Crunchy Thoughts

Ran into this on Amazon. Model child doth not look happy. Looks freaked out, in fact.

I would be too, kid. I would be, too.

Ooh, GAMEDAY! Georgia game, too. You know it’s been a less than stellar season for both football programs when this game falls in the 11:30 a.m. slot. Ouch.

Well, War Eagle! ‘Tis my favorite game!

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The other day I was going over a wordy eleven page ordinance concerning tree conservation for a city in the Birmingham area. It was quite specific and even brought up DBH — diameter at breast height — something I haven’t thought of since my Landscape Bidding, Installation, and Maintenance class.

Then it gets to the directions for applying for a permit: you identify the tree in question by common name. Common name? Seriously? Yeeesh. Linnaeus is rolling in his grave, people.

Ohhhhkay. Let’s test this jewel of a thought out.

Find me a Tulip Tree. Go on — I’ll wait. Here’s a hint for Google: it has tulip-like blooms.

. . . . .

. . . found it yet? Ooh, did you find TWO trees?

Yeah, that can happen. ‘Tulip Tree’ can mean either Liriodendron tulipifera or Magnolia X soulangeana. These trees are also called ‘yellow poplar’ and ‘saucer magnolia,’ respectively.

So what’s the point of eleven pages of mind-numbing specifics if you only want to be confused at the end of it all if only because you don’t want to take ten seconds to Google a scientific name? (As to that last link, it’s ‘vomitoria’ for a reason.)

What was the point of all that work on my end as well? Drs. Eakes, Ponder, Kessler, and Williams didn’t drill all that Latin into my head for naught. Almost six years later and it’s still there. I’m gonna use it.

City officials can use Google.

It’s good to know I can slap on my stomach like a drum and send my daughter into smiles and giggles.

Stomach flab can be used for good!

President Clinton was first elected president when I was in 7th grade. I watched his inauguration with the rest of my Social Studies class that January. Our teacher, Coach Adams, had taught us how the election system worked with the popular vote mingling with the Electoral vote so the swearing-in ceremony was a big Democracy in Action moment for our class.

We all stared up at the television screen as President Clinton finished his oath. I’m sure many of my classmates were wondering when they would be able to get down to the lunchroom.

Suddenly, Coach Adams kicked his chair across the room, — a few of us started in our seats — exclaiming that he had FINALLY voted for someone who became president.

I didn’t really understand political beliefs at that time — Republican versus Democrat — but I did get that it’s nice to know when your voice is heard. There is a sense of pride. Sometimes it’s so invigorating it even makes you want to kick chairs.

I felt like kicking a chair this evening — my own voice was finally heard. Though, as Coach Adams taught me, my state’s Electoral vote was what truly counted and Alabama runs quite red, my vote was counted all the same.

Sixteen years later, I was reminded of my teacher and that moment right before lunch on a January day. I can appreciate why Coach Adams was so happy.

I can finally look at our president and think, “See that man? I voted for him.” Me and so many others.

Election Day, November, 1884
Walt Whitman

If I should need to name, O Western World, your powerfulest
scene and show,

‘Twould not be you, Niagara—nor you, ye limitless prairies—nor
your huge rifts of canyons, Colorado,

Nor you, Yosemite—nor Yellowstone, with all its spasmic geyser-
loops ascending to the skies, appearing and disappearing,

Nor Oregon’s white cones—nor Huron’s belt of mighty lakes—
nor Mississippi’s stream:

—This seething hemisphere’s humanity, as now, I’d name— the
still small voice vibrating—America’s choosing day,

(The heart of it not in the chosen—the act itself the main, the
quadriennial choosing,)

The stretch of North and South arous’d—sea-board and inland
—Texas to Maine—the Prairie States—Vermont, Virginia,
California,

The final ballot-shower from East to West—the paradox and con-
flict,

The countless snow-flakes falling—(a swordless conflict,

Yet more than all Rome’s wars of old, or modern Napoleon’s:)
the peaceful choice of all,

Or good or ill humanity—welcoming the darker odds, the dross:

—Foams and ferments the wine? it serves to purify—while the
heart pants, life glows:

These stormy gusts and winds waft precious ships,

Swell’d Washington’s, Jefferson’s, Lincoln’s sails.