Still Waters,  the em space,  Where They Stand,  By the Numbers,

How We Stack Up,  What’s Up With That?

"Love is an exploding cigar which we willingly smoke." — Groucho Marx

[NOV. 1, 2001]  Walking along the city streets of Lincoln, there’s nothing greater than a man and a woman, hand in hand, alone, with only the company of warm smiles and fast-beating hearts to surround them. Nothing greater. Unless of course the above-mentioned man isn’t me… in which case: I hate them. And I hope "Captain Cupid" switches over to a pellet gun and starts chasing ’em up and down Woodlawn for at least eight hours.

Since the conception of love back in the early 1950s, many men had known no greater joy. Due to the fact that, that is when the remote control was invented. But this resulted in the sparking of a pivotal chain of events all of which lead back to the fact that men still forget to buy flowers on anniversaries. What happened first was in Webster’s Dictionary. People instantly removed the phrase "Extreme Male Bliss" out from under the word "Super Bowl" and over to a new word that was created by those friendly, non-bitter ladies at the National Organization of Women. That word was LOVE. Which, I should like to point out, stands for "Losing One’s Vital Enjoyment." Thus expiring the chain of events, along with those men’s ability to ever again watch televised sports with their friends.

This has not deterred me. I have found out through my time in Lincoln that the relationship process here goes as follows: Man meets Woman; Woman ignores Man; Man meets Emergency Backup Woman; Initial Woman smacks Man upside Man’s head; Man falls in love with Initial Woman. …It’s true. I actually know this couple. They are extremely content now, currently living more happily than ever in separate states.

So I decided that road wasn’t for me. Instead, I myself have taken on the role of Cupid, and here’s how it works. We’ll be dining out, my date and I, at one of Lincoln’s fanciest eateries. Then typically only a short while after I order our Happy Meals, she is suddenly overcome with an unexpected epiphany: that there has not been, nor will there ever be, any greater love in her life than that of her former boyfriend or any future prospect she may have been considering. Often prompting her to hail down a cab, right there in the Playland, leaving me behind in a cloud of love-dust, wondering if I spelled epiphany right.

But now I’m faced with two problems, coinciding. The first being that I have met someone in town that I, in the future, may consider being left by. The second is that I’ve been repeatedly identified by many highly paid therapists as being dense. A rare disorder, they tell me, that only affects me when I’m thinking. Although recently, I was more accurately diagnosed by a good friend of mine from Springfield, Greg Hoffman, who is both my life insurance agent and my banker (thus making him more than qualified to make fun of me publicly), as having two forms of "Colin-itis."

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The first form is "Normal Colin-itis." This variation causes me to (even though I am, by my own admission, in no way capable, or even willing, to maintain a relationship that involves any more depth than that of having random discussions on the vast, ethnical differences between the smooth and the crunchy peanut butter) think that every time I meet someone new, an enduring love is in the air. The second form is "Acute Colin-itis." This is when, 30 seconds after basking in the air of newfound enduring love, I happen upon somebody new, and for whatever reason, cannot for the life of me recall a single thing about the previous, potential-enduring-love person. …I have issues.

This is not something I’m proud of. In fact, at times, I can downright loathe it. Partly because as I grow older, I find myself enjoying less and less the prospect of potentially eating my Happy Meals alone.

Over the past few months I have seen an elderly couple walking Lincoln’s city streets, holding hands, redefining love. Perhaps you’ve seen them as well. Beautiful, aren’t they? Yes. Except I think they’ve been hired out by my mother, who has all but threatened me at gunpoint to get married and provide for her the World’s Record for number of grandchildren to spoil.

I admire that couple. I took a picture of them the other day while they were walking together at sunrise. It reminds me that this prospective "someone special" I’ve stumbled upon… well, just might be worth overcoming the fear I own. The fear of following these feelings I’ve slowly been allowing myself to experience. Is she the one? Is Lincoln where I’ll find her? Who knows? But one thing is certain: Captain Cupid is apparently packing.

[Colin Bird]

[OCT. 31, 2001]  One of these days Logan County will have to jump into the economic development waters. It needs to be sooner rather than later, because the pond that American business plays in is drying up in a hurry.

A decade ago, while the rest of the country was growing, we stayed the same size. While communities moved forward, we stopped to complain about the roses. While industrial parks, growth incentive packages and new infrastructure popped up everywhere in America, Logan County sat with "zoned commercial" signs in the middle of cornfields, waiting for someone to beg for a chance to come to a community not offering what all the others were.

The economy isn’t as good as it was just a year ago. Talk of recession is on the nightly news. Although immune to the growth of the 1990s, we are not, it seems, immune to the problems an economy gone soft can produce. There has been enough negative news about cutbacks and closures in Lincoln to make even a strong stomach churn with concern for the future.

There is a proposal before the city and county to become partners in a joint venture to create an industrial park on the northeast side of Lincoln. Critics say we don’t have the $3 million it would take to turn the 63 acres of farmland into an industrial belt. Perhaps we don’t have the money because our tax rolls keep decreasing while everyday expenses to run a city and a county do not. We actually do have the funds available, but they are kept by both the city and county in their rainy day funds, and neither body will acknowledge the drizzle of an economy gone stagnant that has been falling on this community for years.

I have heard skeptics say that we can’t afford to spend that kind of money on a hope of interest from outside corporations. These people are the same ones who continually complain about high property taxes.

And should find solace in the fact that without some type of industry, taxes will continue to escalate.

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An industrial park is just like any other business except this one would be owned by the county and the city. In other words, by us. As in any new business, costs are incurred to build or remodel, purchase inventory and equipment, pay for insurances and employee programs. Every new business has its own particular costs before opening its doors. Every new business understands it has to spend this money in order to make money. We as the owners of an industrial park have to think the same way.

The funding to build an industrial park is not a cost or an expense. It is an investment. The numbers presented so far bear out that, as investments go, this one has the promise of an excellent return.

An industrial park in Logan County is long overdue. I hope that the city, county and all of us understand that if we don’t look at this proposal as an opportunity to show faith in ourselves as an attractive enough community to lure new industry, then we all might as well be resigned to fewer and fewer of us paying more and more taxes. This park proposal is a chance to begin to grow. The alternative is to just do nothing again and sit on the town square waiting for the tumbleweeds to start to roll down the empty streets.

They are out there, just waiting for a few more economic ill winds to blow them into town.

[Mike Fak]

Reply to Fak (not for publication):

mikefak@msn.com

Response to Fak’s commentary:

ldneditor@lincolndailynews.com 

[OCT. 25, 2001]  It’s getting cold again in Logan County. And not because it’s fall and the air is expected to begin turning brisk and chilly this time of year, but rather, I’d like to point out, because Mother Nature hates me.

For years I have been an avid runner. My favorite part of the day is early dawn, when I wake up smelling the crisp morning air, stretching out my tired body and then promptly going back to sleep for another four and a half hours, laughing at anyone dumb enough to

actually sacrifice sleep for exercise. So I’m a night runner. Or at least I was, up until the hour of Nature’s evil turn. You see, the annual Harvest of Talents is coming up on Saturday, Oct. 27.

…For those of you readers who don’t know, this is a local festive event where many talented people gather together to talk about how talented they are. Plus there is Pie. Which is more than enough reason for me to attend. Well, that, and the 5K run.

So I’ve been in serious training mode for all of two days now (minus the one day I missed due to a severe cramp infection from the previous day’s training), in hopes of finishing the race before either the 30-minute mark or before the paramedics begin resuscitating me. Although training is not an easy process because, as any serious athlete will tell you, there is an absolute ton of movement involved. Something I successfully avoided until the third grade, when my parents began recognizing my astute laziness abilities and stopped bringing food to me, thus causing me to walk to the fridge on my own. We’ve been best friends ever since, the refrigerator and I. But now it’s time to stay focused. Not just on food and all the glorious bliss it provides, but on getting ready to run. And trying to overcome the wrath of Mother Nature, her ruthless self, in the process. Let me explain…

As I said earlier, Mother Nature hates me. And as part of her abhorrence toward me, she has decided that I shall (1) Never Obtain Peak Physical Performance; (2) Never Obtain Average Physical Performance; (3) Never, Under No Circumstance Whatsoever, Survive The Harvest Of Talents, Annual 5K Run. She is seeing to this by not allowing me the opportunity to properly prepare. So far during my long, two-day training regime, I have already been the target of many vicious and pointed attacks.

First off, I began running the other day when it started to hail. Mere coincidence, you say? Well, that’s what I thought, until the hail cloud began following me. It was like one of those little cartoon clouds, chasing me down while I cried, fleeing it, similar to the way a stray cat meandering down a random Lincoln sidewalk might flee a charging bear. Only with more screaming.

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Before that I was nearly tackled by a large crow. Running out on Airport Road, just off Route 10, I saw it creeping toward me from the corner of my eye. Actually, before I saw it, I heard it laughing. That’s when I turned just in time to dodge the psychotic bird, who, I believe, was packing.

Aside from the attacks, it’s just getting downright cold at night. Except on nights when I’m too busy to run. In which case, the weather stays in or around the mid- to low 90s. Often even in December. And when I am able to hit the streets after dark, I’m forced to dress like a hypothermic Eskimo, wearing 14 layers of clothing, which is almost thick enough to protect me from the killer birds and death-crazed hail clouds.

So I’ve seen no choice but to hire myself a stunt double. The process is simple: He runs out a few feet in front of me, and after he goes down, I take off sprinting home. But even at top speeds (and using a special tactic I learned in a dream once where I was being chased by a Giant Maniac Smurf — which is flailing my arms around my head frantically) when I’m out in the middle of town, in the wide open, it’s then that I’m most vulnerable to these forces which have chosen to stop me.

So I contacted the proprietor of Kickapoo Creek Park, Scott Walker, a good friend of mine, and asked if I might perhaps use the park’s facilities to practice running after they close down at night. Scott, who is an active member in his church and an integrity-filled family man who recently returned from a trip in which he went to help out local missionaries, told me that if I wanted to run there after closing time, that he — and this is a direct quote, I swear — "Might not shoot me."

So now that I know my friends have been hired out by Mother Nature and that all other odds seemed to be stacked against me, I might just rethink entering this race. But then I’m reminded of all my hard work thus far and my two days’ worth of dedication. And I’m reminded of all that pie they’ll have there available for purchase, and that’s when I ask myself, "Why am I so worried?" The race begins at 8 a.m. I won’t even be up until noon.

[Colin Bird]

[OCT. 24, 2001]  I wrote the following paragraph as part of an article I submitted to the Lincoln Courier in the summer of 1999. The paragraph was the lead to a story I wrote in support of LDC and its employees after a sad and disparaging report had come out regarding the death of one of the residents at the Lincoln Developmental Center.

The buildings are huddled together, like a sprawling college campus on the end of town. We drive by them almost every day, but we don’t see them. We don’t see them because they are part of a place that most of us wish didn’t exist. We ignore them or choose not to ponder what they represent because the reality of what they are and who lives and works in those buildings is more truth than most of us can live with.

Two years later, nothing about LDC or the people who work there causes me to change a single word in that paragraph.

LDC is under a great deal of fire these days. It is under fire for many reasons that actually have nothing to do with the 700 employees who walk the halls of the institution.

LDC has been told that it has failed to correct administrative problems in a timely fashion. The state, or no one else for that matter, asks why a woman from the Department of Corrections was moved into the chief position of administration at a home for mentally handicapped individuals. She has been replaced, but no one has asked why this administrator was actually promoted to another office after having failed to handle the stated problems at LDC.

By the way, the employees at the center knew she couldn’t do the job and voted "no confidence" in her administration. But that wouldn’t be of any significance, would it.

We have heard that LDC is under scrutiny for not having enough staff to handle the patient load at the center, but no one has asked the state why their continued cutbacks in funding, which caused this understaffing, was not remedied in a timely fashion.

We hear press conferences by John Eckert, head of the Consortium of Illinois Disability Advocates, saying that the center should be closed down. No one asks the man if his consortium, which has a goal of shutting down developmental institutions in Illinois, has a truly objective view of the situation. No one has asked the man if he has ever visited LDC and seen for himself the claims he makes in front of a microphone. I can find no one who has ever seen him at the center.

Eckert has stated that the issue has nothing to do with jobs. An easy statement for someone to make who earns a living disparaging LDC and all the other developmental centers like it. I have to ask Mr. Eckert if, in the event he got his wish and all of Illinois no longer had these facilities, would he then be out of a job. Or would he perhaps find some other cause to ensure that he continues to earn a paycheck.

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Mr. Eckert claims that his organization represents the patients of LDC, but he has interviewed only those who agree with his position. He has nothing to say or do with the parents group, which Tuesday had their own press conference supporting the center and its employees.

Eckert, of course, has his own agenda that he claims is for the benefit of all the tenants of the center, but his actions and statements prove otherwise. His organization is intent on closing state care facilities, and with LDC on the ropes, he and his coalition are circling over the beleaguered center like verbal vultures waiting for the kill.

The coalition states jobs are not the issue, but jobs in any community always are an issue to be considered in an equation.

The employees of LDC have not discovered the great "cash cow." Working at that center is not some type of "died and gone to heaven" employment. These employees are making a living doing something that we and Mr. Eckert cannot do. That job is helping the mentally impaired have an existence in this world. The idea that all of them can have a coexistence with us is absurd. In the event Mr. Eckert walks away from a press conference long enough to visit LDC, he will find that a great many of the residents can never become our next-door neighbors. Many of these blessed souls need care 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

We could close LDC. All we need is for Mr. Eckert to pledge to bring these individuals into his home and neighborhood and to ensure, like the LDC employees do, that they are taken care of.

I find it disheartening that groups that profess their advocacy for disabled Americans have ulterior motives. No one should have to live in a home for developmentally disabled people. But the reality is, that is where some of us belong. We need to care for these individuals. We need to support the employees. Most of all we need to look in an honest and compassionate way at what God has dealt this world.

The Lincoln Developmental Center is an integral part of this community. More importantly, it is an integral part of our humanity. I don’t need to hold a press conference to explain that.

[Mike Fak]

Reply to Fak (not for publication):

mikefak@msn.com

Response to Fak’s commentary:

ldneditor@lincolndailynews.com 

[OCT. 6, 2001]  Central Illinois continues to amaze me. Ever since Sept. 11, I have seen nothing but giving hearts and unselfish attitudes in the people around me. This Sunday, I had the opportunity to witness not only the giving of time and money to families in New York, but the humble attitude of Lincolnites in giving to their neighbors.

As was reported, this past Sunday was the Lincoln auction for the Red Cross Disaster Relief fund. Dozens of people showed up, not only to give their money but to give their time and efforts. Tirelessly, these volunteers gave as much as two weeks of their time to the nationwide cause to help victims of the terrorist attacks in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania. This, however, was not what touched me that day.

Early in the auction, I had the opportunity to speak with Philip Carver, one of the volunteers, who pointed me in the direction of what he thought (and I agreed with him on this) was the highlight of the auction. It was a framed poster of a print by Allan Albaitis entitled "Return to Glory."

The painting is of a burning building and firemen lifting a ladder to an upper window. Streaming from the window is a billow of smoke and fire that blends into an American flag where it touches the top of the ladder. Against the building is what at first glance appears to be the shadow of the firemen. Upon closer examination, however, it is actually a photo of the Marines lifting the American flag on Iwo Jima.

The picture’s beauty and simplicity amazed me. This was not the photo we are all so familiar with of the firemen raising the flagpole in front of the remains of the World Trade Center. It was just a picture of men doing what was needed to save lives.

What was most awe-inspiring was that this print was not made in response to the "Attack on America" or the subsequent "acts of heroism." The copyright date on the poster was 1997. Albaitis, himself a veteran Las Vegas firefighter, looked at firefighters and realized — long before America did — that they are modern-day heroes.

Of his piece, he writes, "As are all of my firefighter pieces, ‘Return to Glory’ is meant to convey the emotional intensity and unswerving dedication of the men and women with whom I have been blessed to work." More on Albaitis’ work can be found on his website, http://www.fireart.com.

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But my story is not over. I said that this would be about the giving spirit of Lincolnites. And that it is. You see, this poster was purchased and donated by one of our own firefighters on behalf of the Lincoln Fire Department.

When, at last, it was put up on the auction block, the bidding was furious. Two people wanted that poster. I don’t know why the man who did not buy it wanted it. I don’t know if he had a deeper purpose or just wanted it for his home. But William Dahman was the man who would not give up. He bought the poster for $100.

When I spoke with him afterward, he said that he was not alone. He said he knew of many people, mainly firefighters, who were going to pitch in to buy this poster, including Dr. Robert and Linda Shaffer. Dahman said that he and many others had helped move the donations into the gym on Saturday, had seen the poster, and knew exactly where it belonged. At Old Joe’s.

Old Joe’s is a bar on Sangamon owned by retired firefighter and chief Joe Poppish. According to Dahman, many of the local firefighters like to go there to relax. "Old Joe’s has been there for 50 years," he said, "and it’ll be there for 50 more. And that picture will hang there."

Now I have only lived in Lincoln a few months, but it really makes me proud to know that there are people in this town not only thinking of those far away in this time of need, but thinking of each other. The men of the Lincoln and Logan County fire departments know that heroes are not only found in times of crisis and cities of international stature, but they are found here — in the cornfields of Illinois — every day.

[Gina Sennett]

This is the em space, a staff writer’s section with observations about life experiences in Logan County and elsewhere. Enjoy your visit.

— Mary Krallmann

[Mary Krallmann]

Where They Stand

Where They Stand is a commentary section addressing specific issues in the community. Informed individuals present their position with facts, opinions or insights on the issue. The material is posted unedited, in its entirety, as received. If you have further comment on the issue, please send an e-mail message, complete with your name, address and telephone number to ldneditor@lincolndailynews.com.

Local teacher announces her candidacy for regional superintendent of schools

By Jean Anderson, candidate

[OCT. 31, 2001]  My name is Jean Anderson and I am announcing my intent to be a Republican candidate for the office of Regional Superintendent of Schools for Logan, Mason, and Menard counties.

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By the Numbers

Alexis Asher

Alexis Asher

Lincoln High School history

1859

Lincoln School District

5

School buildings in 1859

1

"Grammar school" in 1859

1

High school teacher, Mr. January, in 1859

1870-71

Central School opened

1898

High school building started

1900

High school dedicated, Jan. 5

$20,000

Cost of new high school

1920

Election authorized community high school District #404

1958

Dedication of new Lincoln Community High School, 1000 Primm Road, in auditorium, on Nov. 9

Alexis Asher

How We Stack Up

Racial makeup of selected Illinois counties

What’s Up With That?

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