Buzz Trexler

Times are bad. There’s little question about that fact.

Word is the economy is picking up, but we’ll just have to wait and see.

For more than 30 years prior to 2009, the city of Alcoa sponsored a July 4th fireworks celebration, but the economy put out the fuse on what had worked its way up to a $46,000 price tag. As Alcoa City Manager Mark Johnson said at the time, it’s hard to ask employees to find ways to save money while writing that sort of check for FreedomFest.

But do we really have to spend $46,000? Does the city of Alcoa have to be the only folks to write a check?

I hadn’t given a lot of thought to FreedomFest and what it meant to the community, until today when Jill Bentley of Blackwood Insurance Associates forwarded a fax to me announcing Liberty Mutual’s “Bring Back the 4th” promotion. The fax originated with Montgomery Insurance, an underwriter associated with Blackwood. Here’s what it said:

“In recent years, a challenging economy has impacted cities and towns across America that organize local Fourth of July celebrations. Many have been forced to cut or curtail festivities amidst budget struggles. …”

That would be us.

“Liberty Mutual has launched an exciting pilot program to help communities revive their official celebrations. From now until June 14th, the company is hosting a web-based contest allowing U.S. cities and towns to compete for ten $10,000 ‘Bring Back the 4th’ grants. …” The grants can be used to bankroll local fireworks celebrations, ceremonies honoring veterans, neighborhood parades and town-organized cookouts.

So, here’s how it works:

• Go to BringBackthe4th.com
• Take a brief quiz on “Responsible Moments in U.S. History.”
• When inputting your identifying information, please be sure and put “37701″ as the ZIP and “Alcoa, Tennessee” as the town. You could, of course, put Maryville, Townsend, or any of our other municipalities; however, if we’re trying to revive FreedomFest, it would seem the Alcoa identifier is the best.

Each completed quiz counts as one credit toward the prize and the 10 U.S. municipalities with the most completed quizzes will win the grants. The grants will be awarded in three size categories: four to small communities; three to medium communities; and three to large communities.

You can only take the quiz once, but you can use all of the social networking you want to spread the word.

So, take the quiz and spread the word!

It’s not $46,000, but you can buy an awful lot of firecrackers, bottle rockets and the like with $10,000.

Governor Phil Bredesen told Tennessee Press Association members Thursday night that some of the conversations he had outside of the dining hall before dinner carried the tone of people talking to a dying man. He assured the publishers, editors and others who were listening that, while he has less than a year left in office, he’s not dead yet.

He then went on to prove his point by announcing that enrollment in the state’s health program for uninsured children, CoverKids, will be reopened next month. Budget restraints forced the state to close enrollment in November, but Bredesen wants to spend an additional $13 million during the upcoming budget year, pulling in another $41.5 million in federal funds. The budget year begins July 1, but the governor says four months is far too long to wait. “When it comes to our children, that’s simply not good enough,” he said, adding that he has “every confidence” lawmakers will agree.

“Providing children health coverage needs to remain a priority for us,” Bredesen said. “And though we are in a tough budget year, that is still no excuse not to move forward on key priorities.”

The state’s medicaid program, TennCare, provides medical coverage for the poorest children in our midst. CoverKids targets families who make too much money to qualify for TennCare. They either can not afford private health insurance, or their employers do not offer insurance.

Some folks call these the “working poor,” but the working poor are probably more common among us than many know: The CoverKids benchmark is household income below 250 percent of the federal poverty level. According to the eligibility chart, a family of four earning about $55,000 a year or less can qualify for the program with no monthly premiums. A “buy-in” is available for children in households with higher incomes.

Again showing he still has political breath, Bredesen stepped out further, saying he is a proponent of universal health care, calling it “long overdue.”

Whatever side of the political aisle you sit on, you have to admire a governor who refuses to be a lame duck when it comes to caring to some of the most vulnerable among us.

It was 20 years ago this week that I came to The Daily Times: Dec. 19, 1989.

I believe it was on Dec. 20 that I met Paul Bales, who came into my office with what looked like a homemade pad of newsprint with numbers on it, asking, “How many columns do you need?”

Having worked at a metro newspaper where someone else made those decisions, I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, and he knew it.

Paul, who is retiring from The Daily Times at the end of this year, was likely thinking, “This boy’s still wet behind the ears.” Still, he was kind enough not to say it to my face.

I learned a lot about Paul over the years, but nothing more important than his willingness to serve. On Thursday night, I was privileged to get a glimpse of the fruits of five decades of service to Blount County’s needy through his work with The Daily Times’ Empty Pantry Fund — and I was filled with awe and wonder.

For two decades, this editor has viewed the chronicles of that annual — let’s call it what it is — mission and ministry to, and by, this community. This year, I was determined to join other Alcoa Kiwanians at the Junior Service League’s packing of toys this past Monday and the packing of food on Thursday night for the Empty Pantry Fund. However, I got tied up at the office on Monday and could not be a part of the toy packing. Still, I was determined to make the Empty Pantry Fund event.

On Thursday, I ran across Paul in the composing room.

“I’m going to be there tonight,” I said.

“You are?” he said with big smile. “I sure am glad.”

He then went on to give me some volunteer advice.

“Now, you need to get there around 6:15 or 6:30, or you might not have a place to stand,” he warned. “Plus, you might not have a place to park if you wait until 7.”

I decided to take him at his word but, as newsroom events often dictate, I found myself leaving The Daily Times at about 6:45 p.m. As I approached the National Guard Armory on U.S. 321, there were cars turning in the same direction … and cars lining the entrance to the armory … and cars parked in the field.

“Oh, my gosh,” I thought. “This is serious. I’m not going to have a place to park.”

I slowly made my way through the traffic and turned around, thinking, “I don’t think they need my help.”

Driving back toward the highway, the thought came to me: “It’s been a long day. They don’t need my help. Just go on home.”

I passed volunteer after volunteer, young and old, walking in the dark toward the armory. The most impressive, fairly emotional, sight: A man on crutches who had lost a leg to some misfortune.

It was apparent: “There’s something special going on in this place. I’ve got to experience this thing.”

I spied First Tennessee’s nearly empty parking lot across the highway and sped across, parking under a street light.

“Great,” I thought as I checked the traffic before sprinting across U.S. 321. “I can see the headline now: ‘Foolish editor tries to cross parkway in dark.’” Not only did I have to face highway traffic, but the slightly winding road offered its own challenge.

Finally entering the armory, I was met with people lining up to serve.

What an incredible sight to see in what we sometimes believe is an age of selfishness: Here, in Blount County, people line up to serve. Of course, it was, as one volunteer analyzed, “Organized chaos.”

Volunteers pushing baskets along a route where others dropped in hams, yams, green beans, sweet peas and 43 other ingredients into huge, white sacks. There were Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, Cub Scouts, parents, grandparents and probably not a few great-grandparents working together.

For two hours, I found places here and there to serve. It was obvious I wasn’t needed, nor had my presence been missed for nearly two decades. Still, having experienced a fraction of what Paul Bales and tens of thousands of other volunteers have for more than five decades, I found myself in envy: Here were those who came year, after year, after year, to serve the least of these; in fact, from what I have gleaned, some of those serving had, in fact, been served themselves by the Empty Pantry Fund.

All of Blount County, it seemed, was on hand Thursday night to fill 1,424 baskets with 63 tons of food. By the time the servants gathered again and drove 70 routes, about 1,500 people will have been involved.

Chatting with Paul and some of his “partners in crime” when leaving, one servant put it this way: “I don’t think there’s another thing like it in the nation,” he said, with a touch of pride. “This is Blount County.”

A place where people line up to serve.

I remember when I first met Ed Tipton at The Daily Times. It was December 1989 and I think it was the same day I met his brother, Fred. I looked at this man and thought, “Fred’s changed clothes.”

Ed and Fred were twin brothers and I’m certain they got a lot of laughs over folks’ first impressions.

It was with great sadness that I learned Monday that Ed, 72, had gone to be with his Lord.

Ed was a longtime Daily Times employee, having worked at this company for 45 years. He was also a former pastor, having served East Walland Baptist Church. And one more job: Ed also owned Dude’s Grocery Store for 18 years. In the preaching business, we’d say Ed was a “tent-maker extraordinaire.” But that was his and Fred’s generation: You worked, sometimes two or three jobs.

Ed and Fred both retired within about a year of each other here at The Daily Times, and I miss them greatly. In my end of the business, you count on men like them to share the wealth of knowledge they amassed over the years. As managing editor, one of my primary roles is to ensure the paper hits the street. Fred and I worked through a lot of issues together over the past years to make sure that happened — and it was not unusual to see Ed at his side.

I still have my only sibling, so it’s difficult to imagine Fred’s sorrow. He and the rest of the family are in my thoughts and prayers, as well as those of others here at The Times.

It was the week of the Benign, the Bizarre, and the Beautiful.

The superstition in the cult of celebrity is that death comes in threes. This week, it seemed to play out with the deaths of Ed McMahon, Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett.

McMahon was a fairly benign figure for a celebrity in USAmerica. In my mind’s eye, he can be heard crooning that iconic salutation of “Heeeeeeeere’s Johnny!”  He’s seen sitting on the couch, laughing at Johnny’s jokes, expressing mock shock at one of Carson’s risque cracks — most of which are pretty benign themselves when compared to other contemporary comic comments. Then there was his constant presence as the co-host of Jerry Lewis’ annual Labor Day MDA Telethon — a presence that is to have been only surpassed by Lewis himself.

The benign celebrity died Tuesday at the age of 86.

In contrast to the benign McMahon who remained largely in the background, almost as much as a piece of furniture as the couch he sat upon, Michael Jackson was as obvious as the singular glove that adorned his hand.

Like most 50-plus-year-olds, I remember Michael Jackson long before the days of “Thriller.” In my adolescence, there was “I Want You Back,” ABC,” and “Ben,” the latter of which always seemed a little creepy to me. After all, Ben was a rat, if I recall.

While the Jackson 5 was way too bubble gum for me in 1969 to the early 1970s, Michael and his family always seemed benign enough. Their music was a strain of pop along the lines of The Archies, The Cowsills and 1910 Fruitgum Company.

Still, you have to wonder how stardom affects a 10-year-old boy — particularly in USAmerica where we treat pop stars like little gods. On the other hand, we know how it affects the little gods we make in celebrity culture. Wipe the cobwebs from your mind and the names surface like so many ghosts in a Smoky Mountains cemetery: Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Elvis Presley, Jim Morrison, Brian Jones, Keith Moon. And you don’t have to look very far to see that some celebrities are bent on self-destruction.

Someone with a calculator and a stack of obituaries came to the conclusion that the average lifespan of a rock musician is about 37 years. If true, Michael Jackson beat the odds; however, as he became more and more of a caricature of his own persona, there was a certain sadness about him. To say that he was uncomfortable in his own skin goes beyond racial connotations, for his was an obviously troubled soul.

Over the years, one would wonder what it was that drove him to such bizarre behavior, which if chronicled in detail would likely fill this entire page. While not a psychiatrist — neither in real life, nor on TV — it seems obvious that there was some sort of self-loathing going on inside his head.

If this genius of a musician and entertainer lacked peace in his life, one can only pray that Michael, who died Thursday as he approached 50, finally found the One who accepted and loved him just as he was — not as he wished himself to be.

If Ed McMahon was a benign uncle, and Michael Jackson the bizarre sibling, then certainly Farrah Fawcett was the beautiful cousin. Whether in a toothpaste commercial, or as one of “Charlie’s Angels,” Farrah Fawcett was as beautiful and unapproachable as the infamous 1976 swimsuit poster that adorned many a pubescent boy’s wall. Still, as she sought to escape type-casting as just another pretty face and make her mark as a serious acctress, Fawcett took on the issue of domestic violence and won praise for her role in “The Burning Bed.”

Even though that iconic adolescent poster is forever imprinted on our minds, one can only hope it is Farah Fawcett’s final role in the television documentary “Farrah’s Story”  for which she will truly be remembered. Chronicling her life-and-death struggle with cancer was a courageous and self-giving act for the rest of us. It reminds us of our own mortality, yet it also serves as a testimony that the cult of celebrity can be redeemed for good — a greater good that is always possible, but israrely seen.

I sometimes muse about the journey that brought me into this business, as well as the love-hate relationship that continues to be this calling of journalist.

News has always been a part of my life.

I spent a good part of my early life in Richmond, Virginia, where the two local newspapers were the Times-Dispatch and News Leader. The Times-Dispatch was the morning newspaper, while the News Leader was published for afternoon readers. My grandfather subscribed to both newspapers, and also picked up an occasional copy of the New York Daily News, through which I learned to read the racing forms.

Broadcast news was also a part of my life, even from an early age, with a good many years spent in front of a cabinet version, black and white RCA television. As I lay on the living room carpet in front of that small screen, I saw man soar to the highest heights of space, and then dropped to the lowest point of humanity with assassinations, riots and war.

For local news, we watched WTVR-TV-6, “The South’s First Television Station” with its pioneer wagon-style logo. When 6:30 p.m. hit, it was time for Uncle Wally (Walter Cronkite) on “CBS Evening News.” At some point, possibly following Cronkite’s 1968 infamous editorial on Vietnam, Grandpa moved from CBS to to “NBC Nightly News” with John Chancellor and “The Huntley-Brinkley Report.”

He controlled the dial, so I moved with him.

Later, in my teenage years, I recall sitting in front of my own black and white television, hearing then-President Richard Nixon announce the ending of the draft; later, his resignation. I had a wide circle of friends, but I doubt any of them spent the summer waiting in great anticipation for the next week’s edition of U.S. News & World Report.

Guess I was a strange bird, in more ways than one during those long-haired years.

News has always been a part of my life, and somehow there is no sense of a life without news; in fact, it’s beyond me how some people believe they can fully live without being informed. My guess is they are not truly connected to the world in which they live, but only move through life in a provincial manner.

I joke with some of my colleagues that the best thing that could happen for journalism is for Congress to reinstate the draft and raise the drinking age to 26. Still, it’s not just young people who walk around with the blinders of the ill- or uninformed; in fact, there’s a 23-year-old in my family who could better than hold her own with anyone when it comes to current affairs.

That’s not a fair comparison though, because she’s a journalist.

Still, it’s said that so many fail to see the calling of journalism for what it is: A calling to public service.

Chuck Moozakis, editor in chief of the trade publication News&Tech, points out some sad facts concerning recent Pulitzer Prize winners and the tough times they are now facing:

• The Detroit Free Press is now printed only three days a week.
• The Las Vegas Sun is an eight-page publication inserted into rival.
• The (suburban Phoenix) East Valley Tribune is now a free paper, but it’s also reducing from four days to three days of publication. And Moozakis adds this: “And the reporter who helped the Trib win its coveted prize? He was laid off earlier this year.”

Moozakis then hands out a truth that professional journalists understand, but many in the general public seem to embrace.

“These newspapers all did important work, whether it was uncovering a scandal in City Hall or commenting about critical community issues. And it’s work that no other medium — television, radio or Internet, can, or has the resources to, do.”

The legions of the ill-informed, the under-informed, and uninformed will only care when their condition causes them to lose a job, a car, or even a home. Still, their condition also impacts the rest of us:

They are still allowed to vote.