in Paula Wallace, SCAD’s co-founder and its president since 2000.  She was the school’s Provost, technically SCAD’s second-in command to her then-husband when she interviewed Norman for the job.  “But you could tell, at least I thought I could, that she was the one in charge from the beginning.  She is the driving force for the success of that school.”

The honeymoon didn’t last.  “They wanted to make recruiting part of my job,” Blackwell says of the reason he left SCAD in 1983.  “I didn’t want to recruit; I wanted to be involved in the art.”  He continued to paint as much as he could while becoming a travelling school supplies salesman for the next dozen years when all of it, his work, his painting, his life, almost ended.

Marilyn

Speaking of icons, Blackwell’s first portrait of Marilyn Monroe is of the legend in the infamous dress that didn’t fit - the dress she was sewn into to impress her lover, the President, when she sang at his 1962 birthday party.  Within a year-and-a-half of the song that infuriated a first lady who knew what had gone on, both Marilyn and John Kennedy would be dead.  Norman is now working on a second portrait of Marilyn on a hexagon-shaped canvas.  He almost didn’t get to.

“I had to retire from selling school supplies because I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease,” Blackwell says, stunning considering he shows virtually no symptoms to the casual observer.  “Oh, it was pretty bad for a time, and I wasn’t sure I would ever get to paint again.”  But Blackwell says he prayed his way through it, and says his prayers brought him an excellent doctor who has helped control the disease.  

In addition to Marilyn, Blackwell has quite a bit of commissioned portrait work ahead of him; millionaires in New York and one of the deans at Notre Dame University among others.  Lately, he has also broken away from the patterns and geometrics that define much of his non-portrait work, opting instead for barns and other scenery.  “My newest fascination is New York storefronts, and I want to do a series of those in addition to a series of barns,” Blackwell says, “but to be honest, I’ve got so many ideas, I ‘d have to live to be 150 to do them all.  I’ll be busy until I just can’t do it anymore.”

Whether it is something for his simple country home, something for an opening in New York or the famous Saatchi Gallery in Europe, for the private collection of a local family or that of the late King Fahd of Saudi Arabia, Blackwell says he will live by the advice of his high school art teacher until he lives no more.  "Miss Murphy told me ‘Norman, if you are a good artist, don't hesitate to say so when you are asked about it. If you do not feel you are a good artist, change the subject, and keep studying and painting until you become one’."  He is still studying and paining, but judging by the demand for his work, there is no doubt that Norman Blackwell is a very good artist.       

What a lovely day for a tea party. Not that kind, the other kind

"Daddy, can you take a walk with me?"  The two-year-old beckoned me away from keyboard.  It was of vital importance.  Where are we taking a walk to?  "To the kitchen table," she said in a tone akin to "where do you think we're going, you dope?  Move your butt!"  It was tea party time.  Awesome.

"Would you please get me a straw for my tea," the dame inquired.  Of course, and how about some apple slices to go with it?  "Oh, that's an absolutely idea!  That would be lovely."  Trying to avoid serving her a side of sliced finger with her gala apple, I began with the usual; how was she doing.  "Oh, I'm swell," she says, channeling an Our Gang episode she hasn't seen.

How was her teddy bear doing these days?  "She's good good good.  I sleep with her," the little princess exclaims, "then she goes rrrrooaarrr, and then she sleeps again.  Then, she goes to play with Goldilocks."  She doesn't eat Goldilocks, does she?  "Yes, she does!  And then she goes 'rrrrrrooooaarrrrr'", which I'm guessing happens to a lot of folks who eat Goldilocks.

"I hope my sister has a great day at school," she says sweetly of the older sibling she yelled bloody murder at three hours prior for getting in her face just after she awoke.  That's sweet of you, I tell her.  "Yes, and she's going to the classroom, and doing the ABC's and the numbers."  Yes, and hopefully not driving her teacher up the wall.  "Yes, she needs to drive the car down from the wall.  You don't drive the car up on the wall."  You do if you're stuck in the room with 18 seven-year-olds.

Remembering something I had read online, I rhetorically ask if Obama will be able to convince his fellow Democrats to go along with his deal to keep tax rates low.  "Yes, absolutely," the diaper-clad cable news expert intones.  Really, how do you know that, cutey-pie?  "Well, I think the hubris on display at his initial news conference, where he intoned disdain for both the Republicans with which he compromised and the Democrats who were critical of him for it showed a high level of immaturity.  But the president still has plenty of time to overcome the kerfuffle if he will show some humility and a return to the gravitas on display during the campaign."  Wait, what did you say?  "Oh, um, Daddy, can you wear the princess shoes and the tiara?"  Yes, yes I can.

"Mrroow?" the cat asks, stroking by on her way to the food bowl.  You know, cat, hey...sniff sniff.  Dang it, cat, when are going to learn that the floor on my side of the bed isn't your litter box.  "Meow?"  Yes, you.  I don't know why I talk to you.  "Neither do I, but if you had to squat on a pile of rocks to take a crap, you'd understand.  Ugh, the chafing, exacerbated by the fact that I have to use my tongue to clean it off.  Try taking sandpaper topped with millions of miniature thorns to your hiney, Dude!"  No, the cat did not just say that.  "Mrroww?"  Um, Princess, did the cat just say something.  "Yes, she said meeeeeeeeowwwww."  Okay, thought I was losing it.  Or rather, that I had lost it even more than in the previous paragraph.

"Okay," my Fancy Nancy clone says, "it's time to paint."  Imaginary paint, of course.  On our kitchen wall.  Which could desperately use some real paint to cover up all the scratches, but I resist the urge to give it to her.  What are you painting today?  "I'm painting a Charlie Brown Christmas."  And with that, the tea party ends.  A waste of an hour?  Not on your life.

But how do you celebrate a bid to the Tidey Bowl?

When TCU completed an undefeated regular season last week ensuring a place in a BCS bowl game, many of its players celebrated by carrying a single rose in their teeth.  It signified the Horned Frogs' postseason destination - the Rose Bowl, and the rose-in-mouth celebration of a trip to the game called "The Granddaddy Of Them All" is almost as old as likely Rose Bowl announcer Brent Musberger.  Same thing with the Orange Bowl; Virginia Tech's players were compliant in their copious displays of the most famous citrus after their ACC Championship game win ensured their trip to West Jupiter (or Key Biscayne or whatever burb Florida pretends is actually Miami these days).

But with 873 bowl games on the schedule this year and some...um...interesting names and sponsors for those bowls, players (at least the ones who go to class) should get extra college credit for creative celebration of bowl trips.

Brigham Young University got the party started, which is interesting since the word 'party' was banned from the BYU campus in 1932.  When the Cougars found out they would play UTEP in the New Mexico bowl, the BYU players hurriedly put on their white button-down shirts and navy pants and mounted their bicycles for a celebratory ride through Provo, dragging behind their bikes the skeletal remains of armadillos.  UTEP players would have held their own celebration but, being in El Paso, were afraid to wake the drug lords across the border.  UTEP coach Mike Price reportedly whispered to a female friend "it's rollin' baby, it's rollin", an allegation Price vehemently denies.

Utah had a conundrum similar to their fellow Mormon-state brethren.  That's why the Utes' team made quiet arrangements to sneak across the state line so players could carry on their shoulders topless showgirls holding jars of Bondo and Turtle Wax to celebrate their invitation to the MAACO Las Vegas Bowl.  Unfortunately, an intern in the Utah sports information office misunderstood and accidentally sent dozens of topless turtles holding bottles of Gold Bond powder instead.

The inagural New Era Pinstripe Bowl at Yankee Stadium thought it had a great matchup when it invited Kansas State to play home state favorite Syracuse.  The Orange(men), having stunk for most of the last decade, were so ecstatic, they paraded around their home field at the Carrier Dome wearing gangster pimp suits while displaying a surprisingly comfortable and familiar hold of Tommy guns.  Their enthusiasm was slightly dampened when they learned that the Pinstripe in the bowl's name meant Yankee and not gangster pimp suit.  But the crushing blow came when both teams abruptly pulled out of the bowl when they learned they would be forced to wear Derek Jeter replica uniforms as part of Jeter's new Yankees contract.

Some bowl celebrations didn't go exactly as planned.  Tennessee's players tried to foreclose on hundreds of houses after learning they'd be playing in the Franklin American Mortgage Music City Bowl, then learned that everyone in Knoxville had already been foreclosed upon.  Michigan quarterback Denard Robinson tragically lost his left arm doing a Crocodile Hunter impression after the Wolverines were invited to the Gator Bowl.  West Virginia's jock strap wave parade attracted the attention of Mountaineer fans, whose first instinct is to burn and/or shoot everything in sight.  Now, the Mountaineers are hoping the Champs Sports Bowl will comp them some cups.  By the way, a giant pile of burning jock straps emits a rather foul odor, though it reportedly improved the air quality of Morgantown.

There were similar bowl game celebrations across the country;  the obvious (Army launching a surprise air strike on the George W. Bush Presidential Library in advance of their Armed Forces Bowl against the library's home, SMU) and the unique (Troy's players collectively sunburning their left arms in advance of the R&L Carriers New Orleans Bowl).  But the best bowl celebration by a mile belonged to the unbeaten SEC Champion Auburn Tigers, who will play Oregon in the Tostitos BCS Championship Game.

After the SEC title game win over South Carolina, Auburn coach Gene Chizik gave his typical coach-speak answers to the easy questions, talking about his "fabulous seniors" even though his two best players are juniors.  Then, whenever he was asked about one of those juniors, star quarterback Cam Newton, the product placement bonanza began.  "Salsaaaaaa!" Chizik exclaimed when Newton's name was first mentioned by the airhead sideline interviewer.  A follow up question about how Newton overcame his father's pay-for-play scheme while Newton was being recruited was met with Chizik's emphatic "Toooooosteeeetooooos Hot and Spicy Salsaaaaaaaaaaa!"  But coach, "Saaaaaaaaaaalsaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Newton, compelled to attend the post-game press conference under threat of a fine from the SEC (which of course he could NEVER afford to pay), did his coach one better.  Every question from the media was met with Newton stuffing his mouth full of delicious Tostitos chips.  When asked how he put the off-field questions behind him while on the field, Newton crunchily spattered "these Tostitos-brand tortilla chips are so light and crispy, made from all-white corn with no preservatives."  But Cam, did your dad..."I am particularly fond of the blue corn Tostitos, which pair nicely with Tostitos new Creamy Spinach dip, or Tostitos with a hint of lime - I still laugh at those singing Bill Parcells commercials from a few years ago."  But Cam, your father..."yes, my dad makes a great homemade mango salsa that's a perfect compliment to Tostitos with a hint of lime."

With a unique team celebration to match all the unique bowl names, the NCAA must be praying that Trojans and Tampax never becomes bowl sponsors.  Or Exlax, at least if any Najeh Davenport wannabes on are the team - he's the player who broke into a girl's dorm room at the University of Miami and pooped in her closet.  But the NCAA has one bowl that, unless Duke, Vanderbilt, or Stanford get invited, will never prompt a team celebration - The Bridgepoint Education Holiday Bowl.  The teams from Nebraska and Washington are still learning how to spell and pronounce that one.  God help the coaches if the players figure out that education actually has something to do with going to college.

Good food, good meat, good gracious let's eat

(published in the Chattanooga Times-Free Press, November 23, 2010 and in Effingham Now, a Savannah Morning News publication, November 24, 2010)

As the great songsmith Johnny Mercer wrote, I'm old fashioned. Especially now, because the holidays are here; Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, another Blue Star Ointment Bowl for the Georgia Bulldogs, or whatever else you celebrate.

As Andy Williams still sings (I think), it's the most wonderful time of the year, except for a very sad group of people who lecture me on how to lighten up my holiday meal. Born to bring depression and guilt to the holidays, they are dietitians.

Merriam-Webster defines dietitian as "someone who specializes in dietetics." If that is the case, dietetics must be the practice of making you feel as if you are an Empire State-size pool of offensive-tackle cellulite because you dare to enjoy the concept of flavorful food. Cook your eggs with a pat of butter instead of a micro-spritz of tea leaf oil and, the dietitian says, your heart will jump out of your body, run to I-75 and commit hari kari on the grill of a log truck.

Actually, if you look at the science, many foods demonized by dietitians have been vindicated as being good for you in moderation, such as eggs, wine and red meat. Not only that, foods created as substitutes for the bad foods, like margarine and (God have mercy on the soul of whoever created) low-fat peanut butter, have been exposed as culinary Charles Mansons. Since the great Alton Brown already has beaten me to the food science gig, here are my tips for happy, full-bellied holidays.

Turkey

The dietitian says: A hearty bowl of turkey feather and pine bark soup.

Ray says: Deep-fry the bird. Beer-batter the turkey before deep frying for some extra crunch. OK, I haven't tested the battered method, but it sure does sound good.

Dressing/stuffing

The dietitian says: Your breadbasket will drop kick your esophagus out of your mouth if you so much as open the can of bread crumbs to begin making it.

Ray says: Make four pans; one for Thanksgiving dinner, one for the snack for the evening football game, one for Black Friday breakfast, and one to pick at for the rest of the weekend. Don't forget the melted butter, the melted butter or, especially, the melted butter.

Green bean Casserole

The dietitian says: Why ruin wonderfully crisp green beans with a glob of fat and those french-fried onions?

Ray says: I hate to do this, but I agree with the dietitian here. Green bean casserole should only be used as a weapon against the Taliban.

Sweet potatoes

The dietitian says: Commune with nature by eating them raw, perhaps heating them by holding a match or a lighter underneath them for a few seconds. On second thought, the lighter would probably release some obscure chemical that will kill you in 3.4 seconds.

Ray says: The Lord created brown sugar to make copious amounts of sweet-tater casserole. And he saw that it was good. Add some pecans, and you almost have a meal right there. Better make four of those, too.

Pumpkin Pie

The Dietitian says: (and I am not making this one up) Save the calories by making a crustless pumpkin pie.

Ray says: Why not just go ahead and take Santa Claus, "It's A Wonderful Life" and getting snockered and telling the boss off at the office holiday party out of Christmas?

The dietitians soon will descend onto the TV "news" shows telling us with Botoxed straight faces that their six-pack of bah humbug really does taste good. I am no doctor, but what's wrong with a little portion control year-round to allow for some holiday indulgence? That way, I enjoy my Thanksgiving lunch, sleep it off during the second-half of the Detroit Lions' annual Turkey-Day elimination from the NFL playoffs, then wake up and go back for seconds.

Then again, maybe I am being too harsh. Perhaps we should show some holiday kindness to the dietitian. After all, grazing weather is usually much frostier this time of year.

Embry-Riddle is ready for takeoff

(published in the Nov./Dec. issue of Pooler Magazine)

The pictures hanging on the walls conjure up thoughts of Snoopy and the Red Baron, Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy zooming through the black and white sky of the old movie “Test Pilot”, and even of the founders of flight, the Wright Brothers.  That’s no accident, as Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University was founded 85 years ago on the anniversary date of the Wrights’ maiden air voyage.  Today, not only is Embry-Riddle on the cutting edge of aviation education, it also trains the next generation of pilots, engineers, and other leaders in the world of flight on more than 170 campuses around the globe.  Its newest location is here in Pooler at the Park West office complex next to Pooler Parkway.

Pooler’s mayor could barely contain himself when talking about the new kid on the block. “We are thrilled to have Embry-Riddle here,” says Mike Lamb.  “We have had so much growth in other areas and other industries, and now to have a major university locate here, so close to Gulfstream and the airport, is just wonderful.”

Some may raise an eyebrow at the idea that Embry-Riddle is a “major university.”  After all, we think of Georgia, Georgia Tech, or Armstrong Atlantic State in that manner, certainly not an institution with a hyphenated name.  But Embry-Riddle easily qualifies as ‘major’, especially for its specialization.  “If you’re in the field of aviation, you know the name Embry-Riddle,” says Jennifer Furlong, the Pooler campus’s Director of Academic Support.  “We have well over 30,000 students when you combine all of our worldwide campuses, and according to the latest numbers, about 25-percent of all commercial pilots are Embry-Riddle graduates.”

It began as a private company in 1925, formed in Cincinnati by entrepreneur T. Higbee Embry and John Paul Riddle, a stunt pilot, or "barnstormer" as they were called during the roaring ‘20’s.   “They formed this company to train pilots,” Furlong says, and the following year, 1926, they changed their business plan and turned it into a school for pilots - the Embry-Riddle School of Aviation.  After some lean times during the Depression, the school exploded in the 1940’s and 1950’s thanks to the need for pilots and technicians during World War II and the Korean War.

Embry-Riddle had schooled thousands of pilots at training centers in Florida since the Second World War, and in 1965, the school consolidated all of its main operations in Daytona Beach.  Within three years, it became an accredited university and by the 1970’s had established a second traditional campus in Prescott, Arizona, as well as its first satellite campuses, mostly on military installations.  Indeed, Furlong says, the Pooler campus was located at Fort Stewart’s Hunter Army Airfield for more than 25 years.  “There used to be a time when the majority of our students were military, which is why most of the extended campuses were attached to a military base.  There has been a shift in student demographics over the past several years.  Now, most of our students are civilian students.”

While they maintain an office at Hunter to serve active duty soldiers, Furlong says Embry-Riddle wanted a campus that was closer to the local aviation action, and she says Pooler was the perfect spot.  “Gulfstream is the obvious reason, but the Savannah airport is also growing by leaps and bounds.  We’re hearing that expansion at Gulfstream and at the airport could add as many as 3,000 new jobs.”  Furlong also mentions last year’s announcement by Boeing that it would locate an assembly line for its 787 Dreamliner two hours from here in North Charleston, South Carolina, and that Boeing may create a maintenance facility for that plant in Georgia.  “You’ve got to be where your target audience is going to be.  I call it the aviation corridor, because that’s really where this area is headed.”

Pilots may still be the superstars of the air, but flight training isn’t yet offered at Embry-Riddle’s Pooler campus.  However, there’s much more to aviation and the training offered at Embry-Riddle than the type that creates flyboys and flygirls.  “There are so many different career paths,” says Furlong.  “You have got to have the support element for those pilots, everything from maintenance to safety, to operation, even management.  There’s a business side to aviation where you need people with an aviation background but also with the business knowledge to run things.”  You can get a four-year degree in Pooler in fields ranging from Aviation Business Administration to Technical Management in Logistics or Occupational Safety and Health.  Furlong also says that, starting in January, the Pooler campus will offer an aviation MBA degree similar to what other Embry-Riddle campuses offer. 

The campus is small, for now, with a couple of classrooms, a computer lab and offices on the first floor of its Park West building, with plans for more classrooms on the second floor.  Only night classes are taught in nine-week terms, and as Furlong points out, Embry-Riddle offers five different ways of taking those classes.  In additional to the traditional classroom setting, “we have what is called blended learning.  It’s a combination of students meeting in a classroom for a certain amount of time, with the remaining portion of their class meeting online.” 

Embry-Riddle helped pioneer distance learning, and Furlong says they also offer classes in what they call “Eagle-Vision”, taking the name of the university’s mascot.  “It’s where a classroom hooks up with another classroom at another campus via teleconference.  We also have Eagle-Vision Home in which students meet at a certain time just as would in a traditional classroom, only everyone is at home using a web-cam.  And we also offer pure online learning.”

Given the times and methods in which classes are offered, it’s easy to tell that many Embry-Riddle students are non-traditional.  “Most of our students work full time,” Furlong says.  “Most of them are already in aviation and are working to advance in their particular field.”  Her campus has served more than 800 students over the past year, with about 300 of those currently active, and Furlong says the move to Pooler will allow them to grow.  “Within the past year, we’ve had about 125 applications, and we think that once the January term, we will start seeing some of that growth.”

Those numbers may sound small when you think of the thousands of students educated at some schools.  But don’t let that fool you, as Embry-Riddle prides itself on training the cream of the aeronautics crop.  “We’re not about getting the numbers,” is how Furlong puts it.  “With some colleges, it’s more like a sales pitch for them.  ‘Let’s get the students in there, and we’ll charge them an outrageous amount, so let’s get their money and get the enrollments.’  Embry-Riddle has such an important relationship with the field of aviation, and we have really high standards for our students.  If you don’t have a love for aviation, I’m not going to try to convince you to attend our school.   It’s not for everyone.”

Maybe not.  But Mayor Lamb is glad that Embry-Riddle is for Pooler, because he says Pooler is very much for Embry-Riddle.  “I am tickled to have them.  I think this is a match made in heaven.”  The feeling is mutual.