Newspapers / The Foothills View (Boiling … / June 17, 1982, edition 1 / Page 3
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The Foothills View SHOE by Jeff MacNelly June 17,1982 imuTviNFiap0i - f OT'RyCTP-J The Foothills View is a community newspaper published each Thursday by the Gardner-Webb College Press, Inc. Member, North Carolina Press Association, 1982 Dave RobertSQn, Managing Editor JWfltIN&A K)0TM£51NSlE IHT&A... Commentary The editorial page of The Foothills View “It’s too bad,” said Gramp Wiley as he lowered his newspaper, “but the Citizen of the Year Award went to George Potts.” “You mean you don’t think George earn ed it?” I asked. “He’s worked full time for years to make our community a better place to live — he didn’t get that award for nothing.” “Well,” he said. Gramp begins with a “well” for the same reason some people begin with an “errr.” It gives them time to think about what they’re going to say. “Well,” he repeated. “George certainly earned it, but I feel bad for the dozens of outstanding people who will never get an award.” “Like who?” I asked. “Belle Chasse ought to be nominated for Mother of the Year,” I said. “Someone ate everything in her kid’s dinner pail two days in a row. Naturally the kid’s teacher was concerned, and on the third day he went over to the kid’s desk and whispered, ‘Have you still got your lunch?’ ‘I’ve got two today,’ whispered the kid — one out in my locker and this one here mama filled with poison,’ and the little boy in front of him turned around with eyes big as saucers.” “Then there’s the official who had all the garbage and trash hauled into the town garage when the Environmental Agency closed our dump,” Gramp said. “A lesser man would have run around wringing his hands wondering what to do.” Two For Children What would you want to leave for your children? A torch of love answers one of the poets below, Mrs. Lula Hamrick. Time to lean against pine trees, says Rev. Max Lin- nens, who also would caution his children to avoid all humans who seem overly fond of their halos. The two poems are printed below. LEGACY FOR MY CHILDREN — T. Max Linnens THE TORCH — Lula H. Hamrick The iimble F armer “Gramp begins with a ‘ well ’ for the same reason some people begin with an ‘errr.’ It gives them time to think about what they’re going to say. ” By Robert Skoglund Spend time enough in solitude to stretch your soul and learn to think, and enough time with the multitude to shy from the destined muddle. Spend time with children, your own and others and learn to see the world anew through their clean eyes. Sit with the suffering often and seek to feel, to heal, to bear their pain. Go gently with the old who’ve tasted life who now face death, still unafraid. In the children’s young lives were myriad stars that lighted the darkness of night; But one light was special — A torch held high — that turned every shadow to light. Waste no time with plastic people who will not open life to meetings real, shun all cliches and slogans and people who make and use them, steer clear of all conformists, and run from those whose halo you can see. Go back and scrutinize all you’ve been taught, and never swallow anything that insults your mind or soul. This torch was ablaze with laughter and tears, and oftentimes weary with care; and because of the duties that filled every hour the mother found leisure quite rare. The years passed them by, the torch shining on, till one day ’twaspassed to another. You guessed it — the torch emblazoned anew in the hand of a dear older brother. “Well, that policeman who got jumped by four young men — he likes kids so much that he took a beating with a shovel rather than pull his gun.” “But Gramp. Do you know how many papers and forms and affadavits a cop has to fill out after he’d drawn his gun? Everyone I’ve ever met would rather be pounded with a shovel.” “The Morris twins ought to have an award for cleverness,” he continued. “Mel is bowlegged and his shoes scuff down the outside. Del is knock-kneed and his shoes scuff down on the inside. They swap every other week so the shoes wear down evenly like automobile tires that get rotated.” “Mel Function is clever too,” I said. “Even though he’s living on welfare, he’s figured out how to keep three dogs. I know people who think they’re earning good money who can’t afford to keep even one.” Gramp pounded the arm of his rocker and shouted, “Talk about sacrifice — Cap tain Courage’s new grocery store is pour ing himself and his family down a rathole to help the community. There’s a man who deserves an award. ” I knew what Gramp meant. The Cap tain’s new business keeps him busy 12 hours every day. Because of his lower than cost prices, every day he stays in business he moves closer to bankrupcy. We’re all hoping he can hang on for at least another year. “He’s an inflation fighter if there ever was one,” Gramp cried. “He sure realized the full potential of our facilities,” I agreed. “After all, what’s a garage for?” “Doc Addler should also have an award. In all the years he chased women, their looks never once made a difference to him. Most mature man in town — always claim ed he was only interested in the ‘inner per son’.” “But, Gramp, a psychiatrist has to be stronger than the rest of us.” “Every strong man should have an award,” Gramp cried. “Being strong puts two strikes against you today — most everybody wants to be weak. Then you don’t have to eat anything you don’t want to and when anyone asks you to work you can claim it’s time for your nap.” Observe the man who has rare mastery cobbling shoes, building barns, teaching philosophy, walk with one whose face reflects an inner peace, love the sunrise, meadows fair, quail flight, lean against the swaying pine and catch its rhythm, listen to the windsong, birdsong, twilightsong, and to the answering song within your soul, and sing your prayer. He held the torch high. its beams so far reaching that everyone felt its bright glow, till another day da wned ~ the torch at half-mast — and the hand that now held it let go. 0, but then came the miracle, A miracle of love, its message courageous and bright; when all those who love him and still feel him near, was passed on the torch with its light. Love all animals, fowl, and flowers, and the life that ties us all together, stand in the surf beneath the stars and run sand through your fingers, and wa ve sound through your soul. ePUCMHH nuaactk. • # • • • • • • • • • m • • • • • • • * * • • • • * * • • • . • • • : • • • • • • • • • When I woke up from a nap later I realiz ed there are countless other deserving peo ple who will never get official recognition: the owner of the dog who barks longer than any dog in the neighborhood — the owner of the loudest motorcycle (car, stereo set) in town — the folks with the most broken plastic grabage bags in their driveway — the person in your office who can go the longest without a shampoo.... Early love to love yourself and keep your heart in a we before the God who is all love, don’t hurt, be kind, kiss and bind the wounded, and so shall you come to know the oneness that haunts and hungers human hearts, and life itself shall be a poem, qndyou shall move through all your days in cadance with its rhythm. r~ FUTDRE
The Foothills View (Boiling Springs, N.C.)
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June 17, 1982, edition 1
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