Archive for the ‘Susan Simmons’ Category

Susan Simmons

Hope we PASSed

by Susan Simmons

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Oct
8

By now, our governor is deep into her cross-state tour to reveal her graded report cards for every member of the General Assembly. This week she held town halls in Rock Hill, Irmo and Aiken. Next week: Hilton Head and Charleston.

Alas, we will have to wait until week three to hear a live report on how the Spartanburg and Greenville delegations fared on the Haley PASS test. Those so interested should plan to join her Oct. 17 at 5:30 p.m. at Byrnes High School in Duncan.

As this column was due before the first town hall, I don’t know whether the governor chose to be combative or collaborative in tone. Experience shows she is fully capable of both. Either way, the town halls are sure to reveal more about Nikki Haley than any of the legislators she judges.

Start with the events themselves. As vehicles to unveil the governor’s agenda for the next year and get a grassroots reaction, town halls are a great idea. But to crisscross the state calling out individual lawmakers for their performance on her goals, not their own, presumes a superiority Haley doesn’t have. As Columbia Sen. Joel Lourie asked back in March, “Am I supposed to take it home and get my mother to sign it? Or maybe my wife?”

Again, if Haley takes a we’re-in-this-together approach on her travels, the end result may be a nudge toward many useful reforms lawmakers have avoided for years.

But the school marmish way she did it will still rankle, I bet, even with the lawmakers who put a good face on it. Legislators are accountable to South Carolina voters, not the governor. In the end, this is exactly what Lourie said: a publicity stunt. A good show, with questionable enduring effect.  Sound familiar?

But while the show is definitely Sanfordesque, Haley differs from her predecessor in one key aspect: Sanford was a master of the fine detail. Haley is all Big Idea. I picture her striding around Columbia tossing them off, underlings scurrying beside her, scribbling, “It’s a great day in South Carolina!” “Worker training!” “Drug testing for the unemployed!”

Big idea people are characteristically averse to documentation and detail, which is why Haley could repeat “a million times” – without checking her facts – that half the job applicants at the Savannah River Site failed drug tests. The actual number was less than 1 percent. But some unidentified someone told her the flashier statistic, and “I’ve never felt like I had to back up what people tell me,” she told the Associated Press (a quote that still staggers me every time I read it).

It’s why she can brag about bringing 10,000 jobs to the state when her own Commerce Department counts 5,000 and claim she “closed two deals” on her trip to Europe when “in the works” was far more accurate.

These are all things Haley wants to be true: the jobs, the deals, the justification for drug testing she told her hometown Rotary Club she has “been wanting since the first day I walked into office.” Wanting it so badly she can casually smear the reputation of hundreds of SRS job-seekers in its support rather than check her prattle long enough to see if the words are true.

Big ideas can be great ideas, and South Carolina surely needs some great ideas. South Carolina also needs a governor who understands that words matter – that big ideas rooted in fiction turn out to be fairytales.

 

Susan Simmons

Small box store anyone?

by Susan Simmons

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Sep
12

Reading about Walmart’s flirtation with a possible Supercenter on Church Street brought back the memory of how vexed I felt, years ago, when the big box giant abandoned its Laurens Road megastore for the siren call of Woodruff Road.

What had once been a few blocks drive from Gower Estates suddenly demanded an interstate and gridlock traffic. Yes, yes, said gridlock equaled hundreds more potential Walmart shoppers. But every time I passed that empty box down from Michael’s I felt snubbed.

Times do change: sans Supercenter, the city of Greenville is now an “underserved market.” Walmart isn’t saying when a formal proposal for the corner of Church and University Ridge might appear at City Hall – but its execs have been meeting with the two neighborhoods likely to make the most noise, in favor and opposed.

Of those, the Alta Vista Neighborhood Association is more alarmed than pleased about the footprint Walmart would bestow. Haynie-Sirrine, on the other hand, is excited about abundant low prices right on their doorsteps, instead of two long bus rides away on gridlock row.

Alta Vista hasn’t committed to “no” or Haynie-Sirrine to “yes.”  These are still flirting days. One big question looms over all, for neighborhoods and city alike: whether the big box giant will act like, well, a big box giant.

When Walmart’s proposal comes, spokesman Glen Wilkins told the Greenville News, it will be for a 100,000 square-foot store – 60,000 square feet larger than the city master plan for that block of Church Street allows. Told that’s too big, it won’t fit, you’ll have to go smaller, Wilkins says Walmart “couldn’t make a store work for much less.”

He has to know that to give his bosses 100,000 square feet, City Council would have to hand Walmart its very own Amazon moment and shred the city’s master plan. Toss the zoning, ignore the protests and forget all thought of the walkable, mixed-use “urban neighborhood village” the city and community conceived after weeks of public hearings, workshops and neighborhood charrettes.

If this is indeed what Walmart envisions, I have a word of caution: Greenville City Council is no state Legislature. I’m reminded of a quote from Greenville writer Ashley Warlick’s marvelous essay in the August issue of Garden & Gun magazine: “Greenville is a place that’s thought very carefully about itself and how it wants to grow.”

In a dozen years, she writes, city leaders have reimagined downtown to such an entrancing degree that people drive in “from the other country off Woodruff Road and its big-box stores” to enjoy it.

What City Council reimagines for Church Street is a tree-lined, median-divided boulevard with wide sidewalks, and for Haynie-Smith and Alta Vista, affordable housing, public green spaces and a series of compact, mixed-used buildings creating “a vibrant environment for living, working and shopping.”

Haynie-Sirrine Neighborhood Association president Felsie Harris was on the panel that created that plan. As she told The News, “Everybody wants (Walmart)” as long as the retailer respects the master plan.

Smaller is not an impossibility. Walmart recently rolled out two new store models elsewhere – Walmart Market and Walmart Express – that focus on groceries and limited general merchandise and average 40,000 square feet or less.

No, they’re not Supercenters, but Church Street is not Woodruff Road. Walmart can be a welcome neighbor, if it can bring itself to act like a neighbor. That means respecting the neighborhood’s plans and dreams – plans and dreams that don’t, by the way, have to include a big box giant.

Susan Simmons

Not a shopaholic

by Susan Simmons

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Dec
3

I have a confession to make. I have not yet begun to shop.

I know, I know, I’m way behind, especially considering that this Black Friday was expected to “surpass every Black Friday in the history of America,” according to the predictions of consumer behavior analyst Britt Beemer of America’s Research Group.

Alas, the day’s sales figures did not quite climb to those historic heights, though Black Friday 2010 did surpass Black Friday 2009 by 0.3 percent.

But I found inspiration in Britt Beemer’s over-the-top optimism, considering what the last couple of years have been like. Maybe he’s right; maybe the darkest days are finally behind us. Maybe the traffic jams around the malls, the lines at the cash registers, the hundredth repeat of “Jingle Bell Rock” should all be embraced rather than avoided.

So I have gathered up the catalogs and circulars and begun making lists and mulling options. When I venture out, very soon, maybe even this weekend, it will be with cheery anticipation of long lines and no parking.

Just as I hope you have been anticipating this year’s collection of “quotable quotes” from South Carolina and beyond. We have a bumper crop, so please enjoy this quote-lover’s personal list of the wittiest, weirdest, blindest and wisest sayings of 2010.

First up are a trio of animal-related metaphors gleaned by the Greenville News:

* “I want to be sure we’re all fed out of the same trough.” – state Sen. Jake Knotts, on his demand that a bill intended to help Greenville-Spartanburg Airport lure Southwest Airline include a $10 million earmark for Columbia Airport

* “Quit feeding stray animals. You know why? Because they breed … They will reproduce, especially ones that don’t think too much further than that.” – Lt. Gov. Andre Bauer, explaining his opposition to giving free school meals to poor children

* “We’re like the dog that finally caught the 18-wheeler. You go, ‘Now what?’” – Bev Griffin, of the Greenville Scottish Games, on learning that His Royal Highness Prince Edward would be attending the 2010 Games

Next are two self-explanatory quotes from the Associated Press:

* “We just want the public to understand that we’re not perverts.” – TSA airport screener Ricky D. McCoy

* “If you touch my junk, I’ll have you arrested.” – airport patron John Tyner when told he must undergo an individual pat-down

Next is a top winner in the “about time” category:

* “We have to agree to generate sources of jobs, so that these people who are coming from the United States can find some kind of employment in our country.” – Mexico Rep. Ramirez Acuna, regarding Mexican citizens returning to Mexico after the passage of Arizona’s illegal immigration law

Followed by three gems from my favorite unknown Greenville News headline writer:

* “Wider road called too narrow a solution”

* “Golfers get new sock option” (about the launch of a new high-tech golf sock)

* “Upstate drivers have unfair share of wrecks” (and our fair share would be…?)

And finally, four quotes referencing South Carolina’s latest contribution to America’s entertainment, U.S. Senate candidate Alvin Greene:

* “This is what would happen if Spike Lee remade a Frank Capra movie.” – Democratic Party Chairman Dick Harpootlian to the LA Times

* “There’s this image of us being the whoopee cushion of the nation, and we continue to exacerbate that.” – State Rep. Anton Gunn to Politico.com

* “South Carolina politics has become the car wreck on the American political highway. The public can’t help but slow down and rubberneck.” – Winthrop University professor Scott Huffmon, also to Politico

* “I was born to be president. I am the greatest person who ever lived.” – Alvin Greene to the Associated Press, regarding his future plans

Now there’s some over-the-top optimism for you. May we all greet our dreams with such confidence in 2011.

Susan Simmons

Hello Harry Potter

by Susan Simmons

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Jul
17

“It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry, and forget to live.”

So said headmaster Albus Dumbledore to Harry Potter in the first book of the fantasy series that has gripped Muggle imaginations for a dozen years.

The quote returned to me two weeks ago as I stood captive in line at Universal Orlando, waiting for admission to the brand new Wizarding World of Harry Potter. On opening day. For seven and a half hours. With 30,000 other insane people.

That’s my crowd estimate. Universal wouldn’t give out attendance numbers to the media, but a spokesman guesstimated 5,000 waiting outside the Islands of Adventure gates when they opened at 9 a.m.

Sounds about right. We spent two hours with that group, listening to stories about the even more insane people who had shown up even earlier. As in 4 a.m. Which, despite the entreaties of the younger of our two sons, his father and I refused to do. Insanity has its limits.

Of course, your limit probably extends to avoiding such lunacy altogether. So does ours. But we booked our vacation believing “spring opening” meant “by the end of May” (how I define spring) rather than “two days short of summer solstice,” which is how Universal defines it. We thought Harryworld would be flying at full phoenix by the time we arrived. As it turned out, we had to stay over a day to make the opening.

Which was non-negotiable. From Harry’s inaugural quest for the Sorcerer’s Stone, we have read every book aloud as a family. The four of us on the couch. One million words, 4,143 pages, with voices (I do a mean Delores Umbridge). We’ve seen every movie. We couldn’t miss Hogwarts, butterbeer and Ollivander’s by a day.

So we rose at 6 a.m., loaded backpacks with water and sunscreen and set off for Harry Potter and the Endless Line.

I have never experienced anything like that line. It began at the Port of Entry and snaked completely around the park: through Superhero Island, around the Toon Lagoon, past Ripsaw Falls and all the way across Jurassic Park before we reached Harryworld. We inched along, literally. Five steps and wait. Eight steps and wait. For seven and a half hours.

It sounds psychotic now, but there gets to be a doggedness about it. You tell yourself, “You’ve put in this long, are you gonna quit now?” You become new best friends with the people around you, sending scouting parties for sustenance, sharing sunscreen, saving places for shade breaks. I learned about the entire senior year of the two Texas girls in front of us, their college plans and life ambitions for the next 30 years.

We took pictures all around when we finally reached the entrance.

And we did finally reach the entrance – at 2:45 p.m., staggering with a cheer through the archway onto the cobblestone streets of J.K. Rowling’s imagination come to life. It is every bit as spectacular as any Potter fan could dream. High-pitched, snow-covered rooflines, crooked chimneys, Honeydukes, the Three Broomsticks and towering over it all, the spooky turrets of Hogwarts.

And more lines, of course. An hour for butterbeer. Two hours to get in and out of Honeydukes. An hour and a half wait to ride the Forbidden Journey through Hogwarts castle. Interestingly, as jam-packed as it was, people were astoundingly forbearing and polite. Mainly because we were all too busy staring around slack-jawed. It felt that real, 100-degree Florida heat and all.

“Was it worth it?” we asked the boys on the way back to the hotel. Absolutely, they said, with the same look in their eyes I’d seen all those hours we’d piled together on the couch, caught up in Rowling’s sweeping tale of courage and friendship, danger and sacrifice. And frankly, for that, what’s Harry Potter and the Endless Line but another grand family adventure?

Susan Simmons

It was an accident

by Susan Simmons

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May
26

Life, as we all know, can turn on a dime. In our case, it was a bee – specifically, the bee that flew up my husband’s t-shirt on the bicycle path in Cleveland Park, setting into motion the series of unfortunate events that landed our family in the emergency room two weeks ago, staring at x-rays and wishing we could rewind that decision to “do a few laps before supper.”

The x-rays showcased a variety of broken bones. His, to be exact: collar bone, shoulder blade and two ribs. All of which move in tandem with every breath – a miracle of synchronization one enjoys without thought until breathing excites pain receptors better left undisturbed.

Three lessons immediately learned: Cleveland Park is full of Good Samaritans. “Tuck and roll” works far better on grass than pavement. And there are few sights more galvanizing than that of your husband in a fetal position on the ground, surrounded by a small village of onlookers, with an ambulance rolling to a stop on the hill above him.

It was one of the Good Samaritans who held his cell phone to his ear so Scott could call me. Another who assured me he had “never lost consciousness” after our son and I scrambled down the hill to join the crowd. But it took another cyclist to know what he really needed: reassurance that this accident was no reflection on his cycling skills.

“I kept telling him it could have happened to anybody,” she said as the EMTs rolled his stretcher away. “A freak accident. Really.”

Which is what Scott kept returning to as he sat “in a wheelchair, in a sling, in the ER, scowling at humanity,” as one son tweeted into wireless-land as we waited to be seen.

First there was the bee. Then the two pedestrians who materialized in front of him when he looked up from swatting said bee. Then the swerve to avoid said pedestrians. The attempted return to the paved path. The resulting end-over the handlebars when the tire caught on the lip of the asphalt.

“I did not fall off the bike,” he said. “I was hurled due to circumstances beyond my control.”

“You could say you were fending off a mountain lion,” said his son, before tweeting, “He’s getting annoyed at me because I’m making him want to laugh and laughing makes him hurt. Whoops.”

The word “fall” was completely forbidden by the time our other son’s Facebook posts had our cellphones ringing. And the ban held through the following week of re-telling to friends, family, coworkers, orthopedists, anesthesiologists and surgery room nurses – all of whom firmly agreed his road cycling record remains intact and unmarred.

Cradling his elbow at the table the other day, he made a list of all the bicycles he can ride with ease: tandems, unicycles, road, city and mountain bikes. He rides 2,500 miles a year. He has conquered the Assault on Mount Mitchell three times. “I cannot believe what I managed to do on a simple turn around Cleveland Park.”

Actually, he’s gotten off pretty lightly. I did a little research (big surprise). According to numerous studies, an experienced cyclist can expect a minor injury every three years and a more serious one every 15. One in every 20 are injured annually. Scott  hasn’t had more than a scrape in 30 years. The most common accidental break? The collar bone. The most common cause of all crashes? Falls.

Ah, make that catapults. While fending off pedestrians – er, mountain lions – and saying grateful prayers for Good Samaritans, prompt EMTs and comedic sons who teach us it’s better to laugh through the pain.

Susan Simmons

Fallout from the health care bill

by Susan Simmons

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Apr
3

Last week, when the combat over Obamacare had reached the hand-to-hand stage in the House, a friend asked me, “Who’s telling the truth?”

I thought about everything I had read about health care reform – for months, to a degree that is neither healthy nor sane – and answered, “I don’t know.”

Nobody does. Truly, nobody does. This bill-turned-law has been manipulated, massaged, tortured and spun for so long that no one in the White House or Congress – on either side – knows the sum total of what it contains, or what it will ultimately do.

Part of that haziness can be racked up to the simple fact of unintended consequences: no one can predict every single outcome of any change, much less one that consumes 2,800 pages and takes 10 years to implement.

But a major part of the fog is a deliberate political choice.

Just for fun, I went through some old files and unearthed a few columns written back in 1994, during the heat of Bill and Hillary’s fight for health care reform. The spin was vertigo-worthy then, too, but what struck me most was the amount of detail out in public long before the voting began.

It was possible to actually read the Clinton plan, to quote specifics by page number, to compare what its backers said against what the proposed law would in fact do.

And when Americans realized the promises were a lot sunnier than the restrictive reality, a majority rejected the plan and Congress voted it down.

Now fast forward to 2010, and Nancy Pelosi’s assertion that “we have to pass the bill so that you can find out what is in it, away from the fog of the controversy.” As if the controversy was the problem, rather than the pig-in-a-poke feel of her massive, secretive, blatantly partisan bill – which it was, no matter which side you rooted for.

And whether you’re happy or terrified now depends on whether you think massive government intervention is the best way to solve the nation’s problems or the best way to make them massively worse. You will find me in the latter camp – not just because I prefer representative over paternalistic government, but because I think Nancy Pelosi has it exactly backwards.

On reform this radical, “trust us” is not enough, not when it will cost our country $940 billion over 10 years – and that’s with an accounting gimmick that starts the taxes and fees four years before the real costs kick in. Not when it transforms something that so intimately affects our families, our personal solvency and potentially, our very lives.

Americans know this, which is why promises shouted through a fog of controversy would not comfort or satisfy. But instead of specifics we could weigh for ourselves, Congress and the president gave us a furious blur of logrolling, procedural tricks and gamesmanship that seemed to intensify in direct proportion to the public outcry against it. The majority of Americans did not want a pig-in-a-poke bill. We got one anyway, in the dead of night, by the thinnest of partisan margins.

And as we learn what’s in it, maybe we will love it. Maybe it will give us all we were promised through the fog and more. Discoveries like the $10 billion for 16,500 new IRS agents to enforce the new premium and fine structure suggest more is the right word.

But what I will remember is the shot of Pelosi walking through the crowd of protesters surrounded by her lieutenants, her head thrown back in triumphant laughter. The gavel in her hand was huge.

Elections do have consequences – but so does political arrogance. The verdict on this vote is still to come.

Susan Simmons

South Carolina’s giving spirit

by Susan Simmons

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Feb
5

I remember, back when the infamous “you lie” soared above the president’s voice in the U.S. House chamber, thinking: “oh please, oh please, don’t let that guy be from South Carolina.”

The fact that such a fear would instantly leap to mind was almost as discouraging as learning that the dread, alas, was justified.

The same sinking feeling arrived with my morning coffee two weeks ago when the latest blunder from our lieutenant governor headlined every website I visited.

Once again, the Daily Show’s Jon Stewart nailed us: “Oh, South Carolina, you just keep on giving, don’t you?”

We do. We are blessed with an embarrassing riches of leadership devoted, as Stewart said, to making sure South Carolina “gives more than its fair share” to the nation’s comedy writers.

Lt. Gov. Andre Bauer, however, is a special case, uniquely gifted at “getting his mouth in place quicker than his head,” as Francis Marion political science professor Neal Thigpen noted to The State newspaper.

Bauer speaks so fast and so enthusiastically “it’s almost like a Gatling gun,” Thigpen said. And like a Gatling gun, there’s not much left but smoke and flame when he finishes raking his targets.

So it was when Bauer decided to attack the dependency culture created by welfare. He equated giving free school meals to poor children with feeding stray animals – a  mistake, he told a crowd in Fountain Inn, because “it encourages them to breed.”

He now says that’s not what he meant – but listen to the audiotape on YouTube. Here’s the pertinent quote:

“My grandmother was not a highly educated woman, but she told me as a small child to quit feeding stray animals. You know why? Because they breed. You’re facilitating the problem if you give an animal or a person ample food supply. They will reproduce, especially ones that don’t think too much further than that. And so what you have to do is curtail that type of behavior. They don’t know any better.”

What is clear, after listening to several of his post-disaster spins, is how completely that last sentence applies to Bauer.

Even “taken in context” – the refuge of every backpedaling politician – what he said is awful.

No question, we need to “break the cycle of generational poverty and dependence,” as Bauer insists is what he meant. No question, poverty and low parental involvement are linked to low test scores.

But what Bauer said – and has not apologized for – is that we shouldn’t feed the poor because they will breed mindlessly like animals. And like animals, they need their betters to curtail and control them.

A politician who talks like this – who does not grasp how profoundly demeaning it is – is not capable of the kind of leadership necessary to inspire the people of this state to even attempt to solve the problems Bauer is so proud of himself for recognizing. In fact, he makes a genuine conversation about them impossible, because he’s framed the issues so offensively.

Thigpen, the Francis Marion professor, told The State none of this matters, that Bauer has a “fanatical following” who will “forgive him almost anything and stick to him like glue.”

I don’t understand how that’s possible. Surely the state that keeps on giving has finally given enough. Surely South Carolinians are ready to put an adult, not a Gatling gun, in the governor’s mansion.

Dum spiro, spero. While I breathe, I hope.

Susan Simmons

My sister’s calling

by Susan Simmons

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Jan
6

Printed: 2/20/09

When I read the other day about people going into teaching as an easy backup plan in a bad economy, I could just hear my art-teacher sister’s comeback: Try a week at the local high school first and see if you last.

An artist who wandered the globe in her youth and chose Peru for her honeymoon, she would tell anyone who asked that teaching’s her first and best work. A calling, not a backup plan.

I understand the attraction of certain jobs in bad economic times. You know the ones: health care, police work, education, anything that speaks of durability. A steady paycheck is a real gift in a down market.

Even so, I was struck by the attitude I saw in reporter Anna Mitchell’s recent story about a fast-track way to become a high school teacher.

The people she interviewed at an introductory seminar said teaching had always appealed to them – as a profession, and a stable job with good benefits.

“As long as kids are being born, we’re going to need teachers,” one man said. You can just hear the unspoken rest: How hard can it be, right?

I remember Cathy telling me once that her favorite classroom moment was when a student suddenly blurted out, “Wow!” over a picture he or she just finished. She said what almost always followed was, “I didn’t know I could do that.”

And he wants to try again.

An interesting thing about siblings, especially younger siblings, is how hard it is to imagine them in their professional capacities. The image of Cathy as high school teacher has always competed with memories of her eavesdropping behind the couch when I had friends over.

There’s also the fact that I left Savannah and she stayed. Siblings who see each other at Rotary are better able to grasp the transition.

But I’ve had a couple of chances, over the years, to visit her on the job. I recommend it, if you have a sibling. It’s quite enlightening.

I knew she was a creative artist. What amazed me was how creative her students were, and how confidently they worked at their assignments. No hesitant efforts anywhere. They listened when she talked and lingered when the bell rang. Several usually stopped by after school to talk more, and not just about art. It was obvious some of those conversations had been going for a while.

Cathy and I have had many debates about education, but those insights into her teaching life are what I remember more.

Think, for a minute, what teachers do. Their students come from all economic, ethnic and social backgrounds. Some can’t speak English. Some arrive hungry, poorly clothed, or lacking basic supplies. All have different learning styles, which a good teacher is expected to understand and address in his or her lesson plans.

The quality teacher also must teach creatively, discipline wisely, react to all comers – parent, student or superior – patiently, and ensure that every child performs at the highest possible level on the avalanche of standardized tests every state requires.

Yes, some burn out and skate through the day. Some skate from the start. But far more see teaching as a calling they strive to answer every day.

My sister was one of them for 20 years. When she lost her life to breast cancer last January, well over half the 600 people who visited us at the funeral home were her students and their parents.

Her art classes created a joyous collage of 50 customized squares celebrating all she taught them, and presented it to her husband that night. I still remember what one girl said: “I didn’t know I could do the things I can do, but she knew. She taught me how to see. We are her art.”

Only a calling can deliver that.

 

Susan Simmons

The quest for a simple life

by Susan Simmons

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Jan
2

Printed: 1/2/09

Janus, the Roman god after whom January is named, personified change, transitions and beginnings in Roman minds. Consequently, he had two faces gazing in opposite directions, so he could look backward and forward in equal measure.

Which defines, of course, what we all do at the beginning of a new year; what all the top-10 lists of trends, innovations, newsworthy events and predictions are all about. We review what humankind has accomplished, for good or ill, and attempt to foretell where our talents for both will carry us in the future.

It can be a sobering exercise, perhaps more so as 2009 peeks over the horizon than it has been for many Januarys past.

Our national talent for foolishness, recklessness and greed has ushered in an economic crisis of frightening proportions as venerable institutions topple and government relief packages of $800 billion-plus are described – by straight-faced transition teams – as “fiscal restraint.”

South Carolina’s unemployment rate is third highest in the nation, prompting the governor and Legislature to escalate the finger-pointing over who’s responsible and why. State budgets have been slashed and services cut. Greenville’s Salvation Army chapter ran out of toys – with 500 children still on the list – the week before Christmas, after already playing Santa for 1,200 children.

But flip the Janus coin to the other face and you’ll see hope as well. Americans are a resilient people. Desperate times often breed the best ideas – and the most productive changes, both individually and corporately.

Such are the conclusions we can draw from the 2009 predictions of long-time trend forecaster Faith Popcorn and her marketing consultancy firm BrainReserve.

Popcorn foresees a year of “fear, anxiety and uncertainty” in 2009, yes, but with it, “a new frugality movement” she says will usher in a new set of values for the next generation.

She calls the coming sea-change the Four New Rules of Engagement: reclaim, retrench, reset and reinvent.

As for the first, she says look for the death of the consumer and the rise of the citizen, with “reliability” and “accountability” the new watchwords of the age. Fully 53 percent of the 1,011 Americans her firm polled this fall reported that they evaluate a company’s ethics before purchasing its products, and 65 percent do so before investing.

Americans also are cutting back and staying home, Popcorn says. Four out of five report buying less stuff, and 72 percent say they’re spending more time at home. If prices rise, they’ll cut back more.

Nearly everyone BrainReserve surveyed – 90 percent – are looking for ways to live a simpler life. Three out of five say they’re turning to their faith for strength in tough times. They’re questioning personal career satisfaction and goals, and rediscovering American ingenuity.

That means more bartering, swapping, haggling and re-using, Popcorn says. Quality over quantity. Bar sales are down; Madison Avenue is empty. People are re-examining what matters and acting accordingly.

Not a bad way to start a new year, not bad at all. Desperate times can be good times if they teach important truths, chief of which is this: what we do, what we choose, matters.

“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow,” Albert Einstein once said. Wise advice, indeed, in 2009.

Susan Simmons

One amazing night

by Susan Simmons

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Nov
7
Printed: 11/07/08

I voted for John McCain, but I watched with tears streaming as Barack Obama walked out on that Chicago stage Tuesday night.

Tears as Rep. John Lewis of Georgia, a Freedom Rider beaten by white Alabama mobs in 1961, gave interview after interview with a dazed joy on his face. Tears as the multitudes in Grant Park hugged and cried and cheered. But what really did me in was the glimpse of Jesse Jackson, standing stock still in the middle of the reveling crowd, shoulders heaving with sobs.

And no, I do not believe he was weeping over a baton passed – though it has passed, and he knows it. That’s a personal lament he may well indulge later.

But Tuesday night, we saw in Jesse Jackson’s sobs the overwhelming import of what America has done, barely two generations after Jim Crow, and Selma, and Bloody Sunday, and the death on that balcony in Memphis.

“Surreal” was the word one African-American commentator on PBS kept repeating as the camera panned the delirious crowd. Barack Obama will take the oath of office just a few blocks from where slaves were once auctioned for profit. He’ll sleep in a house slave labor helped build. Yes, surreal. Surreal is a very good word.

Here are three others: only in America. A cliché, yes, but clichés are clichés because they start out so true. America truly is a country of unlimited possibilities. As John McCain said Tuesday night, “Nothing is inevitable here. Americans never quit. We never surrender. We never hide from history, we make history.”

And in that speech, too, we see why this country remains such a marvel and curiosity to the rest of the world.

Our elections, at least those in recent memory, have been ugly things. We do not speak kindly of our political enemies in this country.

The unhinged hatred can be breathtaking to read. Google “George Bush” or “Sarah Palin” and see what I mean.

Yet every time, when the election’s over, the vanquished bow and walk off the stage.

Al Gore did it in 2000, the most viciously fought election in my lifetime, telling the world, “This is America … What unites us is greater than what divides us.”

As did John McCain on Tuesday night, with these words: “Tonight, more than any night, I hold in my heart nothing but love for this country and all its citizens, whether they supported me or Senator Obama. I wish Godspeed to the man who was my former opponent and will be my president.”

Hear that? “My president.” But if you want to know why the world calls America “the grand experiment,” you’ll find it in the Associated Press report of the telephone call George W. Bush made to President-elect Obama late Tuesday night.

Promising a smooth and gracious transition, the most vilified man of this election season said, “What an awesome night for you. You are about to go on one of the great journeys of life. Congratulations, and go enjoy yourself.”

Please, stop and understand, for just a moment, how amazing that is.

And I must say here, at risk of an inbox full of outraged emails, that I am convinced history will judge George Walker Bush far more kindly than his enemies, foreign and domestic, could ever dream possible.

As I said at the beginning of this column, I didn’t vote for Barack Obama.

I’m concerned about where his economic and social policies will take us, and how he will handle the tests our new vice president predicted our enemies will surely send his way.

But I took him at his word Tuesday night when he said, “To those Americans whose support I have yet to earn: I may not have won your vote tonight, but I hear your voices. I need your help. And I will be your president, too.”

So it has always been in the United States of America. So may it ever be.