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April 15, 1978 Around Adair with Ed Waggener The article below first appeared in the April 15, 1978 issue of the Daily Statesman. Topics included David Wells on the benefits of walking, a woodpecker on Jamestown Street, Sally Nell's advice on high utility bills, Jim Ranson's and Alfred Flowers' violets, Cotton Durham's tulips, George Keltner's white redbud, and the dying art of cussing. --Pen By Ed Waggener The things you don't see riding Perhaps the champion championer of walking in Columbia today is David Wells. Wells regularly walks to and from his home in College Park, and the reason is not at least altogether because, as his friends tell him, he is too tight to drive. He walks for health, but more than that, for enjoyment. "I can't believe that Americans believe that the whole country, the whole economy, has to bow down and worship the automobile. I can't believe that there are as many people in this country who don't know what they are missing--the little details they would never have seen--if they were to walk." I couldn't agree more with Wells, although I have to admit that I don't do the walking I need to or want to do. Wells points out another aspect of walking. "It makes me feel closer to people when I see them strolling through our neighborhood. They smile, wave, and acknowledge you and you return the gesture." But the biggest benefit of walking, I believe, is still the one Wells mentioned about seeing our town in greater detail, appreciating more the fine things one never sees from a car, motorcycle, or even a bicycle. I'm still sorry that I wasn't able to heed his advice on Wednesday morning. "You've got to take Tom and Pen up on Jamestown Street to see that woodpecker at work in Ocil Bryant's yard. I walked by there this morning and I thought I was in a snowstorm. That woodpecker was really cutting into that dead tree limb. Chips were flying everywhere. You could almost hear him to town. I didn't make it. But it was my regret. I did get a glimpse of the same thing Friday morning, along Reed Street in Edith Walker's yard. One of the biggest peckerwoods I have ever seen (sorry, I don't know how to distinguish peckerwoods other than the general appellation) was boring a hole for his nest in a dead tree by the little stone walkway which Madge Reed had built when she was the mistress of the house. It was a grand sight. In bloom, worth seeing
Sally Nell says that she has noticed that the Public Service Commission is looking into the high fuel adjustment charges being assessed by Kentucky Utilities. Mrs. Nell says that she thinks it would be advantageous for any who wish to let their feelings be known to write the Public Service Commission in Frankfort before they meet to discuss the matter on April 18. The dying art of cussing I really believe that cussing as an art is going the way of great oratory. There just doesn't seem to be the men of the caliber of an Alben Barkley, and A.B. Chandler, or an Everett Dirksen in the field of public speaking today. And, I contend, cussing is not what it used to be. Time was, when only men were present, you could hear a fairly poetic, highly descriptive, forceful oath from the man of the house whenever he hit his thumb with a hammer, got shocked when fixing an appliance, or had a provoking setback Now the cussing doesn't have to be lengthy, it just has to be apt; it just has to fit the situation. When I was a younger fellow, my Daddy had a black pickup truck. He stopped to buy an "Anti-Static" strap from E.C. Waggener one day after he got off his mail route, and when he pulled in the drive at home, I thought something was falling off his truck. "Something is hanging down from your truck!" I warned him, excitedly. He was hungry, and a little testy, and without thinking, he said, "Well why don't you cut it off." I don't think he had his mind on what he was saying, because that is what I did. When I came back in the house and showed the strap to Daddy, all he could say was, "Well, damn!" and repeated, more quietly, "Well, damn." It was all he could say. It fitted Now, I remember sissy cussing in boyhood. There were those who would say "Dang it," or "Hecky durn," or get mad, point their finger at you, and say, "You old damn, you." That kind of cussing just didn't make sense. I had thought that my oldest son might cuss a little, but he doesn't, much. Came under other influence He does cuss appropriately, though. When he is sore provoked, he will say the fitting cuss word to describe his anger. But I do not believe he will become a virtuoso cusser, cussing for the sheer joy of it. He has said a few bad words, but he has since come under the influence of his grandmother--my mother--and his Sunday School teacher, Ruth Willis, and neither of them approves of cussing in any form. Now the older one corrects me when I cuss, and I cuss only when necessary. However, the three-year-old may be beyond redemption by the well-meaning ladies. For I see a spark of mischief in him which indicates that he will cuss often, at the least provocation. (And get in trouble for it, too.) He has a favorite bear, about a handful of furry cloth and stuffing, which he dearly loves. He paid his older brother $1.75 for it, and he defies even his buddy, Jim Willie Crawhorn, to try to take it away from him. Tom doesn't know a great deal of cuss words, and the ones he uses have an original pronunciation which render them less abrasive to sensitive ears. When Bear was lost, the other day, Tom came to me and demanded to know its whereabouts. "Where," he asked, "is my dommit bear?" I knew that "dommit" meant that he was impatient, and I hastened to find it. Later, he told me, "My dommit stomach aches." I knew, from his inflection and his use of that neologistic expletive, that that boy was in pain, and could probably be cured only with a Dairy Queen. But I worry that he might cuss in front of his grandmother or Miss Ruth, and they would surely disapprove. I guess I have to go along with cleaning up his act. I don't want a pure infantile delinquent on my hands. But dommit to thunder, how else can you make the &+?--'s understand? This story was posted on 2020-05-31 08:40:11
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