Opinion Page
THE BRUNSWICK&6EAC0N
Edward M. Sweatt and Carolyn H. Sweatt Publishers
Edward M. Sweatt Editor
Lynn S. Carlson Managing [Editor
Susan Usher JV<?u>s Etiiior
Doug Kntter Sports Editor
Eric Carlson Staff Writer
Peggy Earwood Office Manager
Carolyn H. Sweatt Advertising Director
Tlmberley Adams, Cecelia Gore
and Linda Cheers Advertising Representatives
Dorothy Brennan and Brenda Cleramons Moore ..Graphic Artists
William Manning Pressman
Lonnle Sprinkle Assistant Pressman
Tammle Henderson Photo Technician
Phoebe Clemmons and Frances Sweatt Circulation
PAGE 4-A, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 1993
Beware Of False Economy
In Health Care Reform Plans
?A full-time minimum-wage-eaming restaurant worker is in
a car accident. He is injured seriously enough to require several
days in a hospital's neuro trauma ward. He doesn't have health
insurance because his employer doesn't offer it (or can't afford
to). Chances are, he would never have needed to use his cover
age?except in a situation just like the one he's in.
?A young family?mom, dad and 3-year-old?is forccd to
drop health insurance coverage when mom's regular job doesn't
work out and she becomes a "temp." Dad's a student and a car
penter and has no access to employer-subsidized coverage. The
cheapest basic major medical policy they have found would cost
them more than $200 a month. It might as well be $2,OCX).
?A low-income family has Medicaid for their young son.
Because they didn't know any better, the parents allowed the boy
to fall asleep sucking on a bottle of formula every night when he
was a baby. His teeth are badly decayed and need attention. The
closest dentist who will accept Medicaid is 35 miles away.
Expect to hear a lot about health care reform in the coming
months, on the state and national levels. It's high time.
But as we hear proposals and make up our minds about them,
we should pay close attention to whether they are wellness
based, with their emphasis on the prevention of disease, rather
than sickness-based, where people become seriously ill and re
quire expensive high-tech care for problems which could have
been prevented or made less painful and less expensive had they
been detected earlier.
The tide already is beginning to turn in the public sector.
Medicaid and Medicare programs in some areas are starting to
pay for pap smears, mammograms, preventive dental care, smok
ing cessation treatment and other prevention and early detection
measures. And that makes perfect sense. In many instances, a
$50 test can preclude the necessity of a $15,000 or $150,000 op
eration.
The public and private sectors in North Carolina have joined
in an impressive effort to combat our state's deplorable infant
mortality problem. Their work is already showing good results,
with fewer babies dying before their first birthday.
The offshoot is better and earlier prenatal care?including
health education, nutrition counseling and parenting assistance?
for thousands of poor women statewide. Five hundred dollars
worth of prenatal care can prevent a newborn from being a des
perately ill "million-dollar baby" who'll require intensive med
ical attention and, more than likely, be developmentally disabled
his entire life.
We'll do well to keep an eye on elected representatives who
go after public health with the same kind of slash-and-bum zeal
that might be appropriate in other sectors of government. They
could be promoting a very false economy.
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
Educate Beach Realtors
About Overcrowding
To ihe editor:
Week after week I read about the
problems of overcrowding on Hol
den Beach and how the homeowner
needs to be educated. The home
owner has no idea how many people
arc crammcd into their rental prop
erties.
1 found out the costly way when 1
put my house into Realtors' hands.
Come July 4 I got a call from the
Realtor and ended up having to have
my scptic tank pumped and a new
sewer line put in. It cost me SI,200.
1 cainc down following that and
found a fold-up col in my kitchen
that the Realtor had brought in. A
neighbor told me there were at least
12 people in my house the week of
the Fourth.
1 had put into my contract that not
more than six people could stay in
my three-bedroom house. Needless
to say, I changed Realtors.
1 get a flat-rate per week or week
end for my house. Who benefits per
person? I pay the water and power
bills. The more people, the higher
the bill.
The Realtors should be educated
of their responsibility.
Matlic Burton
Kemersville
No Lottery, Please
To the editor:
Peggy Jayncs' letter in the Feb.
11 issue of The Brunswick Beacon
appears to be the longest letter to the
editor ever published. A zealous
commitment promoung our base ap
petite to get something for nothing
sometimes requires the reader to be
overwhelmed with words.
North Carolina is fortunate that
Mrs. Jayncs hasn't already been re
cruited by alheisi Madeline Murray
O'Hare to save us from Christianity.
Mrs. Jaynes may also save us from
being the lasi state to collapse from
internal decay, the result of unbri
dled immorality.
It is almost certain that Mrs.
Jaynes conducted her research after
she decided to promote a lottery and
that the "facts" she quotes were re
ceived from pro-lottery sources. If 1
were a lottery director, 1 would cer
tainly present its positive features.
Mrs. Jaynes discounts the possi
bility that organized crimc would
follow the lottery into the state. She
can scarcely deny that favorable cli
mate for a lottery would encourage
other forms of gambling. If a lottery
becomes our prime recreation, why
should we not also enjoy pari
mutuel betting, casinos, state-spon
sorcd prostitution and crack houses,
all related, morally uplifting activi
ties?
It would be possible for us to ap
proach the enviable financial posi
tions of New Jersey, New York,
Pennsylvania and other lottery-spon
soring stales. It makes one wonder
why an individual would live in
misery here when they could live in
bliss in those states.
It would have been helpful if Mrs.
Jaynes had specified the benefits
Mr. Coy C. Privcttc would reap if
his "self-serving innuendo, half
truths and out-of-context state
ments" were successful in defeating
a lottery proposal.
It's very refreshing to read a
truthful, objective, selfless letter of
love such as the one Mrs. Jaynes
wrote.
G. Nash Greene
Holden Beach
(More Letters, Following Page)
The Revenge
Of The Little People
It's been so quicl and peaceful
this winter along our little Holdcn
Beach canal. No amateur fireworks
displays. No chorus of revving out
boards. No weekly rental kids, high
on icc cream and Pepsi, running in
circles and screaming, "Mommy!
Mommy! Look! A crab!"
We should have known it was too
good to last
Lately, instead of being nudged
awake by a heron's squawk or a
seagull's cry, we arc catapulted out
of bed by wailing Skii saws, pound
ing hammers and 100-decibcl rendi
tions of "Achy Breaky Heart" and
"The Devil Went Down to Geor
gia."
They are building a new house
next door and Lynn is taking it very
personally. In fact, don't be too sur
prised if you see a headline reading,
"Neighbor Goes Berserk, Carpenters
Dismembered With Cuisinart."
I've been trying my best to dis
suade her from complaining to their
boss about the loud music, the litter
blowing into the marsh and the gen
eral rowdincss typical of all young
nail-bangers.
"Remember," I say to her each
morning. "They will be here?right
next door?all day while we are at
work until late tonight."
The wisdom of my "this-too-will
pass" approach may not be immedi
ately apparent to most folks. So let
me tell you a little something about
"The Revenge of the Little People."
Between what my dad calls "real
jobs"?like newspaper reporter and
book editor?I have spent much
time toiling in what are known as
the "scrvice industries." I have been
a store clerk, a delicatessen worker,
a waiter, a bartender, a house
painter, a sailing instructor, a tree
trimmer and a carpenter's helper.
From these experiences I offer
Eric
Carlson
this advice: Never underestimate the
sccrct weaponry that an otherwise
disinterested and unmotivated mini
mum-wage "worker bee" can bring
to bear against a customer who has
fell it necessary to "put them in their
place."
I remember one of our early
house-painting jobs, when my part
ner and I were new to the business
and not loo savvy about estimating
our time and materials. We submit
ted an absurdly low bid and, natural
ly, we got the job.
The smart tiling for the homeown
er to do would have been to grace
fully accept his negotiating victory
and watch us spend two weeks
painting his house for nothing. But
instead, he would meet us every
morning with an endless list of
things he "assumed" we were going
to do as part of the job.
"You mean you're not going to
paint the flagpole or the barbecue
grill?"
Consequently, we would spend
each morning politely explaining the
generally acccptcd parameters of a
normal house painting job. And we
would try not to remind him that he
was paying us a quarter of what a
union painting crew would have
charged.
During our lunch break one day,
after a particularly nasty session with
our taskmaster, my partner quietly
got up and walked toward the side of
the house with a paint bucket.
A few minutes later, I turned
around to see an sirtfully rendered
10-foot high painting of Bullwinkle
J. Moose making a very obscene
gesture toward the passing traffic.
After rolling on the ground in
laughter for several minutes, we got
up and painted over the artwork. But
now, every three or four years, as
each new coat of paint fades. Bull
winkle J. Moose reappears to re
mind our former employer of those
naive young painters he look such
pleasure in tormenting.
Then there was the time my rent
ed house in Mantco was purchased
by a big shot from Virginia who in
formed me that I would have to
move out immediately and would
not be reimbunied for painting the
entire place. Worse was the fact that
I would never be able to find anoth
er rental in the middle of summer.
Some of my old worker-bee bud
dies were visiting on the morning
the sheriff's department camc to
evict me and haul all my belongings
out of the house and into the street.
Being a local, I was able to stall
the deputies and got the clerk of
court to postpone the order lor three
months. But when 1 returned to the
house I found that my loyal pals,
fearing the worst, had left a little gift
for the new owner.
They had taken two dozen crabs
out of the freezer, crawled into the
attic and closed them up in the heat
ing ductwork. I was touched by their
gesture of friendship and solidarity.
The Mafia has a saying that "Re
venge is a meal best eaten cold." It
generally applies to the need for pa
tience and anonymity when res
ponding to an unacceptable insult. It
is also a motto commonly embraced
by food-service workers, among
whom ihe pun is nol misplaced.
Waiters, waitresses and bar
tenders arc often forced to grovel
before some of the most obnoxious
people in the world, like guys who
have spent the day guzzling beer and
working on a third-degree sunburn.
At a fancy restaurant where I
worked one summer, a waitress was
relentlessly hassled hy a drunken
tourist who repeatedly demanded
that she take back his filet mignon
because it was not sufficicnUy "well
done."
Seeing her return in tears after the
third complaint, the broiler cook
"accidentally" dropped the steak on
the floor, crushed it with his foot
and then zapped it in the microwave
for 15 minutes. The steak went out
looking like a hockey puck. It did
not come back. Neither did the
tourist.
Or consider Molly, the waitress
whose ex-husband?a certified din
bag who was convicted of molesting
her child?came to cat in her section
of the restaurant several times a
week after his parole.
Whenever he showed up, one of
her fellow workers would immedi
ately switch sections to spare Molly
the indignity of serving him. And
every lime, she would call Molly
back to the kitchen before delivering
his sandwich so Molly could spit in
to it.
So the next time you feci?as we
all do sometimes?like strangling
that pimple-faced adolescent with
the blank stare who just handed you
another double-decker cheeseburger
instead of the chicken sandwich you
ordered, pause and ask yourself:
"Who will he wrapping my sand
wich and pulling it into the bag?"
Remember: He who laughs last,
laughs best.
Bon appelit!
T)
e
-e>
M
Yov couli J
Stand -to ^
(ose some ^
<?6hls, i
y'Knoiw
AUDrr
/*?
PETAT
MARWtd
Worship In A Special
Kind Of Son
cfuary
"I don't want you to put houses
on this island," it says in a child's
scrawl in one of the three damp
stenographers' pads in the Kindred
Spirit mailbox.
The mailbox is on the South
Carolina side of Bird Island. There's
a bench beside it where people can
sit and write in the notebooks, jour
nals full of random musings by peo
ple visiting one of the most beautiful
and tranquil places in Brunswick
County and the last remaining unde
veloped barrier island west of the
Cape Fear River.
The mailbox and bench arc on the
beach, below the toe of the frontal
dune, so folks visiting there aren't
trespassers?they're on the public's
property.
Some visitors prefer to think of it
as God's property. Close to the
mailbox, nearer the water, an altar
has been fashioned from beach
trash. Set in a metal pipe shoved in
the sand is a cross cut from an or
ange Slyrofoam pontoon. Its two
pieces are lashed with a stray length
of yellow nylon rope. A brown vinyl
boat seat serves as a kneeling pad.
It seems appropriate. The beach
on Bird Island is, after all, a special
kind of church, a sanctuary with the
power to make our workaday con
cerns?the ones that give us mere
mortals stomach ulcers?suddenly
seem distant and mundane.
From the Kindred Spirit mailbox:
?"We have Bird Island all to our
selves today..."
Lynn
Carlson
iWi'
?"Enjoy life. It's too short."
?"God has given us a wonderful
thing."
?'We enjoyed surfing your
beach."
?'We're not going to tell anyone
about this."
Mote frequently these days, the
journal entries arc entreaties that the
island remain as it is, that the plans
of Janic Pace Price, owner of most
of the North Carolina portion of
Bird Island, be thwarted.
Mrs. Price, a Greensboro resident,
is asking the U.S. Army Corps of
Engineers for permission to build a
private system of bridges and cause
way more than a mile long from
Sunset Beach to Bird Island so she
can develop a 15-homcsitc family
compound in the center of the is
land.
"Please join us in saving Bird
Island from development," one visi
tor pleads. Another, from Europe,
says, "1 would be happy to know
that this island stays this way." A
third?another child's entry, com
plete with smilcy-facc, says, "Don't
put buildings on this island, bccausc
it is beautiful."
They're not alone. The Corps' of
fice in Wilmington has been flooded
with letters opposing Price's propos
al and expressing concerns for wet
lands and wildlife since the agency
began seeking public comment on
the issue several weeks ago.
Nobody knows Bird Island better,
or loves it more, than Frank Ncs
mith, a Sunset Beach resident who
bought waterfront property on the
mainland in '58 and left Tabor City
to retire here in '78. Frank and his
yellow dog Spartina have explored
every inch of marsh around the is
land. He can pilot his small boat ef
fortlessly through a labyrinth of
grasses and water that will be bone
dry at low tide, all the while point
ing out tricolor and Louisiana
herons obscured to less observant
eyes by nature's camouflage.
It's not Mrs. Price's housing
plans that cause Frank a problem;
it's the idea of those bridges and
causeway slashing the marsh that
gives him a fit. He can't for the life
of him find a way to justify disturb
ing that much wetland to serve just
15 houses.
Stopping his boat at just the right
point in the marsh, Frank can help
you shoot an imaginary chalklinc
from Bird Island to 4(hh Street,
down the old low causeway, which
is mostly gone now, to the burned
remains of the bndge which con
nected Sunset and Bird Islands more
than two decades ago.
This exercise brings into focus the
magnitude of Mrs. Price's propos
al?not just to rebuild an old, low
sand causeway and one-lane wood
en bridge, but to put in a higher
paved causeway and modern bridge
big enough to dwarf the causeway
and bridge which connect the main
land and Sunset Beach.
Frank makes a quicUy impas
sioned case for the conservation of
Bird Island, bristling at some peo
ples' suggestion that the Bird Island
Preservation Society?of which he
is a member? wants to take away
Mrs. Price's land or her rights.
He is quick to point out that the
society wants nothing more or less
than an opportunity to purchase Bird
Island if it can raise the money.
And, at least for now, Mrs. Price is
leaving the door open on that possi
bility.
Frank's kind of approach is the
right one, 1 think. It is shared by the
group's president. Bill Duckcr, and
by Todd Miller, executive director
of the N.C. Coastal Federation, un
der whose umbrella the society is
operating.
They arc goint at their task in a
spirit of cooperation with Mrs.
Price, looking forward to the day
when they can negotiate with her
and her agents toward a solution in
which no one gets cheated?out of
money, rights, or out of the opportu
nity to worship in one of God's most
special sanctuaries.