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May 2008
When life flips on a dime
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
They were doing just fine till he got sick.
Now Chuck Peavy is in Emory University Hospital, waiting to get a new heart. Cindi, his wife of 15 years has about run herself ragged. She’s juggling everything, taking care of their kids - 2-year-old twins and a 5-year-old-daughter. And traveling between the hospital and their home in Snellville.
When we talked, Cindi, 43, had a hard time remembering the kinds of things reporters need to know for a story. Facts.
“I’m tired,” she told me.
The family’s life flipped on a dime about several years ago. Chuck, now 46, came upstairs. He couldn’t talk or lift his arms. He did that typical guy thing where we don’t want to seek medical help.
Cindi called 911.
Chuck had had a stroke. Fortunately, it left no residual effects.
“We were lucky,” Cindi told me. “Really, really lucky.”
Then, in the spring of 2004 or 2005 - Cindi can’t remember when - it happened again. Chuck was in a bank when he his arms went numb. This time, a heart ailment was detected. Chuck’s heart had to work harder than it should to pump blood from chamber to chamber. He also had an irregular heartbeat. He was put on meds and told he’d live a relatively normal life.
Chuck kept getting sicker, though, one thing after another. Bronchitis. Sinus infection. Barely enough energy to get off the sofa.
Last year, Cindi was at a weekend women’s retreat when she got a telephone call. Chuck was in the emergency room. He’d been diagnosed with congestive heart failure.
“That kind of came out of the blue,” Cindi told me, noting that Chuck had no history of blockage or high cholesterol.
Dr. Javed Butler, his physician, said Chuck apparently contracted a virus that had damaged his heart. That happens often.
“Not rare at all,” Butler told me. “That’s the case in 30 to 40 percent of heart patients.”
In January, Chuck was admitted into Crawford Long Hospital where he had open heart surgery. He has since been moved to Emory University Hospital and is on the wait list for a heart transplant.
Before Chuck took ill, he was a service writer for Ford of Stone Mountain. Cindi worked as a marketing manager, but she’s quit that job to devote time to family. They pay $850 a month for a COBRA health plan.
“We didn’t have a choice,” Cindi said. “We recently qualified for disability and just got that going.”
But it’s not enough.
Cindi didn’t belabor the issue, but neighbor Barbara Myers says the Peavy’s could use your help. As in meals, baby-sitting services and money. Especially money. They’ve drained their accounts.
“All their savings are gone,” Myers told me.
Post-transplant expenses alone could top $100,000. Chuck will have to take anti-rejection drugs the rest of his life, and they are expensive.
For now, neighbors chip in where they can. And on Saturday, neighborhood kids Allie Myers, Gracie Abercrombie, Lindsey Thrift and Chandler Malone were to hold a benefit bake sale. An account has been set up for the family at Bank of America. Donations for the Peavy Family Fund may be made at any branch location.
‘They definitely need the help,” Myers said.
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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Workers mistrust gun honor system
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Shannon Lumpkin has been a bartender for seven years.
She knows when a customer needs to be cut off, denied a drink.
But Lumpkin can’t tell when patrons at Barnacles in Norcross are packing a concealed firearm. And it doesn’t matter if they are law-abiding citizens or criminally inclined. What she does know is what experience as a barkeep has taught her - that booze and guns mix terribly.
“Alcohol and ignorance is not a good thing,” said Lumpkin while serving a late lunch crowd.
Starting July 1, Georgians with permits will be legally allowed to carry concealed firearms into restaurants, on public transit and in state parks. Restaurant patrons who carry firearms in purses or under jackets won’t be able to consume alcohol.
Debate over the new legislation has split twixt the usual two camps - the right-to-bear-arms group and gun-control advocates. Nuts exist on both sides. On this issue, the right of law-abiding citizens to carry a concealed weapon rightly prevailed. Supporters say the relaxed restrictions will reduce the crime rate, help protect the public.
Time will tell.
But what good is the law, really, as it relates to safety?
I’ve wondered what the people on the front line in restaurants think about the legislation - those who flip the burgers, pour the shots and serve the wings. So on Wednesday, the Badie Tour stopped by Barnacles in Norcross, and interviewed other employees of the food industry on the telephone.
There appears to be agreement on two things. First, guns and alcohol don’t mix - never, ever. Second, restaurant workers lack faith in the honor system, the belief that gun-toting patrons will pass over the beer list just because to do otherwise would lead to a misdemeanor violation.
That said, no one I talked to expects the state to turn into the Wild, Wild West as a result of the new law, either. Dirty Harry won’t cruise restaurants, hoping some criminal makes his (or her) day. But they doubt that anybody will be notably safer because a customer has secretly packed a firearm away.
“An actual patron bringing in a [concealed weapon] doesn’t sound too advantageous,” said Robert Van Pulley, manager of Hi-Life Kitchen & Cocktails in Norcross. “It sounds like a waste of time to even bring this up as a law, other than that it simply gives gun-owners more freedom, more of a right to bear arms.”
Fred Azadi, owner of Nemoe’s Tavern & Grill in Norcross, condones carrying concealed firearms. He has a permit to do so. He draws the line, though, when it comes to strapped patrons entering establishments like his with a popular bar.
“I like the idea of having it in the parks, on transit, even a restaurant without alcohol,” he told me. “But a couple of guys getting drunk and having a pistol… . .You are walking a fine line. I have mixed feelings.”
So do I.
Whatever opinion you may have on the issue, know this: Guns are out there, everywhere.
“When you go to McDonald’s, or anywhere,”Lumpkin said, “that person in front of you or that person behind you in line can have a weapon.
“But alcohol and guns just aren’t a good thing.”
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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Girl inspires others to help sick children
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
She bounced outside one wintry day and saw her good friend, Tessa Thornton, bundled in an overcoat.
Hannah Perras could tell something was wrong. Tessa’s head was down. The 8-year-old was sobbing.
“She told me her cousin was dying with cancer,” said Hannah, 10. “She’d been in the hospital over Christmas. I was very worried.”
Hannah had played with the sick child a few times when she visited Tessa in Lawrenceville. She considered her a friend and wanted to help her in some way.
“My daughter has a very big heart,” Ann Perras told me. “When she first saw footage of the Chinese earthquake, she had tears on her face. She’s very sensitive.”
Hannah doesn’t deny it.
“When I see things like that, it almost always makes me cry,” she said.
Naturally, Hannah wanted to do something, anything, to help her friend’s cousin. She thought about hosting a benefit to raise money to defray medical costs, but that was unnecessary. The sick child, a patient at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta at Scottish Rite, has coverage.
Hannah went online and read stories about cancer-stricken kids unable to afford treatment. An idea was born: donate to charity care.
One day at school, the fourth-grader at Rock Springs Elementary scheduled an appointment with Principal Angie Pacholke. She pitched her idea: to host a used book sale on campus. Pacholke granted the green light.
“She said you plan it and you tell me what you’re going to do,” Hannah told me. “And that’s what I did.”
Hannah handed out fliers in her neighborhood to collect books. She asked friends to donate. Pacholke asked students and parents to do likewise. A notice appeared in the school newsletter.
On Friday, Rock Springs did indeed host a used book sale in the media center. Hundreds of books were available. Dr. Seuss books. Titles from series like The Magic Tree House and Junie B. Jones.
“This had been in the works for four or five months,” Perras said. “Hannah had this idea and ran with it. The person who made it as spectacular as it was was Kathy Schmidt. When we arrived Friday, everything was set.”
Around 9 a.m. Friday morning, Schmidt, the media specialist, fired off an e-mail. She told me about Hannah and gave background on how the book sale had come to be. Then she told me about the benefit itself, which was in progress.
“Today was the book sale in the school media center and so far [Hannah] has raised over $300 to give to Scottish Rite Hospital in honor of her friend,” Schmidt wrote. “She is still counting as I type this!”
The event raised nearly $500 for Scottish Rite. The Perrases plan to take the money to the hospital this week.
“I thought I’d raise $100 or less,” Hannah told me. “There were tons and tons of books. I didn’t think we’d get a lot, but we did.”
Cool kid.
Great idea.
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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Honoring a natural
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Her classroom looked like a veteran’s, not like a rookie’s.
Teachers at Level Creek Elementary School were impressed. But if they’d known Lindsay Hammon as a child, they would have known to expect it.
“From the time she was a little girl, her favorite play activity was teaching,” said Linda Hammon, her mom. “If her students weren’t real people, she’d use whatever she could find. Everyone who saw her in action thought she was the best. Teaching was a natural progression for her.”
Lindsay started baby-sitting at a young age. She taught preschool classes for several years at Snellville United Methodist Church. The 2002 South Gwinnett High grad studied early childhood education at the University of Georgia, graduating magna cum laude. Last year, she was hired to teach kindergarten at Suwanee’s Level Creek. Fit right in.
“Her enthusiasm was contagious,” teacher Sandy Bass said. “Her love for children was infectious.”
Lindsay spent the summer of 2006 preparing her classroom - buying supplies, decorating, organizing. In one corner, she placed a large red and black wooden stagecoach. “The Reading Express,” she called it.
“She had fabulous materials and a sense of organization that you would expect from someone who’d been teaching many, many years,” Hammon told me.
The first day of school was Aug. 14, 2006. That morning, Lindsay was in the bathroom. Her fiance’ heard what sounded like the thump of a body hitting the floor. At 22, her heart had stopped. The probable cause of death was ruled as idiopathic cardiac dysrhythmia.
“They tried to make a determination,” said Hammon, a paraprofessional at Grayson Elementary. “But that’s their best guess. She had been a healthy, vibrant girl. She had not been in pain or had any problems.
“We don’t have a complete explanation, except that it was her time.”
The Level Creek staff had planned to designate an area on the playground in their colleague’s memory. They’d wanted to install picnic tables, erect a bronze plaque and plant trees. The drought squashed those plans. Fortunately, a secondary entrance on campus already had crape myrtle trees. It was an ideal spot for tables, benches, learning, reflection.
“We pass it every day coming into school,” Principal Nancy Kiel said. “Lindsay was such a bright light and inspiration. Each day as we walk in, this will help us frame our day, get back to what is important.”
At 4 p.m. today, Level Creek will host a ceremony to unveil the Lindsay Nicole Hammon Memorial Outdoor Classroom. It has four handmade stone tables and three benches. The “teacher bench” is topped with stained glass and has a granite plaque with an inscription chosen by Lindsay’s mother.
“Children, teaching, laughter and love were in her heart,” it states. “Now and forever, we hold her in ours.”
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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Fuss over shirt offers chance of enlightenment
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
He looked nervous.
Who could blame him?
Some customers pointed and gave double-takes when Jason Getz, an AJC Gwinnett News photographer, walked into Martin’s Restaurant in Norcross. He wore a T-shirt that’s been in the news of late, thanks to Mike Norman, owner of Mulligan’s Bar and Grill in Marietta. He sells a T-shirt that shows a picture of Curious George, with a banana, with the words “Obama ‘08” underneath.
A coalition has protested. The publisher of the Curious George reading series has threatened to sue for misuse of the chimp’s character.
On Tuesday, I drove to Mulligan’s and plucked down $15 for a T-shirt. A jovial customer told me to be sure and try the collards, that they’d been prepared by a “sister” (meaning black woman) who was a mighty good cook.
The T-shirt served as a prop for yesterday’s Badie Tour. I wanted to see the reaction if someone actually wore the shirt. Getz agreed to be the guinea pig, though he may now resent it. He didn’t like the attention, the stares and gestures.
“It’s not me,” Getz said.
Soon, he shed it.
Dwight Bramlett, a white man from Newnan who was eating breakfast, could see why.
“I don’t see it as a racial thing, but it’s a touchy subject, ya know,?” the electrician said. “If I was black, I think I’d be a little insulted. But this is just more trouble. More stuff to fuss about.”
All because of a T-shirt.
But is it just a T-shirt?
Norman has the right to erect any kind of mean-spirited message he wants to on the marquee outside his hole-in-the-wall. He can sell racist T-shirts, too, if that’s his thing. If you don’t see anything wrong with it, you can eat and drink there. Take friends. We can’t tell Norman what to think or what to express.
Likewise, black people can’t be told how to feel or how to react to a T-shirt that compares a monkey with a black man. Black people, deal with it in different ways - by ignoring the Normans of the world, through anger, pain, protests, counter racism and humor. It’s not about holding a grudge, playing victim; it’s about not forgetting the past, the legacy.
It’s easy to say just get over it, move on, knock the chip off your shoulder, when you’re not the one whose history, whose ancestors, bore the scars. But do you tell a woman whose been raped to just “get over it?” Or relatives who lost a family member to murder to just “move on?”
The historical context in which blacks have been derogatorily compared to monkeys, apes and chimps is too defined, too recent. It’s rooted in Jim Crow America. The South. And if you can’t see that, don’t want to acknowledge it or didn’t know, then perhaps Norman’s Obama spoof has served one good purpose: enlightenment.
I’ve read some comments by AJC readers who wonder why the characterization and depiction of President George Bush as a monkey hasn’t garnered the same visceral reaction. While such a depiction may offend some, it carries absolutely no racial, racist or bigoted innuendo. Zilch.
At Martin’s Restaurant, Doug Candis and Burke Johnson, two black men, sat at a nearly table. They once worked together in radio broadcasting when stations didn’t play the same 30 songs all day. They were relieved to hear that Getz was part of a journalistic exercise, not some agitator with a death wish.
“We saw him when he first walked in,” said Candis when I approached their table. “I don’t go for things like that at all. It reflects negative thoughts. People are trying everything they can to bring (Obama) down. I reward him for staying on track.”
Johnson of Norcross saw a TV newsclip of the T-shirt. “I didn’t think I’d ever see anyone wear it,” he told me. “I didn’t think anybody would be brave enough to do it.”
Then, jokingly, he offered Getz some advice:
“You wouldn’t make it too far with that shirt on in some places,” he said. “You almost got tackled coming in here, man.”
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or e-mail: rbadie@ �
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Snellville man to help others
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Willis Bennett had told me his grandson, Ryan Mercer, would be difficult to understand. Listen carefully, he suggested, and I did.
Ryan, 21, of Snellville has cerebral palsy, a neurological disorder that affects muscle movement. He attends the Monarch School, a public special-needs school in Duluth.
Ryan loves Southern gospel music. He attends concerts with his grandpa, Willis Bennett of Loganville. One of his favorite songs is “I’ll Fly Away.”
Years ago, grandpa and grandson were returning home after a weekend concert in Rogersville, Tenn. Ryan got an idea.
“Why not take my love for gospel music and use it to raise money for charities that serve adults and children with disabilities?
“This was when I was about 9 years old,” Ryan told me. “I told my grandpa about it and he liked the idea.”
It marked the start of Ryan’s Gospel Singing Jubilee, a concert that’s raised more than $125,000 since its inception. The 12th annual jubilee kicks off at 7:30 p.m. Friday at Rehoboth Baptist Church in Tucker. The Down East Boys, a quartet from Reidsville, N.C., and the Lambdins of Lawrenceville will provide entertainment.
The concert is free. A collection plate will be passed. Proceeds will benefit Camp ASCCA (Alabama Special Camp for Children and Adults), an Easter Seals’ facility for children and adults with disabilities in east central Alabama.
Ryan attended his first camp six years ago. His parents, Rhonda and Roy Mercer, weren’t sure about someone else taking care of him. Mom cried the first time they dropped him off and checked in almost daily.
Like most tough decisions, though, sending Ryan to summer camp has been a wise one. With the tubing, canoeing and fishing came a blessing.
“He has made lifelong, incredible friends there,” Rhonda Mercer said, “The counselors and staff are wonderful, caring people. They see Ryan for who he is. The camp allows us and other parents a much-needed break while knowing our children are having the time of their lives.”
Ryan calls the camp his “heaven-on-earth blessing.”
“It’s like being normal for one week,” said Ryan, who attends retreats at the Alabama facility throughout the year.
Ryan was diagnosed with CP when he was six months old. He uses a motorized wheelchair that he operates with his fingers.
“From the neck and above he’s smart as a whip,” said Bennett, Ryan’s grandpa, who owns the Willis Bennett Insurance agency in Snellville. “You just have to listen to him carefully to understand him.”
You have a chance to hear Ryan Friday night. He usually joins the featured performers on stage at every jubilee. They cue up and sing one of his favorite gospel songs.
Often, it’s “I’ll Fly Away.”
For more information about Ryan Mercer, visit www.ryansresources.homestead.com. 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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Paying Twice
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
She was at the hospital to stay by her sick son’s side, but Louise Beers was pretty sick herself.
She’d been battling a lingering viral bronchial infection for a week or so.
“I thought my chest would explode,” the 67-year-old Duluth woman told me. “I had to wear a mask to sit by my son’s bed.”
Beers primary doctor had been treating her with meds, but she was slow to improve. He suggested that Beers have a chest X-ray while at Piedmont Hospital to visit her son. The results were alarming.
She was admitted into Piedmont on Feb. 26 for an overnight stay. She received breathing treatments and insulin.
When Beers learned that she’d be staying, she had her daughter go home and get four other medications that she takes daily. But she wasn’t allowed to take her personal stash of pills. Instead, the nurses ordered the same medicines from the hospital pharmacy.
Beers didn’t have too much of a problem with that - till she got the bill.
“I have to pay $175.48 for what Medicare would have paid no more than $10 or $15 dollars for!” she wrote in an e-mail. “Were you aware that this is going on?”
Well, no, but Piedmont spokeswoman Diana Lewis explained why she couldn’t take the medicine brought from home. It’s a safety issue. Any reputable hospital, she said, would never let a patient ingest meds that came from home.
“It puts the patient at risk,” Lewis said. “There’s no way for the nurse to be sure about the dosages. She’s not a pharmacist.”
I explained Beers’ unhappiness with her prescription bill. She, in return, turned to Joseph Ware, who handles patient financial services for Piedmont. My phone rang 30 minutes later.
“Medicare has a list of drugs that they consider ‘self-administrable’ that they will not pay for if administered to an outpatient [covered by Medicare],” Lewis said. “[Beers] was an outpatient.”
Beers, who spent 30 years training insurance agents, has no issue with the hospital. Her son, who’d already had two heart operations, fought for his life in the cardiac ICU at Piedmont Hospital. He suffered from a torn aorta, the same condition that killed actor John Ritter.
“My son is alive because of Piedmont,” Beers told me. “A number of times we almost lost him. He’s doing much better. And I was very sick. Piedmont is a wonderful place.”
When the bill for the medicine arrived in the mail, she contacted Medicare. A customer service rep told her what Lewis had explained to me - that the provider doesn’t pay for certain drugs when administered to outpatients. Lewis of Piedmont told me to have Beers contact the hospital. Ware, of the patient finances department, can help her file an appeal.
Beers plans to.
“I am caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place,” she said. “I have no complaints about my treatment at Piedmont, but this just needles me. If I am having to pay this horrendous amount, everybody else must have to pay, too. I wonder how many people get caught up in this.”
Me too.
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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Where snits, tension abound
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
If you want to get a cross-section of the people in any community, stop by the local diner.
It’s where I landed Wednesday in Snellville, the town where “Everybody’s Somebody,” and where the City Council is competing with Lithonia officials and the Clayton County school board for a special title: “The most dysfunctional governing body in metro Atlanta.”
The Snellville Diner sits in a plaza, sharing anchor duties with Big Lots and Provino’s Restaurant. I was walking into the eatery when I spotted Theron Carman. He was picking up dry cleaning. An Atlanta native, he’s lived within the city limits of the ‘Ville 22 years. He’s seen the mayoral reigns of Emmett Clower [26 years] and Brett Harrell, who served one four-year term in early 2000.
Carman says he’s never seen anything like the current bunch. Mayor Jerry Oberholtzer and a five-member City Council can’t seem to do anything but fuss, belittle each other and call names. In Snellville, politics is personal. A bloodsport. Ugly and disgraceful, too.
“It’s hard to figure out unless you’re at all the meetings,” Carman said. “It’s a totally divided group. It seems like the city leaders got along better years ago, even under Clower.”
That would be Emmett Clower. Every person I talked to Wednesday mentioned him, if not by name, by his profession. He’s a photographer. The Badie Tour stopped by his studio to chat Wednesday, but no one was in.
Maybe next time.
Clower’s political demise and Harrell’s rise were supposed to usher in a new era and vision for Snellville. The town would move into the 21st century, establish an identity, urbanize. Transition hasn’t been easy. Locals I talked to Wednesday talked about a battle between camps - supporters of the old guard and newcomers who support a vision begun under Harrell and continued by Oberholtzer.
And because of that rift, we have Checkgate.
Councilwoman Kelly Kautz wants an investigation into a $31,000-plus check that was written without the board’s consent. The check went to the Gwinnett Municipal Association. Apparently no one authorized it. But here’s the rub: The check was issued on Oct. 11, 2007, with the stamped signatures of the city clerk and the mayor. It makes for great headlines, but why bring this up now?
Then there’s the defamation lawsuit: Councilman Robert Jenkins vs. his predecessor, Joe Anderson. Jenkins has asked the state appeals court to hear his complaint that Anderson falsely accused him of bribery and stalked him in an attempt to keep him out of office. The lawsuit was filed last year.
Finally, there’s the vacant city manager’s position. Jim Brooks had been hired as interim city manager, but the mayor didn’t want to extend Brooks’ contract. Oberholtzer has been filling in, so to speak, but he says he doesn’t actually tell city workers what to do. Mayor Pro Tem Warren Auld sought the opinion of state Attorney General Thurbert Baker. Baker ruled that the mayor cannot legally fill the vacant city manager’s spot. Big deal, Oberholtzer said in so many words.
So what do we have here in Snellville, where everybody’s somebody?
“The Mickey Mouse club,” said Jack Kujawa, who lives outside the city limits. I shared a diner booth with him and Jackie, his wife of 50 years. They compared town antics to Lithonia and the Clayton County school board.
Besides the old guard-new guard battles, Kujawa thinks another issue has caused a town rift: Sunday liquor sales. In November 2004, voters in a nonbinding referendum condoned the sale of liquor in restaurants on Sunday.
But in a 3-2 vote, the council adopted an amended law that cuts off alcohol sales at midnight and bans them on Sundays. Then-Mayor Pro Tem Chad Smith and then-council member Bruce Garraway, along with current board member Warren Auld, voted for the revised ordinance that disregarded the results of the referendum.
“That was a big thing,” said Kujawa, who doesn’t imbibe. Despite the craziness of this depraved circus, residents I talked to on and off the record hold hope that a change is going to come, that egos, pettiness and vindictiveness will subside.
For the sake of the town.
“It has to,” Carman said.
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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Warning: Ignorance of law is not an excuse
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
They probably think it’ll never happen to them. That they’ll never get a DUI or do time for consuming and possessing drugs and alcohol.
After all, they are teenagers - naive about the law, the judicial system, consequences perhaps.
Sunday night, about 60 students and parents attended a frank, graphic presentation on drug use, alcohol and sex at Tucker First United Methodist Church. Atlanta attorney Steven Ashby and Jim Anderson, municipal judge for the city of Sandy Springs, didn’t sugarcoat.
“Everyone of you could be tried as an adult for certain crimes,” said Ashby, the first speaker. “There are numerous teens sitting in jail as we speak. These children are your age.”
He touched on a number of scenarios and applicable laws.
“If you take one swallow [of booze], you have possessed alcohol,” he said. “You can be arrested, convicted and serve 12 months for alcohol consumption.”
Parents throwing parties for children is more common than you think, he said. “That parent is guilty of a felony. If you are at a party like this, leave the party. Don’t leave it by slipping away. Let somebody know. That way you have an alibi.”
The session mirrored a blueprint provided by J. Tom Morgan, a child advocate and former DeKalb County district attorney. He realized teenagers don’t know the law and wrote a self-published book, “Ignorance Is No Defense: A Teenager’s Guide to Georgia Law.” (It’s available at www.ignoranceisnodefense.com/).
What I liked about Ashby and Anderson’s presentation was the nod to its limitations. They acknowledged that they could talk till they were blue in the face about right and wrong, what to do and what to avoid.
Ultimately, though, they know there’s this thing we have - me, you, teens. It’s free will. The way we exercise control over our actions and decisions. We know it’s wrong to do any number of things. Sometimes, we still do it.
Anderson told the teens that some of them would try their luck, tempt fate.
“Which one of you wants to be the patient because of drinking and driving?” he asked. “Which one of you wants to be the next. Who will be the next? You think you’re special because you’re young, that you have great reflexes and good tires. That you’re better. So you think it’s not going to happen to me.”
At UGA, friends and I celebrated my 21st birthday with Coke and rum, 151-proof. I woke up at some point in the night because Jeff, my roommate, was tapping on my shoulder. I was vomiting in my sleep, choking. It’s a story I’ve shared with my son many times. Just so he knows.
Amanda Henley, Tucker First’s youth minister, put together Sunday’s “Teen and the Law” program. It was a timely event. Over the weekend, a teen church member was involved in a car accident that left one boy paralyzed and another comatose. It’s unclear what caused the accident. The church member wasn’t seriously injured.
“They think nothing is going to happen to them, when it very well can,” Henley said. “They are just as likely to die as an 85-year-old.”
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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Lifetime later, he met dad
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
In the photo, a father and son shake hands. They look just alike.
“Like twins,” said Reginald Andre Dube of Suwanee. “It’s amazing.”
So is his story.
He was raised by his grandparents in Charlotte and never knew his father. Relatives told Reginald that his dad, Noyce Dube, had died in a car accident on his way to the airport for a flight to Zambia, his home. It was a concocted tale.
“They were afraid someone would show up one day (from Africa) and take me away,” said Reginald, 37. “So my aunt made it up.”
In the 1970s, Noyce Dube and Shirley “Jean” Hollins met at Johnson C. Smith University in Charlotte. They married, and she got pregnant. Noyce Dube had to return to South Africa, but he made arrangements for the child’s delivery. One day, he’d return to the United States, to his family. But the distance between the countries, coupled with the war front in Africa, prevented the reunion.
Reginald, meanwhile, had never bought into the tale about his father’s death. He started researching the matter when he turned 24. In April 2007, his wife, Sonya, came across an article in the Mail & Guardian Online, a newspaper in South Africa. It mentioned a man named Noyce Dube, headmaster of a school in Zimbabwe.
The newspaper article led to phone calls from Suwanee to Bulawayo, the second-largest city in Zimbabwe. Eventually the Dubes of Gwinnett hit pay dirt. Father and son exchanged letters and talked on the phone.
Until then, Noyce Dube had never known if he had a boy or a girl. Likewise, he didn’t know that his wife had died in a car accident when their son was an infant. He had no idea his late wife’s relatives deliberately kept him from his son. When he returned to Africa decades ago, he took out an ad in an American newspaper to locate his family. It proved fruitless.
“He’s still a little hurt,” Reginald told me.
The photo of this father and son was taken in mid-April in Zimbabwe. Reginald and Sonya had made their way through airport checkpoints when the door opened into a lobby. Reginald spotted a 68-year-old man, handsome, smiling and waving.
“It took us 21 hours to get over there, so my body was tired,” said Reginald, a finance manager at Gwinnett Place Honda. “As soon as I saw him and hugged him, all the energy came back. That’s when everything became real.”
Last year, Reginald also learned that he has two brothers and five sisters. He’d already traveled to London to meet three sisters prior to visiting his father. While in Africa, he met a brother and a slew of relatives.
“There are thousands of Dubes,” he told me. It’s a very big name, very prestigious. The family is known for academics. Me on the other hand, that’s another story.”
Speaking of stories, Reginald definitely has one he wants to share.
He’s writing a book about his search to find his father, one that has delivered a miracle.
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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More costly, but still truckin’
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
He was 16 the first time he drove a semi.
In his native Pittsburgh, Dean Masson worked for a neighbor who ran a warehouse and moving business. Masson helped to pack, load and unload. Some of the truckers would turn the wheel over to him in the parking lot or on a vacant stretch of road. It marked the start of a career for the 45-year-old Lilburn man.
Masson runs mostly in-state routes for Old Glory Trucking of Stone Mountain. “Drop and swaps,” he calls them. The Badie Tour rode shotgun with Masson on Wednesday morning to get a view of the traffic from the cab of a rig.
Sitting up high definitely gives you a better view of the road. The ride was comfortable, and you could definitely feel the difference between a loaded and empty trailer. The hardest part, really, was getting in and out of the cab, something Masson does dozens of times every day. It’s almost like climbing a short ladder.
Of course, you can’t talk to a trucker without talking about diesel fuel, which is used in the trucks that transport most food, industrial and commercial goods. It averaged $4.22 a gallon in metro Atlanta on Wednesday, according to AAA’s media site.
Independent truck operators, along with fleet outfits that employ truckers like Masson, feel the pinch at the pump. Rising fuel prices cut into profits, even with a bump in freight rates. Independent operators can easily find themselves out of business if their rig isn’t paid off. And there are always operators who try to undercut competitors, only to wind up losing their shirts.
Masson’s Mercedes-Benz-powered rig has a 200-gallon tank. Do the math.
“A lot of trucks hold 300 gallons,” said Masson, who doesn’t let the gauge drop lower than a quarter of a tank. Fortunately, he has an employe—issued credit card, thanks to Bill Giddings, owner of Old Glory Trucking.
Jerry Richter of Conyers isn’t so fortunate. The independent trucker made a delivery Wednesday to ABC Polymers Inc., a recycling business off East Ponce de Leon Avenue. He, like Masson, didn’t think the truckers’ protest held Monday in Washington would amount to much. Some truckers want Congress to stop subsidizing big oil companies, release oil from the Strategic Petroleum Reserve and end exports of oil from Alaska.
“The only thing that doesn’t go up are the wages,” said Richter, who routinely shells out about $900 at the pump.
Giddings started Old Glory in 1989. His nine-truck fleet mainly serves the Southeast, though he has one client in Green Bay, Wis. Giddings said he was at a loss to explain the rise in diesel fuel, much less how to fix it.
“No idea,” he told me. “I’m just like anybody else. I don’t understand it when I see the price of a barrel of oil and they say all the reserves are full, and that there’s no shortage. It’s just economics, I guess.”
Giddings runs his business like a miser. He tells Masson and the other drivers to save at the pump, even if it’s a penny per gallon.
“If it’s $4.20 on one side and $4.19 on the other, we go for the $4.19,” he said. “It doesn’t sound like much, but it adds up on every gallon.”
I rode shotgun on three runs with Masson. We went from Doraville to Stone Mountain to College Park, then back to Stone Mountain. Traffic was relatively mild and fluid.
“Whether you’re in Atlanta, South Florida or Houston - all drivers are basically the same,” he said. “No matter what speed you’re going, someone is going to pass you.”
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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