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Opinion

  • State Senator Gary Tapp is coming under a lot of fire these days from columnists, letter writers and even editorial cartoonists around the state for his proposed Senate Bill 68, which would place tight restrictions on the types of individuals who could adopt children or become foster parents. We agree with those who oppose this bill.

    A law that limits by arbitrary definition the pool of individuals willing to step forward and volunteer to help the save the life of an innocent child is not well-conceived or even necessary.

  • Even more troubling to those of us who watch out for your interests is another bill that seems to be gaining momentum under the leading members of both the Senate and the House.

    In Senate Bill 188, Senate President David Williams and House Speaker Greg Stumbo are proposing the creation of a state oversight agency that would be responsible for checks and balances on all aspects of government and those who hold office.

  • These are sad days. Loss and grief are everywhere.

    People die every day and every week, of course, some more famous than others, and each of you is touched in a unique way by the passing of someone you know, someone you’ve loved or maybe just someone you’ve admired.

    This past year has been personally difficult. Our family lost a very dear relative all too quickly, and our grief continues. Friends and former classmates and teammates passed away suddenly. Friends and acquaintances have lost spouses and children. And of course many have lost parents.

  • Shelby County High School's raising of banners to honor two of its greatest sports stars is perhaps too little but mercifully not too late.

    Mike Casey and Terry Davis were the state's top basketball players in perhaps what was the best and most competitive era of the sport in this state and certainly in this county.

    Mr. Casey, an iconic legend in Shelby County sports, led the school to its first state championship in 1966. He went on to star at the University of Kentucky.

  • What great news it was when we learned that the fireworks show will continue.

    We were afraid there would be no more sizzle in the sky to celebrate Independence Day in Shelby County.

    The county’s parks board, which for many years has produced the fireworks display at Clear Creek Park on July 4, said last week it no longer could afford to light the fuse, and unless a benefactor were to step forward, the community would be left with a dud.

  • I was recently reminded of the old story about the farmer who sold a mule, telling the buyer that the animal would do anything as long as he was asked nicely.  The next day, the buyer returned and shared a tale of frustration because the stubborn mule would not do a thing – no matter how many times he was asked nicely.

    Upon hearing this report, the farmer picked up a wooden 2-by-4 that was leaning against his barn, walked right up to the mule and hit the unsuspecting animal square in the head.  Then he whispered, "Please pull that plow."&n

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    Is it just us or does this decision at Shelby County High School to go to a trimester structure starting next year seem a bit rushed?

    We learned – though we don’t exactly understand – that this decision by SCHS’s site-based decision-making council is binding and does not require approval by the school board.

  • The scenes last week were incredible, weren’t they? You could see both overwhelming beauty and bedeviling frustration in one quick glance.

    Mother Nature painted our canvas with brush strokes of divine precision, a pure white base topped with a sheen of silvery ice followed by an icing of more snow to create a crunchy and even inviting layer cake on our lawns and meadows.

    Our trees were a winter wonderland, with gleaming tinsel and long and sophisticated boughs of ice dangling every which way.

  • When did snow days change from magical gifts from Mother Nature to pains in our eternal backsides?

    I think it was somewhere between youth and adulthood, to be sure, but when exactly did that change occur?

    I’ve been away a long time, you know, and though we had hurricane days in Florida, those didn’t have the same charm that snow days brought.

    I mean, kids stayed home from school, but they also spent the time removing tree limbs, living without power and maybe cleaning up a flooded mess. Or worse. It wasn’t fun at all.

  • “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

    You probably know these words and believe them to be the official Postal Creed, the motto of the United States Post Office.

    They are not that.

    The USPS has no official motto, though this sentence, whose origins are attributed to Persian history, is inscribed in the post office in New York City.

    Still, it often is cited by citizens and embraced as a standard for their expectations.

  • Are you glad today is the final day of 2008?

    Will a new year really make a difference for you?

    Does today represent anything more than the last Wednesday of the calendar year?

    There’s no magic switch that will be thrown Thursday – well, unless you celebrate too much tonight and need deep silence – and none of the challenges we have faced will vanish along with that page ripped from our desk calendar or clicked off our Outlook.

  • Are you glad today is the final day of 2008?

    Will a new year really make a difference for you?

    Does today represent anything more than the last Wednesday of the calendar year?

    There’s no magic switch that will be thrown Thursday – well, unless you celebrate too much tonight and need deep silence – and none of the challenges we have faced will vanish along with that page ripped from our desk calendar or clicked off our Outlook.

  •  So the big topic this weekend at our house was the forecast of snow. Chances are it might have been at yours, too, but our terms of endearment were probably quite different.

    Ours was a sort of breathless anticipation. We checked online to monitor the hour-by-hour updated forecast. We watched the skies and felt the chill.

    We were ready to awaken on Sunday morning and see the white stuff.

    “Does that mean we can go out and build a snowman tomorrow?” my son asked, his eyes bright and shining.

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    I'm a big believer in giving thanks and having it mean something more than just one day a year. Shouldn't thanks-giving be a routine act, not just a day with a capitalized name?

    Still, we love to sit down with those we know and love to eat an incredible meal in celebration of an original American holiday, and it's a wonderful tradition that we embrace with gusto.

  • Everyone wants the perfect Christmas tree, right? It's a rite of passage for most Americans that sometime around Thanksgiving - maybe even weeks before - you get a tree, put it up and stare at it for weeks of celebration.

  •  You probably were standing in the bone-chilling cold Saturday and watching Santa arrive in Shelbyville at the end of a long parade.

    Chances are, you’ve been there before, sometimes huddled in the rain, sometimes elbow-to-elbow with friends but always enjoying the magic and anticipation that the parade represents.

    This has been a great tradition of Shelbyville as long as I can remember. It’s no made-for-TV production, but it’s ours.

  •  'Twas the night before Christmas.

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    There are many of us who did not think we ever would see what happened Tuesday in Washington, D.C.

    Whether we are 80 or even 8, many of us did not think we would see anyone but a white man – maybe, in a far-off dream, a woman – serve as President of the United States.

    You may be heartened, energized or disgusted by the fact that Barack Obama is our president today, but the reality is there and may be faced with the awe that comes along with simply stating that fact.

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    For those of us already humbugged by how Christmas has changed over the years, we now have to recognize that our most precious holiday has devolved into, of all things, a leading economic indicator.    

    So much is made of the economy during Christmas season that it seems who is spending how much with whom is discussed almost as much as Santa and far more than Jesus, which is more than a little bit wrong.

  • The death of Pleasure Ridge Park High School football player Max Gilpin last summer  was a tragedy that defies description. The indictment Friday of his coach, David Stinson, on charges of negligent homicide could set a legal precedent that may become awful, too.

    Mr. Gilpin’s death is, to speak in clichés, every parent’s nightmare.