Homer Tribune » Editorial

Drug violence hits Homer hard

Editor — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 17:52:21 +0000

By Sean Pearson
It’s finally here.
The violence associated with hardcore drug-trafficking has finally hit Homer — and it has struck with a vengeance. Just Saturday, another possible drug-related stabbing occurred off Jenny Lane, bringing the summer total to two. A recent shooting in Soldotna that left 23-year-old Brandon McGee dead is also reported to have ties to recent violent drug activities in Homer.
More letters and phone calls came into the Homer Tribune this week in response to the recent stabbing of a local high school senior. However, none of the callers or writers wanted to provide a name to go along with their comments for fear of retribution.
And, not so much for themselves, they say, as much as for their children.
How sad is that?
One mom says she is terrified to send her daughter to high school, while another reports watching drug deals go down at Karen Hornaday Park, Bishop’s Beach and Pudgy’s Parking Lot. Another indicated she was aware of young teenage girls going to extreme measures to get drunk — without being detected.
Just what kind of wake-up call do we actually need at this point?
If you ask youth around Homer what the problem is, they will tell you they are bored.
“There is nothing to do in Homer.”
We’ve certainly heard that complaint before as a community. In response, some really motivated teens worked toward and obtained funding to build a skatepark for Homer’s youth.
Then we built an ice rink.
Homer Community Schools programs offer a variety of activities and sports, with Little League Baseball and Little Feet Soccer available to the younger set. And we’ve even made some relatively decent attempts at establishing a teen center in Homer.
But it’s never enough.
I’m not blaming the kids. It’s not their fault they have been raised in a society of instant gratification. And I’m really not sure how we could ever go about shifting their thinking at this point.
So now we’re faced with the issue once again. And I seriously doubt it will ever go away.
More than 4 years ago, the Homer community was shocked and saddened by the death of 19-year-old Bethany Woodworth from a meth overdose. We vowed to look at the problem “head-on.” We held drug-awareness meetings and forums, we held brainstorming events for youth, and we even decided it was crucial that we should have a drug dog on the lower Kenai Peninsula.
We got one. He’s gone now.
Just a few years ago, while speaking with various students at the high school, I was told that a number of peers leave school during the day to go get high in the woods. I heard talk of students stealing liquor from their parents and drinking alcohol for breakfast. The general goal was just to “maintain a nice buzz” throughout the school day.
I chose to write something about those things I was told, and received more than one letter and/or phone call in response. One was from a teacher who scolded me for telling such lies about students, indicating that there are absolutely NO drug issues at the high school.
I’ll still have to beg to differ on that one.
Our kids are out there trying everything under the sun, much of it dangerous, unknown and toxic. More of them will die.
It’s no longer just a matter of recognizing the problem. Regardless of the fact that there are still those out there who will continue to stick their heads in the sand and just hope the problem goes away, the rest of us have got to start looking at long-term solutions, or our children will just keep dying.
There are those of us who will rise up to take back what is our Homer.
There are those who will just sit back and watch it all happen.
Which one are you?
Stay involved in your child’s life. Don’t stop checking in with your kids, and checking up on them. Kids are sneaky, and they will say or do anything. Check out who their friends are, where they are going and what they will be doing. Do random room inspections, check their text messages and monitor their e-mails.
They will hate you for it, but at least you will know you are doing something right.
As one mom put it, “As far as I’m concerned, my kids can have their privacy when they move out of my house.”
Let’s just hope we can keep them alive long enough to get there.

A letter to ‘Scared Mommy’

Editor — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 17:42:13 +0000

By Sean Pearson
As a policy, the Homer Tribune does not publish anonymous letters to the editor. Letters must include a real name, as well as a phone number by which the author can be contacted. And while this may serve to discourage some writers from speaking their honest opinion, the policy is in place to help keep everyone accountable for his or her words.
That being said, it does not preclude the use of such a letter as a point of reference.
Last week, a concerned parent sent a letter to the Homer Tribune voicing concerns about the increase of drug use and violence in Homer.
“Young adults have died from overdoses, teenagers are making poor choices in regards to sex, partying, and basic disrespect of themselves, their parents and their community.”
I couldn’t agree more.
“Scared Mommy” goes on to explain how she and her husband have found “party spots” along the trails that connect Pioneer to Hazel and travel behind the library, turning up “bottles of narcotics, empty beer cans, little baggies,” and, at one point, a needle.
She said they have witnessed drug deals in the library parking lot, where “baby-faced teenagers pass money and little baggies between vehicles regularly,” and “kids drive erratically up and down residential roads, disregarding stop signs.”
Calls to the police have resulted in a “standstill,” as the trails and wooded areas are considered private property.
It appears that some of that “big-city” sewage we were hoping to keep out of Homer has finally seeped its way in through a crack in our social foundation.
Don’t get me wrong.
There are plenty of kids around Homer who are on top of their game, have found direction in life and are ready to take on the world. This town is full of incredibly talented, creative and remarkable young people, who continue to grow up to be successful overachievers in the world.
Their stories are out there, too. Many of them have even been told right here in the newspaper. Some of you may have read them, but let’s be honest: “Suspects nabbed in knifing” sells a lot more papers than “Local youth wins regional science award.”
So, more than likely, most of you haven’t.
Unfortunately, as in any town, there are also young people in Homer who are struggling to survive adolescence, and no shortage of adults willing to take advantage of them. There are people on our streets — and in our parking lots right now — who are willing to buy cigarettes for a 13-year-old girl. Or purchase a bottle of Jack Daniels for high schoolers, if the money is right.
Understand, parents of Homer, that there are individuals out there in our little Cosmic Hamlet by the Sea right now who are ready, willing and certainly capable of luring our youth down a long, hard road of drugs, unsafe sex and violence.
Sometimes, there’s not even much luring needed.
Via the oft-argued negative impact of violence and drug-use in media like graphic video games, music, movies, Internet and local news, many of our youth continue to be desensitized to violence and blur the lines between what’s real and what’s fantasy.
We have taught our children that instant gratification is to be expected, and that there is very little that money can’t “fix.”
Life is busy. There are hundreds of distractions like e-mail and texting and TV and work and school out there. It becomes easy at times to get lost in the chaos of life among the monotony of day-to-day living. The choices facing our children today have gone way past “concerning,” and have become seriously frightening.
The recent knifing incident involving young men who allegedly used meth points to the hardcore problem of hardcore drugs in our community.
Heroin in Homer is real.
If you do nothing else before the summer ends, find some time to focus on what your kids are doing and where they are. As a community — and a “village” raising children together — it is our responsibility to look out for our young people.
Because, equally as frightening as the future our children face, is the faction of baseness out there who seem to have no problem stooping to new lows to involve our youth in their often misguided and unhealthy adult choices.
And so, I am sorry, “Scared Mommy” that I did very little to alleviate your fears about the future of Homer’s youth. To be honest, I’m pretty scared myself.

The fate of our fish

Editor — Wed, 14 Jul 2010 17:32:33 +0000

By Sean Pearson
Every year, thousands of fishing fans flock to Homer to drop their lines in the waters of Kachemak Bay, hoping to land the big one in the self-proclaimed halibut capital of the world.
Campers and vacationers roll onto the Homer Spit, logging hours at the Fishing Hole and teaching young anglers how to bait a hook, cast a line or simply whack a landed salmon in the head with a rock.
Even more look to reel in their first king salmon as they troll the Anchor River, or perfect their fly fishing techniques as they wade into the pristine waters on the southern Kenai Peninsula.
But for how long?
For a number of years now, anglers, commercial fishermen, subsistence users and various state and federal agencies have stepped up to weigh in on Alaska’s fisheries and just what needs to be done to preserve them for future generations. And while it’s certainly understandable that everyone comes with their own agenda, at what point do we really start looking out for each other?
So far this summer, Alaska fisheries — the Kenai Peninsula included — have suffered a few setbacks with the closure of the Anchor River to king salmon fishing and relatively poor returns thus far to the Nick Dudiak Fishing Lagoon. Even Homer’s famous Jackpot Halibut Derby is peaking out so far with a measly 250-pounder.
And while few seem to doubt that nature has its own way of thinning the stocks and healing the earth, figuring out just what impact our human presence has on things is a little more difficult.
With the recent oily devastation in the Gulf of Mexico, and the possible impact of Pebble Mine on Bristol Bay fisheries, it becomes very easy to point the finger at “Big Industry” and corporate greed. But at what point will we look at our own behaviors when it comes to our fisheries?
On yet another occasion over the weekend, I had the opportunity to watch a number of anglers reel fish in hand over fist along the shores of the Spit near Land’s End Resort. And while I dare not speculate again as to just what kinds of fish they were landing that sunny afternoon, apparently very few of them were “keepers.” Angler after angler released his hard-earned catch back into the open waters of Kachemak Bay.
And while I am no expert at catch-and-release fishing — possibly even more forgiving than others when it comes to the complexities of removing a hook lodged in the jaw of a thrashing salmon — there are some things even a dumb ol’ boy from Oklahoma knows.
Don’t hold your prized catch out of the water for 10 minutes while your fishing buddy runs back to the car to grab the camera, and you let everyone and their grandma pose with your fish. What is it about this concept of suffocation you don’t get?
Don’t hold the fish by the hook and furiously shake it to see if it might just fall off. It won’t.
If it does happen to fall off, I’m pretty sure that drop onto the rocky shore some 4 feet below has caused significant trauma.
Kicking your fish back toward the water repeatedly is not considered a form of “catch-and-release” fishing.
Come on people. It’s really not hard to figure out that, if you throw your fish back in the water and it floats to the top — belly-up — it’s dead. There really was no “release” involved, and you are wasting our fish.
I tell myself there were no Alaskans, let alone Homer folks, among those who tossed back seven dead fish in the hour I was there. Perhaps it really does come down to it being nothing more than a matter of ignorance.
So, this is yet another plea to those of you visiting our great state. We love it here, and we love to have you here. But please show respect for all of our natural resources — and play nice with our fish.

What price Hoka Hey?

Editor — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 17:25:05 +0000

By Sean Pearson
An e-mail arrived in my inbox at the newspaper on Sunday morning. It was from a Florida woman named Toni with whom I’d been conversing about her friend Ken Green.
Ken was riding the Hoka Hey.
He had texted her at 11 p.m. Alaska time that he was in Anchorage and was “GOING to make it.” He was determined to make it to Homer for the parade and the party.
“I told him to tell you hello from Florida if he saw you.”
I mentally filed his name away and made a few trips to the Spit throughout the day to see who was rolling in.
And then I forgot about Ken Green.
I got another e-mail at the newspaper early Monday morning.
It, too, was from Toni.
“You won’t be meeting up with Ken — he was killed this afternoon…”
According to Alaska State Trooper reports, “Ken Green was traveling southbound on the Glenn Highway on his 1998 Harley when he drove onto the shoulder, lost control and crashed. Green was ejected from the motorcycle and died at the scene.”
He wasn’t the first.
Charles C. Lynn of Sorrento, Fla. was killed June 26 outside Cheyenne, Wyo.
Rumors across Facebook and various blogs have speculated anywhere from two to six deaths attributed to the race. Several riders are still recovering in hospitals from their injuries.
But, perhaps the most frightening aspect of the Hoka Hey at this point, is the number of riders out there who are unaccounted for. With inconsistent information regarding the number of racers actually starting the challenge in Florida, and a less-than-accurate system for recording finishers in Homer, the only thing left for some families is a plea for help via the Internet.
The Homer Tribune has received e-mails and phone calls from a variety of family members, some literally begging for information on their riders:
“Has anyone seen Scott and Carl, a father and son from Michigan, and their friend Don? I believe they were in Fairbanks at 3 a.m. Thursday morning…”
Another questioned if anyone had heard from her son.
“We haven’t heard from him since June 28. It’s now July 5. Does anybody know where he is?”
As someone who has never owned a Harley Davidson — let alone driven one some 8,000 miles across two countries in less than two weeks — I am far from qualified to speak to the whole “Harley” experience. I would expect it to represent many different things to many different people, and for anyone to speculate about someone else’s dreams and goals would be less than appropriate.
I believe the same to be true about the Hoka Hey Motorcycle Challenge. Hundreds of brave and enduring riders took off from Key West on June 20, and made their way up to Homer. They each did so on their own accord and for their own reasons. They knew the risks, and — by most accounts — had a pretty incredible ride.
Some didn’t.
The jury is still out as far as whether or not anyone will actually be awarded the prize money originally promised. How naïve I was in picturing a big ceremony on the end of the Spit as Big Jim “Red Cloud” Durham hands over $500,000 in Alaska gold.
Regardless of how this all ends, many of the riders say they already feel their experience over the course of the challenge was well-worth the $1,000 entry fee.
Who can really say whether it was worth the lives of two people?

“My consolation in all of this is that Ken loved the ride, wasn’t in it for anything other than the ride, sounded fantastic when we talked Saturday and died doing what he loved! I hope I can say the same.” – Toni

Did we get duped?

Newsroom — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 17:48:39 +0000

By Sean Pearson
Hoka Hey riders hit town early Monday morning.
I doubt anyone was as surprised to see them that early as I was.
The next few weeks will undoubtedly be filled with more than just Hoka Hey celebrations. Inconsistent information, reportedly incorrect routes and incomplete maps left many Hoka Hey riders feeling a bit less than satisfied with the more-than-7,000-mile “challenge.”
Frank Kelly of Prosperity S.C., and Will Barclay of Highland, Fla., crossed the finish line first at 4:20 a.m. Monday. Figuring in a 6 a.m. Florida start on June 20, these two men reportedly drove nearly 8,500 miles in approximately 194 hours.
Is it possible? In a state where the endurance races like the Iditarod, Yukon Quest and Iron Dog reveal superhuman thresholds for pain to cross an ultimate finish line, maybe we shouldn’t be too doubtful. Yet there are questions about this newly surfaced and conceived race that are only prudent to ask.
Did they follow all the “prescribed” routes? More than one rider complained that routes were misleading, misrepresented and just downright wrong.
Without posts positioned and manned on the entire route, how would we ever know?
Did participants use any “illegal” or prohibited drugs during the challenge? Required drug tests should prove that. In Alaska’s decades long ends of the earth races, we know better than not to ask that question apparently because drug tests are built into our races – even for faithful dog teams.
Which brings up another question.
As far as I know, no one was present at 4:20 a.m. when the first two contenders arrived to immediately take urine samples. And while I am in no way implying the two riders used any type of illegal substances while on the road, it’s good to learn many amphetamine-type drugs become undetectable in the urine after as little as 24 hours.
And who actually tests the samples? Who pays for the test? How long does it take to get the results?
So many unanswered questions.
And what about speeding? I’m not even sure it is relevant at this point; that’s not generally a question we have to ask about dog teams and their mushers. With so few checks along the way, the only way to figure that one out might be if they can’t pass a polygraph test. With no GPS to track them, and no entourage of helicopters and film crews to watch them, riders were left to the “honor system” when it came to the speeding component.
And since no interstate highways — only back roads — were to be used, the maximum posted speed limit in almost every location should have been 55 miles per hour.
As the place at the “End of the Road” much advertised in Hoka Hey challenge bravado, isn’t the obligation to ask a few questions within our field of responsibilities? After all, most of the town weighed in on the impending visit with bravery themselves, first told it would mean about 1,000 bikers and additional family to support them. We got ready. Shops hired more help. City officials figured out where the services might be needed. Homeland Security even set Homer for a scrutinizing visit.
Is it really a good day to die?
I wonder if the family of the man who died feels that way?
Yes, they knew the risks, and yes … it is a race. Once you offer a prize to the first one who can get to it, it has become a race. And $500,000 is a lot of money.
Hoka Hey festivities happen all weekend in celebration of those riders who make it all the way to the end of the road.
But let’s not forget the holiday we’re celebrating. And, most importantly, those who are currently serving our country and protecting our freedoms.
They are true warriors.

‘Give us dirty laundry’

Newsroom — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 17:51:12 +0000

By Sean Pearson
A few weeks ago, I said something that seemed to take a colleague of mine aback.
“People don’t really want to hear good news. They just wanna hear the bad stuff,” I expounded.
“You really think that?” he asked me.
I do.
Last week, for some unknown reason, Homer saw a surplus of crime in the area. Certainly that will happen any time you mix more people together in an outdoor atmosphere — and put too much beer in a few of them.
These, however, seemed a bit more heinous; they involved some relatively disturbing charges of sexual abuse of two minors and one person beating another with a large stick wrapped in chains and electrical tape.
You wouldn’t know that, had someone not already told you.
It wasn’t me.
Certainly there is something to be said for the “excitement” of reading that kind of information — it’s not like we don’t know you turn to the “For the Record” section first every week. Apparently there’s something about reading what happened to our friends and neighbors that we find titillating. It feeds that need we have to be “in the know.” Knowledge is power.
But, what if publishing information like that actually does more harm than any kind of “good” — exciting or not — that could come from being “in on” the gossip around town?
Homer is small enough that many of us know each other relatively well, and that means everyone generally already knows your business. There are always advantages and disadvantages to living in a small town. What that means, however, for someone involved in an act of domestic violence, is that everyone in town will know what happened to them.
It’s the whole idea behind re-victimizing the victim.
Seriously, how hard is this to understand?
If everybody knows that Ma and Pa Kettle live together, isn’t it fairly safe to assume that Ma was the victim if Pa was arrested for “assault” against his “domestic partner?”
I don’t really see that as much of a jump.
So, apparently, it’s not enough for Ma to bear the visible bruises of the physical assault. Now, she must also go through the process of invisible public humiliation, as the story shows up in one of the hometown newspapers and she becomes the fodder of gossip.
And while Homer generally is known more for its nurturing of those who are struggling through difficult times, often the mere perception of being “discussed” around coffee shops makes it unbearable to face the world.
Or at least a small community.
We’ve been through this before, but you’re welcome to do the research yourself.
As far as newspapers go, any one of them will tell you that a lot more copies of the paper will sell with a raging, flaming photo and glaring headlines of the tragic house fire that killed three children, than that of the boy scout who built colorful birdhouses for recovering sparrows.
All of us are fascinated by the tragedy and violence of life because we are human. And while many of us don’t really like that piece of ourselves, the draw toward “bad” news is hard to resist.
Luckily, in this day and age, we can get our fill of crime, assault and “domestic violence” by simply Googling it and watching streaming video via the Internet.
Let’s keep it there, and out of our hometown news.
Re-victimizing the victim of domestic violence and sexual assault by publishing the incidents in local newspapers serves as nothing more than adding insult to injury. The Homer Tribune reiterates its policy of not publishing domestic violence and sexual assault incidents that inadvertently identify the victims.

Learning the hard way

Editor — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 18:18:37 +0000

By Sean Pearson
I made some really stupid decisions in high school.
I would like to say I wised up a bit in college, but I apparently needed a bit more time to polish off that whole “adult” thing.
High school was certainly a time of learning … and there were plenty of lessons to learn. Some of it was science and English; some of it was dealing with ridiculously clueless parents; some of it was the hard lessons of peer interaction.
Most days, they all combined to form a mixed-up bundle of confusingly chaotic hormones that wavered between rage and rebellion. I was never really sure where it all came from, or why it was there. But, regardless of the nature and source of that adolescent angst, it was all very real.
And very important at the time.
Recently, some members of the Mariner high school baseball team made a very bad decision on a trip to Houston to play ball.
They knew better. It was a stupid thing to do.
There is no condoning the use of alcohol or illicit drugs at any type of school function — be it a dance, a field trip, or a varsity baseball game.
That being said, I did it.
It’s not something I’m proud of. We thought having some beer on our high school baseball trip somehow made us “cooler” than the rest of the world. Or at least all the other teams there. We were rebelling against something, but we had no idea what. It was a really confusing time in life, and I did all kinds of stupid stuff.
I just never got caught.
And while I’m certain plenty of people out there were far more angelic in their high school days than I, I seriously doubt many of us can look back at the decisions of our youth and feel completely OK about all of them.
Isn’t that kind of the whole purpose of “growing up?”
As a society, we continually feed our children messages via movies, television, commercials and music that life is all about partying. What are we really supposed to expect from them? Drinking is portrayed as a rite of passage, and if you listen to how we — as adults — brag and boast of our “partying” experiences, it’s not hard to see where the mixed message comes in.
And — as if sending them mixed messages wasn’t enough — we take it one step further.
We set them up.
Anyone watching the recent finals of the Stanley Cup undoubtedly witnessed the post-game winning festivities of the Chicago Blackhawks. Bottles of champagne were popped open, shook up, sprayed out and passed around the locker room in a show of celebratory excess.
Is the situation the same?
Not quite. This was the Stanley Cup, and these were adults, not high-schoolers. Still, they are the people we choose to pay millions of dollars to watch “perform,” lifting them up as some kind of demigod in our society. Do we really NOT expect our children to emulate them?
I don’t know who all was involved in the “Mariner baseball team incident,” nor do I know what happened to all of them.
I do know what happened to one of them, who was merely a witness.
He was sent a “formal notice” from the Kenai Peninsula Borough School District prohibiting him from coming onto the grounds of Homer High School, or attending any events, including games and plays, that are held there.
Indefinitely.
Apparently, “under School Board Policies Series 3000, the principal is authorized to call law enforcement to have you removed should you violate the terms of this letter, and charges may be filed for your willful disregard. You will also be considered a trespasser and may be subject to arrest and prosecution.”
Kinda harsh consequences, though understandable in the ongoing battle for schools to take a hard stance against alcohol and drug use. And, let’s face it, some lessons are just harder learned than others; even for those who chose not to participate, but received equally harsh consequences for not “reporting” their teammates.
Still, at what point does a consequence shift from teaching a lesson, to just being mean?
“Furthermore, any awards or recognition, including, but not limited to, the receiving of a high school letter for playing baseball for the 2010 season … shall be rescinded.”
Ouch.
How does taking something away that has already been earned teach anyone a lesson?
These athletes traveled to Houston to play baseball, not police their fellow team members. And while they may no longer have great memories of this baseball season because of a stupid choice they made, it’s still going to be a better memory than if they had decided to “narc” on their friends.
High school is hard. Peer pressure is harder. Amid all the media outlets that glorify “partying,” taking a strong stance against underage drinking and drug use is certainly necessary.
Taking punitive measures to an extreme just to make a point is not.
Give these boys back the awards they earned, and perhaps they will learn more than just one lesson about life and the choices they make.

Clean up or shut up

Editor — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 17:47:14 +0000

By Sean Pearson
OK. I get it. Image is everything.
As BP continues to spill hundreds of thousands of gallons of unharnessed crude oil into the Gulf of Mexico everyday, they still managed to find time to install a “like” button on “BP’s Oil Spill Response” on Facebook.
Can you say “spin?”
Last week, President Barack Obama openly chastised BP for mounting a $50-million advertising campaign in the wake of the recent disaster. Apparently, the oil giant feels now is a good time to improve its image. Obama said he didn’t have a problem with BP fulfilling its legal obligations, but added, “What I don’t want to hear is that they’re spending that kind of money on shareholders and spending that kind of money on TV advertising, [but] they’re nickel-and-diming fishermen of small businesses here in the gulf who are having a hard time.”
Hmmm, I wonder where we learned this lesson from?
With so many people reaching out to help the oil-sodden Gulf Coast region with suggestions, ideas, volunteer hours and sense of community, it’s kinda bittersweet to watch the whole process from Alaska.
After witnessing the devastation and heartache of the Exxon Valdez Oil Spill in 1989, certainly none of us wanted this kind of environmental disaster to happen again. Who could? If you live here — on Earth — and have any kind of investment in the planet and its inhabitants at all, how could you ever want something like this to happen anywhere in the world?
And while it really is great to see so many people coming together in Louisiana and Florida to rescue pelicans and snowy egrets, it’s still hard not to wonder where all of this attention was 20 years ago as oil-laden murres and sea otters began washing up on our shores?
The causes of the two spills are inarguably very different; the responses to the spills are speculative at best; the result is the same.
In Gulf Breeze, Fla., — known for its sugar-white sand — City Finance Director Steve Milford said people are literally trying to gather up the white beach with buckets and bags to store it someplace safe.
With a brown sludge approaching, white sands likely won’t be white much longer. And for a city with zoning and building laws that require you to match the sand’s color on any project close to the beach, white sand is a big thing.
The people of Gulf Breeze are undoubtedly a hardy bunch. Living on the coast, they know how to prepare for some particularly nasty storms, and have weathered their fare share of hurricanes. Yet Milford worries that people won’t be able to think outside the hurricane box.
“We had a city council meeting the other night and people are asking, when will this be over? This indicates to me it hasn’t hit them yet. It’s not like a hurricane. We will likely feel the effects of this for years, right?”
Yes, Mr. Milford. You will.
The oil sheen near Gulf Breeze was six miles out as of this week end, and people there still don’t know what to do. Milford said many are taking what they tend to think will be their last swim in a clean ocean, or trying to go on that last fishing trip.
What do you do before an oil spill hits?
“It breaks peoples’ hearts. Nobody knows when it will shut down.”
So maybe image is important.
Unfortunately, the people of this white-beached town — as well as those of the hundreds of other coastal towns along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico — won’t have $50 million for TV advertising to “improve their image” post oil apocalypse.
Let’s see if BP’s shiny, new and improved reputation can erase that image of thousands of sea birds and animals wallowing in the mire of oily mud.
Or maybe they could put their money where their mouth is, and spend it to clean up the mess they made — not just their reputation.

A true meaning of peace

Editor — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 17:50:11 +0000

By Sean Pearson
As much as the sarcastic and cynical side of me hates to admit it, I was once a naïve and doe-eyed college graduate ready to change the world. It wasn’t enough that I had absolutely no clue what to do with my life, I was armed with a degree in social work and a goal to save everyone from everything “bad” in the world.
In college, instructors often explained that you wouldn’t really understand all this education stuff they were throwing at you until you got out into the “real world” and experienced it.
They were right.
There really wasn’t much to protest in the late ‘80s. Sure, there was some war here and there. An Iran-Iraq conflict had been going on for a while, but we weren’t really too involved. And there wasn’t that “in-your-face” war stuff being played out in front of us on CNN and live streaming via the Web.
Let’s face it, none of it was really interesting enough to us to make us angry. We didn’t have the injustices and atrocities of Vietnam to rage against.
Or maybe we just didn’t know about them.
College was all about discovering who you are, forging your way into the world and expressing your newly found “meaning of life” to everyone who would listen. And sometimes even those who wouldn’t listen.
And peace was a button you wore on your shirt:
“Wage Peace.” “War is not the answer.” “Peace: Back by popular demand.”
They were all quite catchy and colorfully splashed their messages of peace — as well as disdain for war and violence — for everyone to see.
And while I still find many of those messages appropriate, compelling and speaking of truth, I now read them in an entirely different light.
Lance Cpl. Matthew Snyder was deployed to Iraq in 2006, and killed just one month later. His funeral in Maryland was disrupted by demonstrators led by Kansas pastor Fred W. Phelps, who yelled, among other things, that America’s military is evil because it defends a country that protects homosexuality.
While these misguided and ignorant sowers of hate were, indeed, exercising their right to freedom of speech, that doesn’t make it right.
And if their actions don’t make you angry, perhaps they should.
Currently, 48 states and the District of Columbia are backing the family of Snyder in a pending U.S. Supreme Court case that could decide the constitutionality of laws restricting protests at private family funerals.
The “friend of the court” briefs argues that the First Amendment should not apply to some “intrusive and harassing” forms of expression.
“Funeral goers are a captive audience and they are engaged in a deeply personal and private mourning process,” said Kansas Attorney General Steve Six, who drafted the brief. “The Constitution does not give the respondent the right to hijack solemn proceedings such as funerals in order to spread their hateful ideas.”
Lance Cpl. Matthew Snyder died protecting our rights as Americans — even those of Fred W. Phelps and his hate-mongering congregation. Countless others continue to make that ultimate sacrifice daily, asking for little more than to be remembered. And many don’t even ask for that.
In 2000, Congress established the National Moment of Remembrance, asking Americans to stop whatever they are doing and observe a minute’s silence at 3 p.m. on Memorial Day. The idea for the moment of observation reportedly came when the commission director asked children touring Washington what Memorial Day meant. Some of the children responded that it was the day the pools open.
And people are dying for this?
“War is costly, peace is priceless.”
Only it’s not really priceless, is it?
If you missed your opportunity to observe a minute of silence on Monday for those people who have fought and died for our rights, perhaps you could take a moment to do it now.
I seriously doubt it’s ever too late.

“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
Jimi Hendrix

How common is sense anymore?

Editor — Wed, 26 May 2010 17:57:29 +0000

By Sean Pearson
As yet another school year draws to a close, and graduates trek out on their fledgling paths toward adulthood and all of life’s unknowns, it seems appropriate to consider the future of our public school system here in Alaska.
If there really is much of a future in it.
When I was a student — albeit a long time ago — the only thing we had to buy for school was a basic pencil box, some pencils, safety scissors and Elmer’s glue. Everything else was provided, including endless reams of construction paper, a rainbow of paints, colorful chalk, glitter and enough tiny milk cartons to grow an entire greenhouse of geraniums.
The teachers even bought the Kleenexes for us.
And there was no fundraising involved.
After all, this was public education and our tax dollars were paying for it. Why would we need to sell anything?
Now, even under the best intentions, our students are bombarded within the first few weeks of school with an overzealously peppy public relations person pushing the fun and rewards of selling wrapping paper and cookie dough for prizes.
Unfortunately, every bit of that money is needed.
But are they having to hawk all this stuff in Anchorage, too?
Not long ago, Anchorage teachers made the front page of the Anchorage Daily News touting a raise for the new school year. I certainly believe they, like most teachers, deserve it. And I believe they have every reason to celebrate their success. Still, it’s difficult to sit back and watch from down here on the Kenai Peninsula, where our teachers have to wonder from year to year whether they will still have a job.
Granted, if you live in a remote area of Alaska, it’s understood that you will not have the same possibilities as those teachers and students in a large, metropolitan area. It’s impossible to offer the same educational opportunities to students in Port Graham and Nanwalek as those in midtown Anchorage.
But what really is equitable?
It’s hard to not pick on Anchorage area public schools, as many boast some pretty unbelievable amenities that are available to their students. Starbucks kiosks pepper several school’s commons, presumably to help ease students into their educational day. Chrome on lockers gleams, polished granite surfaces sparkle and the new sodium lights in the gym cast a glassy sheen across the newly refinished wood floor.
In Voznesenka — also a public school — State Champion wrestlers are forced to move desks and tables around the edge of a cramped classroom to partially roll out an old wrestling mat. A successful move or takedown is often interrupted by a knee to a chair, or someone running into the chalkboard.
We’re still talking about what is equitable.
Isn’t there really something inside each of us that really can see how wrong it is for one group of public school students to have daily access to Starbucks coffee at school, while other public school students in remote areas don’t even have access to potable water?
Common sense would tell you an adequate septic system in a school in the bush takes priority over a brand new computer lab in Wasilla, but sense doesn’t really seem so common anymore.
To choose to live in a rural community often means choosing fewer opportunities, and that’s something we’ve all generally come to accept. However, that choice shouldn’t come at the cost of things like adequate facilities and standard access to those same educational opportunities.
I thought education was a constitutional right, but a quick glance over usconstitution.net proves me wrong.
“There is no enumerated constitutional right to an education.”
Wow. Maybe I should have paid more attention in government class.
Apparently, the bottom line is that we are all free in these United States. That means we are free to live — and free to starve, if we can’t get a decent education.