First day of school stings a little

Our family had an eventful first day of school this year, though it really had nothing to do with the kids. Or the school.

We had already taken our ceremonial "first day of school picture" — we take it in front of the same bush every year — and were just waiting for the school bus to arrive. I decided to sit while I waited on our front porch swing.

Unfortunately, I failed to remember that for several weeks, we had been seeing some wasp activity in that area, specifically, around the bird house that hangs just above the swing. Well, apparently the gentle rocking of the swing was enough to disturb the wasps who were living nearby, and within a few seconds, I was ripping my shirt off, grimacing at the sharp stinging pain in the middle of my back.

By the time I escaped the porch, a looked back to see a swarm of at least 30 wasps, madly flying about the area.

Thankfully, I was the only one stung, and there was no other harm done, save for the image of of me ripping my shirt off in my front lawn, which is no doubt burnt indelibly into the eyes of my neighbors.

Other than that, the first day of school went off without a hitch.

With Katie now in sixth grade, and Drew in third, the first day of school is a ritual we've gone through seven times. It's probably a bigger deal to the parents than it is to the kids. Katie and Drew insist on riding the bus — I guess they think they're too big to be taken to school in the car. Having heard the horror stories about first-day traffic jams, I'm more than willing to not have to mess with it.

Truth be told, even in the early years, the first day of school never offered us the dramatics that other families experience. On Katie's first day of kindergarten, the most interesting thing was that we were almost late, having been blocked by a train while en route. On Drew's first day of kindergarten, he went marching down the hall toward his room, barely even noticing his parents hurrying behind him.

But it is good to be back in school. The freedom of summer is nice, but it's good to get back to the sense of structure and direction that the school year provides.

For Drew, that direction has come in the way of reading. He's required to read at least 15 minutes every day, with special recognition coming to those students who log greater numbers of minutes read. The crown jewel, apparently, is to read a total of 10,000 minutes, and Drew arrived home on the first day of school determined to hit that mark — and hit it before anyone else. By the end of the weekend, he had already logged more than 400 minutes of reading. It was actually nice to see the video games take a back seat for a while.

For Katie, the first week of school was punctuated by her belated birthday party. With an Aug. 9 birthday, we delayed the festivities in hopes of having a few more kids available to attend. In total, 16 of her classmates joined us at her grandparents rural home for hot dogs, s'mores and a hayride. It was good to see Katie and so many of her classmates having a good time. It was a fun way to start the school year.

In short, we've hit the ground running. Even now, less than a week into the school year, the routine is getting to be old hat.

If we can just keep the wasp nets away from our house, we should have smooth sailing for the next few months.

Summer riding off into sunset

Something a bit melancholy transpired last Friday night, though for all but the most astute of observers, it probably went unnoticed.

It was last Friday when, for the first time in months, the evening sun set prior to 8 p.m., gently dropping below the horizon at 7:59.

It may have been but a minor incident; yet it served as a reminder that the certainties of the calendar year are still in effect; and our days are, indeed, creeping shorter and shorter.

For as subtle a sign as an earlier sunset may be, a more flagrant sign of the changing seasons comes tomorrow, when students at Armorel, Blytheville and Gosnell public schools head back to school. I've often thought that the "new year" would be better observed in August, rather than January; for as anyone with school-age children knows, it is the school calendar the dominates the cycle of the modern life.

Often, around this time of year, I've written my lament at the slow fade of summer. I've always been a fan of spring and summer, from the warm air that they bring, to the freedom they represent. But I'm trying hard to let summer go without much grieving this time around.

It was Spanish-American philosopher George Santayana who said, "To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring."

I'm trying to keep those words in mind, as we transition into fall, not to mention the winter that will follow. Though spring and summer have their glory, there is much to love about autumn as well.

For instance, fall means football. Baseball may have its spot in Americana; but everyone knows these days, it's football that is "America's game." From high school games under the Friday night lights, to Saturday afternoons on the college gridiron, to Sunday's NFL matchups, I'm looking to watching a few contests.

Fall also means soccer. For the fifth fall in a row, my kids will be be taking part in the fall league sponsored by the Blytheville Area Soccer Association. For the fourth year, I will be a coach. Though they've also played softball, baseball and basketball, soccer still tops my kids' list of favorite sports, and the soccer pitch is a great place to spend an autumn weekend. (For anyone interested, Saturday is the last day to sign up for BASA soccer; 10 a.m.-3 p.m at the Chamber.)

Fall means leaves changing colors. Green will always be my favorite color. But seeing the reds, golds, oranges and browns in the trees is always a sight to behold. And there's nothing like the feeling of dragging your feet through a pile of freshly fallen leaves.

Fall means no more mowing the lawn. I admit, the first time out on the mower in the spring is always a thrill. But by this time of year, I'm sick of it. I'm ready to let go of this chore for a few months.

Fall means Halloween. It's neat to watch little kids get dressed up in costumes and take to the neighborhood streets for a fun-filled evening in the crisp night air.

Fall means cooler temperatures. And after the past few weeks, it couldn't happen soon enough. The changing season will bring new opportunities to enjoy the outdoors, whether its going for a run, sitting on the patio or just taking a walk with the family.

Oh sure, I will still grieve a little at the passing of another summer. It brought with it some good times — times that will be missed, but also treasured. But like every season before it, we knew it would end.

Besides that, it's not like summer is over just yet. It's still another month before autumn's official arrival, and the temperatures are still climbing into the 90s on a daily basis. There's still time to take joy in what we have left, while simultaneously looking forward to what it to come.

Pobody's nerfect

Believe it or not, I really do know how to spell "hospital."

Of course, if you read Thursday's Courier News, you might think otherwise. After all, that's where you would find — on Page 1, mind you ... in large, bold type, no less — the word "hosptial" where the word "hospital" should have been.

Sigh.

I like to think of myself as a reasonably intelligent person. But when you make mistakes like that, it really doesn't help the cause.

The truth of the matter is the story was a last-minute addition to Page 1. (Staff writer Donna Loyd Hilton did a great job putting the story together in the limited time available.) I guess I got in a hurry. Several different people looked over the page before it went to press, but nobody caught the gaffe until the papers were on the street.

Really, there's no excuse. It was a stupid mistake, an oversight, and I apologize.

Thankfully, we were spared the wave of phone calls from helpful readers eager to provide valuable spelling tips. I guess the actual news about the hosptial — er, hospital — not to mention the latest Carol White fracas, was enough to keep folks distracted.

But that wasn't the case on July 29 when this newspaper committed one of the most egregious errors in journalism history when we (gulp) misidentified a crop.

In this case, it was cotton, mistakenly referred to as soybeans in a caption under a photo. I would like to take this time to personally thank the 11 readers out there who did NOT call us to let us know about this faux pas.

The one thing I learned after Cottongate is that, at least in this part of the country, there's not too many mistakes that will raise the ire of readers more than misidentifying a crop. Seriously — some of the folks I spoke with were downright indignant when they called.

I never realized the pride some folks take in their ability to identify crops. And I admit I'm pretty bad with it. Sure, having grown up in Iowa, I know a thing or two about spotting a corn field. But cotton and soybeans — at least until the bolls appear — always trip me up. I'm told the difference is in the blooms. (Although, for the record, you can Google "soybean blooms" and find some flowers that look similar to cotton blooms — at least similar enough to confuse a newspaper editor.)

Seriously, we hate making mistakes in the newspaper, and we strive every day to keep them out. But we're not perfect, and it's inevitable that an error or two will creep into the newspaper on a fairly consistent basis — sometimes, they'll even make their way into giant headlines or prominent captions on Page 1.

The thing I hope folks remember is that everyone, in every occupation, makes mistakes, whether it's teachers or factory workers or salesmen. Most of the time, nobody knows. The difference is that with the newspaper business, when we make a mistake, we print off 6,000 copies, and give one to everybody in town.

It can be embarrassing, to be sure. But at least a typo here and there generally doesn't hurt anyone. I would hate to see anyone sent to the hosptial over something that was printed in the newspaper.

Job growth key to building prosperity

When it comes to the economic development sales tax — on the ballot next Tuesday in Mississippi County — I admit I have been on the fence.

On one hand, I can plainly see the success of the tax, in the way of the roughly 3,000 jobs that have been created since its inception seven years ago. Besides that, I'm a strong believer in the aggressive and continuous pursuit of economic development projects.

On the other hand, I am concerned about the continued lack of prosperity in our county, in spite of the jobs that have been created. The lack of prosperity can be observed in several ways, ranging from population declines to shuttered store fronts. I've wondered whether or not there might be some other strategies that ought to be considered when it comes to building a better community for those who live here.

But at the end of the day, I stand with those in support of the sales tax, for the simple fact that it's too soon to pass judgment on the success or failure of our economic development efforts. Seven years isn't enough time to build an economy.

For me, the whole thing comes down to prosperity. Are we building it, or are we losing it? Some signs are discouraging, such as the aforementioned population decline and empty storefronts.

Yet to be fair, there have been positive signs as well. For instance, one of the greatest barometers of a community's prosperity is per capita income. And in Mississippi County, from 2000 to 2007, per capita income climbed from $18,383 to $26,040, according to the Bureau of Economic Analysts. That's an encouraging sign.

And even though we can all rattle off lists of businesses that have closed in the past decade, there are many that have opened as well. It wasn't that long ago that the area along Highway 18 east of Blytheville was nothing but cotton fields. Today, the area is bustling with retail development.

Yet anyone who would claim Blytheville — or Mississippi County — is booming just isn't paying attention. Whether it's the constant drone of the local drug trade or the lack of skilled laborers, it's clear that we are not a prosperous community yet.

To me, much of it comes down to population. Where there is prosperity, the population grows; where prosperity is lacking, population declines. It will still be several months before the 2010 Census numbers start coming in, but most watchers expect to see continued declines for cities like Blytheville. A drop in the county population wouldn't be unexpected either.

This is a big problem. It's the reason why we haven't seen the retail growth we all desire; it's the reason Mississippi County is an importer of labor.

If you ask me, the "Apollo Project" for our area over the next decade ought to be the stabilization of our population base. Local leaders ought to pursue potential residents with as much zeal and ingenuity as they have for potential employers. If we can't begin to see population growth by 2020, we probably never will.

So how do you build population? Well, there's a number of things you've got to do. You've got to keep crime to a minimum. You've got to have attractive local schools. You've got to maintain a strong infrastructure. You've got to develop quality-of-life enhancements, like parks and museums.

But you've also got to have jobs. No area can ever expect to experience growth without an abundance — perhaps a surplus — of jobs.

And ultimately, that's why I support the half-cent sales tax for economic development. Ample employment opportunities are the cornerstone to any effort to build population and develop prosperity.

But job growth is only the first step. More must be done to fill local jobs with local people. More must be done to fight crime and fix the infrastructure. More must be done to make people want to live in Mississippi County.

Economic development is about more than luring factories. It is about building prosperity. The sales tax for economic development should stay, because it is a key part to all that. But local leaders — and local citizens — still have years of work to do before the job will be done.