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October 2006
Loved by Gwinnettians but now a victim of ‘progress’
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Highlands, N.C. — It’s the inevitable sign of change, of what can happen to prime real estate in a booming town that’s nestled in mountain beauty.
Old Creek Lodge, a resort on the outskirts of this vacation/retiree town in Western North Carolina, has fallen victim to change. The 6-acre getaway has 15 cabins, a main lodge area where guests gather for an evening social hour, a waterfall and creek, and a gazebo that overlooks the playground. You can check out free movies and games, play checkers and chess. Relax.
The lodge offered character that’s hard to duplicate. The kind of character that made the two-hour drive a worthwhile trip. The kind of character missing in the swank hotels and inns in charming downtown Highlands. The kind of character that’s vanishing fast in Gwinnett, practically obsolete.
If I want to see a community of townhomes and condos, I can stay in Gwinnett. If I want to see wholesomeness diminish, replaced by projects some praise as progress and others curse, there’s no need to leave town.
Old Creek Lodge offered respite. It was quieter, prettier, and put most people in the mood to be friendlier. And that’s what drew my family there for several years, drew many Gwinnettians there, time and time again.
Don’t take my word for it, though.
Read the lodge’s guest book.
“Here again,� wrote Ken and Angela Moss of Dacula on 11/20/05. “Celebrating our 10-year wedding anniversary.�
“Third time here,� beamed Doug and Denee King of Lawrenceville, on 2/10/06.
“I love it here,� wrote Jessica Brusich of Sugar Hill, on 12/2/05.
So did my kids.
When Olivia learned that the lodge would face the wrecking ball, she prayed to save it. Miles wrote a letter to Mario C. Gomes, CEO/general manager of the Old Edwards Hospitality Group LLC.
“Please don’t tear down Old Creek Lodge,� he pleaded. “You’re breaking our hearts!�
Old Creek Lodge closes for good on Wednesday. According to lodge employees and local business owners, plans are to tear it down and build townhomes with a starting price range of $800,000.
Last weekend, several families spent a bittersweet weekend at the lodge. We watched our kids play hide-and-seek for hours, took in a little football (poor UGA; yeah Tech), went sightseeing, sipped cocktails by the fire and wondered. Where are we going to stay next time?
Of course, there are plenty of places to bunk down. That’s not the point. Something’s been lost, a sense of place. Our home.
“It’s been hard telling people that this is the last weekend,� said Wendy Latta, a front desk supervisor who’s worked at the lodge for five years. “People have actually cried.�
Latta and other locals say residents are torn over developer interest in the community. Some embrace it; others detest it. It’s obviously a touchy subject. Gomes, the CEO, abruptly declined comment on Monday.
His silence spoke volumes, though. In small towns, people generally don’t like change.
And in Highlands, there’s lots of it.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875. Or e-mail: rbadie@ajc.com.
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Kids need nutrition education
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Jason Getz/AJC
Liesl Wiedmann, 6, of Lilburn, Zarah Stewart, 7, of Lawrenceville, and Maura Pridmore, 5, of Lilburn, right, exercise to the direction of Trey McNease (not pictured) in the class, Fit Kidz, at Gold's Gym Thursday afternoon in Lilburn on Oct. 26.
The pediatrician wraps up your child’s exam with one final question.
“How’s the appetite?�
That, generally, is about as close as the discussion gets to healthy eating, proper nutrition, weight management. It’s over, done with and forgotten in seconds.
Fiona A. Blair, a Harvard- and Emory-trained pediatrician, wants to alter that scenario, give it substance. She’s heard the recurring alarms about childhood obesity, and she’s responding.
You’ve probably heard the news. Kids are showing up in pediatricians’ offices with ailments that you used to see only in adults. Type 2 diabetes. Gallstones. Nonalcoholic cirrhosis.
Studies and research have found that about 34 percent of U.S. children 6 to 19 are overweight; type 2 diabetes represents up to 45 percent of new diagnoses of the illness in children and adolescents; 25 million U.S. children and adolescents are overweight.
Blair of Snellville wants to help curb the tide.
“We may be living in a time where we outlive the younger generation because their health is so poor,� the married mother of four said. “Our children’s life expectancy won’t be as long, or their quality of life won’t be as good. This has to be a concern for everyone, because it is going to affect everybody.�
For Blair, health care is in the family bloodline. Her late mother was a labor and delivery nurse at a hospital in Massachusetts. As a child, Blair was intrigued with the family pediatrician, the way he cared, put kids at ease.
“I definitely wanted to do what he did,� she told me.
She earned her medical degree and completed her residency at Emory University. She joined The Sulton Pediatric Group, a primary care office in Lithonia and spent 10 years there. Something tugged at her, though, an urge to strike out on her own, try something new.
ABC Pediatric Group, at 2240 W. Park Place Blvd. in Stone Mountain, will open in December. She and her partner, Marcia Cumberbatch, plan to make weight management and nutrition education a pillar of the practice.
A fitness trainer will work with patients. Counseling will be offered to those struggling with their bulging waistlines. Discussions about eating right and exercising will be deliberate, not treated as an aside.
“Counseling on obesity doesn’t pay well,� Blair said, “and it takes a lot of time. “And in the world of HMOs, it’s hard to reconcile the bottom line. But we as a society are going to have to do it, and more and more pediatricians are leaning towards it.�
There’re plenty of places to lay blame for the surge in childhood obesity. It starts at home, though. Kids aren’t the ones buying the food. Parents do. They also buy computers and video games then let their kids vegetate in front of them for hours. Schools curtail recess, and in some places, rule out games of tag. Processed food has become a way of life.
“It’s not even rocket science,� Blair said. “We know that we need to burn energy off, to buy a bundle of apples rather than a bag of chips and cook nutritious foods.�
Strange thing, though. We just don’t do it.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875. Or e-mail: rbadie@ajc.com.
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Gwinnettians who want out speak up
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Vino Wong/AJC
Rick Badie, middle, AJC Gwinnett News columnist visits with folks at Dunkin Donuts along the 5300 block of Jimmy Carter Blvd. Wednesday, Oct. 25. • Photos
The chocolate-covered doughnut and the steaming cup of joe didn’t jolt my senses. Neither did the dozen or so day laborers sitting in booths or milling around outside the Dunkin’ Donuts in the 5000 block of Jimmy Carter Boulevard.
What got me were the AJC Gwinnett News readers I met, the sad, sad stories they told, and the emotions they exuded while talking about the demise of the county, their neighborhoods, their homes.
Everybody who dropped in on the second stop of the Badie Tour wanted to talk about decaying neighborhoods. Theirs. They came to vent — about single-family homes that serve as boarding houses; garages that have been turned into bedrooms; cars parked on front lawns; Christmas lights in April, and loud ranchero music at bedtime.
“It’s a mess,� said Emaline Nowell , a retired Bell South employee who lives off Rockbridge Road.
“I want out,� said Dorothea Bradley , a former homemaker, who lives “behind Hooters� in the Springdale subdivision.
Bradley and others are at wit’s end as their property values plummet and house investments turn to Confederate dollars. And it’s not just those who live in and around Jimmy Carter Boulevard. You should see the e-mails I get from readers in Duluth, Lawrenceville and beyond. It’s the same angst-ridden song.
They are ticked off with what they say are mostly immigrant neighbors who couldn’t care less about maintenance, who disrespect property. They are enraged with a government that’s let, or is letting, sections of the county go to pot. Like Southwest Gwinnett.
The Brookville subdivision off Williams Road was stable when Sylvenia Doby moved there from Washington, D.C., 12 years ago. Since then, she’s spent $30,000 for a sun room, laid sod and dug a fish pond.
She serves as the vice president of her homeowners’ association. For that, she believes someone threw a rock through her car window.
“This was my retirement home,� Doby said.
“What can we do?�
Chuck Warbington met me at the Dunkin’ Donuts to talk about Gwinnett Village, a community investment district that takes in Jimmy Carter Boulevard and other major roads.
He’s the district’s executive director, and he had positive news. The district, created earlier this year and supported by 425 property owners (including 125 off Jimmy Carter Boulevard), expects to generate $1.5 million in 2006.
Another $600,000 in grants has been secured to study what the district needs. Those results will be made public in January. Ideas for combating crime will be publicized next month. And of 229 code violations that have been reported this year, 155 have been corrected.
As Warbington spoke, he pointed to road crews on JCB. They were replacing traffic lights, which will be timed to work in sync to improve traffic flow.
The Gwinnett Village board, Warbington acknowledged, has been concerned with commercial property, not residential plight. He tried to cheer up the despondent residents, who unloaded their woeful tales on him, too.
“Just hold on,� he said. “Don’t give up, yet.�
In some cases, though, it’s too late.
Bradley, the widow who lives behind Hooters, asked me to recommend a reputable handyman. She’s ready to sell.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875. Or e-mail: rbadie@ajc.com.
Where’s Rick? Next week , Rick Badie, your AJC Gwinnett News columnist, will be in the Collins Hill area of Lawrenceville. He’s been invited to sit and chat with residents of the unincorporated community and elsewhere starting at 7 p.m. Wednesday, at the Edgewater Clubhouse,Ashbourn Drive. Ashbourn Drive is off Collins Hill Road, between Ga. 316 and Old Peachtree Road. The Badie Tour takes place each Wednesday. For directions or more information about next week’s event, contact Butch Poss at 770-513-7799 .
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Join Badie Tour on Wednesday
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Come say hello to Rick Badie, your AJC Gwinnett News columnist, from 9:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Wednesday at Dunkin’ Donuts, 5345 Jimmy Carter Blvd., in Norcross.
The Badie Tour stops to share coffee and donuts with Chuck Warbington, executive director of the Gwinnett Village, a special community improvement zone that’s been created to spruce up JCB and other major roads. Yes, those Gwinnett Village signs erected last October do serve a purpose.
To bone up on the subject, visit www. gwinnettvillage.com.
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Giving up the fight against decay
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Like any prizefighter, he’s given his best punches.
After a while, though, even the most tenacious boxer knows when it’s time to move on, to hang up the gloves.
Robert J. Kerns, a family man and Marine Corps veteran, has reached that point.
He has lived in the single-level house in the Glen Hills subdivision of Lilburn for 22 years. He’s installed a saltwater aquarium inside, and built a small fish pond out back. He, his wife and daughters have a border collie and rabbit as pets.
This is home. At least it was until the neighborhood started changing, and folk started moving. Of the 140 houses in the community off Dickens Road, Kerns can name only a few who’ve been there as long, if not longer, than he.
“It’s time,� he told me. We first met this summer over coffee, cured ham and grits at a Waffle House in Lilburn. The 55-year-old IBM project manager was gung-ho about persevering and preserving some semblance of the quality of life that had been on the decline for years.
In November 2000, a 10-year-old boy was shot in the hand when bullets riddled his house on Aberdeen Court, a street in Glen Hills. Gwinnett police say it was a drive-by shooting. A few weeks ago, Kerns said gunfire was exchanged between two cars.
“Too damned dangerous for a family,� he told me in an e-mail.
You can’t knock him for not trying to improve things. He’s served as a neighborhood block captain, the go-to guy for complaints about code violations. He’s helped arrange clean-up days. Fliers, written in Spanish and English, are sent to everybody, but few turn out. Residents who care canvass the neighborhood, while those who don’t peer from their windows and front porches — even as their junk is carted off.
In August, he reported 17 code violations to county code enforcement. Some complaints have been attended to by the agency as well as the violator; most haven’t.
With 10 inspectors for the entire county, code enforcement is stretched. From September 2005 to September 2006, the agency has handled about 8,000 complaints, said Andrew Mendzef, Gwinnett’s code enforcement chief.
“We can’t be out there 24/7,� he said. “We’re busy. But we’ll do everything we can to address Mr. Kerns’ concerns.�
After a tour of the area Monday, Kerns has plenty of them.
We saw bags of garbage in front of houses. Work vans and commercial vehicles, two and three deep, alongside another three or four cars, parked in front of not one house but several. A loose dog. Graffiti. A house with plywood in the garage windows, usually a tell-tale sign that a bed — not a car — is what parks there. An abandoned house with mattresses, insulation and other trash in the front yard.
“All of this affects the quality of the neighborhood,� said Kerns, who drove me around.
“I have finally woken up.�
Where he’s moving, he doesn’t know. He’d like to stay in Gwinnett so his daughters can stay in the schools they are attending. The family hasn’t made a decision on whether they’ll stay in the county.
But he knows he’s got to move on, to hang up the gloves, to give up what had been a good fight.
After all, even great boxers eventually reach the end of the road.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875. Or e-mail: rbadie@ajc.com.
Would ban on renting to illegals make sense here?
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Gwinnett has something in common with Escondido, Calif.
It’s illegal immigration.
In this California community, though, there’s at least one distinct difference. The city’s leaders, weary of the federal government’s doublespeak and wordplay when it comes to immigration reform, have taken matters into their own hands.
They’ve hunkered down.
On Wednesday, by a 3-2 vote, the City Council approved an ordinance that bans landlords from renting to illegal immigrants. Barring legal challenges — and there will be some — the prohibition will take effect Nov. 18, according to wire stories.
Under the law, landlords will be required to submit to the city documentation of their tenants’ immigration status. The city, in return, will pass the information on to the feds for verification.
If the tenants are found to be illegal immigrants, landlords will have 10 days to evict them or face a business license suspension. Repeat offenders could incur misdemeanor charges and fines.
Anyone who suspects someone is renting to illegals can file a complaint. But complaints based solely on a person’s national origin, race or ethnicity won’t be allowed. (It’s unclear how this will be verified.)
Escondido has followed the lead of a handful of cities across the United States that have adopted renters laws. Other communities probably are weighing similar feel good, stopgap, legal and morally debatable steps to curb the presence and flow of undocumented workers.
It’s easy to sympathize and empathize with members of this work force. They’re merely pawns of our government, our employers and, in many ways, our materialistic zest. The ramifications of the issue extend beyond Jose’s soliciting work at the Dunkin’ Donuts store, though.
In education, crowding and language issues tax schools. In hospitals, emergency rooms become de facto health care providers. And in subdivisions, where cultural differences can ignite clashes about code compliance, neighborliness has become even more of an anomaly.
Talk to people, real people who live in working-class and middle-class neighborhoods. Sympathy and empathy for low-wage (illegal) immigrant laborers is evaporating. Vanishing. A segment of that population believes their American dream has been hijacked, that it’s going the way of the Edsel.
In a poll conducted Sept. 27-29 for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, 90 percent of the respondents said illegal immigration was important to them in their choice for governor.
People are either fed up or close to it. They want grass-roots action, and in some towns and municipalities, officials apparently don’t mind testing the fire, of being called racist, divisive, discriminatory.
Escondido has a population of about 142,000, about 40 percent of whom are Hispanic. It’s unclear how many of the town’s residents are illegal, something that’s hard to pinpont here as well.
Georgia is home to what the Department of Homeland Security calls the nation’s fastest-growing population of illegal immigrants, estimated at 250,000 to 800,000.
Gwinnett’s immigrant population is estimated at nearly 172,000.
I don’t know what to make of the town’s rental ban or similar ordinances in other communities. Part of me embraces the crackdowns, deems them necessary. Another part of me gives pause because I think some of the get-rid-of-the-illegals rants stem from (white America’s) xenophobia.
So I pose a question to you:
Would you support a county law, or one in any of its municipalities, that prohibits landlords from renting to illegal immigrants?
I met some beautiful people Wednesday
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Vino Wong/AJC
AJC Gwinnett News columnist Rick Badie reports from the road. His inaugural stop was the Snellville Recycling Center on Wednesday, Oct. 18. Resident Joan Auld, with daughter Mary Grace, spoke with Badie about multi-racial adoption and home schooling. • Photos
It pays to be humble, to expect nothing.
This way, when something does come your way, the dividends feel better, the rewards taste sweeter.
The unexpected can be most anything. A batch of home-made cookies. A cooing baby. A firm handshake, smile, nod or pat on the back.
Even the most modest of columnists want to be acknowledged for their work. It’s a sign that, even though readers don’t always agree (who does?), they appreciate the writer’s conviction and stand taken.
I got a taste of that appreciation Wednesday at the Snellville Recycling Center. Sounds odd, doesn’t it? Of all the places to visit, I chose the seven-acre, $1.8 million facility behind the Elizabeth Williams Library. It opened Feb. 2005, replacing a complex that had been located in the corner of the park.
On Tuesday, I announced plans to get off the phone and out of the office, to press flesh and converse with folk who define Gwinnett. It’s called the Badie Tour, and it takes place on Wednesdays.
So there I was Wednesday, hanging out with Mayor Jerry Oberholtzer, who, along with Gaye Johnson, the town’s director of Public Works, gave me a tour of the facility. There I was, too, wondering if anybody would show up to shake my hand or give me a piece of their mind.
By lunchtime, though, one thing was obvious: When people sense you’re doing your best, that you’re in it for the greater good, they respond with gratitude. It doesn’t matter if it’s a recycling center or a 600-word column.
I met some beautiful people Wednesday. Joan Auld dropped by the office of the recycling center with her precocious 22-month-old daughter, Mary Grace. Jill Cunico of Snellville brought her 80-year-old mother, Shirley Jones, of Norcross, to say hello.
And James Magill, stopped by to pitch an idea for educating teens about drunk driving. His son, Chris Magill, a Gwinnett police officer, was killed by a drunk driver in 1993.
Other kind-hearted AJC Gwinnett News readers took time out of their day to stick their heads in and say hello, even if they didn’t stay.
One woman, whose name I didn’t get, dropped off a batch of cookies. They lasted about five minutes after I returned to the AJC Gwinnett News office in Norcross. So it pays to do something right, and in the end, I realized the Snellville Recycling Center was as good of a place as any to start the Badie tour. It’s where the people of Snellville and the county meet for the same reason.
It’s a state-of-the-art facility, right down to the office. There, the carpet is made of recycled milk bottles and other plastics. The walls are insulated with newspapers and phone books. Even the dry-wall has been recycled.
Officials from other states have visited the center, which last year took in 3,447 tons of recyclables. And it’s a finalist for the 2007 Trendsetter Award, a service award given by the Georgia Municipal Association.
What’s important, though, is what the residents think, and based on e-mails and comments I got from residents making drop-offs Wednesday, they’re pleased.
“Excellent choice for your first out of office visit in Gwinnett,� wrote Floyd Akridge in an e-mail. “The recycling center is a great example of how to do it right. “It’s hard to believe that government did it.�
See, it pays to do things properly. Folk respond.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875. Or e-mail: rbadie@ajc.com.
Join Badie Tour on Wednesday
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
In journalism, a telephone can be as much crutch as vital tool.
It’s too easy to pick up the phone and chat up the mayor or commissioner so-and-so. It saves time, precious minutes that can be put to better use, like digging deeper or crafting a solid read from top to bottom.
And because of that, the phone is a journalist’s best friend.
Sometimes, though, we miss something when we opt for convenience. Details. We miss the nuances and tendencies of the people and personalities we write about by relying on the phone. It’s hard to see a frown, grimace or smile over an optic line. You can’t see a foot tapping on the floor, either, or a Jacob Lawrence print hanging in the foyer.
And when it comes to words, stories, details make the difference.
As a columnist, I’m trying to reign in my phone addiction. Your help would be greatly appreciated. I’m hitting the road, people, trying to get as far away from 6455 Best Friend Road (the AJC Gwinnett News office off Jimmy Carter Boulevard) as I possibly can and still be in the county.
Think Charles Kuralt. The late CBS television journalist filed more than 600 television episodes of “On the Road.” There are a few differences, though: I’m black and, while it may be debatable, a tad more handsome. I won’t be traveling via motor home, either.
The Badie Tour will be low-key Wednesday affairs. It’s just me, my 2002 Galant and a few tools of the trade — laptop, pen, pad, cellphone and occasionally, a photographer who’ll capture exchanges between journalist and residents talking about the ordinary and extraordinary — real life.
Make no mistake. You’re vital to the success of the tour. Don’t show up, and I flop. So please do. Let’s rap.
We can talk about your county, subdivision, street or school. No topic is unworthy, and as long as it’s not slanderous, it’s ripe for dialogue.
Mark this date down. The Badie Tour’s first stop will be Snellville. The only thing I really and truly know about the ‘ville is that U.S. 78 bisects it, and some colleagues live there. Aside from that, I’m clueless.
So on Wednesday, between, say 9:30 a.m. and 1 p.m., I plan to set up shop at a place where all Snellvillians visit at some point in time: The town’s state-of-the-art recycling center off Lenora Church Road at Briscoe Park. Its address is 2531 Marigold Road. Call 770-985-3539 if you need directions.
Snellville Mayor Jerry Oberholtzer recommended it and has graciously agreed to hang out with me for a bit. He’s also my backup plan. Every neurotic columnist has a few. Say no one shows up to meet me at the recycling outpost.
By default, Mr. Oberholtzer becomes the topic of Thursday’s column. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. He’s been mayor three years and councilman for four. I’ve never met him and had never talked to him until Monday. He takes pride in his city. He has to.
Who else would suggest a recycling center as a place to see and be seen?
“It’s busy,” Oberholtzer told me. “Especially on Saturdays.”
We shall see. See you on Wednesday.
Black or white: What doll would your child choose?
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
The baby doll coos if she’s happy and cries when upset. It’s brown-skinned.
The other doll doesn’t have batteries. It’s pale.
Both were placed in front of Olivia.
“Which one do you like playing with the best?� I asked. She pointed to the pale one.
“Which doll looks like you?�
Last week, I conducted a “doll test� with my precocious, pretty, moody, maddening 4 year old. It was a quiz to glean some sense of her self-esteem, how she feels about herself, her brown skin.
In the 1950s, Dr. Kenneth Clark, and his wife conducted doll tests to help persuade the Supreme Court to strike down segregation in its Brown v. Board of Education decision. The experiment involved 16 black children, ages 6 to 9. They asked the children their perception of a white doll and a black doll.
Eleven of the students said the black doll looked “bad� and nine said the white doll looked nice.
Decades later, we have a similar experiment. Kiri Davis, a 17-year-old student from New York, conducted a doll test for “A Girl Like Me,� her 2005 short film about black girls and standards of beauty (view it at http://www.uthtv.com/umedia/collection/2052).
In the seven-minute film, 15 of the 21 black children in a Harlem day care center favor the white doll over the black one. The white doll is good, they say; the black one bad.
When asked to select the doll that looks like her, one little girl seems to hesitate before she reluctantly picks up the black one.
This hesitation, along with the kids’ overall perception of race has alarmed the masses. Folks are professing shock that some vulnerable young minds seem to think that the skin they’re in is the wrong skin to be in.
My take is - why are we surprised?
Browse through the magazine rack in grocery stores. Look at the waif-ish runway models. Whites, naturally, dominate because most everything in America because they are the majority. That, to some degree, may explain why the kids in Davis’ film believe beauty and goodness comes in shades of white.
Now juxtapose the typical image of whites with the general, limited image of blacks in pop culture. It’s not multifaceted. It’s unappealing. Half-naked women, licking lollipops, gyrating to some trashy song. Young men with “grills� in their mouths, pants to their knees. Nonsensical songs about who owns the baddest car, the biggest house, the magic touch.
Yet we feign shock and sorrow and look aghast at the results of Davis’s experiment. We ponder the possibility that low-rent stereotypes can impact self-identity, and that race can trample self esteem. And we are surprised to see that racial images can penetrate the youngest of minds, even those of 4 and 5 year olds.
Truth be told, we didn’t need a doll test to expose the ugly truth. When it comes to beauty, we already knew what America values, and what it doesn’t.
Olivia looked at the two dolls after I asked her which one resembled her the most. She touched the tummy of the black one.
And she did it without hesitation.
Why would kids think they’re in the wrong skin?
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
The baby doll coos if she’s happy and cries when upset. It’s brown-skinned.
The other doll doesn’t have batteries. It’s pale.
Both were placed in front of Olivia.
“Which one do you like playing with the best?” I asked. She pointed to the pale one.
“Which doll looks like you?”
Last week, I conducted a “doll test” with my precocious, pretty, moody, maddening 4-year-old. It was a quiz to glean some sense of her self-esteem, how she feels about herself, her brown skin.
In the 1950s, Dr. Kenneth Clark, and his wife conducted doll tests to help persuade the Supreme Court to strike down segregation in its Brown vs. Board of Education decision.
The experiment involved 16 black children, ages 6 to 9. They asked the children their perception of a white doll and a black doll.
Eleven of the students said the black doll looked “bad” and nine said the white doll looked nice.
Decades later, we have a similar experiment. Kiri Davis, a 17-year-old student from New York, conducted a doll test for “A Girl Like Me,” her 2005 short film about black girls and standards of beauty (view it at www.uthtv.com /umedia/collection/2052).
In the seven-minute film, 15 of the 21 black children in a Harlem day care center favor the white doll over the black one. The white doll is good, they say; the black one bad. When asked to select the doll that looks like her, one little girl seems to hesitate before she reluctantly picks up the black one.
This hesitation, along with the kids’ overall perception of race has alarmed the masses. Folks are professing shock that some vulnerable young minds seem to think that the skin they’re in is the wrong skin to be in.
My take is — why are we surprised?
Browse through the magazine rack in grocery stores. Look at the waifish runway models. Whites, naturally, dominate most everything in America because they are the majority. That, to some degree, may explain why the kids in Davis’ film believe beauty and goodness comes in shades of white.
Now juxtapose the typical image of whites with the general, limited image of blacks in pop culture. It’s not multifaceted. It’s unappealing. Half-naked women, licking lollipops, gyrating to some trashy song. Young men with “grills” in their mouths, pants to their knees. Nonsensical songs about who owns the baddest car, the biggest house, the magic touch.
Yet we feign shock and sorrow and look aghast at the results of Davis’ experiment. We ponder the possibility that low-rent stereotypes can impact self-identity and that race can trample self-esteem. And we are surprised to see that racial images can penetrate the youngest of minds, even those of 4- and 5-year-olds.
Truth be told, we didn’t need a doll test to expose the ugly truth. When it comes to beauty, we already knew what America values, and what it doesn’t.
Olivia looked at the two dolls after I asked her which one resembled her the most.
She touched the tummy of the black one.
And she did it without hesitation.
Man raises issue; school raises flag
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
To him, it was a glaring omission.
Donald F. Zwick noticed it every time he drove by Hopkins Elementary School on Dickens Road. Old Glory was nowhere to be seen.
“I can say without a doubt that it has been a long time since the flag has been raised on the flagpole,” Zwick told me in an e-mail. “I got upset about that.”
On Oct. 5, Zwick visited the school to find out why. No one in the office seemed to know who was on first.
Or second.
“My mission was unfilled,” Zwick wrote in an e-mail. “As of today, Oct. 10, the flag has still not been raised.”
What’s the big deal, you ask. After all, it’s just a piece of cloth. A prized symbol, yes. But just that — a symbol. Besides, there’s plenty of ways to honor this country, to show that you appreciate its foundation — faults and all.
For Zwick, a retired arson investigator who lives in Lilburn, this one’s a no-brainer. U.S. public schools ought to display the U.S. flag. No debate.
“Why shouldn’t they?” he asked.
This has nothing to do with blind patriotism. You know the sort. The kind that compels people not to question the actions of a U.S. president just because he’s commander in chief. And on a lighter note, the kind that leads fans of conservative talk radio to call the hosts “great Americans.” Please.
“I’m an ‘in-betweener,’ ” Zwick, 78, told me. “Between World War II and Korea. I am of the generation that always saluted the flag and revered the flag. I don’t see enough flags.”
Where flags fly on campuses has been an issue in some states. This July, state lawmakers in Arizona passed a bill that requires classrooms in public schools, community colleges and universities to display U.S. flags. The state of Florida adopted a similar law two years ago.
When I called to see where Georgia stands on this issue, Dana Tofig, a spokesperson for the state Department of Education, directed me to two state codes. One requires public school superintendents to display an American flag — or an appropriate representation of one — in their offices. As for what individual school campuses do or don’t do, well, it’s a local issue.
But Louise Radloff, the school board member, said there is no issue. Campus flags are “a given,” she said.
The absence of Old Glory at Hopkins made Zwick wonder about a deeper issue — the historical and patriotic literacy of Gwinnett kids. If no one cares enough to raise the flag, how much class time is devoted to dissecting and debating what it represents?
“I don’t think the children are being advised or taught what it means,” he said. “It’s not getting the attention it deserves.”
Pagie Ryals, the principal at Hopkins Elementary, declined comment. Sloan Roach, the district spokeswoman, said the school had flown flagless because of a communication breakdown that had since been resolved.
My telephone rang about noon Wednesday. It was Zwick, who’d just cruised by Hopkins Elementary. A U.S. flag had been run up the flagpole.
Zwick said the flag looked to be shiny and new; nothing like the tattered one he’d seen stashed in the office just last Thursday.
Old Glory flies like new
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
To him, it was a glaring omission.
Donald F. Zwick noticed it everytime he drove by Hopkins Elementary School on Dickens Road. Old Glory was nowhere to be seen.
“I can say without a doubt that it has been a long time since the flag has been raised on the flagpole,� Zwick told me in an e-mail. “I got upset about that.�
On Oct. 5, Zwick visited the school to find out why. No one in the office seemed to know who was on first.
Or second.
“My mission was unfilled,� Zwick wrote in an e-mail. “As of today, Oct. 10, the flag has still not been raised.�
What’s the bid deal, you ask. After all, it’s just a piece of cloth. A prized symbol, yes. But just that — a symbol. Besides, there’s plenty of ways to honor this country, to show that you appreciate its foundation — faults and all.
For Zwick, a retired arson investigator who lives in Lilburn, this one’s a no-brainer. U.S. public schools ought to display the U.S. flag. No debate.
“Why shouldn’t they?� he asked.
This has nothing to do with blind patriotism. You know the sort. The kind that compels people to not question the actions of a U.S. president just because he’s commander in chief. And on a lighter note, the kind that leads fans of conservative talk radio to call the hosts “great Americans.� Please.
“I’m an ‘in-betweener,’ � Zwick, 78, told me. “Between World War II and Korea. I am of the generation that always saluted the flag and revered the flag. I don’t see enough flags.�
Where flags fly on campuses has been an issue in some states. This July, state lawmakers in Arizona passed a bill that requires classrooms in public schools, community colleges and universities to display U.S. flags. The state of Florida adopted a similar law two years ago.
When I called to see where Georgia stands on this issue, Dana Tofig, a spokesperson for the state Department of Education, directed me to two state codes. One requires public school superintendents to display an American flag — or an appropriate representation of one — in their offices. As for what individual school campuses do or don’t do, well, it’s a local issue.
But Louise Radloff, the school board member, said there is no issue. Campus flags are “a given,� she said.
The absence of Old Glory at Hopkins made Zwick wonder about a deeper issue — the historic and patriotic literacy of Gwinnett kids. If no one cares enough to raise the flag, how much class time is devoted to dissecting and debating what it represents?
“I don’t think the children are being advised or taught what it means,� he said. “It’s not getting the attention it deserves.�
Pagie Ryals, the principal at Hopkins Elementary, declined comment. Sloan Roach, the district spokeswoman, said the school had flown flagless due to a communication breakdown that had since been resolved.
My telephone rang around noon Wednesday. It was Zwick, who’d just cruised by Hopkins Elementary. A U.S. flag had been run up the flagpole.
Zwick said the flag appeared to be shiny and new, nothing like the tattered one he’d seen stashed in the office just last Thursday.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875. Or e-mail: rbadie@ajc.com.
Meadowcreek players get lesson in perseverance
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
In practice, he’d play great.
In professional tennis tourneys, though, he’d stink up the court.
“It took me four years to win any money,” said Ellis Ferreira, a native of South Africa who played collegiate tennis at Alabama before a decade-long professional career.
“I couldn’t win a match. It was very frustrating.”
By the time he retired in 2003, though, Ferreira had been crowned the No. 2 tennis player in the world. He never quit as a professional tennis player and doesn’t plan to now that he’s an Atlanta entrepreneur, either.
And that’s the message Ferreira, who recently launched a tennis apparel line, gave eight Meadowcreek High football players whose Mustangs have lost 27 straight games.
“Get past the losses and the negativity,” Ferreira told the seven seniors and lone sophomore on Sunday. “I admire what you’re doing. You’re still on the team, and you’re here today.”
“Here” was the Vinings Club, a private social, business and athletic club located in Atlanta. The kids got to see the downtown skyline and beautiful homes in the Vinings village. They had a laid-back, real-world chat with three business people who’ve experienced obstacles, yet rose like phoenixes.
Ferreira was joined by Danielle Rieppi, events planner for the Vinings Club; Spencer Walker, a former Wake Forest defensive back now in the technology field; and John Saad, a Wake Forest alumnus and Vinings Club member who works in insurance.
Their message was universal. Opportunities abound. You just have to be prepared. You have to dress right. (The athletes wore shirts and ties). Respect people. And have a backup plan.
“Education — my dad beat that into me,” Rieppi said. “He told me that I had to make myself marketable. If you don’t have the opportunity to play football, you have to have a way to support yourself, a backup.”
Of course, none of this is rocket science. Students Lloyd Collins, Justin Thomas, Lamarr Person, Cory Shafer, Jamell Clarke, Anthony Kitson, Arlandus Bouye and Jackie Monroe have heard it all before. So have I, but never in a setting like where I heard it Sunday.
Johnny Barrett, a Meadowcreek booster who arranged the presentation, wanted the kids to hear it in a swank setting that might be alien but quite obtainable with perseverance.
Sunday’s event is part of a project that Barrett has undertaken on behalf of the school.
“I want them to stand on that third floor and pick the building they want to own or look at the house they want to own one day,” Barrett said.
“This isn’t about football. It’s about people.”
Schools not as safe as we assume
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Dawn Peeples went to school to have lunch with her fourth-grade daughter the day after the shootings in Amish country.
Good thing she didn’t have foul intentions. She walked right in the main building at Alcova Elementary, undeterred and unnoticed by any kind of gatekeeper. Peeples checked in at the office, as visitors are required to do.
“All they have are signs on the front doors that say please register at the front office,” Peeples said. “There’s no desk or anything to stop anyone from getting in.”
And that concerns Peeples, not just for Alcova Elementary, but for all county public schools. She got to wondering how safe our campuses are, and what we — not just Superintendent Alvin Wilbanks and his lieutenants — can do to beef up security.
It’s easy to accuse Peeples of being overzealous, of overreacting and having a fortress mentality. Don’t. This mom’s on point. When it comes to kids, potential danger commands attention. This is a worthy subject anytime, but especially now, in light of Monday. A nut walked into a one-room Amish schoolhouse in Nickel Mines, Pa., and systematically killed five little girls.
It’s been said that schools are the safest places for kids. Rare anecdotal incidents to the contrary make that concept a tough sell, though. Last month, we had campus killings in Colorado and Wisconsin; in August, it was Vermont.
Ronald D. Stephens, executive director of the National School Safety Center in Los Angeles, Calif. , has conducted thousands of safety assessments on public schools, including some in metro Atlanta. His experience, like Peeples’, is sobering.
“Typically, I find that I can get on any campus anywhere,” he said.
Bobby Crowson, associate superintendent for academic support for Gwinnett schools, responded to an e-mail with a litany of safety measures employed in the district.
Every campus has a safe school plan that’s updated yearly. The district has 20 full-time law enforcement officers, assigned to high schools and some middle schools. Visitors, as well as employees, must wear badges when on campus. Some schools have their sign-in desks in the hallways; others don’t.
Classrooms have call-back buttons to communicate with the front office. Tips about threats and weapons can be called in to an anonymous hotline ( 770-822-6513).
Yet school security remains vulnerable. In February 2002, a man walked into Mountain Park Elementary School and hit a fourth-grade girl in the head with a hammer. At the time, school officials called the incident an extreme rare occurrence.
Of course it was. But would you want your child, grandchild, sister or brother to be the recipient of one?
And that’s Peeples’ point.
“Our children are the most important thing we have,” she told me. “You can’t replace those little angels. There’s no way to stop anyone from walking into these schools, and we need to get that out to parents so something can be done about it. I think schools react well when something does happen, but I’m talking about preventive measures.”
You can e-mail Dawn Peeples with your ideas and input.
Indian festival founder proud of his heritage
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Leotis Eddy has a buckskin dress and a pair of high-top moccasins. They’re gifts from her late husband, Paul Eddy. He died on Aug. 29 at the age of 61. Lung cancer.
Long before he died, he gave Leotis Eddy the gifts. She’s never worn them, though. She has them on display in the home they shared in Winder.
It’s not because she’s unappreciative or disdains his Sioux heritage. Her reason is simple, really.
“I’m not Indian,” she told me.
“A lot of people want to be Indian. I don’t try to be. I am proud to be me. That’s what Paul always said: ‘Whatever culture, whatever race — be proud of what you are.’ “
Paul Eddy was disturbed by the misconceptions and negative depictions of Native American Indians. You’ve seen the Westerns. Hollywood cinema fed us tall tales with white actors playing the role of the natives.
Eddy, owner of a land surveying business, took the portrayals to heart.
“He thought the American Indian was the most maligned of all cultures,” Leotis Eddy told me. “He said he wanted to put something on in Gwinnett, something educational.”
Years ago, Eddy was interviewed by AJC Gwinnett News. This is what he had to say:
“We have to take care of the misconceptions and then commence with the true teachings,” he said, noting that people think “the stereotypical American Indian runs around with feathers and jumps up and down to the beat of the drum.”
So in 1992, the Eddys launched the American Indian Festival. It’s a two-day event held every May and October at the Gwinnett County Fairgrounds. From the get-go, this was Paul Eddy’s baby.
He booked authentic American Indian dancers to take part in competitions. He checked the wares of artists. You didn’t have to be a Native American to be a vendor, but the work had to be quality.
“He didn’t want the junk,” Leotis Eddy said. “He was very particular, and had such a love for this.”
Because of that love, Leotis Eddy and Ryan, the couple’s 33-year-old son, plan to continue the festival. It’s not for the money. It costs between $25,000 and $30,000 to host each festival. The Eddys dip into their own pockets to cover costs unmet through gate receipts and vendors’ fees.
“The first festival, we lost $14,000,” Eddy said. “Each year we’ve come down in the amount of money we lose. If we had done this for the money, I would have to say we would have stopped after the first time.”
The educational component of the festival takes place on Fridays, the day before it opens to the public. School kids on pre-scheduled field trips turn out for lessons on the original settlers. About 1,000 students are expected this year.
For Eddy, the October festival will be particularly spiritual. A memorial service is set for 7:30 p.m. Friday on the fairgrounds. Friends will be asked to say a few words about her husband, the man who nicknamed her “Toadie.” The man who started it all.
And more than likely, would like to see it continue.
The American Indian Festival will be held under the covered rodeo arena of the Gwinnett County Fairgrounds from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. Saturday and 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sunday. Admission is $7 for those 13 and older; $4 for 5- to 12-year-olds. Kids younger than 4 get in free.
Barbecue joint’s critics not just blowing smoke
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Where there’s smoke, there might be some ‘cue.
Some say there’s a tad too much of the former flowing from Dreamland barbecue restaurant in Norcross. Residents and at least one business owner have complained about the thick smoke that pours out of its smokestacks.
It’s not the distinct smell of hickory that irritates people. It’s the smoke plume that occasionally wafts across Peachtree Parkway and settles in the parking lot of Interlochen Village, a strip mall behind Dreamland.
“I get a couple of calls every few weeks about the smoke,” said Bert Nasuti, the Gwinnett County commissioner.
The state Environmental Protection Division has heard the complaints, too. J. Tilden Bembry, an environmental specialist, recently paid a visit. The EPD can’t do anything about the smoke, though.
Dreamland cooks food for human consumption. Because of that, Bembry said, it’s exempt from having to have an air quality permit. He even cited the state code: 391-3-.03, under the exemption section at georgiaepd.org.
“Basically, they use wood as fuel to make their barbecue,” he said. “Essentially, (Dreamland) is like Burger King, which uses natural gas. Since it’s preparing food for immediate consumption, it’s exempt” from state air quality control laws.
Yeah, but what about county zoning?
Before Dreamland, the building was home to Mario’s Italian restaurant. Dreamland never came through the zoning process because the site was already approved for a restaurant.
“Had it come through the zoning process, we probably would have put some smoke abatement requirements on it,” Nasuti said. “I love having good barbecue in Peachtree Corners, but there aren’t a whole lot of restaurants putting out that kind of smoke.”
Poppycock, said Tony Williams, Dreamland’s general manager.
“It’s not that heavy of a smoke,” he told me. “It’s aromatic. It disperses quickly. We get a lot of business from people who come through the intersection and smell it.”
They can’t help but smell it.
And see it.
State Rep. Tom Rice of Peachtree Corners dropped by the strip mall one morning to see what his constituents were crowing about. He saw a parking lot covered in blue smoke.
“I think it’s offensive to people who not only work but shop there,” he said. “I don’t necessarily know whether it’s hazardous, but it’s certainly offensive.”
Sticky, too.
Staff at Interlochen Village Cleaners de-grease their windshields before they head home. Smoke apparently leaves a film. Jill and Gary Tabor don’t open the doors of the dry cleaners anymore. If they do, they get smoked out.
“I’m for anybody making money,” Jill Tabor said. “But this is aggravating.”
When Tabor complained to Williams, she suggested raising the restaurant’s smokestack. He obliged. The smoke is still an issue, though.
Dreamland isn’t going anywhere. It’s too popular and too good. Residents, business owners and mall patrons shouldn’t have to put up with all this smoke, either.
Maybe a deal can be meted out.
“I’d love to chat with them about this,” Rice said.
Nasuti plans to schedule a meeting so he and Rice can huddle with the owners.
For the sake of some tasty pig, I bet they work something out.
Locals take control of median beautification
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
The state Department of Transportation mowed the medians along Peachtree Parkway twice a year.
For the United Peachtree Corners Civic Association, that didn’t cut it.
“We had weeds up to our knees,” said Gay Shook, one of six directors for the neighborhoods group.
The association didn’t lobby the state DOT or run to the county for help. They simply handled it.
Peachtree Parkway is a four-mile road that runs through unincorporated western Gwinnett to the Chattahoochee River. It’s dotted with pricey subdivisions, several strip malls and stand-alone businesses. Technology Park/Atlanta, the high-tech hub, and the Forum, an upscale mall, are anchors.
Shook, who lives in Peachtree Station, oversaw the beautification project. She collected contact information for all the landlords whose property had linear footage along the parkway itself. They, she thought, would have the most to gain if the grass were mowed and trash picked up weekly.
But would they pay for a landscape company to do it?
Most, it turns out, would.
So in 2004, the association began collecting yearly donations to maintain all 17 medians. It comes to $1.71 per linear foot. Christ the King Lutheran Church contributes $1,410.75 a year; the Forum donates $2,684.70.
Every November, Shook sends out invoices to notify property owners that contributions are due. Most oblige. A few knuckleheads are too blind (or stingy) to see the beauty in weeding, reseeding and fertilizing medians.
“It’s voluntary, and if individuals don’t pay, we mow anyway,” Shook said. “We want the whole four miles to look good. Fortunately, there are enough landowners who do participate, so the project has been able to operate without interruption.”
The civic association needed a “permit to encroach” from the state DOT to assume upkeep of the medians. The county obtained the permit for the association because the association is not a municipality.
Shook credits Rick O’Brien, president of Technology Park/Atlanta and Commissioner Bert Nasuti for helping launch the project. Nasuti, though, sees what I see: concerned citizens, collaborating with government, taking charge of their community’s destiny.
He thinks the civic association’s efforts, in some form or fashion, could be duplicated elsewhere. All it takes are volunteers like Shook.
“What it boils down to is having people willing to step up and put some time into it,” Nasuti said. “They have worked that corridor laboriously.”
If you don’t believe it, go see for yourself. Drive Peachtree Parkway from the split at Peachtree Industrial Boulevard to the Chattahoochee River. Aesthetically, it’s the antithesis of Buford Highway and Jimmy Carter Boulevard. Manicured medians. No pawn shops, auto repair shops or title loan shops. (Peachtree Corners does have a Love Shack. Hey, you can’t win every battle).
Now that the weekly mowing has begun, the civic association doesn’t want to stop. Plans are in the works to plant lantana, rosemary and black-eyed Susans where the parkway intersects with Jaybird Alley. “Government can’t do everything,” Shook said. “People need to step up.”
For more information about the Peachtree Corners beautification project, e-mail Gay Shook at Gay@upcca.com.
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