If you're a fan of the TV show "Lost," like I am, you might find the following scene from "Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me" a bit helpful as you tread through the newest season:
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Time to get over loss of the air base
CBS News has yet to announce when they will air the “60 Minutes” segment that will apparently feature Nucor Steel and Blytheville in some capacity.
A crew from the popular news magazine was in town last week to film footage. They spoke with several Nucor officials, as well as some community leaders. They filmed footage at the Chamber of Commerce, and made several trips to the steel mills out by the river (and apparently got a couple of speeding tickets along the way). Even veteran journalist Lesley Stahl was here to report on the story.
It will be interesting to see how “60 Minutes” portrays our community. The overall angle seems to be generally positive, but when it comes to network news — especially TV news magazines — you never know.
One angle I hope they don’t pursue is the “poor little town that lost the air base” approach. It’s an approach that’s not uncommon when out-of-town media visit Blytheville. Indeed, it’s hard to ignore the array of timeworn buildings on the Arkansas Aeroplex, and it’s no secret that the Eaker Air Base — and it’s closing — is part of our community’s history. And there’s not a person in Blytheville who hasn't taken part in a conversation that begins with, “Back when the air base was here …”
But more and more, the base closure is a part of our distant history; and less and less part of our recent history. It's an event that is quickly losing relevance. And it’s become a pet peeve of mine to hear people continue to blame the closure of the air base for our community’s woes.
There’s no doubt that losing the base was a blow to our community. It was, in fact, a devastating blow. But it was a blow that occurred nearly 17 years ago. That’s a long time. And our community has become a completely different place since then.
Consider our industrial base. Save for Nucor-Yamato Steel, which briefly overlapped the time Eaker was open, nearly all our industry has come here since the base closed. This includes everything from Nucor Hickman and Tenaris, to IPSCO and Roll Coater. When the air base closed, we were barely a blip on the steel industry radar. Today, Mississippi County is one of the top steel-producing counties in the world.
Or, take a look at the retail development near the Highway 18/Interstate 55 interchange. On the day the base closed, you could stand atop the overpass, look east, and see nothing but cotton fields, all the way to the Mississippi River. Today, there is a retail supercenter, a big-box home improvement store, a strip mall with a dozen tenants, three restaurants, a gas station and a bank.
Or consider this: For today's high school seniors, there is no memory of the air base ever being open. The idea of an open Eaker Air Base has no place in what they know about their hometown. The same goes for everyone who has moved to Blytheville in the past 17 years (including yours truly.) To an ever-growing number of Blytheville citizens, the air base has never been open.
And all this is why it frustrates me to hear people use the closure of the air base as a crutch for what’s wrong in our community. The fact is, the loss of the air base is part of our distant history, a history that has long since faded from our collective rear-view mirror. Our community has its share of shortcomings and challenges, for sure. But those shortcomings can no more be blamed on the loss of the air base than on the the collapse of the local logging industry.
We’ll have to see what “60 Minutes” does with its steel story. They may very well take the knee-jerk path, and show how steel has saved “the poor little town that lost the air base.” It would be hard to blame them if they did.
But for the sake of people in Blytheville continuing to look forward, I hope they look for something different.
A crew from the popular news magazine was in town last week to film footage. They spoke with several Nucor officials, as well as some community leaders. They filmed footage at the Chamber of Commerce, and made several trips to the steel mills out by the river (and apparently got a couple of speeding tickets along the way). Even veteran journalist Lesley Stahl was here to report on the story.
It will be interesting to see how “60 Minutes” portrays our community. The overall angle seems to be generally positive, but when it comes to network news — especially TV news magazines — you never know.
One angle I hope they don’t pursue is the “poor little town that lost the air base” approach. It’s an approach that’s not uncommon when out-of-town media visit Blytheville. Indeed, it’s hard to ignore the array of timeworn buildings on the Arkansas Aeroplex, and it’s no secret that the Eaker Air Base — and it’s closing — is part of our community’s history. And there’s not a person in Blytheville who hasn't taken part in a conversation that begins with, “Back when the air base was here …”
But more and more, the base closure is a part of our distant history; and less and less part of our recent history. It's an event that is quickly losing relevance. And it’s become a pet peeve of mine to hear people continue to blame the closure of the air base for our community’s woes.
There’s no doubt that losing the base was a blow to our community. It was, in fact, a devastating blow. But it was a blow that occurred nearly 17 years ago. That’s a long time. And our community has become a completely different place since then.
Consider our industrial base. Save for Nucor-Yamato Steel, which briefly overlapped the time Eaker was open, nearly all our industry has come here since the base closed. This includes everything from Nucor Hickman and Tenaris, to IPSCO and Roll Coater. When the air base closed, we were barely a blip on the steel industry radar. Today, Mississippi County is one of the top steel-producing counties in the world.
Or, take a look at the retail development near the Highway 18/Interstate 55 interchange. On the day the base closed, you could stand atop the overpass, look east, and see nothing but cotton fields, all the way to the Mississippi River. Today, there is a retail supercenter, a big-box home improvement store, a strip mall with a dozen tenants, three restaurants, a gas station and a bank.
Or consider this: For today's high school seniors, there is no memory of the air base ever being open. The idea of an open Eaker Air Base has no place in what they know about their hometown. The same goes for everyone who has moved to Blytheville in the past 17 years (including yours truly.) To an ever-growing number of Blytheville citizens, the air base has never been open.
And all this is why it frustrates me to hear people use the closure of the air base as a crutch for what’s wrong in our community. The fact is, the loss of the air base is part of our distant history, a history that has long since faded from our collective rear-view mirror. Our community has its share of shortcomings and challenges, for sure. But those shortcomings can no more be blamed on the loss of the air base than on the the collapse of the local logging industry.
We’ll have to see what “60 Minutes” does with its steel story. They may very well take the knee-jerk path, and show how steel has saved “the poor little town that lost the air base.” It would be hard to blame them if they did.
But for the sake of people in Blytheville continuing to look forward, I hope they look for something different.
Post No. 100 extravaganza
Welcome to the 100th post extravaganza here at The Talker.
Since its inception back in late 2007, we have now amassed a whopping 100 posts.
Which, really, when you think about it, is pretty pathetic, when it comes to blogs.
Oh well. Happy No. 100.
Since its inception back in late 2007, we have now amassed a whopping 100 posts.
Which, really, when you think about it, is pretty pathetic, when it comes to blogs.
Oh well. Happy No. 100.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Seeing the world through a whole new set of eyes
It’s nice to be able to see the world through a new set of eyes every once in a while. And that’s what I’ve been doing for the past several weeks. But I have a new grudge against my mother.
It’s a long story that starts when I was in grade school, and my older sister, Aimee, got glasses. I can’t remember what prompted the trip to the optometrist, but I remember that both of us got our eyes checked; my eyes were fine, but hers weren’t. So she got glasses, and I didn’t.
The variance in sibling vision was written off as hereditary. My dad wore glasses and had from an early age. So it was assumed that Aimee had my dad’s eyes. My mom, meanwhile, had never (to that time) had any problems with eyesight, so it was assumed that I had my mom’s eyes.
Similar conclusions were reached within my family when it came to teeth. My dad has always had horrible dental problems, having a long history of bridge-work and false teeth. Aimee has faced a similar fate, having to endure everything from root canals to braces as a teenager. (Though it should be noted that a roller skating mishap, in which her three front teeth were chipped, played a role in her dental woes.) My mom, meanwhile, has a long history of healthy teeth, a trait I seemed to have inherited. Save for a few cavities here and there, my teeth seem to be in reasonably healthy condition, even though I have, at times, gone years between trips to the dentist.
Inheriting my mom’s genes has not been all good, mind you. While eyes and teeth have always seemed to be strong points, knees are another story. Both my mom and I have struggled with knee-related stiffness and soreness through the years — something that hasn’t seemed to bother Aimee and Dad as much.
So I was happily going through life, a little worried about my knees, but fully confident in my eyes and teeth, when something happened. I started noticing that I was having trouble seeing the program guide on my satellite TV system. Words that used to pop with clarity started requiring me to adjust, refocus and even squint.
So when my daughter, Katie (who got glasses a year ago), headed in for an annual visit to the optometrist, I decided I ought to have my eyes checked as well. I knew I was in trouble the moment they told me to read the eye chart with my left eye covered. Letters that moments earlier were reasonably easy to read became indecipherable. After a full examination, the doctor told me I was near-sighted in both eyes, significantly more so in my right eye. It was time to get glasses.
So, with the help of my wife and daughter, I picked out a nice set of brown, wire-rims. They look pretty decent on my face, I guess; and better yet, I can suddenly see so much better. Street signs and billboards now appear to me in amazing clarity. The lights over Nucor and Tenaris, which had previously blended into one big aura, now appear to me as individual points of light. And I can finally see the program guide on my satellite TV without a struggle. I hadn’t realized how much I wasn’t seeing — or, more accurately, wasn’t seeing clearly — until I got glasses.
Of course, I’m upset with my mother, or more specifically, my mother’s genes, for failing me. I was supposed to be able to last until my 50s or 60s before needing glasses; and even then, it would only be for reading. I guess now I can expect my teeth to start falling out as well.
Or maybe these things can’t be predicted. Maybe our fate isn’t as written into stone as we sometimes trick ourselves into thinking it is. (Or perhaps my mom needed glasses from the time she was in her mid-30s, but was just too stubborn to go to the eye doctor.)
Either way, I’m getting used to my glasses. I’m learning to remember to put them on, and Katie just showed me how to properly clean them. I’m a believer in the adage that we should take kindly the counsel of years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. For me , that means, in part, coming to terms with the fact that my eyesight is no longer perfect. I need a little help, and that’s my glasses give me. I'm seeing the world through a whole new set of eyes..
It’s a long story that starts when I was in grade school, and my older sister, Aimee, got glasses. I can’t remember what prompted the trip to the optometrist, but I remember that both of us got our eyes checked; my eyes were fine, but hers weren’t. So she got glasses, and I didn’t.
The variance in sibling vision was written off as hereditary. My dad wore glasses and had from an early age. So it was assumed that Aimee had my dad’s eyes. My mom, meanwhile, had never (to that time) had any problems with eyesight, so it was assumed that I had my mom’s eyes.
Similar conclusions were reached within my family when it came to teeth. My dad has always had horrible dental problems, having a long history of bridge-work and false teeth. Aimee has faced a similar fate, having to endure everything from root canals to braces as a teenager. (Though it should be noted that a roller skating mishap, in which her three front teeth were chipped, played a role in her dental woes.) My mom, meanwhile, has a long history of healthy teeth, a trait I seemed to have inherited. Save for a few cavities here and there, my teeth seem to be in reasonably healthy condition, even though I have, at times, gone years between trips to the dentist.
Inheriting my mom’s genes has not been all good, mind you. While eyes and teeth have always seemed to be strong points, knees are another story. Both my mom and I have struggled with knee-related stiffness and soreness through the years — something that hasn’t seemed to bother Aimee and Dad as much.
So I was happily going through life, a little worried about my knees, but fully confident in my eyes and teeth, when something happened. I started noticing that I was having trouble seeing the program guide on my satellite TV system. Words that used to pop with clarity started requiring me to adjust, refocus and even squint.
So when my daughter, Katie (who got glasses a year ago), headed in for an annual visit to the optometrist, I decided I ought to have my eyes checked as well. I knew I was in trouble the moment they told me to read the eye chart with my left eye covered. Letters that moments earlier were reasonably easy to read became indecipherable. After a full examination, the doctor told me I was near-sighted in both eyes, significantly more so in my right eye. It was time to get glasses.
So, with the help of my wife and daughter, I picked out a nice set of brown, wire-rims. They look pretty decent on my face, I guess; and better yet, I can suddenly see so much better. Street signs and billboards now appear to me in amazing clarity. The lights over Nucor and Tenaris, which had previously blended into one big aura, now appear to me as individual points of light. And I can finally see the program guide on my satellite TV without a struggle. I hadn’t realized how much I wasn’t seeing — or, more accurately, wasn’t seeing clearly — until I got glasses.
Of course, I’m upset with my mother, or more specifically, my mother’s genes, for failing me. I was supposed to be able to last until my 50s or 60s before needing glasses; and even then, it would only be for reading. I guess now I can expect my teeth to start falling out as well.
Or maybe these things can’t be predicted. Maybe our fate isn’t as written into stone as we sometimes trick ourselves into thinking it is. (Or perhaps my mom needed glasses from the time she was in her mid-30s, but was just too stubborn to go to the eye doctor.)
Either way, I’m getting used to my glasses. I’m learning to remember to put them on, and Katie just showed me how to properly clean them. I’m a believer in the adage that we should take kindly the counsel of years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. For me , that means, in part, coming to terms with the fact that my eyesight is no longer perfect. I need a little help, and that’s my glasses give me. I'm seeing the world through a whole new set of eyes..
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Growing weary of winter weather
From Saturday's balmy, but windy day; to Monday's light icing; to today's sunny, yet chilly weather, there's been a lot of credence lately to the motto that if you don't like the weather in Arkansas, just wait a couple of days.
Personally, I'm ready for warm and sunny. Sure, January may not yet even be a week old, but I've had it with winter. Too cold. Too windy. Too much winter precipitation. And too inconsistent — even when we've had weather that was bordering on the "nice" description, it's been swept away within a matter of hours.
I didn't always feel this way. Though I've always been a bigger fan of spring and summer, in my youthful days, growing up in the frozen cornfields of eastern Iowa, I used to draw passing enjoyment out of the winter months.
I remember afternoons sledding down the hill behind Roosevelt School; taking walks with my family during picturesque snowfalls; meeting up with a group of friends to have a massive snowball fight in the woods near one of our homes.
These days, I can hardly fathom why I ever would have voluntarily ventured out of doors when the temperature was below 45 degrees. Yet we did it all the time. We'd bundle up in our snowsuits, ski masks and moon boots, and have a grand ol' time, even with the mercury at times falling into the teens and single digits.
As I've grown older — and moved farther South — I've grown soft, I guess. But it's been a slow progression.
For a time, I used to desire at least a couple of months of winter weather. Without it, you can't enjoy the warm months, I'd argue.
Then it got to be that I liked the idea of a wintry holiday season. I'd hope for a white Christmas, and a chilly New Year. After all, it just wouldn't seem right for it to be warm that time of year, or so I used to say.
But I got over all of that. These days, I'd just assume the temperatures never drop out of the 50s and 60s. I'll take a green Christmas and a balmy New Year with open arms. In fact, I'd even be willing to give up Christmas altogether, if it meant not having to deal with cold weather.
I used to say that I would never move to south Florida or the tropics, because I would miss seeing the seasons change. No more. Changing seasons are for chumps. Hurricane threats don't scare me. I'm ready for a 12-month summer.
Not that I'll be scanning the real estate listings in Miami anytime soon. I've still got to convince my wife on a move-South plan, after all. I figure a few more ice storms and a frozen pipe or two, and I've got an outside chance of building a good case.
Until then, I guess I'll just have to get tough, and weather the storm. It would be nice if griping about the weather actually made the temperatures rise, or made spring get here more quickly, but it's just not the case.
According to my calendar, the first day of spring is 72 days away. Ugh. I guess I have no choice but to bundle up and wait it out. Anyone know where I can get a good deal on a snowsuit, a ski mask and some moon boots?
Personally, I'm ready for warm and sunny. Sure, January may not yet even be a week old, but I've had it with winter. Too cold. Too windy. Too much winter precipitation. And too inconsistent — even when we've had weather that was bordering on the "nice" description, it's been swept away within a matter of hours.
I didn't always feel this way. Though I've always been a bigger fan of spring and summer, in my youthful days, growing up in the frozen cornfields of eastern Iowa, I used to draw passing enjoyment out of the winter months.
I remember afternoons sledding down the hill behind Roosevelt School; taking walks with my family during picturesque snowfalls; meeting up with a group of friends to have a massive snowball fight in the woods near one of our homes.
These days, I can hardly fathom why I ever would have voluntarily ventured out of doors when the temperature was below 45 degrees. Yet we did it all the time. We'd bundle up in our snowsuits, ski masks and moon boots, and have a grand ol' time, even with the mercury at times falling into the teens and single digits.
As I've grown older — and moved farther South — I've grown soft, I guess. But it's been a slow progression.
For a time, I used to desire at least a couple of months of winter weather. Without it, you can't enjoy the warm months, I'd argue.
Then it got to be that I liked the idea of a wintry holiday season. I'd hope for a white Christmas, and a chilly New Year. After all, it just wouldn't seem right for it to be warm that time of year, or so I used to say.
But I got over all of that. These days, I'd just assume the temperatures never drop out of the 50s and 60s. I'll take a green Christmas and a balmy New Year with open arms. In fact, I'd even be willing to give up Christmas altogether, if it meant not having to deal with cold weather.
I used to say that I would never move to south Florida or the tropics, because I would miss seeing the seasons change. No more. Changing seasons are for chumps. Hurricane threats don't scare me. I'm ready for a 12-month summer.
Not that I'll be scanning the real estate listings in Miami anytime soon. I've still got to convince my wife on a move-South plan, after all. I figure a few more ice storms and a frozen pipe or two, and I've got an outside chance of building a good case.
Until then, I guess I'll just have to get tough, and weather the storm. It would be nice if griping about the weather actually made the temperatures rise, or made spring get here more quickly, but it's just not the case.
According to my calendar, the first day of spring is 72 days away. Ugh. I guess I have no choice but to bundle up and wait it out. Anyone know where I can get a good deal on a snowsuit, a ski mask and some moon boots?
Saturday, January 3, 2009
A few predictions for 2009
With a new year just about upon us once again, I thought it might be a good time to peek into the old crystal ball, and take a look at what 2009 might have to offer.
A few predictions:
— I predict that at the first sign of bad news, detractors of soon-to-be-President Barack Obama will herald the news as evidence of his unfitness for office.
— I predict that at the first sign of good news, champions of soon-to-be-President Barack Obama will herald the news as evidence of his destiny for greatness.
— I predict that it will be decades before a rational evaluation of the Obama presidency can begin.
— I predict that the talking heads on the around-the-clock cable news channels will continue to bemoan the current financial situation as (cue theme music) "the worst financial disaster since the Great Depression."
— I predict that Americans from coast-to-coast will continue to flock to their nearest supercenters to buy up mobile phones, video game systems, flat-screen TVs and inflatable holiday decorations by the truckloads.
— I predict that a team from some U.S. city, consisting of a dozen or so players, will win the NBA championship.
— I predict that 95 percent of the people reading this column can't name the last three NBA champions, and less than half can name 2008's winner.
— I predict that the Major League Baseball season will begin, with much fanfare, in April.
— I predict that it will take until at least August for a single Major League Baseball game to mean anything.
— I predict that a handful of movies I have never seen will compete for the Best Picture Oscar.
— I predict that a night at the movies, complete with popcorn and soda for everybody, will still cost enough to break most families' bank accounts.
— I predict that many families will continue to enjoy nights out at the movies, even though the country is facing (cue theme music) "the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression."
— I predict that Facebook and MySpace will achieve total world domination by mid-to-late-September.
— I predict that even though my Facebook friends may keep fighting with my avatar in YoVille, none will be able to match my Word Twist score.
— I predict that non-Facebook users just read the previous paragraph and said, “huh?”
— I predict that Sarah Palin won’t be able to as much as sneeze without pundits analyzing how the latest developments may affect her chances to win the Republican nomination in 2012.
— I predict that “Saturday Night Live” will spend most of the year fondly looking back at the days when they could lampoon Palin, and actually be funny.
— I predict that watching actual Sarah Palin media appearances will be funny enough for everybody.
— I predict that rumors of impending doom will continue to swirl around county hospitals.
— I predict that community leaders will extol the absolute necessity of having a local hospital.
— I predict that scores of local citizens (along with many of the community leaders mentioned above) will seek medical care outside of the county, whether there is a hospital here or not.
— I predict that whatever resolution arrived at regarding county hospitals won’t be the end of the story.
— I predict that hundreds of thousands of dollars will be spent when the new state lottery gets up and running, as Arkansans buy tickets in droves, hoping to beat the odds and strike it rich.
— I predict that the most immediate effect of the lottery will be a new state tax on people bad at math.
— I predict that a professional athlete will be in trouble with the law.
— I predict that professional athletes will continue to draw paychecks that far outpace that of teachers, or doctors, or newspaper editors.
— I predict that there will be word of several professional athletes singing bajillion-dollar contracts, even though the country is facing (cue theme music) "the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression."
— I predict that at least 10 people will take this column way too seriously.
A few predictions:
— I predict that at the first sign of bad news, detractors of soon-to-be-President Barack Obama will herald the news as evidence of his unfitness for office.
— I predict that at the first sign of good news, champions of soon-to-be-President Barack Obama will herald the news as evidence of his destiny for greatness.
— I predict that it will be decades before a rational evaluation of the Obama presidency can begin.
— I predict that the talking heads on the around-the-clock cable news channels will continue to bemoan the current financial situation as (cue theme music) "the worst financial disaster since the Great Depression."
— I predict that Americans from coast-to-coast will continue to flock to their nearest supercenters to buy up mobile phones, video game systems, flat-screen TVs and inflatable holiday decorations by the truckloads.
— I predict that a team from some U.S. city, consisting of a dozen or so players, will win the NBA championship.
— I predict that 95 percent of the people reading this column can't name the last three NBA champions, and less than half can name 2008's winner.
— I predict that the Major League Baseball season will begin, with much fanfare, in April.
— I predict that it will take until at least August for a single Major League Baseball game to mean anything.
— I predict that a handful of movies I have never seen will compete for the Best Picture Oscar.
— I predict that a night at the movies, complete with popcorn and soda for everybody, will still cost enough to break most families' bank accounts.
— I predict that many families will continue to enjoy nights out at the movies, even though the country is facing (cue theme music) "the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression."
— I predict that Facebook and MySpace will achieve total world domination by mid-to-late-September.
— I predict that even though my Facebook friends may keep fighting with my avatar in YoVille, none will be able to match my Word Twist score.
— I predict that non-Facebook users just read the previous paragraph and said, “huh?”
— I predict that Sarah Palin won’t be able to as much as sneeze without pundits analyzing how the latest developments may affect her chances to win the Republican nomination in 2012.
— I predict that “Saturday Night Live” will spend most of the year fondly looking back at the days when they could lampoon Palin, and actually be funny.
— I predict that watching actual Sarah Palin media appearances will be funny enough for everybody.
— I predict that rumors of impending doom will continue to swirl around county hospitals.
— I predict that community leaders will extol the absolute necessity of having a local hospital.
— I predict that scores of local citizens (along with many of the community leaders mentioned above) will seek medical care outside of the county, whether there is a hospital here or not.
— I predict that whatever resolution arrived at regarding county hospitals won’t be the end of the story.
— I predict that hundreds of thousands of dollars will be spent when the new state lottery gets up and running, as Arkansans buy tickets in droves, hoping to beat the odds and strike it rich.
— I predict that the most immediate effect of the lottery will be a new state tax on people bad at math.
— I predict that a professional athlete will be in trouble with the law.
— I predict that professional athletes will continue to draw paychecks that far outpace that of teachers, or doctors, or newspaper editors.
— I predict that there will be word of several professional athletes singing bajillion-dollar contracts, even though the country is facing (cue theme music) "the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression."
— I predict that at least 10 people will take this column way too seriously.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)