I got a phone call from a nice woman a few days ago about Starbucks. Echoing a recent letter to the editor on the same topic, she suggested that the citizens of our community ought to make a show of support for the coffeehouse over the coming weeks, in hopes that corporate muckety-mucks might have a change of heart when it comes to plans to shut the restaurant down, along with about 600 others across the country.
I suggested she write a letter to the editor, but she didn’t want her name in the paper, suggesting that the save-Starbucks call to arms should come from me.
So if you think it will help, by all means, rush out to Starbucks and by your grande skinny cinnamon dolce lattes by the dozens.
But my gut tells me it’s a lost cause. The closure of 600 Starbucks restaurants looks, smells and walks like a “corporate strategy” decision, and those things don’t often change just because sales of grande skinny cinnamon dolce lattes increase 30 percent during the month of August in some little town in the Arkansas Delta.
Besides that, I have an inherent problem with a “save-Starbucks” campaign. It’s not that I’m happy the store in closing; on the contrary — I see it as a huge disappointment. My issue is that I don’t think Starbucks is the only thing around here worth saving.
It seems, sometimes, that as eager as Blytheville citizens are about getting new shopping options in the community, we aren't always as eager to do the kind of shopping those local businesses need to survive. And that goes for the chain establishments that have been the subject of high interest lately, as well as the family-owned, small-town businesses that are scattered all over the community.
The bottom line is, if you don’t use it, you’re going to lose it.
For instance, if you like the idea of living in a community with an independent bookstore, make sure you visit That Bookstore in Blytheville once in a while.
If you want to live in a town with its own hospital, you better make sure you take advantage of Great River Medical Center when you can.
If you like having a daily newspaper in your community, be sure to buy the Courier News. Better yet, buy an ad or two while you’re at it.
If you want to be able to shop at a large home improvement superstore, be sure to do some business at the one we have. If you want to be able to shop at locally-owned hardware stores, be sure to do some business at those.
If you like the idea of a vibrant Main Street district, make an effort to visit the various shops and stores along Main Street Blytheville every now and then.
If you want there to be neighborhood grocery stores where you can buy your family’s food, do some of your shopping at Blytheville’s neighborhood grocery stores.
If you think it’s cool that our community has a comic book store, don’t miss a chance to walk into Arkham Comics and Used Books, and maybe grab some new reading material.
The point is, retailers in our community need business in order to survive. It’s not enough to be happy that a retailer is here. We’ve got to give them business.
That’s why I’m less than enthusiastic about any “save-Starbucks” campaign. Sure, I'd like to see Starbucks stick around for a while, too. But I’m thinking bigger than that. After all, there are scores of businesses that are worthy of our patronage.
If we're going to come together as a community to save something, I say, let’s save everything.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Y's timing leaves much to be desired
On March 18, the Blytheville City Council agreed to give $20,000 to the Blytheville YMCA. Soon after, the city of Gosnell followed suit, kicking in $3,000 to the cause.
And now, just over four months later, the YMCA of Memphis has announced plans to shut the facility down, closing its doors for good on Aug. 29, having been in operation for less than 11 months.
The silver lining — if you can call it that — is that some of that money may be coming back. YMCA CEO Keith Johnson said the YMCA will return about a third of the money it got from the two cities. But there's no word what is to become of rest of the thousands of dollars given by local citizens, businesses and organizations. Best guess is that money's gone for good.
Defenders of the YMCA will point out that the Memphis organization pumped thousands of dollars into the local facility, and sustained six-figure losses in the effort. And that's a valid point. Though it must be noted that much of that investment came by way of new exercise equipment and other items, which will surely be shipped backed to Memphis; not to mention staff payroll, which will have little lasting local impact.
It's interesting that the decision to pull out of Blytheville came just weeks after the Memphis Y received its $20,000 from the city of Blytheville. Blytheville Mayor Barrett Harrison said the check was cut June 13.
Johnson said the timing was based on disappointing enrollment figures for the Y's summer camp and upcoming fall after-school program. Yet that's a dubious claim. For one thing, it's only July, and many parents are still in "summer mode," and not yet thinking about after-school care. For another, programs like summer camps and after-school programs need time to develop. You can't realistically expect to evaluate their success or failure before they've even begun.
At the end of the day, this looks like a business decision, pure and simple. With fuel costs skyrocketing, the YMCA is no doubt facing the same budget constraints as everyone else. And it's easy to imagine a scenario in which board members were looking for ways to cut costs, and cutting Blytheville loose seemed like the easiest thing to do.
From a business standpoint, it may be a decision that makes sense. But from a timing standpoint, it's a decision that stinks.
If the Y was going to close, this was a decision that could have been made in March and April. For all practical purposes, there is no more information available today than was available months ago. Then, just as now, memberships were low, but showing signs of growth. Then, just as now, youth programs were in their infancy, but showing signs of promise. If the YMCA was serious about pulling out of Blytheville, that was the time to do it.
But instead, they waited. They waited until they could collect more "save the YMCA donations" from local citizens and businesses. They waited until the local soccer association agreed to stake its future with the YMCA. They waited until they got a $23,000 boost from the taxpayers of Blytheville and Gosnell. They assured us that if the community bought into the YMCA, the YMCA would be here for us. But as soon as the community became vested in the facility, they pulled the plug.
According to Johnson, the mission of the YMCA is "to put Christian principles into practice" and "to build strong kids, strong families and strong communities."
If the YMCA truly believed in those ideals, they should have given the sizable investments made in the facility at least another year to yield results. Falling short of that, at the very least, they should refund Blytheville and Gosnell the entirety of their donations. And if they really want to do the right thing, they should consider a hefty donation back to the community at large to make up for some of what they have taken.
And now, just over four months later, the YMCA of Memphis has announced plans to shut the facility down, closing its doors for good on Aug. 29, having been in operation for less than 11 months.
The silver lining — if you can call it that — is that some of that money may be coming back. YMCA CEO Keith Johnson said the YMCA will return about a third of the money it got from the two cities. But there's no word what is to become of rest of the thousands of dollars given by local citizens, businesses and organizations. Best guess is that money's gone for good.
Defenders of the YMCA will point out that the Memphis organization pumped thousands of dollars into the local facility, and sustained six-figure losses in the effort. And that's a valid point. Though it must be noted that much of that investment came by way of new exercise equipment and other items, which will surely be shipped backed to Memphis; not to mention staff payroll, which will have little lasting local impact.
It's interesting that the decision to pull out of Blytheville came just weeks after the Memphis Y received its $20,000 from the city of Blytheville. Blytheville Mayor Barrett Harrison said the check was cut June 13.
Johnson said the timing was based on disappointing enrollment figures for the Y's summer camp and upcoming fall after-school program. Yet that's a dubious claim. For one thing, it's only July, and many parents are still in "summer mode," and not yet thinking about after-school care. For another, programs like summer camps and after-school programs need time to develop. You can't realistically expect to evaluate their success or failure before they've even begun.
At the end of the day, this looks like a business decision, pure and simple. With fuel costs skyrocketing, the YMCA is no doubt facing the same budget constraints as everyone else. And it's easy to imagine a scenario in which board members were looking for ways to cut costs, and cutting Blytheville loose seemed like the easiest thing to do.
From a business standpoint, it may be a decision that makes sense. But from a timing standpoint, it's a decision that stinks.
If the Y was going to close, this was a decision that could have been made in March and April. For all practical purposes, there is no more information available today than was available months ago. Then, just as now, memberships were low, but showing signs of growth. Then, just as now, youth programs were in their infancy, but showing signs of promise. If the YMCA was serious about pulling out of Blytheville, that was the time to do it.
But instead, they waited. They waited until they could collect more "save the YMCA donations" from local citizens and businesses. They waited until the local soccer association agreed to stake its future with the YMCA. They waited until they got a $23,000 boost from the taxpayers of Blytheville and Gosnell. They assured us that if the community bought into the YMCA, the YMCA would be here for us. But as soon as the community became vested in the facility, they pulled the plug.
According to Johnson, the mission of the YMCA is "to put Christian principles into practice" and "to build strong kids, strong families and strong communities."
If the YMCA truly believed in those ideals, they should have given the sizable investments made in the facility at least another year to yield results. Falling short of that, at the very least, they should refund Blytheville and Gosnell the entirety of their donations. And if they really want to do the right thing, they should consider a hefty donation back to the community at large to make up for some of what they have taken.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Maybe we didn't really want an automotive plant
The big story Tuesday was about General Motors' plan to lay off workers and cut production as part of cost-saving measures necessary to weather the recent downturn in the U.S. automotive market.
This comes on the heels of similar moves by other automakers, perhaps most notably Toyota, which recently announced plans to suspend production at its Tundra plant in San Antonio.
This news ought to make northeast Arkansas economic development officials feel a little better about the region's failure to attract a major automotive assembly plant to the region during the past few years.
As some folks might remember, that San Antonio Tundra plant is the very one that nearly ended up just a few miles down Interstate 55 in Marion. The Marion site was widely regarded as a leader for that project, before Toyota opted instead to build in Texas.
No layoffs are expected in connection with the Tundra production suspension; but still, it's not the kind of thing that builds confidence in the industry.
Missing on that project might have a silver lining, after all.
This comes on the heels of similar moves by other automakers, perhaps most notably Toyota, which recently announced plans to suspend production at its Tundra plant in San Antonio.
This news ought to make northeast Arkansas economic development officials feel a little better about the region's failure to attract a major automotive assembly plant to the region during the past few years.
As some folks might remember, that San Antonio Tundra plant is the very one that nearly ended up just a few miles down Interstate 55 in Marion. The Marion site was widely regarded as a leader for that project, before Toyota opted instead to build in Texas.
No layoffs are expected in connection with the Tundra production suspension; but still, it's not the kind of thing that builds confidence in the industry.
Missing on that project might have a silver lining, after all.
Time to accept pre-pay pumps
It's getting pretty hard these days to find a gas station that doesn't require customers to pay before pumping.
A couple of years ago, such policies really annoyed me. In fact, I was even known, from time to time, to refuse to buy gas at a station that had such a requirement. I'd get myself in a proper huff, and drive down the road to the next gas station, if I had to.
But such policies anger me no more. In a world of $4 gas, where drive-offs are costing gas stations millions (costs that are passed on to consumers) it only makes sense.
Besides, with those pay-at-the-pump card readers, it's become the more convenient way to buy gas anyway.
A couple of years ago, such policies really annoyed me. In fact, I was even known, from time to time, to refuse to buy gas at a station that had such a requirement. I'd get myself in a proper huff, and drive down the road to the next gas station, if I had to.
But such policies anger me no more. In a world of $4 gas, where drive-offs are costing gas stations millions (costs that are passed on to consumers) it only makes sense.
Besides, with those pay-at-the-pump card readers, it's become the more convenient way to buy gas anyway.
Obama-bashing baffling
My e-mail in-box continues to receive a steady stream of loathing directed at presumptive Democratic presidential nominee, Barack Obama.
Frankly, I'm finding it all quite baffling.
I mean, I have no problem with anyone who might not prefer Obama as our next president. He's not the most experienced candidate in the world, and some folks might simply disagree with him on the issues. No harm in that.
But I don't understand the vile hatred that Obama has rapidly cultivated. Sure, it's common for presidents, or presidential candidates, to be widely reviled. Bill Clinton and George W. Bush immediately come to mine. But at least in those cases, you had one guy who was a lying adulterer, and another who kind of comes across as a dolt.
But all Obama has done to inspire such hatred is commit the unconscionable sins of being black, and having a funny name. And for that, he is widely regarded as anything from a secret Muslim to the anti-Christ. Comedy Central's Jon Stewart gave the phenomenon a proper name: "Baracknophobia."
Call me a idealist if you will, but I had so hoped that we might have a presidential election this year framed around a reasoned debate on the issues facing our country. But the rise of Baracknophobia is a discouraging sign that the politics of personal destruction will continue to rule the day.
Frankly, I'm finding it all quite baffling.
I mean, I have no problem with anyone who might not prefer Obama as our next president. He's not the most experienced candidate in the world, and some folks might simply disagree with him on the issues. No harm in that.
But I don't understand the vile hatred that Obama has rapidly cultivated. Sure, it's common for presidents, or presidential candidates, to be widely reviled. Bill Clinton and George W. Bush immediately come to mine. But at least in those cases, you had one guy who was a lying adulterer, and another who kind of comes across as a dolt.
But all Obama has done to inspire such hatred is commit the unconscionable sins of being black, and having a funny name. And for that, he is widely regarded as anything from a secret Muslim to the anti-Christ. Comedy Central's Jon Stewart gave the phenomenon a proper name: "Baracknophobia."
Call me a idealist if you will, but I had so hoped that we might have a presidential election this year framed around a reasoned debate on the issues facing our country. But the rise of Baracknophobia is a discouraging sign that the politics of personal destruction will continue to rule the day.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Flood-ravaged community a disturbing sight
Three weeks ago, I wrote in a column about the horrific flood that had ravaged by hometown of Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
Last weekend, I got a chance to see the devastation first-hand.
It was a disturbing sight.
My parents had told me ahead of time about the blocks and blocks of destruction. I had read accounts from civic leaders who had referred to the disaster as "our Katrina." I had foraged the Internet for photos and videos of the flood damage. Yet my parents told me the pictures don't tell the whole story — that you had to see it in person to understand.
And they were right.
The trip to Iowa was supposed to be about celebration — celebrating the Fourth of July with my sister and her family, celebrating my parents' upcoming 40th anniversary. But driving through the flood-ravaged streets of Cedar Rapids, there was nothing to celebrate.
We saw Ellis Park, where the floodwaters ripped dozens of boat houses from their moorings. Many ended up smashed against a railroad bridge downstream. Others could still be seen strewn about the park, on what is once again dry land, hundreds of yards from the river.
We drove through neighborhoods that bear names like "Time-Check" and "Czech Village," where hundreds and hundreds of refrigerators and washing machines and clothes dryers line the roadway, along with large piles of other debris, all caked with the muddy silt of the Cedar River.
It was a disturbing, revolting sight. But amazingly enough, I was told that the scene I witnessed was markedly better than what had existed days earlier. They say mountains of debris of all sorts once lined the roadway — a solid wall of discarded items, ranging from furniture to clothing to childhood toys.
Red, yellow and green tags were attached to the homes, most all with water lines still clearly visible. The green tags — there weren't many — indicated the homes that were safe to return to. The yellow tags marked residences that could be entered, but not occupied. The most-damaged buildings got red tags, a message to simply stay away.
The downtown area looked like a war zone. Around every corner was a disaster relief vehicle of some kind. Huge generators, supplying electricity to the area — which had still not regained power — made travel through the streets difficult. Many buildings had giant tubes coming out of them, as crews worked diligently to remove lingering moisture.
We drove past the railroad bridge that collapsed into the river. Several railroad cars were still visible, awaiting a difficult recovery from the murky water. We drove past the public library — the Cedar Rapids Gazette said it won't reopen for at least a year. We drove past the home of Theatre Cedar Rapids, where the curb in front was filled with discarded debris, but the marquee above contained the optimistic message, "We're all in this together."
To say it was a somber tour is to say the least. Nobody wants to see their hometown like this. I think of all the families, who have lost everything in this flood. Like Katrina, some of the hardest-hit areas were home to families who could afford it the least.
I hope those who saw my minivan creeping through the flooded areas with its out-of-state plates were not offended. Indeed, I can understand the last thing those who suffered such devastation need is tourists gawking at their plight.
Yet it was something I needed to see. It was something my kids needed to see. The Flood of 2008 will forever be a defining moment in the history of my hometown, and it was important for me to try to understand the devastation that has occurred there. For that matter, it's important for people around the country to understand as well. Cedar Rapids still needs help, and I urge anyone who is interested in doing so to visit www.floodlist.com to find out what they can do.
In the wake of this epic disaster, a couple other points need to be mentioned. First, it's worth noting that throughout this ordeal, which has impacted tens of thousands of people and more than 1,000 city blocks, not a single fatality has been reported. That miracle is a tribute to the careful planning and diligent work of the emergency management workers of the community.
Second, though the city is suffering perhaps the worst ordeal in its history, there has been almost no civil unrest. There have been no riots. There have been no waves of finger-pointing and blame-casting. There have been no angry mobs. Instead, the people of this community have handled the crisis with a grace and dignity that makes me intensely proud to call Cedar Rapids my hometown.
Like the marquee says, the residents of Cedar Rapids are "all in this together."
And together, the city will rise again.
———
I'm a sucker for a good music montage, and the video below is well done. It's from an outfit calling itself "iowafloodaid."
Last weekend, I got a chance to see the devastation first-hand.
It was a disturbing sight.
My parents had told me ahead of time about the blocks and blocks of destruction. I had read accounts from civic leaders who had referred to the disaster as "our Katrina." I had foraged the Internet for photos and videos of the flood damage. Yet my parents told me the pictures don't tell the whole story — that you had to see it in person to understand.
And they were right.
The trip to Iowa was supposed to be about celebration — celebrating the Fourth of July with my sister and her family, celebrating my parents' upcoming 40th anniversary. But driving through the flood-ravaged streets of Cedar Rapids, there was nothing to celebrate.
We saw Ellis Park, where the floodwaters ripped dozens of boat houses from their moorings. Many ended up smashed against a railroad bridge downstream. Others could still be seen strewn about the park, on what is once again dry land, hundreds of yards from the river.
We drove through neighborhoods that bear names like "Time-Check" and "Czech Village," where hundreds and hundreds of refrigerators and washing machines and clothes dryers line the roadway, along with large piles of other debris, all caked with the muddy silt of the Cedar River.
It was a disturbing, revolting sight. But amazingly enough, I was told that the scene I witnessed was markedly better than what had existed days earlier. They say mountains of debris of all sorts once lined the roadway — a solid wall of discarded items, ranging from furniture to clothing to childhood toys.
Red, yellow and green tags were attached to the homes, most all with water lines still clearly visible. The green tags — there weren't many — indicated the homes that were safe to return to. The yellow tags marked residences that could be entered, but not occupied. The most-damaged buildings got red tags, a message to simply stay away.
The downtown area looked like a war zone. Around every corner was a disaster relief vehicle of some kind. Huge generators, supplying electricity to the area — which had still not regained power — made travel through the streets difficult. Many buildings had giant tubes coming out of them, as crews worked diligently to remove lingering moisture.
We drove past the railroad bridge that collapsed into the river. Several railroad cars were still visible, awaiting a difficult recovery from the murky water. We drove past the public library — the Cedar Rapids Gazette said it won't reopen for at least a year. We drove past the home of Theatre Cedar Rapids, where the curb in front was filled with discarded debris, but the marquee above contained the optimistic message, "We're all in this together."
To say it was a somber tour is to say the least. Nobody wants to see their hometown like this. I think of all the families, who have lost everything in this flood. Like Katrina, some of the hardest-hit areas were home to families who could afford it the least.
I hope those who saw my minivan creeping through the flooded areas with its out-of-state plates were not offended. Indeed, I can understand the last thing those who suffered such devastation need is tourists gawking at their plight.
Yet it was something I needed to see. It was something my kids needed to see. The Flood of 2008 will forever be a defining moment in the history of my hometown, and it was important for me to try to understand the devastation that has occurred there. For that matter, it's important for people around the country to understand as well. Cedar Rapids still needs help, and I urge anyone who is interested in doing so to visit www.floodlist.com to find out what they can do.
In the wake of this epic disaster, a couple other points need to be mentioned. First, it's worth noting that throughout this ordeal, which has impacted tens of thousands of people and more than 1,000 city blocks, not a single fatality has been reported. That miracle is a tribute to the careful planning and diligent work of the emergency management workers of the community.
Second, though the city is suffering perhaps the worst ordeal in its history, there has been almost no civil unrest. There have been no riots. There have been no waves of finger-pointing and blame-casting. There have been no angry mobs. Instead, the people of this community have handled the crisis with a grace and dignity that makes me intensely proud to call Cedar Rapids my hometown.
Like the marquee says, the residents of Cedar Rapids are "all in this together."
And together, the city will rise again.
———
I'm a sucker for a good music montage, and the video below is well done. It's from an outfit calling itself "iowafloodaid."
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Trees must not like to grow in cotton fields
Six years ago, with the help from my father, I planted 15 evergreen trees across the western edge of my backyard.
The idea was to create a windbreak, as well as a little shade and privacy. In the neighborhoods of the Greater Armorel Metropolitan Area, where the houses have sprung out of the cotton fields, there isn't a lot of any of that. Some folks get the privacy via a fence, but unless you're short enough to climb under a cotton plant, there just isn't a whole lot of shade to go around.
The miracle about these trees is they've survived — that they're actually growing, providing the long-sought windbreak. And with my neighbors on either side both erecting privacy fences, I actually have something of an enclosed backyard.
Still, it's a wonder that the evergreens have lived. Because, frankly, nothing else has.
Either my wife and I are severely tree-challenged, or there's something wrong with our soil, because we just can't get trees to grow. We've tried on several occasions. We've planted at least three different oak trees. Most times, they'll last a season or two, then croak. We had one tree that would sprout leaves like normal in April, only to have them turn brown and fall off by late June. Two years ago, we planted a pair of willows. They both made it through the first year, but only one was still alive this spring. And the one that's alive looks green and healthy, but it's shown scant signs of growth. It looks like we stuck it in the ground yesterday.
It's all such a change from the street I grew up on. The street was called Maple Drive — an appropriate name, for the street was lined with tall maple trees that provided ample shade to the collection of old white houses throughout the warm months. Perhaps the biggest tree on the block was located in our side yard — its trunk must have been 10 feet across in diameter. There were two newer, smaller maples located in front of our house, near the street. One had the misfortune of having grown crooked at the trunk, something for which one neighbor blamed me. (The old busybody called my mom, tattling that I was "hanging" on the tree, making it lean over ... I was about 5 at the time and all of about 30 pounds.)
Actually, though, I always wanted more trees. I used to beg my dad to build me a treehouse, but he believed such things belonged in the backyard, and unfortunately, our backyard was pretty much a wide-open space. I had high hopes when my parents planted a tree back there when I was about 8; but alas, even when I left for college 10 years later, the tree was still not big enough to support a treehouse.
I guess my own kids are in the same lot when it comes to treehouses. Even if the evergreens continue their development, I doubt 8-year-old Katie or 6-year-old Drew are going to want to be climbing them anytime soon. And if they tried to climb our pitiful willow, well, we might have a case where a young person truly is to blame to a crooked trunk.
We might have to try our tree-luck again soon. These hot days of summer are a constant reminder of our need for shade. Maybe we just need to dig a bigger hole. Or maybe we need to water it more. Or maybe we just need to fertilize the heck out of it.
Or maybe we just need to accept that fact that when you live in a home built in a cotton field, it's just never going to easy to create a mini-forest in your yard.
The idea was to create a windbreak, as well as a little shade and privacy. In the neighborhoods of the Greater Armorel Metropolitan Area, where the houses have sprung out of the cotton fields, there isn't a lot of any of that. Some folks get the privacy via a fence, but unless you're short enough to climb under a cotton plant, there just isn't a whole lot of shade to go around.
The miracle about these trees is they've survived — that they're actually growing, providing the long-sought windbreak. And with my neighbors on either side both erecting privacy fences, I actually have something of an enclosed backyard.
Still, it's a wonder that the evergreens have lived. Because, frankly, nothing else has.
Either my wife and I are severely tree-challenged, or there's something wrong with our soil, because we just can't get trees to grow. We've tried on several occasions. We've planted at least three different oak trees. Most times, they'll last a season or two, then croak. We had one tree that would sprout leaves like normal in April, only to have them turn brown and fall off by late June. Two years ago, we planted a pair of willows. They both made it through the first year, but only one was still alive this spring. And the one that's alive looks green and healthy, but it's shown scant signs of growth. It looks like we stuck it in the ground yesterday.
It's all such a change from the street I grew up on. The street was called Maple Drive — an appropriate name, for the street was lined with tall maple trees that provided ample shade to the collection of old white houses throughout the warm months. Perhaps the biggest tree on the block was located in our side yard — its trunk must have been 10 feet across in diameter. There were two newer, smaller maples located in front of our house, near the street. One had the misfortune of having grown crooked at the trunk, something for which one neighbor blamed me. (The old busybody called my mom, tattling that I was "hanging" on the tree, making it lean over ... I was about 5 at the time and all of about 30 pounds.)
Actually, though, I always wanted more trees. I used to beg my dad to build me a treehouse, but he believed such things belonged in the backyard, and unfortunately, our backyard was pretty much a wide-open space. I had high hopes when my parents planted a tree back there when I was about 8; but alas, even when I left for college 10 years later, the tree was still not big enough to support a treehouse.
I guess my own kids are in the same lot when it comes to treehouses. Even if the evergreens continue their development, I doubt 8-year-old Katie or 6-year-old Drew are going to want to be climbing them anytime soon. And if they tried to climb our pitiful willow, well, we might have a case where a young person truly is to blame to a crooked trunk.
We might have to try our tree-luck again soon. These hot days of summer are a constant reminder of our need for shade. Maybe we just need to dig a bigger hole. Or maybe we need to water it more. Or maybe we just need to fertilize the heck out of it.
Or maybe we just need to accept that fact that when you live in a home built in a cotton field, it's just never going to easy to create a mini-forest in your yard.
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