OVER COFFEE -- by Jerry Wilson
1996 Archive


Holiday's End -- January, 1996
Well, the holidays are over for another year.  Many people are glad to see things get back 
to normal.  Others feel downhearted or saddened by the passing of another holiday 
season.  Still others have mixed feelings about it.

I can understand how a person might have a bout with the blues in the new year.  I've felt 
it myself in years past.  Some of it has to do with the fact that a joyful time of year is 
over; others dread returning to work following an extended holiday.  And added into the 
mix is the fact that there is a long cold winter ahead with no holidays until spring.

Oh, there are a couple of minor events to look forward to.  There's always Groundhog 
Day.  And some people get a day off for Presidents' Day in February, but that is still a 
month and a half away.  And nobody really makes a big deal about Presidents Day.  I 
mean, nobody actually puts up decorations or strings of lights.  Nobody sings Presidents' 
Day carols or puts up a Presidents' Tree.

And anyway, there's nothing on the calendar to look forward to in January, (unless you 
count that laughable legacy of Ronald Reagan; the "holiday" with the biggest name and 
smallest significance -- the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Junior Day.)

And what makes things worse, 1996 is a leap year, which means that there is an even 
longer wait until next Christmas.  That's right, there are officially 356 days left until 
Christmas.  In a normal year, there would be only 355!

Some people celebrate Christmas in a big way.  In fact, some enjoy the season so much, 
they keep their holday decorations up all year long.  It must be that they like to remember 
the Christmas season; the only other alternative is that they are too lazy to take them 
down.  But I wouldn't think that about anybody!

But at least we can look forward to being properly entertained this year.  Another claim to 
fame of a leap year is that it is also an election year.  And with the primary elections and 
political conventions coming up, it should make for quite a diversion to keep us occupied 
until the holidays arrive again.



SNOWFALLS REMEMBERED -- January, 1996
All the snow we've been getting lately has caused me to wax 
nostalgic about the heavier snowfalls and blizzards that I can 
remember from my youth.  No, I didn't have to walk three miles 
through the snow in order to get to school; I lived in town.  But a 
few of those early snowstorms have stuck in my mind.

Mainly, though, what I remember is the LACK of snowfall during 
most years.  I was, and still am to some extent, a big snow fan.  
Despite the treacherous conditions it presents to drivers and 
walkers, I still enjoy seeing it snow.  And I enjoy the beauty it 
produces in the aftermath.  

But most years, I was disappointed.  I remember sitting in class 
in school, watching large snowflakes fall heavily and thinking it 
would surely produce a heft accumulation.  But invariably, the 
snow would melt as quickly as it fell and I would get out of 
school to find only a little slush.

But, once in a while, I would get lucky.  There are only three or 
four really heavy snowfalls that I witnessed as a child or teen 
that come to mind.  The first of these was around 1958.  It 
snowed so hard, with large heavy flakes, that it broke one of the 
branches off the big tree that stood in our back yard, on Russell 
Street.  Dad played the comedian in the blizzard's aftermath by 
going out into a snowdrift and lowering his trousers.  He stood 
there in his underwear and a T-shirt long enough for mom to 
snap his picture.  If he were able to swim, he would have made 
a good addition to the Polar Bear Club.

Another hefty snowfall came in the late 1960's.  I don't 
remember the exact year.  I do remember the snowfall total 
being about a foot.  I had a great time playing in the white 
wonderland that followed.

A memorable White Christmas, a rarity in central Indiana, came 
in about 1968 or '69.  We were on our way home from Kentucky, 
where our family had its Christmas reunion, when the snow 
started falling heavily.  I remember being scared that we would 
slide off the road, but we finally got home.  This was about five 
days before Christmas.  It turned cold after the snow, so it did 
remain on the ground until Christmas.

I really did love snow when I was a kid.  But, unlike some of my 
close friends, I was not a slider.  I was more of a slip-and-faller.  
But, being a kid, falling in the snow and ice didn't bother me as 
much as it would today.  

As an adult, although I still enjoy a good heavy snow, I am not 
very good at walking in it.  So if you see me babystepping down 
the street on these snowy winter days, bear with me and give 
me a wide clearance.



TOP 10 BENEFITS OF HEAVY SNOWFALLS -- January, 1996
Warmer weather has diminished the snowcover in our lawns this 
week.  But despite some milder temperatures, the mountains of 
dirty snow that were built as a result of the blizzard last week 
may last well into spring.  The Edinburgh street crews built the 
biggest piles in their attempts to clear the streets.  They have 
been disposing of some of that snow by hauling it to Irwin Park, 
making one huge pile.

But the snow piles may not be all bad.  In fact, there are several 
benefits of having those big mountains of snow.  As a public 
service, I have compiled a list of the ten most beneficial reasons 
for keeping the snow around.

So here they are, the Top Ten Benefits of having Snow Piles:

10.  They could be cleaned off and used as wintertime 
landscaping mounds.

9.  The big pile they made down at the park can be used by the 
kids to play on next summer.  It'll probably still be around.

8.  They could haul it out to the proposed Timbergate Golf 
Course site.  If properly placed, it would make good landscaping 
fill for wintertime golf.

7.  Alternatively, they could consolidate all the smaller piles into 
one big one out east of town and turn it into the Timbergate Ski 
Slopes.

6.  The town could load it into the beds of everybody's pick-up 
truck so the drivers would have good traction all winter.

5.  To create extra funds, the town could package it in small 
bundles then sell them via mail order to those poor souls down 
in Australia who are suffering through a long hot summer.

4.  The town could construct large Styrofoam shelters around 
some of the larger piles, thus keeping them cold throughout next 
summer.  Residents would then have a free supply of snow 
when they need it most next August.

3.  Edinburgh could wrap it all up in huge packages and ship it, 
postage due, to Columbus.  Let them worry about it.

2.  They could dump all the piles off the Blue River Bridge, just 
below the falls, in order to dam up the water so that fisherman 
could have a nice ice-fishing lake.

And the Number One benefit of having snow piles:  
1.  Chunky snow ice cream.



CLASSIEST PERSON IN TOWN -- January, 1996
Who is the classiest person you know?  Maybe I should define 
the word, classy.  It may come as a surprise to some that the 
word "classy" is a colloquial expression, something used 
informally.  And yet, the word, or one of its forms, is bandied 
about with some frequency, especially on television.

To be classy, to have class or show class, or to be a class act, 
can encompass many different, yet complementary 
characteristics.  A classy person may be stylish or elegant, but 
not so much in a flashy way.  A person with class also has good 
manners and the ability to be discrete.  Classy people tend to 
have good posture and poise; they also have good control of 
their language.  They have classy good looks, but are also 
modest.  And, they are socially adept, being able to get along 
well with others.

Public figures that show a lot of class might include Sandra 
Bullock and Barbara Bush.  Most presidents have to have a lot 
of class, but not necessarily so.  Gerald Ford probably had more 
class than his bumbling caricature would suggest, but he didn't 
have as much as Ronald Reagan during his first term.  Clinton 
has class, but probably not as much as George Bush.

To call someone classy is to be very subjective.  It is somewhat 
akin to choosing the winner of a beauty contest.  Since beauty is 
in the eyes of the beholder, there is usually a great deal of 
disagreement over who is the most beautiful.  The same applies 
to who is the best dressed, or worst dressed.  

Regardless, if someone has a lot of class, few people can argue 
the fact, although they may have a different idea of which one of 
a group of people is classiest.

So let's bring it on home.  Who is the classiest man and the 
classiest woman in Edinburgh?  Is it a tough question?  Of 
course it is.  Most people don't think in terms of which person is 
classier than another, but most people do recognize class when 
they see it.

There are no prizes for the nominees.  Nobody gets to be on TV.  
But it would be fun, in this election year, to let people vote for 
something that is not political.  Of course, you can feel free to 
campaign at will!

So let the nominations begin.  Who, in your opinion, is the 
classiest person in Edinburgh.  Choose a man and a woman 
who live and/or work in Edinburgh.  Then, after you've made 
your choice, send in the names of those you've chosen to "Over 
Coffee" at P.O. Box 156, Edinburgh.  You can also use e-mail, 
or just drop them off in person.  All nominees will be mentioned 
in a future column.  By the way, it would not be considered high 
class to nominate yourself.



CLASSIEST PEOPLE NOMINEES -- January, 1996
Last week in this column, I sent out a request for nominations for 
the "classiest man and woman in Edinburgh."  Obviously, a 
perception of what is classy is very subjective.  But few people 
can argue with the nominations that have crossed this desk so 
far.

I have received over a dozen nominations. They came in via 
e-mail, over the phone, and in person.  People would stop me on 
the street or in the restaurant and say, "Oh, I would like to 
nominate (so and so) for the classiest person."  And I kept a 
record of each name mentioned.

As stated last week, there are no prizes or awards for being 
nominated, and we're not going to hold a pageant or a runoff to 
see who belongs at the very top of the class list.  But those who 
made the list can take pride in the knowledge that people 
recognize you as being a class act.  Those who did not make 
the list, but felt they should have, do not necessarily lack class, 
they just lacked someone willing to come forth and nominate 
them.  So don't feel bad about it.

A few of the nominees were mentioned two or three times by 
different people.  I will list them first.  So here, now, is the list of 
people who exude a certain amount of class in this community, 
as voted by their fellow residents and/or co-workers:

Selma Freese was mentioned by three different people.  
Barbara McDonald, Tom Coleman, and Debbie Raufeisen were 
mentioned twice.  Other nominees include Cathy Hamm, Larry 
Taulman, Angie Pendleton, Bill Dunigan, Delcie Branigan 
(posthumously), Tom Schaffer, Eva Mae Sconce, and Marceil 
DeCoursey.

And now I would like to nominate someone myself.  (Hey, it's my 
column, so I can do it if I want!)  I would like to nominate my 
mother, Catherine Wilson.  Those who know her will agree that 
she, too, belongs on the list.

Congratulations to all you classy people out there in Edinburgh 
who were nominated, and also to those who were not.  You 
know who you are.



BS IN THEATER CLASS -- February, 1996
It may seem strange for a writer to admit it, but I have never 
been a good reader.  By that, I mean I do not like to sit down 
with a book and spend hours reading it.  I say hours because I'm 
also not an extremely fast reader, so it usually takes me that 
long.

When I do read, I like to read books about factual material or 
philosophies; I do not enjoy reading fiction.  I guess my logic is 
that if I am going to spend an hour or two of my time reading 
something, I want to learn something new from it.  If I want to be 
entertained with a fictional story, I can do that more efficiently by 
watching a movie.

I also deplore being told by someone else what I must read.  
That is why I was not a particularly good student in my college 
literature class.  I don't remember actually reading any of the 
assigned books all the way through.  Oh, I would start them, but 
I would find my mind wandering after the first couple of 
paragraphs and decided it was a waste of time.  So I got through 
the class on Cliff's Notes.

Writing is different.  I enjoy being creative, and writing is a good 
platform for creativity.  Being able to write also bailed me out of 
one predicament in college theater class.

It was probably the most boring class I have ever taken; the 
instructor assigned us several chapters to read from our book on 
the history of theater.  There was to be an essay test covering 
the assignment and it would count as a substantial portion of our 
grade.

I forced myself to start reading the book, but after completing an 
entire chapter, I found myself dosing.  I also couldn't remember 
a single thing about what I had just spent an hour reading.  So I 
decided to just give it up and take the F on the test.

When test day came, the instructor handed us a list of five essay 
questions.  We were to pick any three and answer them in detail.  
I do not remember what the questions were, I just remember I 
knew practically nothing about any of them.

But, I picked three questions at random and proceeded to write 
a treatise on each one.  I remember concocting an array of logic 
twists to back up my point of view on the subject matter.  I 
remember thinking, "This sounds good, but she'll never buy it."

Days went by afterward, then weeks.  The instructor would come 
in every day with a disgusted look on her face, complaining 
about the horrible jobs most of the class did on their essays.  I 
remember thinking at the time that she must surely have been 
talking about my test.

Finally, the day came that she was finished grading the essays.  
As she handed mine back to me, I noticed the grade on the 
cover.  It was an A-.  I remember looking to see if my name was 
on it, for surely this couldn't be my test!  But it was.  

I opened the cover and looked inside to see if she had written 
any comments about the test.  Sure enough, there was one.  It 
said, "I'm not sure exactly what you were trying to say here, but 
you said it so well I thought it deserved a good grade."

With a deep sigh of relief, I remember thinking to myself, "I wish 
all instructors were this easy!"



THE INFORMATION GRAVEL ROAD? -- March, 1996
They call it the Information Superhighway.  But more often than 
not, it might rightfully be called the information gravel road.

Make no mistake, I love the Internet, especially the World Wide 
Web which mixes eye-pleasing graphics with written text and 
photographs to produce a marvelous user-friendly interface.  
The Internet is truly one of the best sources of information since 
the invention of the library.

But that is assuming the information you seek pops onto your 
screen.  As often as not, I sit watching my computer screen fill 
with text and graphics, being pumped into it over the phone 
lines, come to a screeching halt -- for no apparent reason.  It's a 
bit frustrating.

Night after night, while trying to catch up on the day's events by 
"surfing the net," I try loading the CNN Home Page, the USA 
Today Home Page, C|NET Radio, and a host of other interesting 
Web sites, only to have the modem freeze up as hard as a 
puddle in the winter.  So I push the "Reload" button, hoping that 
all the information will come on screen next time.  Sometimes it 
does; sometimes it doesn't.

What advice can I give to anyone who is seeking an on-ramp to 
the Information Superhighway?  I can say this -- be patient!  The 
impatient person will soon become totally frustrated and pull the 
plug.

Occasionally, I get lucky.  Things load pretty smoothly without 
getting bogged down.  But at least fifty-percent of the time, the 
"superhighway" has a traffic jam.  The most probable cause for 
the slowness of the Web is the volume of users online at the 
same time.  It causes information transfer to bottleneck at the 
servers.  It makes those of us with super-fast 28.8-kbps modems 
wonder why we paid the extra dough for the speed when the 
modem itself barely gets the opportunity to function -- it just sits 
there waiting for the server to send it some information.

But, I must admit, despite the sluggishness, the Internet is a truly 
remarkable invention of modern telecommunications.  Unlike 
online services such as America Online, CompuServe, and 
Prodigy, there is no central computer, and there is no single 
administrator.  The Internet is an interconnected network of 
thousands of computers located all over the world.  Nobody 
owns the Internet.  And despite what the legislators in 
Washington like to believe, nobody can effectively regulate it, 
either.

The Internet is here to stay and it can do nothing but grow.  Just 

last Saturday, volunteers descended on the schoolhouse gates 
all over the State of California and wired each school for 
connection to the Internet.  The cost of this enormous project 
was picked up by companies and individuals who donated their 
time and equipment.  

In this state, the Superintendent of Public Instruction has set a 
goal to connect every school in the state to the Internet within 
the next four years.  Locally, Edinburgh schools have a head 
start.  They are already connected to the Internet.  Every 
teacher, administrator, and student can have an Internet e-mail 
address already.  Edinburgh also has an advantage over most 
communities in that it also has a local online network, ECOnet, 
which supplements the Internet access.

What does all this connectivity mean?  It means students, 
parents, teachers, and everybody else can now have more 
information at the tips of their fingers than all the librarians in the 
world combine had just 10 years ago.  That's quite remarkable.  
Unfortunately, it also means that the number of server 
bottlenecks will likely increase -- meaning that by the time your 
screen loads with the information you requested, you could 
probably have time to run down to the local library and look it up 
in an almanac!


LONG DISTANCE BLUES -- March, 1996
Unless you have lived in a cave the past few years, you know how big 
the rivalry is between the major long-distance carriers, AT&T, MCI, 
and Sprint.  If you are like me, you are also growing tired of their 
media battle for customers.

But until quite recently, I didn't realize just how obsessed these 
companies are with winning new customers.  And I had no idea how 
really important I apparently am to the well-being of these 
telecommunications giants.  I am evidently so important as to make any 
one of those companies shudder at the thought that they might lose me 
as a client.

Now, to put it into perspective, I do not make many long distance 
phone calls.  In fact, my long distance bill usually averages less than 
five dollars per month, (not counting the charges for directory 
assistance which amount to almost as much as the national debt.)

But, evidently, that five dollars per month is very important to both 
AT&T and MCI.

I know it is important to them, because a few weeks ago, I received a 
call from a really nice young lady who said she worked for MCI and 
that her company would be eternally grateful if I would allow her to 
switch my long distance carrier from AT&T to MCI.

I told her that I do not particularly like telemarketers, and besides my 
long distance usage is very inconsequential.  She then told me that it 
didn't matter at all that I only spent $4.56 last month on long distance.  
MCI would still very much appreciate my switching to their service.

She went on to describe all the wonderful benefits I would receive if I 
switched.  I would, for example, get 100 free minutes of long distance!  
Wow, I thought!  That would probably last me well into the next 
century.  And I would get a free 800 number so that all my long-distant 
friends could call me for no charge to them.  (Now, if I can only take 
some long vacations so I can find a bunch of friends to call me, maybe 
I can actually make use of that 800 number).

But, since the young lady was very cordial and seemed to be genuinely 
interested in my telephone well-being, I told her to go ahead and switch 
me over.  I mean, what do I care which company sends my voice over 
the long distance lines, as long as it works and the prices are 
competitive.

So she took my name and personal information and told me I would be 
switched within a few days.  And on top of everything else, MCI was 
going to pay the local phone company the switching fee.

Well, as I knew I would, a few days later I got the obligatory call from 
AT&T.  It seems that they had lost a very good customer and were 
broken hearted about it.  The guy on the other end pleaded with me to 
switch back.  But his demeanor wasn't nearly as good as the nice MCI 
lady.  He wasn't rude or anything; just not well-rehearsed, apparently.  
So I didn't feel too badly about telling him to shove it.

Only two days later, I got another call from AT&T.  The company was 
apparently on the verge of collapse because it had lost my 
five-dollar-a-month business, (at least that's the impression I got from 
the sales lady on the phone).  But before she could get into her whole 
stale act, I had to cut her off.  I told her I had already received a similar 
call and asked not to be bothered again.

Well, the phone calls stopped, but a day or two later, I received a letter 
from AT&T, telling me how much they missed me.  They even tried to 
bribe me to switch back to their service.  That's right -- they sent me a 
check for $15 that I could cash at any bank.  All I had to do was to 
switch back to AT&T.

Well, I tossed the check in the trash and decided to stay put.  Not that 
MCI is any better -- after all, I hadn't even had time to use the new 
service yet.  But I figured if I switched back, then MCI would keep 
calling me, asking me to switch back to them.  Come to think of it, if 
they also tried to bribe me with fifteen bucks, that might be a good way 
to make a little extra spending money.  I could just keep switching long 
distance carriers back and forth two or three times a month.  That 
would bring in about $45 of extra cash every month that I could use to 
pay for all those calls to directory assistance!



NEWSPAPER'S 10TH ANNIVERSARY -- April, 1996
I came to work for TRICOUNTY NEWS on a part-time basis in 
the fall of 1992.  And by the following spring, I had found myself 
with my own little "cubbyhole" in the newspaper office, working 
full time as a writer and typist.  Two of the previous news writers 
had recently left, leaving a spot for me to fill.

Since then, I have found my niche as the person who decides 
what news and editorial content goes into the paper, and I write 
much of it.  Although it is not a big-city daily newspaper, I have 
nonetheless found that I have eased my way into a profession 
that, a few years before, I had only dreamed of.

I have always loved my hometown of Edinburgh.  When I was in 
college (and even before) I would attend town council meetings 
and even make suggestions.  I have also always had a 
deep-rooted interest in the journalistic profession.  When I was 
still in high school, I wrote a daily weather column for the old 
Edinburgh Daily Courier.

Although I spent fifteen years teaching science in the public 
school system, and enjoying most of it, I still found that I was 
drawn to submit letters and articles to whatever newspaper was 
nearby at the time.  

Perhaps it was fate that I should fall into a job that mixed my 
love of journalism with my love of Edinburgh.  Being a journalist 
in Edinburgh is not a glamorous job, but it is one that I am 
thankful I have.

Everything isn't completely rosy.  Although I log more 
compliments than complaints, I still get my share of those, too.  
Sometimes I wonder what gives me the right to voice my opinion 
every week on this page.  After all, my opinion is no more 
valuable than anyone else's.  But then neither are the opinions 
of the big-time columnists that write for big-city dailies.  And 
besides, if people disagree with me, I tell them they can always 
write a letter to The People's Voice.  That is what it's for.

Edinburgh has had a newspaper for well over 100 years.  Most 
of those years, it had its own daily.  The Courier was the last, 
and longest-lived, of the Edinburgh dailies.  When it was sold in 
the early 1970's, a weekly newspaper, Tricounty Enterprise, 
which was already in existence, took over as Edinburgh's only 
newspaper.

But in 1986, when the Enterprise folded, Edinburgh was without 
a newspaper for the first time in more than a century.  It was a 
situation that couldn't be tolerated.

Although several residents showed some interest in reviving 
Edinburgh's newspaper, that job finally fell to a local 
schoolteacher, Gary Storie.  He and his wife, Linda, who still 
teaches, along with Lillian Drake, who still writes features for us, 
and Linda Gates put out the first issue of the TRIcounty 
NEWspaper on April 2, 1986.  A copy of that issue hangs in our 
lobby today.  It was produced on the dining room table at the 
Storie residence.

Although I have not been with the paper for the entire ten years 
of its existence, I am proud to be here for its tenth anniversary. 



BEING COLORBLIND HAS ITS DRAWBACKS -- April, 1996
Being color blind, even partially so, can really play havoc with 
your childhood.   It's no fun being color blind as an adult either.

Unfortunately, nature has played a dirty, rotten trick on a 
minority of us guys.  And, yes, I said guys because seldom are 
females affected.  But those of us who suffer from partial color 
blindness, in which it is difficult to tell the difference between 
certain colors of a similar shade, owe their disability to their 
mothers.

It's ironic that a genetic condition common mainly to the male 
population must be inherited from the female parent, but that's 
the way nature is sometimes.  The technical reason for this is 
because color blindness is carried by a recessive sex-linked 
gene, on the X chromosome.  And since guys have only a single 
X chromosome, any recessive gene it carries shows up.

Well enough biology.  The fact is, my color blindness did cause 
me a little trouble when I was a child.  Unfortunately, no one 
realized that my weird behavior was caused by my being 
colorblind.  They just thought I was weird!

One incident I can recall occurred when I was about 5 years old.  
There was a TV show on Channel 4 that I watched religiously.  It 
was a cartoon show hosted by Ruffles the Clown.  I watched it 
daily on our old black and white TV set.

One day, Dad took me to Indianapolis, where Ruffles was 
making a public appearance for the kids, and handing out 
balloons.  I remember Dad walking me down the street to where 
Ruffles was standing, surrounded by a bunch of screaming 
youngsters.  But when he came into view, my first thought was, 
"Wait a minute, is this the REAL Ruffles?"  What through me off 
was that he was wearing a bright blue costume.  I was expecting 
red.  I remembered I was a little disappointed that this clown 
would presume to wear a different costume in public than he did 
on the air.

But remember, I said I watched him on a black and white TV, so 
why would I expect his costume to be red?  The answer is, I 
don't really know.  I just had it in my head that his costume was 
read.  The shade of gray that I was observing on TV was 
perceived by my eyes as red, because it evidently was of a 
similar shade as most of my red toys.

I can remember my Aunt Ruby trying to explain it to me:  "His 
costume is really blue, but it looks gray on our TV because we 
have a black and white TV," she told me.  

"No we don't," I said.  "Our TV is color.  It is brown with a yellow 
trim around it!"  

"I mean the picture is in black and white," she responded in 
order to clarify what she had meant.  "Everything in the picture 
looks black or white or gray."

"Then why does Ruffles' costume look red?" I asked.

"It doesn't look red; it looks gray," she answered, getting rather 
annoyed by now.

"No," I said.  "It's as red as the grass!"

"Turn over and go to sleep.  You know the grass is green," she 
said.

But the thing is, I didn't know the grass was green.  It looked red, 
too.  In fact, it still does.  Although I know leaves are green, if I 
see a green rose bush with dark red roses on it, from a distance, 
my eyes can't pick out the roses at all.

I also have trouble with blue and purple.  When I was in the 
fourth grade, my teacher, Mrs. Cochran, told the class to color 
part of our drawing dark blue.  "Make the blue as dark as you 
can get it," she said.  

Well, that wouldn't be a problem, I thought.  I had this blue 
crayon that was really dark -- almost black.  So I proceeded to 
color the object in the drawing with my "dark blue" crayon.  
When I was finished, I took it to Mrs. Cochran's desk and 
showed it to her.  

"How's that?" I asked with a proud look on my face.  "Why that's 
per....", I heard her start to say, thinking she was going to say it 
was "perfect."  But what came out wasn't "perfect."  "Why that's 
PURPLE!" she exclaimed, and sent me back to my desk to do it 
all over.

It wasn't until years later, when I was in high school, that I found 
out for sure what I had begun to suspect.  I was color blind.  In 
one of our books, there was a color blind test, composed of a 
bunch of little gray (actually red and green) dots.  I was 
supposed to see the number "76" inside the grouping of dots, 
but I couldn't.  Everyone else in class could see it, but not me.

Oh, I can see colors -- especially if they're bright.  I can still 
enjoy the brilliant colors of a bright sunny day, or the colorful 
screen on my computer's screen saver.  But I just find it difficult 
to tell the difference between similar shades of red and green, or 
blue and purple, or even brown and red.  I can tell a big 
difference between red and yellow pigment, but not red and 
yellow lights.  When I see a light blinking over an intersection 
while I'm driving, I slow down and look for a stop sign, or watch 
what the other cars are doing, because I'm never sure if it's 
blinking yellow or red.

I also have a little difficulty color coordinating my clothing.  So if 
you see me wearing a green shirt with blue pants, think nothing 
of it.  I usually just buy black or navy pants that tend to match 
any color shirt.

Sometimes, when I am making a greeting card or poster on my 
computer, I have to call my daughter, Shana, over and ask her 
what color the little selection box is.  She says, "Dad, I wish I 
could see what you're seeing just for a minute!"  I tell her vice 
versa.



THE INTERNET: A HOBBYIST'S HAVEN -- April, 1996
Do you have a hobby?  And is it a hobby that you like to share 
with others?

There are almost as many different hobbies as there are people.  
And generally, if you have a hobby, you have a certain degree of 
pride in it.  If it involves collecting things, you enjoy showing 
others how many items you have collected, and how good of a 
condition they are in.  For example, if you collect stamps or 
baseball cards, you may like to trade with other people who 
have the same hobby.  If you collect rocks and minerals, you 
may have a display case to show off your fanciest gemstones.

If your hobby involves creating something, you probably like to 
share that creation with others.  If you like writing poetry or short 
stories, for example, you probably love for other people to read 
your work -- unless you think it stinks, in which case you 
probably won't be doing it as a hobby for long.

There is a relatively new tool that many hobbyists are now taking 
advantage of.  It provides the ultimate means of sharing with 
others who have the same hobby.  And it's the best way I know 
of to find those who have the same hobbies as you.

I'm referring to the Internet, and to the personal home pages of 
people who, for whatever reason, have decided to share their 
interests with the world.

Home pages -- they are the text and graphics created by or for 
those who want to tell the world a little something about what 
they do and what they like.  And they can be accessed by 
anybody who has a computer and an Internet provider.  There 
are hundreds of thousands of personal home pages on the 
Internet.  Some are geared to specific interests, others are more 
general.  And they are read by thousands of people from all over 
the planet.

While "surfing the net," I have found personal home pages 
related to poetry (hundreds of them), karaoke, music, literature, 
news, entertainment, humor, pornography, religion, and just 
about every other topic you can think of.  There are even home 
pages that do nothing except list other people's home pages!

Almost every college and university in American has a home 
page, and so does most major industries.  All the TV networks 
have one, as do many local radio and TV stations and 
newspapers.  Tricounty News has one, as does the New York 
Times and TIME Magazine.

But the personal home pages, created by individuals like you 
and me, can provide the most entertainment and information on 
the Web.  For example, there are dozens of home pages related 
to role playing games.  They give instructions and clues on how 
to play all manner of such games.  There are home pages that 
list resources such as where to send manuscripts or music for 
publication.  There are home pages that provide hundreds of 
jokes that can be used to break the ice during a public 
presentation or speech.  And of course, there are home pages 
of those who like to collect things -- like sports cards.

I have a personal home page.  It is called, simply, The Jerry 
Wilson Page!  Pretty imaginative, huh?

It contains some personal information about me and my family, 
including some photos.  It includes a picture gallery of our recent 
vacation to St. Louis.  And it contains a sampling of my "Over 
Coffee" columns.  There are also lots of links to other Web sites 
that I found to be interesting.

And owning a home page is not so difficult.  You don't even 
have to know anything about a computer, except how to turn 
one on and run your Internet software.  Home pages are also 
not very expensive to own.  Mine costs me $5 per month, and 

that includes unlimited access to the Internet so I can not only 
look at my page, but anyone else's as well.

If you are a student in the Edinburgh School Corporation, you 
can have a home page for free, according to ECOnet system 
operator Vince Laine.  It must conform to the standards of a 
K-12 environment, but if you are a student, it should do that no 
matter where your pages is located.

The bottom line is, you don't have to be a "computer nerd" to 
make use of the Internet or to have a home page.  The Internet 
can be viewed as a tool to be used by anyone to enhance their 
personal enjoyment, or to make them more productive in their 
work.

A personal home page on the World Wide Web (graphics-based 
Internet) is like having a personal electronic mailbox and 
information bulletin board all wrapped up into one.  And it is 
made available world wide.  One of these days, almost 
everybody will have one.  I think it would be great if every family 
in Edinburgh had their own home page.  With ECOnet, it is 
possible!



E-MAIL GRAMMAR -- May, 1996
If there is one good side effect of the computer era, in which 
more and more of us are communicating through e-mail -- it is 
that more of us are communicating by the written (that is to say, 
typed) word.  It forces kids and adults alike to spend more time 
considering such things as spelling and syntax.  

Notice I said "considering."  If you've looked at most electronic 
messages that appear on the local ECOnet bulletin board, you 
will see that many message writers simply blow off grammar and 
spelling, in much the same way they do when they speak.  But at 
least when they write a message, they at least have to consider 
how a word is spelled or used.  When speaking, they don't have 
to give it a thought.

I know that they do give it some thought when writing e-mail, 
because you always see things like "(sp?)" following a word that 
the writer is unsure of.   For example, "I don't know if my 
computer will acomodate (sp?) such a large hard drive."  
Although the writer spelled accommodate incorrectly, at least he 
had to think about it long enough to realize that he probably did 
get it wrong.  That's why he put the "(sp?)" after it.

Although e-mail causes people to have to think twice about 
spelling and usage, in most cases, thinking is all that is done.  
Correcting is not the norm.  In fact, it has become quite 
acceptable usage of e-mail to totally disregard spelling and 
proper grammar.  Just read some of the messages appearing on 
the various newsgroups on the Internet and you'll find many 
examples of this.  

It is unfortunate that this is true, because anytime someone puts 
his thoughts in writing for all to see, I believe he should make 
every effort to use proper grammar and spelling.   

Now, before everybody begins scrutinizing all of my electronic 
messages on ECOnet, let me say that I am somewhat guilty of 
doing what I have just preached against.  Most text-entry 
programs designed to send e-mail, such as the editors 
contained in most BBS programs or Internet browsers, do not 
yet have built-in spell checkers.  Full-fledged word processors, 
like the one I am using to type this column, do have spell 
checkers, and even thesauruses.  But e-mail editors normally do 
not.

But, although some of the lackluster spelling and grammar 
usage found in e-mail can be forgiven, it remains the 
responsibility of the writer to at least make an attempt to get it 
right.

Another problem, not only in e-mail, but in spoken language as 
well is the use of clich,s.  I have seen some e-mail messages 
that contain more clich,s than a  Country Music song.  In my 
humble opinion, clich,s should be avoided at all cost.  (Oops!)

But despite the abundance of misspelled words and usage 
errors contained in e-mail, it is still my contention that e-mail 
does at least force people to consider how a word might be 
spelled or used.  It might even open up the possibility of a new 
class in school -- "How to Write E-mail."  If not a class, it could at 
least be offered as part of the English curriculum.  With the 
growing use of e-mail as a part of the mainstream 
communications media, it certainly couldn't hurt to address it 
early, even in elementary school.

If you have comments on this column, drop me a line via e-mail.  
My address is: jwilson@ai2a.net.  But beware, your spelling 
might be graded!



GROCERY STORES AREN'T WHAT THEY USED TO BE -- May, 1996
Grocery stores are not what they used to be!  How's that for 
understatement?

Today's megamarts are so large and contain so many different 
items that it doesn't really matter if they sell their goods for less 
money.  By the time you get through browsing all the aisles, 
you'll have stacked your cart with twice as much stuff as you 
may have planned to buy.

If grocery stores get any larger, they will have to include a suite 
of rooms, or a campground, because nobody will be able to 
browse the entire store in a single day.  They will have to remain 
overnight if they want to shop the whole store!  I'm not really 
complaining, because I like the large variety, and the 
convenience of one-stop shopping.  But I also miss the coziness 
of the little family grocery stores that were once prevalent.

I  remember a time when there were several small markets 
scattered around the community.  Back then, people did most of 
their shopping at these small stores, because the big 
supermarket chains had not arrived on the scene -- at least not 
locally.

When I was a tot of about 4 or 5, we lived right next door to the 
OK Grocery on S. Holland Street.  It was owned and operated by 
Orville Streeval, who also played a mean 4-string banjo.  The 
store was no more than a room in a medium-sized house.  In 
fact, the Streevals lived in the part of the house that wasn't a 
store.

A little later on, I can remember a few times when Dad would 
take me to school in the morning (I was in the first grade), and 
we would stop off at Stine's Market, on E. Main Cross where 
Larson's Appliances is located now.  We would stop to pick up a 
bunch of grapes for me to eat as a snack during recess.

When I was about 6 or 7 years old, I remember traveling with my 
Aunt Ruby to Indianapolis to visit a friend of hers.  While there, 
we went to this large grocery store that had magical doorways.  I 
had never before seen an automatic door, and I was very 
impressed!

But then, the Jay-C Store constructed a nice new supermarket 
on Main Street, where Dollar General is located today.  It had 
the same type of automatic doors.  Edinburgh finally had its first 
modern supermarket.  I remember it seemed pretty huge at the 
time, at least for somebody who had been accustomed to the 
much more modest space of the neighborhood groceries.

When I was about 9, we moved to North Kyle Street.  Our house 
was on a block containing two small markets.  Shelby Avenue 
Market was just around the corner, and Waltz Grocery was less 
than a block down the street.  I can clearly remember making 
some pocket change by going around town collecting pop 
bottles that had been thrown out of cars and taking them to 
"Ralph's," as we called the Shelby Ave. Market,  to exchange 
them for cash.  Ralph would give me 2 cents per bottle.  
Sometimes I would take them to Waltz's, but they would only 
exchange them for merchandise.  I preferred cold hard cash.

Once upon a time, there were 15 or 20 tiny markets in 
Edinburgh.  Today, there are two supermarkets.  But those two 
supermarkets have a greater variety of products and have more 
space than all those little neighborhood stores combined.

No, grocery stores aren't what they used to be.  But then, neither 
are pop bottles!



HOW TO FIGHT THE HIGH COST OF GASOLINE -- May, 1996
The President has taken action; members of Congress are 
demanding an investigation; and motorists are angry.  And it's all 
because of the upward-spiraling gasoline prices.

There have been several reasons given by oil companies about 
why gas prices are so high.  The price of oil on the world market 
is up; there is a decreased supply because of the cold winter; or 
speculation on oil futures were incorrect.

But I think most people realize that probably the main reason 
why gasoline prices are so high is due to deliberate price 
gouging and collusion on the part of the oil companies.  They 
wanted prices to go high in order to increase profits -- simple!

So what can we consumers do about it anyway?  After all, we all 
have to get around.  We have to drive to work, and to the 
grocery store.  We also don't want to be forced into being home 
bodies by spending all our spare time in front of the tube.

Even the action taken by Clinton to release the oil stockpiles has 
not seemed to reduce prices.  Instead, they have actually 
increased further.  

So, again, what can anyone do?

Probably nothing that will actually make a difference.  But if you 
are truly concerned about the rising price of gas, there are a 
couple of things you can do.  It pays to be a smart gasoline 
consumer.  Knowing when to buy gas, and how much, might 
save you a few bucks, and at the same time, if enough people 
did it, might send a message to the gasoline suppliers as well.

For one thing, never buy gasoline on Thursday.  Thursday is the 
most likely day that gas prices will increase.  I don't really know 
why, but historically it is true.  And by refraining from purchasing 
gas on Thursdays you accomplish two things:  You save yourself 
a little money, and you send a message to the gas companies 
that you don't like it one bit that they just raised their prices.

Consumers must band together and start treating the gasoline 
dealers like Pavlov's dogs.  Refuse to buy gasoline on any day 
that a price hike takes place.  On the other hand, fill your tank up 
on any day in which the price of gas falls, even a little.

Fortunately, just as gas prices tend to go up on Thursdays,  they  
tend to go down on Wednesdays.  But not by as much.  It has 
happened on numerous occasions that a slight reduction in gas 
prices on a Wednesday is followed the next day by a substantial 
increase.

So, getting back to Pavlov, if consumers would purchase 
gasoline on Wednesday, just after a sight drop in prices, then 
they would not have to buy gas the next day, when prices will 
probably go back up.  Occasionally, prices will drop a little on 
Mondays, too.  

So an alert consumer can save a few cents per tank by timing 
when he buys his gasoline.  And unless you buy on a day when 
the price falls, don't buy any more than is absolutely necessary 
to get you through until Wednesday.  You don't want to be 
forced to have to buy any on Thursday if you can avoid it.

Following these guidelines might accomplish two things.  It will 
save you a little money, and it will send the gasoline suppliers a 
message.

Here's a recap of my proposed gasoline buying strategy:

1.  Buy gas on Wednesdays, or any other day in which there is a 
reduction in the price.

2.  Do not buy gas on Thursdays, especially if there has been a 
price increase that day.

3.  Fill your tank only on days when the price of gas has gone 
down.

4.  Other than on the days when the price falls, buy only as 
much gas as is necessary to make it until Wednesday.  



MY CLASS REUNION -- May, 1996
Each year about this time, all over the country, thousands of 
high school class reunions take place.  My class, the Class of 
`71, has had four reunions.  Until this year, I had never been to 
one.

Probably the most common sentence heard at my class reunion 
this year was, "It doesn't seem like twenty-five years!"  And it 
doesn't.

Although several of my former classmates are local, and I see 
them from time to time, some of them I had not seen since 
graduation.  And I certainly had not seen so many of them in one 
place since then.  It was an unusual, almost eerie feeling -- 
pleasant, but at the same time, melancholy.

The pleasant part came in the resurrection of so many memories 
that had been tucked away, deep within the inner synapses of 
my brain; and in getting reacquainted with some long-lost 
friends.  The melancholy part was the realization that twenty-five 
years can be such a short time when looking at it with 
retrospect.  In some ways it seemed as though I were attending 
a one-year reunion.

My classmates have all gone through changes in varying 
degrees.  A few had changed beyond all recognition.  Some had 
barely changed at all.  Many, including myself, had developed a 
bad case of middle-aged spread; others remained trim.  Some 
looked almost elderly, while others could pass for college 
freshmen.  And while all were quite cordial, it was evident that 
some of the old high school cliques remained intact.

All in all, the evening was very enjoyable.  There was good food, 
good friends, and a lot of reminiscing.  There was music -- 
including our class song, "Let It Be."  And I even took the 
opportunity to sing a couple of solos -- something I have never 
done in public, but always sort of wanted to.  I was horrible.  But 
I figured it was a good time to do it since everybody was so busy 
reminiscing that they probably wouldn't notice.

The Class of `71 is fortunate to have members who are willing to 
put together these reunions every five years.  Even though I 
have not been able to attend the previous ones, I was glad they 
were taking place.  Special recognition must go to Cathy Hamm 
for keeping in contact with all of us.  She made me promise to 
attend the 30-year reunion.  I probably will be there.  But with the 
time flying by so quickly, I should probably put the string around 
my finger sometime this week.

And to all my classmates -- thanks for the memories!



TOP 10 WAYS TO SAVE GAS -- May, 1996
Two weeks ago in this column, I outlined some ways that 
motorists can save a few pennies on the purchase of gasoline.  
These included suggestions like not buying gas on Thursdays, 
when the price at the pump has a tendency to rise.  Or don't fill 
up your tank except on days when the price of gasoline falls.

This week, I will provide further ammunition in the fight against 
high gas prices.  These suggestions, if implemented properly 
and by a large enough group of people, will bring the oil 
companies to their knees.  They will be pleading with the 
consumers for mercy!

I have compiled a "top 10 list" of things we consumers can do to 
conserve fuel and avoid the high price of gasoline.  If everyone 
will follow them religiously, the price of gas will come back down 
to under a dollar per gallon within a few weeks.

The top ten ways you can avoid paying a high price for gasoline 
are:

10.  To save gas during family trips, have the least-favorite 
member of the family get out and push for ten minutes every 
hour.

9.  When going downhill, turn off your engine and coast.

8.  Write a letter to all the oil company presidents asking them to 
implement a "frequent driver discount."

7.  Buy only a dollar's worth of gas at a time, thereby sending a 
message to the oil companies that a lot of people are suddenly 
buying less gasoline.

6.  Supplement your gasoline with 10 percent "corn squeezin's."

5.  Call in sick more often so you won't have to drive to work as 
much.

4.  Encourage the folks at the American Legion to stop taking joy 
rides in their T38 during happy hour.

3.  Sink a gasoline storage tank in your back yard and buy your 
gasoline wholesale, 10,000 gallons at a time.

2.  Ask your local police officers to conserve gasoline by turning 
their engines off while they sit in the parking lot eating donuts.  
(Please, Chief Pankey, it's only a joke. Don't arrest me!)

And the number one way to avoid paying a high price for 
gasoline...

1.  Tell your friends and relatives that you want gasoline gift 
certificates for your birthday.



BEWARE THE FALSE PROPHETS -- June, 1996
There was a show on TV the other night which depicted 
prophesies of doom for our planet and the people on it.  It was 
one of a series of shows highlighting various so-called prophets 
and soothsayers.

I turned on and watched part of it strictly for its 
quasi-entertainment value.  Parts of the program struck me as 
rather funny.

For example, one guy is preparing for the worst by placing all his 
consumables down on the floor, just in case the earth's gravity 
suddenly increases in strength!  I had to chuckle.

Gravity is dependent upon mass.  So the only way that gravity 
could increase is if the earth suddenly became more massive -- 
either that or shrank in size significantly, making it more 
compact.  Neither of these events are possible, let alone likely.

The show also focused on some Biblical prophecies foretelling 
the end times, and that most of them have come true.  This I 
believe.  Not because there is anything special or unusual about 
our time, but because almost all of the Biblical prophecies 
regarding the end of time were based on signs that are not only 
present today, but always have been.

There have always been wars and rumors of war; there have 
always been famine and pestilence; floods and drought; 
earthquakes and volcanoes.  In fact, some of the floods, 
droughts, earthquakes, and volcanoes of the past would make 
the episodes we are familiar with seem rather puny.

Everybody remembers Mt. Saint Helens and how devastating it 
was.  But it was less than a tenth as powerful as the explosive 
force that formed Yellowstone National Park about 600,000 
years ago.  Everybody is familiar with the earthquake that 
devastated San Francisco in 1906, but it was nothing compared 
to the quake in South America that occurred last century, or to 
other earthquakes that rumbled the land prior to human history.

Ever since I was very young, I have heard rumors of the 
destruction of the earth, or of the Second Coming of Christ.  I 
read a book a couple of years ago written in the 19th Century by 
a woman who had absolute proof, as outlined in numerous Bible 
verses, that the Second Coming would be sometime in the year 
1842.  She couldn't predict the exact day, but she could narrow 
it down to the year and the season.

Every generation has had false prophets that foretold the swift 
approach of the end of time.  And there have always been those 
who have misinterpreted the prophecies of the Bible in such a 
way that it becomes apparent to them that the end of time is 
nigh.

But even in the days of the Apostle Paul, the early Christians 
were convinced that the Second Coming would be in their 
generation.  Yet how many generations have passed since 
then?

Some would have us believe that the year 2000, the turn of the 
century and the turn of the millennium, is a time ripe for either 
world destruction or the Second Coming.  But remember, the 
calendar we use is a human invention; it is not divine.  Some 
cultures do not use our calendar at all, so to them the year 2000 
is not approaching.

Also, the year 2000 is based upon an erroneous calculation of 
an early bishop who had the date of Jesus' birth wrong.  Most 
scholars believe that Jesus was actually born in the spring of the 
year 4 BC.  If that's true, then this year, 1996, is the real year 
2000.

The point I am trying to make is that there will always be, in 
every generation, signs of the end of time.  When I was young, 
these predictions of doom scared me a little.  But as more and 
more of the predicted cataclysms came and went, I came to 
realize that all of the predictions were false, and will continue to 
be false.  There may one day be a Second Coming as many 
Christians believe.  But the signs of that day have been with us 
since 50 BC, and they will continue to plague every generation 
to come.  The prophecies were probably meant to be that way, 
to ensure that each generation is vigilant and watchful.



HOMOSEXUALITY IS AN AFFLICTION -- June, 1996
The federal government, as well as all 50 states, have defined 
marriage as "the union between one man and one woman."  But in 
Hawaii, an "odd couple" composed of two homosexual men who wish 
to be married have taken their case to the Supreme Court in order to 
get that definition modified.

If they win, then every state will be obliged to accept this homosexual 
couple as being married, giving them all the rights and privileges 
thereof.  

But according to a news release from Rep. David McIntosh (R-Ind.), 
the house has just passed, with his support, a bill that would 
effectively nullify a homosexual marriage in any state except the one 
in which the marriage took place.  "America has been, and should 
always be, a nation that values traditional families and the marriage 
of a man and a woman," McIntosh said.

I agree with that statement.  But I believe this bill has the wrong 
focus.  

First of all, it is probably unconstitutional.  Article IV, Sec. 1 of the 
U.S. Constitution, the "full faith and credit" clause, says that whatever 
contract, such as marriage, that is made in one state must apply in all 
other states.  Congress cannot overrule a clause in the Constitution 
merely by passing a law.  (Remember the anti-flag-burning law?)

Simply forcing the mores of the majority onto gays will not change the 
fact that they are still gay.  And although many people will disagree 
with me on this point, including the psychiatric associations, 
homosexuality should be thought of as an affliction which should be 
treated, in much the same way as mental retardation, clubbed feet, 
or alcoholism are, to varying degrees, treatable.

Homosexuality should not be viewed as simply another lifestyle 
choice.  It isn't by a majority of Americans who believe in the 
traditional family.  Rather, it should be viewed as an aberrant 
condition.  Instead of passing laws restricting the rights of 
homosexuals, Congress should be passing laws encouraging, or 
even subsidizing, research on the treatment of homosexuality.

There are many gays out there who would probably rather not have 
the affliction.  Yet, there is no treatment available, at least partly 
because homosexuality is viewed by psychiatrists as "normal."  
Treatments are not discovered for "normal" conditions.

But homosexuality is not normal.  If human beings were animals in 
the forest, those who are homosexual would be evolutionarily 
weeded out of the population.  But, as humans, we can prevent 
natural selection from weeding out those with abnormalities.  We can 
treat genetic diseases, fix broken limbs, and rehabilitate those who 
need it.  Yet homosexuality is a natural affliction that we, as a 
society, have chosen not to address in the same way we do other 
natural abnormalities.

The Bible plainly states that homosexuality is a perversion.  So the 
huge number of people who claim to be Christians in this country 
should find no fault in finding a treatment for homosexuality.  But 
even atheists should be able to see the logic in it.

If a person wishes to remain homosexual, even in the light of a 
developed treatment, then that would be his or her right.  But 
homosexuality is something best left to the privacy of one's own 
home.  Other than discovering a treatment, and implementing it, 
homosexuality should not be a public issue any more than other 
forms of sexual perversions are issues.

For example, those who are into bestiality would not dare claim the 
right to marry a pig or a dog.  Everybody realizes that behavior is 
aberrant and abhorrent.  Homosexuality should be treated the same 
way.  It should be recognized as a perversion of nature that is 
probably genetically manifested, and a treatment should be sought.  
After that, those who are homosexual and seek treatment will 
become normal adults, those who wish to remain homosexual should 
stay in the closet.



JUDGES CORRECTLY RULE FOR FREE SPEECH ON THE NET -- June, 1996
Free speech -- it is one of the guarantees we have as Americans 
given to us by the First Amendment to the Constitution.  But the Free 
Speech Clause, along with the Freedom of Religion Clause, have 
been the topics of much controversy for many years.

There are those who argue that our freedom of speech has been 
abridged by laws against obscenity.  There are others who believe 
that the courts have expanded freedom of speech to include freedom 
of expression in any form, which they say goes beyond what the 
Founding Fathers had in mind.

My personal view is that freedom of speech should be interpreted 
very broadly.  One's freedom of speech, or even expression, should 
not be denied unless that speech or expression interferes with the 
constitutional rights of others, or if it presents a physical danger.  For 
example, as is often cited, if someone yells "fire" in a crowded 
theater, when in fact there is no fire, then his right to that particular 
speech can be denied because it would be endangering the life and 
limb of others.

Short of that restriction, speech should not be censored or restricted 
by the government.  The Communications Decency Act (CDA) 
passed by Congress in February and signed by President Clinton is a 
good example of how the government has gone too far in restricting 
free speech.  Under the guise of protecting children from indecency 
that they may accidentally access on the Internet, the law could 
potentially have the effect of restricting constitutionally-protected 
speech by adults.

A three-judge panel last week agreed.  The decision said speech on 
the Internet should enjoy at least the same level of protection as it 
enjoys in the print media, and maybe more.  They said the section of 
the law that prohibits "patently offensive" material on the Internet was 
"unconstitutional on its face."  Although the decision is being 
appealed to the Supreme Court, one can hope the justices their are 
of like mind.

Those who desire a more restrictive interpretation of the First 
Amendment have a tendency to try to second guess the Founding 
Fathers.  "This is not what our Founding Fathers had in mind when 
they wrote the Constitution," they say.  Nobody really knows that for 
sure, since all the Founding Fathers are dead.  But that is really 
beside the point.  The fact is, the Constitution, or its interpretation at 
least, is always evolving in order to apply more directly to an evolving 
society.

The Constitution originally allowed for slavery.  But slavery is an 
appalling notion by today's standards.

What matters most is not what the Founding Fathers thought back 
then, but what they would think if they were writing the Constitution 
today.  Since we cannot know that, we must rely on today's 
counterparts of those who wrote the Constitution.  Although our 
Founding Fathers were great and thoughtful men, there are men and 
women alive today who have just as much insight and are just as 
thoughtful and prudent as the Founding Fathers were.  The 
difference is that they were starting a new country, we are not.  

They built the foundation for our country; we continue work on its 
structure.  And we must remember that the Founding Fathers were 
forward-looking men.  In keeping with their standards, we must look 
forward as well, instead of looking back at them and wondering what 
they had in mind, trying to apply their judgement to our dilemmas.

We can't reach back in time and ask the Founding Fathers what they 
really meant, nor would we want to.  The values and mores 200 
years ago are not the same as those of today, so the interpretation 
applied to the Constitution must reflect modern standards, not 
archaic ones.

Today, freedom of speech implies freedom of expression.  The 
courts have rightly determined that it does.  Two hundred years ago, 

the primary means of expression was speech.  Today, there are 
various and vastly disparate ways of communicating through self 
expression that were not dreamed of in the days of the Founding 
Fathers.  Should forms of expression other than mere speech be 
suppressed only because they did not exist when the Constitution 
was written?

Although some forms of expression are "patently offensive," they are 
still constitutionally protected.  Even though some "indecent" speech 
may not be suitable for children, adults still have a constitutional right 
to express it.  The protection of children should rest in the hands of 
the parents and the schools.  The government should have no right 
to dictate to parents what programs their kids can and cannot watch 
on TV, or what sites their kids can or cannot visit on the Internet.  
There are much better means of protecting our children from 
indecency than by banning the indecency itself.  What might be 
indecent for children, might be perfectly acceptable to adults.  What 
might be deemed indecent in Podunk, Arkansas might be perfectly 
acceptable in New York or Indianapolis.  What we don't need is for 
big brother government to start drawing those lines for us.



SUPPORTING THE GROWTH OF EDINBURGH -- June, 1996
I love Edinburgh.  It is my favorite small town.  It is my 
hometown, and my home.  Even though I don't live inside the 
official town limits, I still consider myself an Edinburgh resident, 
and always have.  After all, I grew up here, and I've always been 
proud of that fact.

I was recently asked by more than one person, why I support 
certain projects that some residents fear could be costly to 
taxpayers.  And yes, it was pointed out to me on more than one 
occasion that, since I don't actually live within the Edinburgh 
town limits, that I personally have nothing to fear from any 
increase in property taxes.

But when confronted with that observation, I always respond that 
several members of my family, including my mother, do live in 
Edinburgh.  And I would not support any project that would 
ultimately be detrimental to my family.

I strongly support the proposed golf course.  I strongly support 
the library expansion.  I supported the Main Street 
reconstruction project six years ago.  I support any and all 
feasible annexation projects that will help Edinburgh grow.  I 
strongly support controlled development and growth.

The golf course is one of the more controversial of the projects 
that I support.  So why do I believe that building the golf course 
would be a good thing?  And why do I lend support to other 
growth projects that have the potential, however slight, of 
increasing taxes?

The fact is, because I love Edinburgh, I have always wanted 
Edinburgh to become more than it is.  I have always been a 
proponent of growth.  I would like to see Edinburgh be able to 
permanently change the negative reputation it gained in the 50's 
and 60's.

One way this change in reputation can take place is to 
encourage an influx of population.  And one of the best ways to 
draw people is to build a golf course.

But who is to pay for this golf course?  The people who play 
there and live there -- not the current taxpayers of Edinburgh.  
That's who.

Nothing is ever a guarantee, but the golf course plan comes 
pretty close.  Under the plan, an upscale golf course would be 
constructed around an upscale housing development.  The 
housing would be a magnet for people from Indianapolis, 
Greenwood, and even those from out-of-state looking for a 
home in a quiet Midwestern town that is close to everything.

The feasibility study showed that even if not a single house were 
ever built on the golf course, the revenue it earned would be 
sufficient to pay back the bond issue.  Unlike a private 
developer, a town does not have to make a profit in order for a 
project to succeed.  So the golf course could easily be paid for 
with green fees.  But more than that, the housing it will attract 
will increase Edinburgh's tax base significantly.  That means 
Edinburgh will have more money for projects on its wish list, like 
a community center, bike trails, walking trails, and other 
recreational facilities.  And it will be able to afford them even 
while perhaps reducing its tax rate.

My vision is for Edinburgh to become a town that current 
residents can be proud to live in, and outsiders will be proud to 
move to.  It is for Edinburgh to become a model community, with 
unbridled cooperation between the school board and town 
council, working together for the betterment of children and 
adults alike.

I would like for Edinburgh to have the best of everything, and be 
able to afford it.  I want to see a large, modern, well-used library.  
I want to see a fine golf course played by pros and amateurs 
from all over, spending their money here.  I want to see 
Edinburgh become a beautiful, well-groomed community, with 
quaint streetscapes and restored buildings.  That is why I 
support the Historic Preservation Ordinance, which remains way 
back on the back burner at the moment.  And I want to see 
Edinburgh continue to remain at the forefront of technology and 
telecommunications.

Edinburgh has a lot right now that its residents can be proud of, 
but it has a long way to go.  Right now, Edinburgh is on the low 
end of the socioeconomic scale.  An upscale housing 
development would raise that average.  But the fact remains, 
Edinburgh can be improved in many ways -- including 
reconstructing some of its streets and sidwalks; decreasing the 
percentage of teenagers who, for reasons uknown, are 
compelled to start smoking cigarettes; and revitalizing the 
business district.  

Some of our vital statistics, are still rather poor.  I look forward to 
the time when these statistic are improved.  The school system 
has already made some great strides.  And I believe some of the 
projects being proposed for this town have a good chance of 
helping to turn the negatives around.


INFOMERCIAL BLUES -- July, 1996
Back in the good old days of television, and by that I'm referring to 
the `70's and 80's, not the 50's which for a reason that is not obvious 
to me has often been called the "golden age of television," anyway, 
back then, TV stations were limited in the number of minutes per 
hour that they could run commercials.  That limitation was placed 
upon the stations by the FCC.

Television stations in the `90's have no such limits.  They can, and 
often do, run a commercial for an entire 30 minutes, or even an hour.  
They are sometimes erroneously termed "infomercials" because they 
often attempt to emulate a bona fide informational program.

I do not like program-length commercials.  I avoid watching them 
almost entirely.  They were not too difficult to avoid a couple of years 
ago, because most of them aired late at night or very early in the 
morning when I was usually asleep.  But recently, I've noticed that 
they are beginning to be broadcast smack in the middle of the day.  
What next -- prime time?

While admitting that some (a few) of these commercials probably do 
provide a certain amount of useful information, others are downright 
trashy.  Some are fairly well-produced, while others are amateurish.  
And the range of products hawked is truly astonishing.

For example, I was sitting in an auto dealership's waiting room the 
other day, waiting for my minivan to be repaired.  The TV was turned 
on and there was a program-length commercial playing.  I suppose I 
could have gotten up and changed the channel, but with daytime TV 
chock full of soap operas and trash-talk shows, I figured why bother?  
So I went ahead and started watching it while also thumbing through 
a magazine.

This particular commercial was advertising a toy.  It was a small 
plastic helicopter tied to the end of a string.  It had a propeller that 
would turn in the wind and, supposedly, lift the thing into the air so 
that it could be flown like a kite.

Now I have nothing against kites, and nothing against this helicopter 
kite, but the way it was promoted was truly astounding.  For a 
complete half hour, the program featured interviews with "amazed" 
beach-goers who could not believe how fun and easy it was to fly this 
thing.  They interviewed a guidance counselor, a mother, a father, 
and yes, even a former Army helicopter pilot.  They wanted to get his 
"professional" opinion about this fantastic breakthrough.  He, like 
everyone else that was interviewed, lauded the product as a truly 
amazing device.

The price of this item was $19.95 plus shipping and handling, of 
course.  But, you could get two of them for only $34.95, "a savings of 
ten dollars," the announcer said.  Though I really tried, I just couldn't 
figure out the math on that one.

The actual "commercial" lasted for only about eight minutes or so, 
tagged at the end with the usual 800 number and ordering 
information.  But, since they obviously couldn't find anything new to 
say about this toy that hadn't already been said in the eight-minute 
spot, they simply repeated the same spot over and over again for half 
an hour!

Although the toy probably would be fun for those who like to fly kites, 
it certainly isn't the "best thing since the hoola-hoop."  It probably 
costs less than a dollar to manufacture in quantity, (it looked fairly 
cheap), so the rest of your $19.95, minus a healthy profit, is being 
used to produce this lame "infomercial."

The announcer said this item was "not sold in stores" and "only 
available on TV."  That's probably true right now.  But give it a year, 
and if enough people are gullible enough to send in the cash for this 
toy, then I predict that it, or something like it, will be in every 
drugstore and discount store, being sold for probably half the price.

Fortunately, before the commercial finally ended, the auto technician 
came in and said my car was fixed, waking me from my disbelieving 
daze.

It gave me an idea though.  If they can get twenty bucks for a cheap 
plastic helicopter, maybe I could get at least ten for a hard-bound 
compilation of these Over Coffee columns!  Now if I could only afford 
the air time....



DISCOVERY OF MARTIAN LIFE ON EARTH?  -- August, 1996
Are we alone in the universe?  Is life on Earth unique, or is Earth just 
one of countless numbers of planets to host living organisms?

NASA's findings last week of what could be fossilized bacteria in a 
meteorite might eventually lead to an answer to that question.  And, 
for my part, I hope the answer is that we are not alone.

For centuries, until men of science such as Galileo and Copernicus 
proved otherwise, it was thought that Earth not only contained all the 
life there was (other than Heavenly forms), but that it was the one 
and only planet resting in the center of the universe, and that 
everything revolved around it.  How egocentric we were -- and 
perhaps still are.

When word of Galileo's discoveries of other planets orbiting the sun, 
and other moons orbiting the planets reached the Catholic Church, 
Galileo was placed under house arrest and made to recant his 
findings.  It seems the church at that time, although it acknowledged 
Galileo's incontrovertible evidence, was afraid the masses would turn 
chaotic if they found out the truth.  It wasn't until the second half of 
this century that Galileo was finally acquitted by the church.

Many from the Religious Right have not learned that lesson even 
today.  They want to tout their unproved religious dogma of  creation 
to schoolchildren, passing it off as a science, instead of accepting the 
scientifically proven theory that life has evolved.  Some people never 
learn from history.

But returning from my digression, it appears as though life on Earth 
may not be unique.  If the "fossils" found in the meteorite turn out to 
be genuine, it would be the most-important single scientific discovery 
since Galileo's time.  It doesn't matter that the life on Mars is simple 
bacteria, rather than intelligent beings.  What matters most is that, if 
life can exist on two separate worlds in the same solar system, it 
provides very convincing evidence that life in general is probably 
ubiquitous in the universe.  And if so, there is bound to be some of it 
that meets the criteria of intelligence.

But the discovery of what might have been once-living cells from 
Mars has an ironic twist.  I watched, in 1976, when a robot spacecraft 
sent from Earth sent back pictures from the surface of Mars.  I 
patiently waited for the analysis of Martian soil that had been 
scooped up by the robot, to see if it showed any evidence of life.  

It didn't.

The irony is that, after sending a robot millions of miles to a distant 
planet, searching for signs of life, and not finding any, we should find 
signs of Martian life right here on Earth, in Antarctica.  Maybe we 
should have looked here first!



THE WAY WE WERE -- August, 1996
Someone sent me a newspaper clipping the other day that 
highlighted, in a unique way, all the changes that have taken place 
since the end of World War II.  Now, I'm not old enough to remember 
the War, and I don't remember much about the 1950's.  But I do 
know that there are many things we take for granted today that were 
not even dreamed of in 1945.  

Consider the changes people born before 1945 have witnessed:

They were born before television, before penicillin, before polio shots, 
frozen foods, copiers, plastic, contact lenses, Frisbees and the Pill.

They were born before radar, credit cards, split atoms, laser beams 
and ball point pens; before panty-hose, dishwashers, clothes dryers, 
electric blankets, air conditioners, drip-dry clothes -- and before man 
walked on the moon.

They got married first and then lived together!  In those days, closets 
were for clothes, not for coming out of.  Bunnies were small rabbits 
and rabbits were not Volkswagens.  They thought fast food was what 
you ate during Lent.

They were born before house-husbands, gay rights, computer-dating, 
dual careers and computer marriages.  They were born before 
day-care centers, group therapy and nursing homes. They never 
heard of FM radios, tape decks, electric typewriters, artificial hearts, 
yogurt, and guys wearing earrings. For them, time sharing meant 
togetherness, not what you do with computers or condominiums; a 
chip meant a piece of wood, hardware meant hammers and nails, 
and software wasn't even a word.  And the only word processors 
were pencils and fountain pens.

In 1950, "made in Japan" meant junk, and the term "making out" 
referred to how you did on your exam. Pizzas, McDonald's and 
instant coffee were unheard of.

Back then there were 5 and 10 cent stores, where you bought things 
for five or ten cents. Ice cream cones were a nickel or a dime at the 
Dairy Queen.  For one nickel you could make a phone call, buy a 
Pepsi or enough stamps to mail one letter and two postcards. You 
could buy a new Chevy Coupe for $600, but who could afford one; a 
pity, too, because gas was eleven cents a gallon!

In those days, cigarette smoking was fashionable; grass was mowed; 
Coke was a drink and pot was something you cooked in. Rock music 
was a grandma's lullaby and AIDS were helpers in the principal's 
office.

They were certainly not born before the difference between the sexes 
was discovered but they were surely born before the sex change; 
they made do with what they had, and they were the last generation 
that thought you needed a husband to have a baby! 

I wonder if, 50 years from now, people in those days will look back on 
1996 and say, "Those were the good old days!"  What fancy gadgets 
are we currently making do without that will be taken for granted 
then?  I kind of hope I'll be around in 50 years to find out!



UNACCEPTABLE GASEOUS WASTE PRODUCTS -- September, 1996
By custom and tradition, modified over the years by 
constantly-evolving social mores, certain aspects of human behavior 
have come to be socially acceptable, while others are socially 
unacceptable, or taboo.

But consider what it would be like in society if some of the behavior 
we consider socially unacceptable were not so.  What if some of 
these behaviors were perfectly fine, even in a crowded restaurant.

For example, consider belching.  Although a small, 
partially-concealed burp following a meal is tolerated, if immediately 
followed by an "excuse me," what if loud, roaring belches in a 
restaurant were not considered to be rude or indecent at all?  What if 
a loud belch after a meal were perfectly okay?

If that were the situation, then people living in that society would think 
nothing of it.  But we, in a society that discourages belching in public, 
would look upon the situation as either funny or disgusting, 
depending upon the context in which it was presented.

Another, even more dramatic example, might include another 
gaseous human waist product.  Consider a society in which the 
breaking of wind in public was an acceptable behavior.  The 
emanated gases would still produce the offensive odor, put people 
would either get used to it, or politely ignore it.

Do the above examples of an alternate social etiquette seem a little 
far-fetched?  Does the thought of a society that allows such behavior 
leave you a bit disgusted?  

But consider, although the gaseous waist products produced might 
be offensive to the smell, they would produce no real health hazards.  
Society has simply chosen to render these behaviors as 
unacceptable.

And yet, this same society, over the years, has come to accept 
another human gaseous waist product as being perfectly acceptable.  
It, too, can be annoying.  But more importantly, it can also be 
dangerous.  And yet, its production has historically been acceptable 
in public.  Only recently has it become more or less discouraged.

I am referring, of course, to cigarette smoke.  The smoke produced 
from a burning cigarette is inhaled by everyone in the room, whether 
they smoke or not.  It leaves unpleasant odors on clothing; it makes 
people cough, and it is a public health hazard.  And yet it has always 
been accepted by society, and tolerated by non-smokers.

In the 1970's some restaurants created "non-smoking sections" 
where people who didn't engage in that filthy habit could sit as social 
outcasts.  But most of the non-smoking sections were adjacent to 
tables where smoking was permitted, meaning the restaurant was 
actually divided into a "smoking section" and a "second hand 
smoking section."

The good news is that recently, society is changing its views of 
smoking in public.  Even many restaurants are banning smoking 
altogether.  

Now consider a society in which the exhalation of smoke in a public 
place were just as socially unacceptable as a loud public belch, or as 
an audible flatulation.  It would be a society in which most people 
would be embarrassed to light a cigarette in public.

Shall we dare to dream?



FAMILY REUNIONS -- September, 1996
Family reunions -- don't you just love `em?

Actually, I've always enjoyed getting together with "the rest" of the 
family once or twice a year.  But, especially if the reunion is not held 
locally, it can be a bit of a pain.

We've always had reunions for my mom's side of the family, in 
Taylorsville, Kentucky.  In fact, we usually have one in the summer 
and one in December.  But in recent years, with the family growing 
and aging, I've noticed that most of the people at the reunion are 
strangers to me.  I remember all my aunts, uncles, and cousins, but 
there is a whole slew of kids and young adults that show up each 
year to the reunion that I don't ever remember seeing before.

Over the last four or five years, we have started having a second 
family reunion -- this one with my dad's side of the family.  He 
discovered he had a large family only a year before he died.  Now, 
we try to make it an annual affair.  It, too is held in Kentucky, just 
south of Cincinnati.

As if I didn't have enough family members to get to know on Mom's 
side, now I have about 100 additional ones from Dad's side.  But it is 
fun meeting knew people and getting to know them, even if they are 
family.

Last weekend was our Wilson family reunion (Dad's side).  There 
was lots of good food and conversation, and as usual, new faces that 
I don't ever remember seeing but probably actually have.

The worst part about having a family reunion in the summer is the 
weather.  I hate hot weather.  I hate being in the sun.  Picnics would 
be great if they didn't always have to be held outdoors.

But it's over now.  I basically had a good time, except for the long 
ride down there and back.  They've even started making plans for 
next year's reunion.  When next year comes, I guess I'll have to 
become acquainted with my relatives once again.  Because I know I 
won't remember half of them.  I just hope the weather isn't too hot.



FALL FESTIVAL CAN BE A BLAST -- September, 1996
Back in the middle 1960's, when I was about 11 or 12 years old, I 
can remember going to the carnival which, at that time, was held 
along the two blocks of Main Cross Street downtown.  The rides were 
by Poor Jack, and the games and booths stretched along the full 
length of the midway.

I was never very good at winning prizes.  I could never knock over 
the concrete milk bottles with bean bags, nor could I bust the 
balloons with darts to win a stuffed animal.

There was one game, however, that required no skill whatever.  It 
was based on pure luck, of which I reckoned I had as much of as 
anyone.

The game consisted of a booth with a counter surrounding all sides.  
On the counter were colored squares with numbers below them.  The 
object of the game was to toss a ball into a pen in the center of the 
booth lined with muffin tins.  Each muffin hole was a different color 
and coincided with the colors of the squares.  If the ball landed inside 
a muffin hole that had the same color as the square on which you 
had placed a coin, you would win the value of the square.  For 
example, if the number below the square said 6 to 1, and if the ball 
landed on that color, you would win six times the value of the coin 
you had placed on the square.

You didn't have to bet quarters.  I usually bet nickels.  And my rule 
was, if I ever reached a point where I had won more money than I 
started with, I should quit.  Trouble is, I seldom was on the plus side 
of the ledger.

The lady who ran this game had been doing it for ten years back 
then.  It is the same lady that still runs the game today.  She has 
been running it since 1955.  Only today, instead of winning money 
you win stuffed toys.  And instead of a nickel or a dime, the bet is 
now a quarter.

I was never very eager to ride most of the "adult" rides back then 
either.  I hated heights, and I hated spinning around.  So that pretty 
much left most rides out.  

They had a Ferris wheel back then, too.  I could never get up enough 
nerve to get on it because it went up so high.  But once, Dad grabbed 
my hand and said, "Let's get on the Ferris wheel."  I had little choice 
but to ride it with him.  The thing I remember most were the gigantic 
butterflies in my stomach during the descent.

The rides back then were only a dime, at least on the Friday Kids' 
Night.  School would let out an hour early so we had longer to ride.  
The carnival back then ran from Thursday through Saturday -- only 
three days.

I do have fond memories of the carnival from my childhood days.  I 
remember it being bigger, but maybe it was just because I was 
smaller.  

One thing is for sure, although the crowds dwindled in the cool 
evening last Saturday, I don't ever remember seeing so many people 
crammed into one place in downtown Edinburgh as I saw 
Wednesday and Thursday night  at this year's carnival.  Even now, it 
can be a blast.



DOWNTOWN STOREFRONTS NOT MEANT TO BE HOMES -- October, 1996
When I was a teenager, I remember walking through downtown 
Edinburgh in the evening and glancing into the display window of one 
of the buildings, through a crack in the drapery.  I was struck by the 
sight of a shirtless man sitting on an old couch, watching a small 
black-and-white television, drinking a beer.

I wasn't spying or anything; the view was clear and unobstructed -- 
and right in the middle of downtown Edinburgh.  I remember thinking 
how strikingly tacky it was as I thought to myself "there ought to be 
an ordinance against this."

I have nothing against someone sitting in the privacy of his own living 
room, watching TV and drinking a beer with his shirt off.  But when 
his living room is in a storefront in downtown Edinburgh, then I start 
to have a problem with it.

More recently, I can remember residents of another downtown 
storefront sitting out on the sidewalk in their lawn chairs while kids 
played with toys at their feet.  It was virtually impossible for 
pedestrians to walk by without going out into the road to get around 
the obstacle.  Again, I remember thinking "there ought to be an 
ordinance."

Very recently, I discovered a couple of newer storefront residences in 
the downtown area.  And again, just a week or so ago, I watched as 
pedestrians tried to avoid young children riding their tricycles on the 
sidewalk in front of their "home."  But this time, when I mentioned it to 
a town employee, he told me that there was already an ordinance 
against residents living in the fronts of stores downtown.  I thought, 
"That's great," because downtown buildings were designed to be 
stores, not homes.

But I then remember thinking, "what good is an ordinance if nobody 
enforces it?"  Good question!



PET PEEVES:  IRRATIONAL BUT IRRITATING -- October, 1996
They are called pet peeves.  And everyone has at least one.

Pet peeves are those relatively unimportant, though quite annoying, 
little intrusions into your life that bug you more than they seem to bug 
people in general.  They are annoyances that some people ignore or 
brush aside, but that you just can't seem to.  And everyone's set of 
pet peeves is different from everyone else's.

Pet peeves, I believe, can be used as a barometer to measure your 
irritability quotient.  The more pet peeves you have, the more irritable 
you are likely to be.

Go ahead; make a list of your pet peeves.  Remember, they are more 
than just simple annoyances that you are easily able to avoid or 
ignore.  No, they are things that really grind you granite.

Here are a few of my pet peeves:

1.  I can't stand things in the house to be out of place.  I have three 
remote controls in the living room, and each one has its own little 
corner of the room it can call home.  The same is true of the TV 
Guide, the things on my desk, etc.  It's not that I'm a tidy freak; I just 
want to be able to find stuff when I look for it.

2.  I can't stand it when someone plays a video tape and then doesn't 
rewind it and put it back on the shelf in its proper place.

3.  I HATE rap music with a passion.  It makes chills go down my 
spine, like fingernails on a chalk board.  The same is true for certain 
kinds of Soul music in which the singer can't seem to find the right 
note.

4.  When I get ready to go someplace, (it doesn't matter where), I 
hate having to wait for those who are going with me.  When I'm 
ready, I want everyone else to be ready, too.

I guess if I thought really hard I could come up with a couple more.  
For example, there are always one or two TV commercials that for 
whatever reason I just can't stomach.  But I'll stop at four since I 
don't want anyone to think I'm a grouch.  (Anyone other than my wife 
and kids, since they already think that!)

Notice that most of my pet peeves center around the home.  I can't 
think of anything that really bugs me at work (except one thing that I 
better not mention).  But I have a feeling that a lot of people have 
work-related pet peeves.

Go ahead and list yours; it'll make you feel better -- maybe.  If you 
can list a lot of them, it might depress you.  On the peeve-o-meter, 
anyone who can list ten or more can be considered a really irritable 
person.  On the other hand, if you list only one or two, you are quite 
easy going.

As with most things in my life, my list of pet peeves falls in the 
moderately grumpy category.  "Everything in moderation," I always 
say.  Oops, that reminds me -- I also hate cliches!



ACTUALLY, I PREFER DECAF...   --  November, 1996
Although the headline is true, "Over Decaf" just didn't sound right for 
a column title.  And as I have mentioned in another column, the title 
is in memory of Bill Hale, former editor of the Edinburgh Daily 
Courier.  He gave me my first taste of journalism.  But this week's 
column is not really about coffee, nor is it about how this column got 
its name.  It's about leaving.

This is my last week working as editor of the TRICOUNTY NEWS.  
After four years of bringing you the stories about the ups and downs 
of Edinburgh politics, local issues, school happenings, and social 
events, I will be turning over my keyboard to someone else.

I taught high school for 13 years, and I mostly enjoyed it.  It was quite 
fulfilling at times.  But through those years, one of my dreams was to 
be a newspaper editor and writer.  It was more of a fantasy than a 
dream, because I didn't really expect it would ever happen.

But, thanks to an unusual set of circumstances, I found myself at the 
helm of my hometown newspaper - the one that I thought I would 
most enjoy being editor of.  I would like to publicly thank Gary Storie 
for giving me the opportunity, and for standing behind my editorial 
decisions even though he may not have always agreed them.

Over the last few years, I have made some people mad, and others 
happy.  I have had readers call and complain about something I had 
written; and I've had a few call to tell me they liked it.  My attitude has 
always been that you can disagree vehemently with a person's 
opinion on an issue and still be friends with them.  It is too bad some 
of the people I may have offended with my editorials do not feel the 
same.  But I've always loved being here.  It is, without question, the 
best job I have ever had.

But opportunity has knocked again, and I feel compelled to answer it.  

This newspaper survived six years without me before I came on 
board, and it will undoubtedly continue to thrive after I leave.  It is no 
longer owned by Gary, but by two partners who have plans to enlarge 
and improve the paper.  I wish them well.

The paper has opened some doors for me that were closed before, 
and I am grateful for that.  I appreciate the fact that I have become 
acquainted with a lot more people in town since I came on board 
here.

The thing I will miss most is writing about Edinburgh's on-going 
development, and the good things I see coming down the pike for 
this town.  That is not to say you will never see my by-line in the 
paper again.  I will probably be writing an occasional letter to The 
People's Voice!  And if Ron and John want me to, I will occasionally 
submit a freelance story.

The thing I will miss the least are those weekly trips to Greenfield, 
where the paper is printed.  I have made the trip in rain, snow, high 
winds, ice and thunderstorms.  And even in good weather the best 
thing I can say about it is that it gave me time alone to think about 
what I was going to write about in next week's column.

But this may be my last sip from the Over Coffee cup.  I've enjoyed 
sharing a little bit of my personal life with you, the readers, over the 
past four years.  I will continue living here in Edinburgh.  So, if you 
see me in the restaurant, we can still have coffee together.  Although 
actually, I prefer decaf!