A look back at community columnists

Editor’s note: This is one in a series of columns looking back at regional news in 2014. It will continue through Jan. 1.

When there’s no news, when the news is boring, when the news is all bad, I think our newspapers are still worth at least 75 cents every day. That’s because of our community columnists.

Here are a few of the more interesting things our community columnists had to say in 2014:

Betty Williamson:

One Halloween, when my brothers and I were but sprouts, someone came up with the idea of dressing us as miniature matching hobos.

Cottonseed meal, a ranch feed staple of the time, was delivered in burlap sacks. Once the feed was removed, the sacks were endlessly recycled for everything from drying off newborn calves to, yes, dressing small, unfortunate children.

We were too polite to scream.

Forty-five Halloweens later, my skin is still prickling.

Vampires, ghouls, ax murderers? Not on your life. For me there is no more terrifying costume than a burlap feed bag.

Kent McManigal:

Contrary to what many seem to believe, libertarians are not against rules. In fact, they are defined by adherence to one rule in particular: the zero aggression principle.

It simply states: “No human being has the right, under any circumstances, to initiate force against another human being, nor to advocate or delegate its initiation.”

This basically means, “Don’t start violence by throwing the first punch, or by sending someone else to throw the first punch.”

Karl Terry:

When someone comes into the building and announces they’ve spotted a haboob, I immediately start checking to see who has their shirt unbuttoned.

I’ll admit that term — haboob — was confusing at first, but I’m starting to recognize it and appreciate the exacting weather characteristics it denotes.

The definitions I’ve found say it is a wind storm featuring a wall of dust that usually towers very high into the atmosphere. Most of the time it occurs because fine dust has been stirred up by sudden downburst winds with prevailing winds from a front carrying the dirt cloud forward.

As the dust is pulled into the atmosphere the wall appears to be rolling toward you quite unnaturally — churning along, getting closer, appearing to grow taller until its darkness and howling winds envelope you.

It has an awe-inspiring, doomsday look to it when you get a good haboob bearing down on your location. To someone who didn’t grow up on the parched plains, I suppose it looks too frightening to simply call it a sandstorm.

Grant McGee:

A couple of months ago I was going in for cataract surgery when my daughter who sees dead people said, “Don’t be surprised if you see Grandma while you’re knocked out.”

The big day came.

“Are you afraid of anything?” asked the anesthesiologist as they wheeled me into the operating room.

“Just wondering what I’ll encounter when I’m knocked out,” I said.

“Probably nothing,” said the anesthesiologist. “We’ll administer the drugs, you’ll be talking to us, then next thing you know you’ll wake up in the recovery room.”

And that’s exactly what happened.

I had been knocked out for about two hours. They had sliced me open, done repairs, and put me back together with super-duper glue.

It was kind of cool.

But part of me was disappointed.

There were some things I wanted to chat about with my mom.

Patti Dobson:

My dad, Tom Dobson, is my hero.

He is an Air Force veteran, and served his country with honor. He has survived life-threatening medical issues, and has been told repeatedly that he’s a miracle man. The fact that he’s here some 20 years after his medical odyssey began speaks volume to his strength and willpower.

He deals with whatever life tosses at him with grace and dignity. He is a servant leader and serves his church and its people with integrity and honor. He treats people with respect, even those with whom he disagrees. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, he cowboys up and carries on because that is what is required.

Have a job to do? Jump in and do it. Have a responsibility? Handle it.

Is he perfect? No, but he is humble in his humanity. He is my hero, my role model, my example, and the best cheerleader ever created.

Sandy Fields

We find ourselves in the jolliest month for gift-giving. And since I was recently given the sweet gift of a few new words, I pass them along to you.

December is a month for keeping secrets. Many of us will go on clandestine shopping sprees or work on projects in total privacy. Mr. Webster defined the term with harsh tones, but it’s just so cute. I’m keeping all my Christmas secrets on the “hugger-mugger.”

For your holiday cheer, you may want to have a “jackpudding” around. This will be the zany fellow who acts the fool to keep everyone laughing.

I’m a bit sorry to include this final word. You’ll have to pardon me, as Webster declared it vulgar and not used. It’s the name for someone who doesn’t contribute. I suppose it’s that person who won’t help with the trimming of the tree nor the washing of the dirty dishes. Please don’t be a “fopdoodle.”

Audra Brown:

Now, there is some confusion as to the terminology of what constitutes a varmint as opposed to, say, a critter. In my lexicon, a varmint is any sort of critter that consistently causes harm to crops or livestock.

Examples of varmints include: coyotes, rattlesnakes, mountain lions, prairie dogs, feral swine, certain avian species, and anything else that might do damage (porcupines will have to get their own write-up, not enough time today.)

Predators like coyotes and lions will kill cattle if you let ’em and one dead calf is like somebody eating a month of paychecks. Rattlers are the same, if deadly in a different manner.

Prairie dogs are little evil lawnmowers that cut down any vegetation for several yards around each hole until there is nothing left alive. They kill grass, crops, everything around them. They can turn a field or a pasture into useless dirt almost as fast as a wildfire — but at least with a fire, it’ll grow back.

Feral swine are not always a problem in these parts, but when they get a foothold, they are a terrible pest. They are not only dangerous to people and animals, they will root around and dig up crops.

There are other varmints around and the one thing they have in common is that getting rid of one makes us and our food safer.

Sharna Johnson:

The new generation of pet food might just be better for people than people food.

In 2011, a UK nutritionist ate the same thing he fed his dog for a month and, at the end, claimed to feel great and had lost seven pounds.

In 2013, a California woman launched a company bent on marketing gourmet pet foods. She still tastes and eats all the kibble she produces in her human-grade, FDA-approved kitchen.

Pet food has improved so much over the years, some experts are agreeing the newer generation just might be healthier than what most people eat, chock full of nutrients and balanced food groups one simply won’t get at a drive-thru window.

Not only can quality kibble go on the table in a pinch, keeping toddlers out of the dog’s dish may become a concern of the past.

Kitsana Dounglomchan:

My first night of boot camp made an indelible impression on me for many reasons. But the moment I vividly remember was when my drill sergeant, a tiny man no taller than 5-foot-2-inches, said my name during roll call.

When he got to the last names starting with the letter “D,” I knew he was going to butcher mine. And I was afraid to correct him.

But he did something unexpected. When he got to my name, he smiled. He asked where I was and I yelled, “Here, sir!” He told me my last name was no longer

“Dounglomchan.” Instead, I’d be known as “Trainee Alphabet” for the next six weeks.

I gladly accepted my new nickname, as long as it kept me out of trouble that night. And it did.

In the civilian world most people go by their first name; whereas in the military almost everyone is referred to by their last name.

We wear it on our uniforms every day, and I always catch people staring at my nametag, with a questioning look that says: “How do you pronounce that?”

My surname is almost said exactly the way it’s spelled: Do-ung-lom-chon.

The only difference is the last syllable is stretched out — Thai people, the country where my name originates from, like to sing their words. So it’s actually pronounced, “Do-ung-lom-chooonnn.”

Go ahead and try it. I promise I don’t mind.

Wendel Sloan:

Although I am ultra-conservative in believing government should stay out of private lives, favoring one religion over another on public property, or giving tax breaks to institutions denying equal rights, I still respect my liberal, peace-mongering friends.

Aspirations vary little by age, vocation, wealth, looks, politics, sexual orientation, religion or lack of, ethnicity, nationality, physical impediments…

Despite advantages-by-birth for some, everyone has basically the same yearnings: peace, purpose, respect, achievement, freedom, safety and security, opportunities for self and family, social connections, love and happiness.

It puzzles me why anyone thinks others are less entitled to the same things they want.

Excepting the tiny minority of egocentrics still incomprehensibly substituting condescension for nuanced thinking, I root for everyone.

David Stevens is editor for Clovis Media Inc. He can be contacted at 1-800-819-9925. His e-mail address is:

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