Of kings and Kirk
The Charlie Kirk assassination hit me much harder than I thought it would. I knew his work, but wasn’t a follower, so to speak. I would catch a video on YouTube and watch it on occasion. I mourn his death, I mourn for his family’s loss, but mostly I mourn for our nation’s divide.
That someone would kill just because they don’t like words is unreal.
That people would celebrate that act is shameful.
That we have let politicians and talking heads divide us that much is pitiful.
We are Americans, we are America. We have more in common than not. Ben Franklin
said “Join or Die.” He was
right then, he is right now. The divide and conquer plan must not be allowed to work. That isn’t to say we must agree with everyone, everything they say, but we need to be able to respectfully disagree with what we don’t and find the common ground, or we risk failing as a nation.
I think Charlie’s assassination will be this century’s Martin Luther King Jr. assassination. Both men stood for what they believed, fought to be heard, preached peace, family and faith. Both were well respected and loved. Neither were politicians or famous actors. Neither pushed hate, disrespect or violence, yet that is what took them from this Earth.
They were not killed because they spoke, they were murdered because people listened. Both understood free speech was important to our freedom, for without it tyranny wins.
Rest in peace, Charlie Kirk. Find peace, America.
I miss the unity we had on 9/12/01. I pray it returns.
John Worden, Murphy
Taxing alarm bells ringing
As you can see the last item on the agenda for the Cherokee County Board of Commissioners meeting Monday night is a property tax reappraisal trying to sneak it in under the radar to pull the wool over our eyes to pay the new insurance rates for the $5 million the sheriff’s office just cost us.
People need to see this and understand that our taxes will go up again if we don’t show up in force and hold the line.
Mark Kephart, Murphy
Preventing tragedies
I have lived on Airport Road in Andrews for 40 years. My husband was a runner years ago and chose Airport Road due to convenience. Many friends and co-workers warned me that they almost hit him on Airport Road.
We often thought how strange that two cars meet at the exact spot where you are running, forcing you into the weeds on the side of the road. He moved his route to Stewart Road and other safer routes. The same was true for me with walking and biking.
Airport Road straight is also known as a speeding zone. This fact is obviously acknowledged by law enforcement. A patrol car is usually visible there.
I suggest riding in a convertible vehicle if you want to enjoy the beauty on Airport Road. A better idea would be for the N.C. Department of Transportation to restrict access to non-motorized vehicles.
Susann Ferebee West, Andrews
A story on ‘Five Socks’
This is a stupid story about five socks. I was going to call it “Half-a-Sock” but decided “Five Socks” sounded a lot more professional.
“Half-a-Sock” has to do with me becoming a big fan of wearing two thin socks, instead of one fat one. I purchased, upon Rebecca’s sage advice, and personal direction, a huge size 13 pair of lined Walmart Crocs. Reminds me of Pop’s old German joke about, “I’m supposed to wear size 11’s but 12’s felt so good, I’m wearing 13s.”
I was looking for huge shoes because my feet are both growing sideways, with knobs sticking out of both sides of both feet. For socks, I bought 10 pair of reasonably priced stretchy blacks with triangular patches of white at the heels. This explains how I got to wearing double pairs of socks.
After several weeks, with my funky naive Nebraskan wisdom, I came up with the “Half-a-Sock” idea: wearing two pair, if you take one off, in a way, you’re wearing half a sock; and, incidentally, wearing half a sock around the house became sort of, even, a lot of fun, slipping and sliding; and it’s perfect for using the roller massager. It’s main advantage is, the first sock erases all the sins of dry toes and heels, and all the nail-thread-catching danger.
One day, while en-socking, I first put a couple on one foot.
(I’m not going to talk about the eternal question of whether you put two on one foot first or one-one and then two-two.)
Then, I put a third one on the other foot, and, lo and behold, for the life of me, I could not locate the fourth sock.
Looked high and low, all around the living room; finally, got another sock out of my sock drawer. This is the fifth sock: hence the title of this piece.
So the question I’m asking you, dear and patient reader, is, where did the fourth sock go? As you ponder that question of absolutely no consequence, let’s consider the beauty of half a sock: instead of splitting the sock in half top to bottom, just use two thinner ones, and take one off.
The wiser of you will have arrived at the fifth sock explanation: I put three socks on the first foot.
Harry Holdorf, Blairsville, Ga.