Time for America to Lead Environmental Change

First appeared on April 21st, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

Some would argue winning World War II was America’s high water mark. And for you kids too busy for a history lesson, it’s true your great-grandparents helped save the world sans the cape and tights. And for our efforts, or more to the point those of your great-grandparents, we became honorary Captains of the World.

And while we wore this title with great pride and paraded our values around the globe with the noblest of intentions, shoving freedom in every open craw we came across, somehow the America heading for the twenty-teens, the same place that gave the world the airplane, computers and the Internet, suddenly finds itself an oil-splotched, coal fired dinosaur, defecating mountains of garbage and farting ozone depleting gasses.

If we are still to be the world’s Go-To-Guy on everything then the greatest fight perhaps lies ahead. Once again the world needs rescuing; only this time it’s from itself. If you please, swallow the urge to belch “This sounds like an Al Gore rant”, I’m not here to browbeat you for driving to work alone while drinking your coffee in Styrofoam cups only to turn around and hop on my private jet bound for the weekend shack I bought in Cannes using the money I earned by investing in a Styrofoam coffee cup start up.

But be it an addiction to oil, phobia of renewable energies or the unfathomable amount of garbage we create daily, there are problems the world needs to address. And before Dick Cheney tries to convince you there’s a military option, it starts with us (as in me the person who wrote this and you, the person reading it right now).
From its inception America has been a leader, and it’s this punch first hope for the best style that makes us the beautiful tragedy we are. Today it’s time for us to lead the world in a new direction however. One that will bring us a longer life and our children a healthier planet.

To date recycling is the easiest method we have for saving the world and yet, just like soccer and the Metric System, Americans are yet to fully embrace it. Jennifer Lawrence, Executive Director of the Boone County Solid Waste Management District, says inconvenience is the number one reason people give for not recycling.“(Boone County offers) alternatives such as curbside pick-up, the Lebanon Street Department, (and) County recycling drop locations,” Lawrence explains.

Many of you already recycle to which the Earth, wheezing for oxygen and fighting a bad case of garbage-induced indigestion, says thank you. Jennifer points out that those of you who do recycle have already helped create new materials from your old garbage. “The list of items that can be produced directly from recycled materials is endless,” Lawrence points out. Everything from Picnic Tables and Park Benches to Rubber Playground Mulch, Bicycle Racks, Clothes, Stuffed Animals, Pens, and Pencils can all be made from recycled materials.

Lawrence advises batteries can be tricky. “Rechargeable batteries and cell phones are probably the least recycled,” She explains, “Alkaline household batteries are not recyclable nor hazardous.” The BCSWMD also wants people to know they have a local office in Lebanon where residents can either leave items or find help determining the best destination for taking them.
Still, with so many alternatives, far too much goes unrecycled.

Packaging is a notorious culprit. And while some Americans have done it, working around packaging is not a viable option in many cases. Nobody is asking for you to move up into the mountains, put out a self-sustaining garden, grow a beard and build a bi-level out of rocks and moss; rather the idea is to simply take a second look at what the family puts in the garbage bin.

The website “how to make a difference now” reminds us there are many ways we can reduce packaging. The 2 easiest methods being to take our own reusable bags to the grocery while also buying items in bulk whenever we can.
For some it’s about a lifestyle change. But not a stop cutting your hair and pay $50,000 for a 3 cylinder car that runs on a mix of switchgrass, sunflower seeds and used Q-Tips kind of change. Rather it’s simply a second look at what gets purchased and what gets tossed away.

Perhaps it has another use besides becoming archaeological fodder for some team of scientists 2,000 years from now who are left only to ponder why individual packs of Capri Sun were necessary if people drank them in their homes anyway.
The time has come for America to take the lead in building a greener world. But for those of us worried about getting Johnny to soccer practice on time or making sure the local utilities don’t shut the lights off at home anytime soon, developing new alternatives to fossil fuels and reducing carbon ozone emissions may be lofty goals.

But to take a second look at what we purchase and what we throw away isn’t asking all that much; and what better time to start than on Earth Day? And if you’re still unconvinced, or want the complete rundown of what is and is not recyclable or where to take them, give Jennifer a call at BCSWMD; she is nice and they can be reached 8-4 Monday through Friday at 483-0687.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

Despite record, Pacers' attendance woes continue

First appeared on April 12th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

In my hometown the corner barber shop was the place to go for the low down. To find out what the weather would be like that week or how much Artie Johnson paid for that new truck with the fancy running boards and tinted rain guards. It was also the place the old hayseeds gathered on Saturday mornings to ruminate the fallout of Friday night’s high school game. Old men in overalls who chewed longleaf tobacco and cursed the new varsity coach, openly lamenting the death of the underhanded free throw.

Most know Indiana for two things, the deep fried Twinkie and a long love affair with basketball. I first learned how much basketball meant to me from hearing those hayseeds, their passion as strong as their gnarled hands.

So you take a team with the 3rd best record in the NBA’s Eastern Conference and one with a budding young star grouped with a collection of no-nonsense, hardnosed players and you’d expect to find them near the top in league attendance. Especially if you were told that same team with the high flying wing and the bruising power forward played its home games in Indiana, the self-proclaimed capital of Basketball-land.

Currently however the Indiana Pacers are edging out the New Jersey nets for 29th place in attendance (convenient time to remind you there are only 30 teams in the NBA). And when you factor in the fact the Jersey mafia has more than likely killed off another 7 season ticket holders since I pounded this out, the Nets are technically drawing more people to games than we are.

So what is to explain this plague of empty seats that has fallen upon our Pacers? I, like fans of the Cleveland Cavaliers and ESPN analysts explaining why the Heat have yet to win a Title, blame LeBron. Unfortunately the NBA has become a cult of personality and Indiana, like Brother Mitt, simply has none.

When one considers every other Top Flight Playoff Team there’s no shortage of stars. Durant, Howard, Bryant, Nowitzki, the list reads like a Who’s Who of people the average basketball player wishes they were, or at the very least could be for a day. OK, so maybe a month. A month of 4 Star hotels, pregame massages, paychecks that read like a lottery windfall and an endless line of wide eyed autograph seekers you have to muster the energy just to grumble over. Just a month of that and you are happy to go back to accounting. Back to trying to determine why the guy in the cubicle next to you, the one who loves Public Radio and drives a car nobody can hear coming, always smells like cucumbers.

The Pacers could have put all their money in one hat and thrown it at a big name free agent. Maybe even Dwight Howard. Yes perhaps Superman himself would be willing to come here; if only it were written in his contract that the Pacers be willing to fire their coach anytime Howard found himself struck with the notion of course.

And if it’s not a “cult of personality” issue, then it surely is a bad case of lockout fatigue. No matter the real direction fingers need be pointed in that whole ugly lockout mess, at the end of the day you’re smart enough to realize it was still someone with more money than you would see in five lifetimes asking for even more money.

It’s a sad story indeed. And one that would surely have the old men in the barber shop spitting on the floor.


© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

R-E-G-G-I-E wasn't always popular

First appeared on April 5th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

Donnie Walsh is a well dressed man. And whether he chooses his shirt and tie combos in the morning or some fashionista recently fired by the E! Network because numerous plastic surgeries have her face resembling a traditional Gabonese Fang mask does it for him remains a mystery. But in the summer of 1987 Donnie made a choice that was as public as the library or a Facebook rant against your boss.

The spring of ‘87 saw Steve Alford lead the Indiana Hoosiers to the National Championship. I know it to be true because I watched it sitting in the living room with my Dad sharing a bowl of popcorn and a coke (or an eighth of his coke that is; which was customary per our arrangement as father and son) and also because there is a giant red banner in Assembly Hall (which most Indiana fans generally are not slow to point out) which stands in remembrance of that monumental moment.

My Father said Alford would be a saint for leading Indiana to the Promised Land and, after he’d explained what a saint was, I fully agreed despite our not being Catholic. Alford was a dashing young man with perfect hair who had proposed to his wife by hanging the net during a private shoot around; she the beautiful girlfriend who hung around the gym to climb the ladder and pull the net down anytime her boyfriend wrapped it and was surely surprised the day she reached the top of the ladder and found an engagement ring box stuck on the back of the rim. Storybook indeed.

So it looked to be a match made in heaven. The Pacers were a professional franchise that was an ABA Title Machine turned Floundering NBA Failure. In the summer of 1987 they were desperately in need of direction. A hero; a face. And for the average Hoosier fan moonlighting as a casual Pacer fan, what better face than pretty boy Steve’s?

So it was the sharp dressed Donnie Walsh went to the 1987 Draft with Hoosiers one and all fully expecting to hear Alford’s name called as the 11th pick. But upon hearing the loudspeaker boom out “Reggie Miller” fans responded with a hailstorm of boos and cat-calls. Yes, even from the start Reggie was polarizing.

The first time I saw Reggie Miller in a Pacer uniform he was bald, looked like an untwisted pretzel and appeared to have the quickness of a newborn dairy calf. I didn’t see the player who would become the Pacers All Time Leading Scorer and the second best Three Point Shooter in League History; probably one strong indicator of why my front office days have been so slow to develop.
But from the day Pacer fans first booed the 6’7 wing out of UCLA until the day he played his last game in that same uniform 18 years later, all he did was prove people wrong. Despite a highly unorthodox release, Miller became one of the greatest sharpshooters in NBA history. He climbed many mountains including the aforementioned reservations of Pacer fans as well as Spike Lee, while leaving others unconquered (Michael Jordan and an NBA Title).

And if Manning brought a passion for professional football to Indiana then Miller was Manning before Manning was Manning. He built the following the Pacers enjoyed at their height and along the way, be it 8 points in 8 seconds or “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead”, Reggie carved out a lasting place in Hoosier Hearts big enough for both himself and the Blue and Gold as well.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

A Match Made Somewhere other than Heaven

First appeared on March 27th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

Throughout history there have walked the earth that very few men who’ve changed the world. A number so select one may count them upon a single hand; Hammurabi, Guttenberg, Henry Ford, Steve Jobs, Mr. Speckowski (6th grade Science at Lincoln Elementary).

But alas, if we were capable of springing a sixth digit like children born within the Chernobyl exclusion zone, then one man would make the list. One who lingers a Super Bowl win away from finding his face chiseled upon Mount Rushmore. One born destined to become the first man to spend U.S. currency possessing his own image. A trailblazer spreading his message of faith with a rock jaw and harder head. Of course we’re speaking of one Timothy Richard Tebow.

The problem here is Jets coach Rex Ryan thought we were talking about him. And now a star- crossed trade has brought the NFL’s two biggest caricatures together. Ryan is the blustery head coach who loves guarantees and a good continental breakfast. And Tebow, the quarterback who’s used his superstar status to become a spokesman for sandal wearing carpenters everywhere.

Both are exhausting yet refreshing. Frustrating yet somehow strangely inspiring. One simply cannot look away when either is on TV. Ryan the “King of Blusterstan” and Tebow a Kardashian in shoulder pads. Like moths to a flame or hot dog carts to an Overeaters Anonymous convention-we’re suckered in every time.

So the Jets can’t win a Super Bowl and the front office decides the best way to steal headlines from their roommate who could (the New York Giants) is to bring Ryan and Tebow together; thus adding a fourth ring to their already world famous circus. If Donald Trump has taught us anything, other than you too can become a bizillionaire by simply making ridiculous statements, it’s that there’s only room for 1 dominating personality in the board room. Now the Jets have two.

The impact each has had upon the world is inarguable. The Global Language Monitor recently recognized “Tebowing” as a word while Rex Ryan has a half tribal art, half sea monster tattoo on his calf. But to believe the coexistence of these two is the recipe the Jets need to win a Super Bowl is to believe socialized medicine and cars that don’t need gasoline will solve all of America’s problems.

While Tebow loves quoting passages from the Bible and pausing to thank a higher power, Ryan is more about ripping large chunks of raw flesh from your posterior region while quoting lines from “The Idiot’s Guide to Talking like a Trucker”.

Tebow’s a superhero whose Justice League of America card was earned by persevering despite draft experts arguing the NFL wouldn’t have his awkward delivery and upright, run the ball down your throat style. Yet lost in the chatter over his unorthodox passes and propensity for taking linebackers head on is the fact that, unlike Plastic Man or the Wonder Twins, Tebow is apparently immune to arrogance. The guy’s everything that’s right with sports and Americans love him for flying in the face of conventional wisdom. For this he’s become the stuff of myth.

And so now this Sasquatch in cleats meets a modern day John Wayne armed with clipboard and Burger King headset. A vampire who feeds on arrogance, Ryan learned the ropes from his legendary father (see the man whose defense MADE Mike Ditka) and he makes no apologies.

Both men are occupiers in a league that breeds conformity. And while the result may not be a Super Bowl it will certainly be worth more than the price of admission.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

March Madness is many things to many people

First appeared on March 20, 2012

March Madness is many things to many people. For basketball fans it is the greatest time of the year because the ubiquity of buzzer beating plays injects itself into the national consciousness faster than a congressman can tap your foot under a restroom stall. For haters of power programs, and fans of those ugly, plain clothed teams who didn’t get asked to the dance, it’s a time to rejoice that David’s stone was true once again as you go online and order a Norfolk State Basketball T-Shirt.

For the average part-time pretend sports columnist it’s a great time as well if for the simple fact the tournament produces such incredible stories. Turns of event that allow you to prattle on about nothing of note all the while stating what is fairly obvious in as many different ways as you possibly can think of; and you do it with pride because this is what your readers have come to expect of you.

It’s a prognosticators playground for they, even those who know nothing about basketball, have a 1 in 64 chance of being right. For Bill in Purchasing it’s a chance to remind people to listen to him because he was, at one time, a stand out varsity player; while others only see him as a bitter pill who has succumbed to both the jagged hands of Father Time and one dozen too many Dunkin’ Donuts Munchkins. And while these can wreck his frame and rob the “quickest first step in Wabash County”, they cannot harm his pride.

Drama, upsets, the same 5 commercials looping constantly, March Madness is also a television station manager’s dream. The Genie that is the NCAA Tournament is so mesmerizing it has ridden its magic carpet straight into the Oval Office. And as Obama took time away from solving Mid-East peace to share his picks with the world, it was a chance for the President to both show his non-political side while also pandering to the little-sought-after demographic of former basketball players turned couch potatoes.

For one month we become both zombie and robot, slaves one and all to the melodious voice of Jim Nantz or the herky-jerky Kevin Harlan. Only in March can Gus Johnson make something as innocuous as a twelve year old filling Gatorade cups behind the bench sound like the greatest thing since Neil Armstrong placed his size 11 down upon the surface of the Moon.

But as with everything in life, except bunny rabbits and free beer, there is a dark underbelly to March Madness. Fans of Missouri and Duke are suffering through March Sadness after they made tournament history by becoming the first pair of number 2 seeds to fall in the same year. The finality of the tournament can drop you like a steel hammer. That head-splitting moment when March Madness becomes “April Malaise” leading you to torch your own bracket; frustrated that it wasn’t the best of 6 million submitted online to ESPN.

Or it’s a warrior like Robbie Hummel giving the fight of his life before going down. And it’s the sight of her son dropping his sword for the final time that moves a mother to tears. Yes, it’s the rare combination of beauty and tragedy; Broadway meets testosterone.

But until this moment comes, the Tournament holds great promise. So your team wins a game at a very late hour and you go in and kiss your sons on the forehead as they sleep because that is the only thing that can possibly add to your happiness at that moment. And what a sweet moment indeed.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

Goodbye 18, it's been real

First appeared on March 14th, 2011
in The Lebanon Reporter

So you’re the biggest Colts fan ever. Yet somehow the national search missed you and settled on some 12 year old freckle faced dork from Fort Wayne. So it was understandably troubling when you, like everyone on Earth including the Bushmen of the Kalahari and Inuits of Nunavut, heard there was a strong chance the Indianapolis Colts were going to release Peyton Manning. In fact the first time you heard the news you became so startled you dropped your autographed copy of his biography into a steaming bowl of Spaghettios splattering orange globs all over your 2010 AFC Pro-Bowl Jersey.

Your High School coach told you “never say never” when Floyd County had you down by 35 at halftime, but in Manning’s case you know you’ll never see anything like him again. That was five days ago and for four straight mornings now you’ve awaken to check the Colts roster online only to discover again that he really is gone. You knew this day was coming, you just hoped you’d have won the lottery and bought your own private island in the Caribbean first; maybe the one next door to Michael Jordan’s.

Here you’d read every Doc Savage book ever written as a cabana boy keeps your bottomless cup filled and it would be enough to help you forget how much professional football, and Manning more importantly, meant to you.

You know there’ll be other quarterbacks. Some with laser arms and some with rocket arms. But one with a laser-rocket arm is rare indeed, as rare as the Yeti or someone playing defense in the first quarter of an NBA game.

But now he’s gone and you don’t know what to do. Crying seems a bit extreme, especially since you were noticeably devoid of emotion when burying your child’s gerbil in the back yard last November. And yet that’s just what Jim Irsay seemed to be doing during his joint press conference with Manning-something as insignificant as planting a domesticated rat amongst a bed of Petunias.

You took note of how nonchalant Irsay was while showing the door to the man who sparked your enjoyment of football and so you decide it’s time to move on. You pack up your Colt replica helmet popcorn caddy and #18 wristbands and head off to the place everyone goes to say goodbye to old friends. And when you get to Goodwill you find a line out the door of former season ticket holders toting their Colts memorabilia off as well.

You’ve seen the grainy video of Manning throwing and heard every sportswriter with a functioning voice box weigh in on what the Colts should do and still you, along with Mick Jagger, have mixed emotions. But you’re powerless to stop it now; maybe the freckle faced dork, but not you.

You don’t know what the future holds and who could expect you to? You gave your Tarot Cards, Crystal Ball and Ouija Board to Goodwill three years ago. But as you survey the line of people waiting to dump their Colts gear it becomes clear just how much Jim Irsay has stolen from them. And then comes the epiphany.

There’s one thing Fast Jimmy can’t take away from you. So you return to your car; which is somewhat hard to find considering half of them in the parking lot have horseshoes painted on their hoods, and as you pull away you do so knowing full well that, while Irsay may have gashed your soul with that Samurai Sword he called a “business decision”, try as he may he cannot take away your memoires.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

Indiana and Purdue Fans need to take a closer look

First appeared on March 7th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

A wise man once told me “sometimes you can’t see the forest for the trees”. And while it sounds very prophetic, I literally had no idea what it meant until I heard Andy Taylor explain it once on the ‘Andy Griffith Show’. You’ve probably seen the episode; the one where Opie gets busted for lying about something he did despite hearing Andy warn him beforehand that it was a bad idea (OK, so maybe that describes all of them).

For fans of the Indiana Hoosiers this should be a time of great rejoice. For the first time since 2006 they swept their arch rival Purdue in basketball and yet the grumbling of Hoosier Nation lingers. In one season Indiana fans went from ”We’ve got a shot at another National Title” to “FIRE TOM CREAN!!”

Oh the ‘forest for the trees’ indeed. In bringing the Hoosiers back to the Top 20 and dusting off their dancing shoes, Tom Crean has completely pulled Indiana's program from the toilet bowl Kelvin Sampson so carelessly dumped it into. Hoosier fans should simply be thankful that, before he could flush the program entirely, Sampson paused to make a cell phone call long enough to be fired.

Indiana fans should relish the little things right now. Things like the fact Robbie Hummel will suffer nightmares of Cody Zeller’s second half swat for years to come. That rejection was so bad Hummel will likely toss around at night with visions of Zeller swatting his pop tart away from the toaster rolling through his head.

Instead of bemoaning three straight conference losses, Indiana fans should rest safe in the knowledge that, after hearing the cheer block chanting “Jailbird” at one Boilermaker, Indiana University is producing a student body so well rounded they value the importance of staying abreast of current events.

Before Boiler fans start feeling too good about themselves, they aren’t exactly boasting 20/20 vision either. Proof they can’t see ‘the forest for the trees’ can be found in their questioning of Head Coach Matt Painter’s dismissal of Kelsey Barlow at such a critical point in the season. And while at the time, considering Painter’s lack of depth, it seemed the equivalent of Custer sending someone out for donuts in the middle of his last stand, clearly it was the right move. For, despite being swept by their arch enemy, it’s almost indisputable that the Boilers are playing much better basketball now.

I always thought Indiana was so tough to beat at Assembly Hall because of magic or divine intervention but, according to Painter, it’s a result of making shots instead. For, after the Hoosiers excelled in numerous phases of the game, Painter refused to acknowledge the performance, instead chalking the loss up to Indiana’s “making shots”.

But after getting down by 18 in one of the most difficult places to play in college basketball Sunday Night, Purdue had enough heart to fight their way back into the game. For all Matt Painter’s team has endured over the last 3 years, this should bode well moving forward.

Oh the ‘forest for the trees’. Lost in the bluster of Sunday Night’s rivalry game was the fact that neither had any remaining hopes of a regular season conference title. What many also failed to see was the fact both teams have won 20 games and were fighting for a middle of the road seed in the Big Ten Tourney. Indeed it’s a far cry from the heyday of Knight and Keady but, trees or not, we can all see one thing clearly-these two still don’t like each other.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams