Column Archive

2002 Columns

Another sage voice of reason falls silent
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, June 26, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
JEAN BOLDUC
Columnist
Dear Ann Landers,
I hope you can help me, but I think it unlikely. Today is a very sad one at my house as we have just learned of your passing.
Whether or not you realized it, you have had a voice in a lot of big decisions in my family and thousands more, I'm sure. Especially in family matters, when you've given advice to a guy in Idaho, it often summarized the point at my house, earning you the high honor of occupying the premiere viewable space in the entire house - taped to the refrigerator.
This is not because we've always agreed. Sometimes you took positions that I thought were utterly lame-brained, but these helped me see something very, very important - your humility and your delicious sense of humor.
As is true for anyone who writes so many opinions that are read far and wide, you had occasion to make a meal of crow and it almost seemed to delight you to admit your errors. I wish more of us could take that lesson to heart and embrace our mistakes for the valuable lessons that they can be.
Most likely, I suppose that you delighted in blowing a call sometimes because it brought you a mountain of mail, explaining your mistake to you, often in the same pithy way that you made so famous in your column. You were a woman of uncommon wit and fantastic efficiency in your writing. Surely your editor will cry himself to sleep nightly for a year over losing such a talent.
As a common theme in your columns, I have found a message of empowerment for me as a wife, a daughter, a daughter-in-law and as a mother. Commonly, you'd advise a young mother to tell her overbearing relatives to "butt out" when it comes to setting rules for kids and sticking with them. Ann, you always knew where the rubber met the road.
As is true of a more mature soul, you also had sense enough to know what was out of your league. Asking advice from any and every expert, you could always provide the last word to settle nearly any dispute, it seemed and you repeatedly encouraged people to seek counseling to resolve their problems and acquire the skills to live happy, healthy lives.
When I write my little musings for my local newspaper each week, I try to hold myself to a "Landers standard." After I write my column, I ask myself, "Who am I helping today?" If the answer is "myself," I hit the delete key and try again.
I went to a pretty good journalism school here in my town, but it was your column and that of my beloved Erma Bombeck that taught me most of what I know about having my own distinct writing voice. Whether through the truth found in humor or that found in the quiet of empty white space, each of you could reach right through the newsprint and embrace your readers.
When you wrote some years ago about the end of your 30-plus year marriage, you left some space at the end of your column. This, you wrote, was to mark the end of a great marriage that didn't make it to the finish line.
The column still stands out in my mind as one of your greatest. It didn't solve anything. It didn't explain fully what went wrong, but that's the honesty of it. In such things, we often don't know ever fully understand what went wrong, we just see that it has.
If we're courageous, we accept it and mourn. You shared this vulnerability on the pages of hundreds of newspapers. It's easy to be a good writer, they say, just open a vein and bleed onto the page.
That column really helped me understand and accept the end of my parents' marriage and appreciate that it did not mean the end of their relationship. Next week would have been their 50th anniversary had they remained married. They've been divorced longer now than they were together as a couple, but there's a much more important milestone.
They still care about each other. They're still friends. They agree on the important things and try to overlook petty differences. They work at getting along together. They have their four children and their seven grandchildren in common. It's good to keep a friend for 50 years. Not many of us can achieve that.
We nearly got there with your column, as it originated in 1955, but it was not meant to be.
I know America joins me in asking for one last piece of advice, however rhetorical. Dearest Ann Landers ... what will we do without you?

'President' Cheney: While Bush slept
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, July 03, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
JEAN BOLDUC Columnist
What did you do during Dick Cheney's presidency? I was going to watch the movie "Cast Away" but didn't have enough time. The movie is about three hours, the presidency was just two and a half.
I didn't have time to cook a turkey, either, which is a shame. Somewhere there would be an analogy about stuffing a turkey while ... well, nevermind.
When I heard that the president would transfer full executive authority to the vice president while having a routine colonoscopy at Camp David, I had to laugh.
Don't get me wrong, I know that the test is very unpleasant and can be painful, but the jokes during the procedure must have been worth the price of admission. At last, the transcripts can be released ...
DOCTOR: "Mr. President, there seems to be a senator in here. It looks like John McCain ... he's up there pretty far, sir."
BUSH: "Tell me about it. Can you do anything?"
DOCTOR: "I can pull him out sir, but he may be armed with pretzels, so brace yourself."
My lingering question in the whole episode was, if Bush had to hand the whole country over to Cheney while he was having this test done, why didn't Katie Couric hand over the reigns of the Today show while she was having the same test on live television? Did Matt Lauer have full executive authority to cut away, you should excuse the expression, if the camera revealed something America couldn't handle?
Katie was chatting, questioning and having a great old time while she was having her test, live from New York. Granted, she said she was feeling happier and perkier than normal, thanks to the blessings of medical management.
So happy and relaxed was Couric that she was chatting away with the doctor and had not realized that the test had begun - the result of good technique, I suppose.
So how is it that Couric's experience was viewable on live television as she narrated us through it while a big strong guy like George Bush has to invoke the 25th Amendment?
The part that bothers me in all of this is that a lot of the demystifying and education that Couric provided could have been undone by Bush's grandstanding. Handing over the nuclear codes "because we're at war" sent absolutely no message to our enemies, but told lots of Americans over the age of 50 that this test can be so debilitating, you should put your affairs in order before having it done.
This was a cheap excuse to remind Americans, in a backhanded way, that there's a war on and that our happy warrior chief is taking every precaution to make sure we're protected - even while there's a camera where nature never intended.
When I did some consulting work for a local HMO, we spent a fair amount of time trying to devise ways to give members the confidence and incentive to have life-saving routine screenings - like the colonoscopy - done each year.
No one would enjoy such an examination, but I will accompany my beloved (and over 50) husband to his first screening later this month. We are both delighted to be able to cross off our "worry" list this dreaded disease that took the life of our dear friend a few years ago. He didn't have the option to have this test and it likely would have saved his life.
Having such things done would have been a great opportunity for our president to show to his fellow 50-plus year old men that if he can make the time, they can make the time.E No fuss, no muss. Do it to take care of yourself and your family. That's what he could have told the country and the world.
Instead, we have the Saturday morning Cheney presidency and, I'll wager, a whole lot of men who think that this test must be awful if the keys to the Situation Room changed hands over it.
And that's a shame. Each year thousands die needlessly from colon cancer and other forms of the disease detected early by screenings that can be somewhat unpleasant, but are effective. The war on terror should not be used to promote fear of a routine and potentially life-saving test that can be performed in a doctor's office.
A big, wet, slurpy, genuine New York City raspberry to our president on this one.

Bad test results? Let's toss the test
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, July 17, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
JEAN BOLDUC Columnist
Last week, I was enjoying some vacation time and found myself reading the newspaper. They shouldn't sell newspapers at the beach - it's bad for the "forget the world" scenario that's so essential to the Zen of "being the beach broccoli."
Breezing past the troubling international headlines, I read a couple of stories about our state's schools. Should have stayed in the comics, perhaps, but I just got pulled into the riptide of these particular items and all my efforts to turn the page and bail were fruitless. See how you do ... it's not easy to turn away from this train wreck.
I saw that students in North Carolina did poorly on the writing test, so the State Board of Education responded by simply discarding the results. Don't you wish you could have done that with some of your tests in school?
This year, when the tests for all students were as poor as they have been for African-American students all along, it was decided that the test was the wrong thing.
Certainly the testing affects every student in our community, but it must make things doubly difficult for those who are already struggling in Chapel Hill to close an achievement gap that looks like the Grand Canyon at times.
The state board decided that the writing prompt was a poor one. The test asked fourth-graders to describe the ideal day at school. From this question, students are expected to write an essay with distinctive parts - a beginning, a middle and an end.
Now here comes the really funny part. In criticizing this year's test, some have said that the writing test is just inherently flawed. Why? It's subjective, say the critics.
So, to help students perform better on a writing test, we should perhaps make it multiple choice? That would be 1) idiotic, 2) ironic, or 3) both.
The fact that the test cannot be machine-scored does not make it subjective. The SAT is going to add a writing component also. This should allow students who respond to different types of testing scenarios to perform better on the test. Of course, it means that a human being will have to read it.
North Carolina's fourth-graders are evaluated mostly on their ability to construct an effective narrative that answers the prompt. Here's a good response:
"My perfect day at school would include my favorite subjects only, my favorite lunch and dessert in the cafeteria and recess all afternoon."
Follow this with three paragraphs, using each of those three ideas as topic sentences. Summarize with a fifth paragraph.
Be assured, this can be challenging for a fourth-grader. The point here is that teachers spend plenty of time preparing kids for testing using this format. The idea that "describe the perfect day at school" is a defective prompt that explains poor results is just scoring very high on my baloney meter. Bad weather is a more viable explanation.
Those who wring their hands in the name of building children's self-esteem are going to be crying over the devastating effects of these bad results, and that's a shame. Children get good self-esteem from the work and challenge that produces genuine accomplishment.
Parents can help in very meaningful ways. The Chapel Hill district's Web site has a wealth of information on it to help both kids and parents deal with all sorts of testing issues - everything from testing anxiety to building vocabulary. There's no substitute for sitting down with your child's classroom teacher early in the year and making sure you're working together to support your child.
When I was a fourth-grader, I wrote to my grandparents regularly. They were schoolteachers and many of my letters were returned in a sea of red ink. The day I got one through without a mistake was one that filled me with pride.
Both Orange County school districts have programs in one form or another to encourage children to read outside of school-assigned material, keep a personal journal and write to a pen pal. Parents who really want to see that achievement gap close should be working hard now - in the summer - to take advantage of any and all programs offered through the local recreation departments, libraries and camp programs.
What needs wringing are the necks of the State Board of Education and those in the so-called testing division at the Department of Public Instruction.
Last year, they couldn't compile the math results properly. Result? Toss the test.EThis year, for whatever reason, the writing test results seem askew. Result? Toss the test.
Must we wait for history and science to go down the chute before we look for a better tossing target? One "expert" suggested that students didn't know what to do with this year's added time for completing the test, so they perhaps just kept writing to fill the time.
How would the students possibly see this as "extra" time? They've never taken the test before. They were either uniformly ill-prepared or the DPI doesn't know what it's doing in test-norming and/or design. My money's on the latter.
"What will kill you with the public's confidence is mistakes. Mistakes are more likely when you have overworked staff or understaffed [testing] departments," said Jim Watts, vice president of the Southern Regional Education Board. His organization was involved in the state's audits of its testing procedures.
Watts is right about the mistakes ruining your credibility. He's right about overworked staff being more prone to them. Problem is, when kids make similar mistakes, they don't get to throw their hands in the air, blame the test and toss the results. They get to repeat a grade or go to summer school. Does DPI lose its summer vacation over this one?

Momma told me about days like this
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, July 24, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
JEAN BOLDUC Columnist
Indeed, my mother cautioned about believing the criticism one receives and to be equally cautious about any praise that might trickle in, too.
Last week, I had a lot to say about the ill-fated test results from North Carolina's writing test. Our state's fourth-graders were wrongly prompted, state officials said, so the test had to be thrown out.
In defense of state officials, I have to point out that writing test scores have steadily climbed over the last five years or so. A drop of a percentage point or two from year to year is not something that would be worthy of notice but a statewide plunge in the double digits meant that something was certainly wrong with the test itself.
Last week I poo-poo'd the notion that the prompt was really the problem.
More likely, I thought, was the evaluation process on the other end of the equation. Overworked staff at DPI had perhaps not read the test thoroughly, I thought, or perhaps they had problems norming the results. After all, they botched the results of the math tests last year.
I prattled on to say that fourth-graders needed only to write a story that met certain conditions and then went on to describe what I thought would be a sample of a good response.
My sample response was flat out wrong, however, and an Orange County fifth-grade teacher was nice enough (and thankfully gentle) to take the time to straighten me out.
"You, too, a journalist and writer, would have failed the 4th Grade writing test," wrote Elizabeth Quick, a teacher at Grady Brown Elementary School.
"To answer as you did, listing several things that would describe an ideal school day, following with three paragraphs explaining the ideals, and summarizing with the fifth paragraph is NOT an example of narrative writing - which is what students in 4th grade are expected to write to successfully pass the test.
"The example you provided in your column is clarification, or explanatory writing, which is a writing form taught in 5th grade, and tested in middle school. In clarification writing, students are to respond to a prompt by listing several ways or reasons, explaining each reason in the subsequent paragraphs, and concluding with a fifth paragraph summarizing their total response."
Narrative writing, said Quick, is simply writing a story - with a beginning, middle and end. It can be made up or drawn on from personal experience, but it must be a story and not an explanation.
Although Quick was careful to warn me that she is "not an expert" in standardized testing, her explanation was very helpful in leading me to understand that the real failure was, in fact, in the prompt itself.
To remind, the prompt for this year's test was to ask students to describe an ideal or perfect day at school. That seems easy enough, but the use of a term like "perfect" or "ideal" compels the test-taker to make his or her argument for why the day described meets that criterion.
Instead, students should have written a once-upon-a-time sort of story, describing a hypothetical event as though it had actually happened. That's a pretty tough assignment for a young writer without some further instruction to either describe a day that's already happened or take the reader into a make-believe world.
With Quick's explanation, it all seems clear - bad prompt. The kids at Grady Brown are sure in good hands, no matter what the state's test says. Thanks to my snoopy nature, I learned that Quick's background is in university administration and continuing education. Her switch to teaching elementary school came only recently after she earned another graduate degree and her teaching certificate.
During our subsequent correspondence, we found agreement that the state should make minor modifications in the prompts that are known to work. This would also assure parents that test results are as close to an "apples to apples" comparison from year to year.
And speaking of apples, a shiny red one to Ms. Quick - a friendly, helpful and enlightening person who helped one opinion writer out of the darkness this week.

Kolbinsky, Bateman should resign
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, July 31, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
JEAN BOLDUC Columnist
The Chapel Hill Herald recently incorrectly reported the salary of Orange County Schools Superintendent Randy Bridges. As soon as the newspaper learned of this error, it corrected it prominently in a story.
Journalists are in the fact reporting business. It can be a difficult one because of the sometimes subtle nature of our language. Heck, some high achievers don't even know the definition of "is."
In contrast, the deliberate deception and media manipulation perpetrated by school board members David Kolbinsky and Bob Bateman cannot be fixed so easily. For the sake of the board's integrity, the two should resign their seats and allow appointed members from the community to participate in selecting Bridges' replacement.
On Saturday, July 20, the school board met in closed session to discuss the possibility of making a counteroffer to Bridges, who had received a job offer from the Rock Hill, S.C., school district.
Six of the board's seven members attended. Board Chairwoman Dana Thompson made arrangements to talk with Bateman via telephone to receive his opinions on the discussion. He was vacationing in South Carolina.
It's important to note here that Thompson wasn't required to do this, but did so in an effort to present Bridges with a unanimous counteroffer - an important gesture of confidence.
Thompson opened the meeting by passing out a document reviewing Bridges' current compensation package with Orange County. In rounded numbers, his state salary base is $81,000, local supplement is $34,000, non-taxable travel allowance is $7,500 and a 6 percent annuity.
After the document was passed around, the board members discussed their options at trying to close the gap between Bridges' current package and the $135,000 package offered by Rock Hill.
As five members talked through the issues, David Kolbinsky sat silently reading the newspaper.
After reaching agreement that the board wanted to make a counteroffer, Thompson phoned Bateman. She reviewed all the particulars of Bridges' current compensation and the Rock Hill offer.
Though Bateman was unwilling to fully match the Rock Hill offer, he said more than once that he wanted to keep Bridges in Orange County. Upon her return, Thompson conveyed Bateman's comments and the board began discussing specific numbers to use in a counteroffer. They settled on a specific amount - one that Kolbinsky suggested.
Before closing the session, at the request of board member Susan Halkiotis, Thompson reviewed the counteroffer one last time, polling each member for agreement. Among the six present, the agreement was unanimous.
Thompson admonished the board to keep this information absolutely confidential until the regularly scheduled board meeting on the following Tuesday, July 23. All agreed.
Bateman and Kolbinsky then turned right around and talked to a Chapel Hill Herald reporter about negotiations to keep Bridges.
They failed to correct the misreported compensation of $90,000, effectively confirming it. Based on a falsity, they built an argument of outrage and contempt for any attempt to match Rock Hill's offer.
Kolbinsky called the process "tawdry." Bateman said that only Enron executives would get a 50 percent raise and we've all seen what happened to them.
Interesting analogy.
Knowing that they had both agreed to a counteroffer and knowing that the gap between Bridges' current compensation and Rock Hill's was less than $15,000 (not $45,000) the two crowed like Heckle and Jeckle (the two inseparable cartoon magpies from CBS Cartoon Theater) about how such a small district could not possibly afford such a lavish salary increase.
As board members, it was their responsibility to clarify the facts of Bridges' compensation package and then clam up about what might or might not happen next.
The district is now faced with the responsibility of conducting a selection process to choose a replacement for Bridges, who tendered his resignation during last week's board meeting.
And here's where the rubber meets the road. Kolbinsky and Bateman have committed a serious ethical breech on two fronts. First, they've flagrantly violated the confidence and respect that their colleagues and employees need and deserve to properly conduct themselves on confidential matters.
More importantly, they have, through the press, deceived the public in an effort to remove the superintendent by conveying "outrage" at a mythically gigantic salary increase.
The school board may make decisions that I don't agree with, but I expect them to be forthright about simple issues of fact when they are communicating with those who elected them. Granted, they weren't under oath, but they did swear an oath when they took office - one that they have egregiously violated.
We, the community, are the stockholders here. It's our responsibility to hold our elected officials accountable and this task is not limited to action at the ballot box.
Kolbinsky and Bateman will both be off this board during most of the tenure of the new superintendent, but the integrity of the board demands that this vivid ethical breech be dealt with severely. Along with openly, formally requesting their resignations, the board should vote on a resolution that puts in the record a formal reprimand for each of them.
It is only one step toward attempting to restore the board's integrity. More may be necessary.
Finally, I hope that any resolution that is passed by the board includes, for the record, an apology to Randy Bridges, who deserved none of this and conducted himself throughout with the dignity and respect that has so eluded two of his bosses.

Be smart: Follow nurse's orders
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, August 07, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
Jean Bolduc Columnist
Waiting my turn in the hair chop shop, I picked up a magazine and started reading about the many tips that nurses have for keeping yourself healthy. The magazine touted these as "things your doctor won't tell you," but that turned out to be hype.
The story should have started out with "get a tube of common sense cream and apply it liberally" because much of what was included didn't require much more than everyday knowledge. Still, there were some interesting strategies for enlisting the insights that nurses have, and I thought some of them were pretty darned clever.
Some examples - if you're blessed to have friends who are nurses ask them what doctor they go to for routine, primary care. If you're not lucky enough to have an R.N. as a next-door neighbor, ask the nurse at your child's school or one who goes to your church.
Nurses, with their specialized knowledge and "insider information," are pretty savvy consumers of healthcare services. It's like asking your mechanic which kind of car his wife drives.
Recently, I participated in the digital mammography study at UNC's new Women's Hospital. This entitled me to a regular mammogram and a digital one. This meant two squishes for me, but also gave me the chance to participate in some research that may save someone from the ravages of advanced breast cancer. What's one more squeeze compared to that?
While there, I asked the nurses all sorts of questions - some medical, some not. It's the nature of writers, I suppose - we ask too many questions, we interview everyone. I sometimes think it's not a skill, it's a way of life.
Anyway, I asked the nurses at UNC if they were still getting their own mammograms despite the controversy generated by a recent re-examination of data that evaluates the test's effect on mortality rates. The two or three I asked all said yes, emphatically. My doctor said she still recommends them, too.
And this is where the common sense thing comes in. I'll take my little quiz-your-friends research over that headline every time.
It seems to me that each time I'm at UNC Hospitals, I get a chance to sign an extra document and have something or other that I'm doing be used again for the benefit of educating a new doctor. That's a great thing and I'm almost always happy to do it, but the story I read suggested that you might want to avoid any major surgery in the month of July.
That's when all the new interns are setting up their schedules and there can be an added layer of confusion, the story said. Admittedly, I haven't scheduled any major surgery in July, but I still think that surviving heart surgery should depend on a little more than having good scheduling software.
Among the best suggestions I read were things I already do and my doctor embraces. I ask questions. I write them down in advance so I won't forget them. UNC Family Practice now makes it possible for me to e-mail my doctor - something I try to do only sparingly, but I use that to ask more questions or to clarify things that came up during my visit. I don't e-mail to say, "I can't raise my left arm any higher than this ..."
My own doctor treats me like the captain of my healthcare team. She'll ask me what I think "we" should do about this or that, and then we discuss options. This is a style that suits me because I do read a lot on medical issues that affect me and I do ask a lot of questions.
I think it suits her because she lives in Carrboro, the most co-op oriented town on the planet Earth, and what she really does is take a cooperative approach. Maybe it's just her style, too.
Whatever the reason, style and bedside manner are very important. Some people want to chat with and have a rapport with their doctors. Some want to cut right to the chase - strictly business. Whatever style you like, you should be sure you're a good fit with your doctor and should not hesitate to keep shopping and interviewing prospective doctors until you find the right fit.
This is fairly easy to say in our community with a wealth of medical practitioners around. It's an embarrassment of riches, you might say. For those in more rural settings who have only a few primary care physicians around it can be a challenge if you don't like what's on the menu.
We're so unlikely to complain to our doctors about anything to do with the services we get from them. With other doctors (not UNC Family Practice) I've often thought of sending a bill to the office manager for making me wait so long - especially if I'm in one of those darling paper outfits and the office is 41 degrees.
I used to think they only came in to see me because the sound of my teeth chattering was distracting everyone in the hallway. At UNC, they can have a delay here and there, but they'll come and let me know. I like that.
And when the nurse comes in, I ask her where she's from, how she got interested in nursing and who her family doctor is ...

Kolbinsky should pony up or resign
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, August 14, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
Jean Bolduc Columnist
Two weeks ago I said that Orange County school board members David Kolbinsky and Bob Bateman should resign after their effort to spin a controversy out of a misreported salary level of the parting superintendent.
After that column Kolbinsky sent me an e-mail. "I think it took many of us by surprise that he was compensated so well," he said.
In response, I asked him if he was saying that he didn't know how much money the superintendent made. I received no reply. And this is where Kolbinsky has been so clever in his political life - his Clinton-esque parsing and obfuscation.
His statement not only suggests that he didn't know, but that "others" didn't as well, yet it names no one and offers the escape valve of "I think." He's entitled to his opinion.
So much for personal accountability.
As much as they love to wave the flag of frugality in the name of saving taxpayers' dollars, Bateman and Kolbinsky are more concerned with the perks of their office. This spring, Bateman attended the national school board association meeting in New Orleans. We, the taxpayers, paid about a thousand dollars for this, despite the fact that Bateman was expected at the time to have only days left in his term as a school board member.
There's no existing school board policy to stop departing members from attending this annual conference, just the common sense notion that in a year of conspicuous budget crisis, the money would have been better spent on classroom supplies.
Kolbinsky and his wife were scheduled to go as well, but his construction accident prevented him from attending. He has yet to repay the Orange County Schools for his wife's nonrefundable plane ticket. It's silly to think that she would attend without him, but he's due to pay for her ticket regardless.
Don't hold your breath for the money, dear taxpayer. The line forms at the left to receive what's due you from Kolbinsky. Specifically, it forms at 200 S. Cameron St. in Hillsborough - the Orange County tax office.
Kolbinsky made a small payment on his past due taxes last week. He paid $200 toward the balance of his 1999 property tax on his home. He still owes the balance of taxes for that year and all of his taxes for 2000 and 2001. There are currently three tax liens on the property.
Taxes for this year are due next month, but are not past due until Jan. 5. That will be another $1,152 due from Kolbinsky on his real estate.
And then there are his cars - three of them - all with unpaid taxes and two of them with their registrations blocked by the tax office. This should mean that Kolbinsky cannot renew his registration.
All totaled, Kolbinsky owes over $3,400 in back taxes, going back to 1999. In checking the records of all sitting board members, I found that Deloris Simpson also owes over $700 in taxes and interest, due last year. Simpson should get out her checkbook and get right with the tax office, too. The rest of the board has a clean slate.
Nonpayment of taxes is one of the few reasons that a school board member can be removed from office. It falls under what the state calls "disreputable conduct."
The procedure for removal begins with a letter of complaint to the state board of education. If a preliminary review determines that there may be a basis for removal, a letter is sent from the state school board to the chair of the local board, notifying him or her that a complaint has been filed and must be investigated. The local school board conducts this investigation and then there's a hearing at which the accused member can explain himself. The colleagues of the accused then act as judge and jury and vote on removal.
Obviously, an investigation wouldn't take very long. These are all public records and are easily verified. An "investigation" of the nonpayment of taxes should take about five minutes.
No, the question here will be whether it's worthwhile to take the trouble to remove a guy who's already headed for the back door.
The answer is a resounding yes. If our various policies and standards somehow don't apply to people who have only a few months in office, then surely departing seniors will feel free to vandalize the two high schools every spring and get a pass for paying for the damages.
If Kolbinsky remains, he will participate in a search for the district's new leader. He has no legitimate seat at that table.
I don't expect any of the board members to be flawless. We all experience failures. Many of us go through times of unemployment and financial hardship. Our character and personal integrity provide most of us with the compass to guide us through such turbulence.
Kolbinsky's character should demand that he at least spare the taxpayers the additional distraction and expense of investigating what he knows to be a fact. He should at least have the decency to resign immediately and allow the remaining board members to appoint a replacement to serve through December.
A similar problem drove Chapel Hill Town Council member Joe Herzenberg from office. Realizing a recall effort was gaining momentum, Herzenberg resigned.
After all, if everyone acted as Kolbinsky has, there'd be no money to pay for Bateman's trip to New Orleans.

For the record - what is and isn't public
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, August 21, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
Jean Bolduc Columnist
Last week Orange County school board member Bob Bateman wrote a letter to the editor decrying my reporting of the facts of a closed school board meeting.
Bateman has never disputed that what I reported was accurate, just that it came from a session that was properly held in secret and that he felt those proceedings were to always remain unknown to the public.
With all due respect to the former chairman of the school board, he either does know better or he darn well should. Under North Carolina public meeting law, school boards can meet in secret for only certain limited reasons.
They can meet with their attorney to discuss pending legal matters like negotiations over the purchase of property or developments in a lawsuit. They can meet to discuss personnel matters, like hiring, firing or retaining an employee. Once the matter is resolved, the board members may discuss what happened and the meeting's minutes are public records.
If the meeting involves student records, the proceedings must be kept confidential so as to protect the student's ongoing right to privacy.
Bateman surely knows all of this, but would like very much to redirect the debate over his conduct in misleading the public about the superintendent's salary. Bateman and board member David Kolbinsky would like for this debate to appear to swirl around their being persecuted for their beliefs.
In his response to the revelation that he had not paid his Orange County property taxes since the previous millennium, Kolbinsky said that he was under personal attack and that my reporting his debt was essentially a smear campaign, designed to embarrass him.
It's the politics of personal destruction, Kolbinsky said. He went on to blame his unfortunate accident while on the job for his negligence in paying his due to the county. His accident was in March of this year. I cannot fathom how that explains his nonpayment of county taxes back to 1999.
Last week, he made a $2,000 payment toward his debt to the county, which exceeded $3,400. It's good to hear he's paid some of it, but nearly a third of the debt remains and Kolbinsky is unapologetic about owing any of it. "I'm not an accountant by nature," Kolbinsky said.
Since my column last week, Kolbinsky has written to me, complaining about my reporting on matters that he deems strictly personal. "Your attempts at the character assassination of Bob and myself, make you look small, embittered, hysterical, mean-spirited and lacking a sense of propriety," writes Kolbinsky. "Jean, this is really not your fight."
The payment of one's taxes is decidedly not a personal matter. I wasn't checking on his phone bill or his credit rating. I wasn't writing about Kolbinsky's family or his lifestyle choices. I didn't quiz his neighbors about his comings and goings.
Instead, I was checking to see (as any citizen has the right to do) whether one of the people who decides how to spend millions in local tax dollars was paying his own share.
I checked Kolbinsky's tax records via the Internet. To make sure I had my facts right, I called the tax office, identifying myself as a reporter. I specifically asked that I not be given any information that was not on the public record. As a result, some of my questions went unanswered.
Board member Delores Simpson also owes taxes due last year. In trying to defend his own behavior, Kolbinsky has pointed in Simpson's direction, claiming that if he must resign, she should also.
Indeed, if Simpson insists that her nonpayment is her own business and none of the taxpayers' concern, then I'll agree with Kolbinsky - she should resign, too. To have one elected official openly contemptuous of his civil responsibilities is shameful. To have two would be a disaster.
According the Harry Wilson, the staff attorney for the State Board of Education, the last 20 years have brought several instances where complaints about local school board members have reached the state board of education. The only case that has produced a finding by the state board of "immoral or disreputable conduct" (the standard for removal of a board member) was one in which a school board member who was an insurance agent used his position on the board to get into faculty meetings to solicit sales.
In the other cases, according to Wilson, the matter was referred to the local school board for investigation and action. Every case has its own unique facts, but persistent nonpayment of taxes may meet the state's standard for removal, he said.
If nonpayment of taxes is insufficient, the school board is welcome to read some of my e-mail. This month I have received pages and pages of vicious and potentially libelous gossip from David Kolbinsky, all about his colleagues on the school board, their personal behavior and their morality or lack thereof. Some of the language is clearly meant to intimidate and malign, most of it is just plain tawdry. It is utterly chilling that an elected official would conduct himself this way. His apology to one colleague during public comment at Monday night's meeting is irrefutable evidence of this outrageous and conspicuously disreputable conduct.
Like a cornered child, caught in a lie, Kolbinsky has spewed this venom as though it would make him appear innocent in contrast.
It doesn't, and the dog didn't eat his tax bill, either. It's time for him to go.

The Kolbinsky chronicle continues
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, August 28, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
Jean Bolduc Columnist
So what does it matter when people pay their taxes as long as they're paid eventually?
Orange County school board member David Kolbinsky's well-documented financial troubles led him to lag behind in fulfilling his obligation to pay his property taxes. Kolbinsky boldly declared he wasn't even particularly embarrassed to participate in multimillion-dollar decisions while knowing that his own fair share would wait until he was good and ready to pay it.
As yet, he owes only last year's taxes.
Kolbinsky's dismissive attitude toward this bill being overdue was part of yet another disingenuous representation on his part - more disreputable conduct.
In an interview with The Chapel Hill Herald for a story that ran on Aug. 15, he said that his tax bill had slipped his notice.
"I heard from the tax office earlier this week, and they said that the accounts were past due and I needed to take care of them," Kolbinsky said. "I went down to the tax office and asked them what do I have to do? They told me and that's what I'll do."
That's baloney. Kolbinsky was well aware of his tax situation and has been in touch with the tax collector several times this year.
In March of this year, Kolbinsky paid $350 on his account. In July, he paid $142.13. On Aug. 6 (before my column mentioned his past due debt) he paid $200. All of these payments were credited toward his 1999 taxes.
It may be technically accurate that the tax office called Kolbinsky and told him what to do, but they've been talking to him regularly and he should have said as much.
Kolbinsky also said in his interview that he'd be current in his accounts by Aug. 16. He did not fulfill that promise. His past due amount at press time was $1,456.32. Those are all back taxes.
One wonders how long Kolbinsky had to wait for an ambulance when he was injured earlier this year. Imagine the 911 operator saying, "We knew when we decided to have a big county that the money would be tight."
Sorry you have to wait while we scrape up the money to send help to you. Sorry if your house is on fire. Sorry if you need the police. Sorry if you need a hepatitis shot or a rabies alert. No health department until we can hold a bake sale.
Fortunately, the county operates under a non-Kolbinsky standard. I talked last week with Jo Roberson with Orange County's tax office. She enlightened me about the things that residents can do to get their taxes paid on time and avoid falling behind - things like making monthly payments in advance, which many homeowners do through escrow accounts.
"We're not in the real estate business," Roberson said. The county doesn't want to foreclose on property - the county (on behalf of all of us) wants those tax dollars. "We try to work with folks who are in difficulty," Roberson said, "but we do have some people who use the tax office as a loan agency."
Roberson wasn't suggesting that this was true of the Kolbinskys, but she said that people try everything to scam the tax man, and Orange County has to stay on top of folks to get them to pay their due.
When a taxpayer tells the tax collector that he needs some time, they try to give it to him, but first, they do some research. If it turns out that the individual pays on time most years, they'll cut him some slack. If this is an annual excuse, they take a more stern approach - as well they should.
It's the tax collector's job to treat each taxpayer fairly, but not necessarily equally. Someone with few assets who has suffered a sudden illness or job loss deserves more consideration than someone with oodles of assets and a sloppy payment record.
Roberson encourages taxpayers to contact the tax office as soon as they know there may be a problem so that they can offer assistance in working out a payment plan.
And why is all this so important? According to Roberson, Orange County ranked second in North Carolina last year in its collection of due taxes. This effort on the part of our under-appreciated tax office translates directly to our quality of life.
It affects our bond rating. It pays for our teachers' local supplements. These are things that directly and immediately benefit all of us - even the Kolbinskys among us who speak of our tax office with contempt instead of appreciation for the often thankless job that they do.
Roberson mentioned, with all humility, that she and her co-workers take their positions as role models quite seriously.
"We pay our [taxes] on time," she said. "We don't like it any more than anyone else, but the law says we must, so we do. When you choose to work in a public venue, you're under more scrutiny."
She said that the county hopes to introduce a bank draft program to help taxpayers make regular payments in advance - a big help to senior citizens and others on fixed incomes who need to budget payments and remember to make them regularly. Those of us over 40 appreciate the ability to have a reminder of some sort and a bank statement is pretty reliable.
Even though it comes from a journalist, the next most reviled class of worker, I'll gladly declare my own appreciation for our tax collectors on Cameron Street.E Happy Labor Day to Roberson and all her colleagues. Y'all deserve the day off, a fine picnic and a pat on the back from all of us.

Grab your umbrella and vote
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, September 04, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
Jean Bolduc Columnist
During the great drought of 2002 it has been the little things that you notice and appreciate. A free glass of water with your dinner used to be part of the table setting, like a knife or a fork. Now, it's a decision - am I really going to drink it? If not, it's wasteful to ask for a glass of it ... maybe we should share.
At the beginning of last week, the forecast promised an afternoon of rain. Not enough to erase our near-desperate conditions, but every single drop helps, I thought. If it helps when I shut off the tap while brushing, then an afternoon of spotty showers is nearly a miracle.
The days passed last week and the conditions improved - it rained more and more. Our high temperatures were nearly 30 degrees lower than they had been the week before. I would never have thought that week of rain and apparent gloom could bring such a feeling of relief and exhilaration, but it did just that. When I heard that there was potential for a tropical storm to linger off the South Carolina coast for a few days, I cheered aloud.
Certainly, none of us wants the severe stuff - not another Floyd or its consequences. Instead, I'm just rooting for a sustained system that can be enough rain to re-saturate the soil, feed the living systems that we depend on and restore our sense of balance.
And we've been off balance for quite some time, where all of our sustaining systems are concerned.
This time last year, we were ending the summer of our obsessions with Gary Condit and his role in the late Chandra Levy's disappearance. Then, suddenly, we learned important and ugly lessons about freedom and vigilance.
Now, we are a year away from the raw wound of the September attacks. It has rained some. We have cried more than we knew was possible. The trade center site is cleared, leaving a gaping hole. How will we fill that void? Should we try?
The September attacks taught me to view a pristine late-summer sky with a sense of wonder and dread. When it is so perfectly clear, there is a beauty and a simultaneous vulnerability. We just have to accept it, each supports the other.
And so it is with freedom itself. Protecting our right to speak, to criticize our government and to change our government completely means that we live in a free society. Free societies are vulnerable places where citizens can come and go with no papers to present, no ability to clearly dem-onstrate our innocent intentions.
Now we are a nation in need of the courage of her convictions. For the last 30 or so years (since the end of our involvement in Vietnam and the Watergate scandal) our involvement with and trust of government has been in an ever-worsening drought.
As a nation, we lacked the spirit and the will to give unselfishly of ourselves to make the community better. We didn't believe that the simple act of voting, for example, had anything to do with keeping the nation safe and free. We didn't realize that knowing our next-door neighbors was an anti-terrorism tactic.
Now, we know better. Now, we see that there's a direct relationship between exercising our rights and keeping them. We are the government. Developing and supporting good leadership is our job - no one else's.
So even if you think that it's only the equivalent of shutting off the water while you brush, go out next Tuesday and vote. Who you choose to represent you on the school board, in the county government, in Raleigh and in Washington matters less than the act of choosing.
And take an umbrella - it might rain.

A year later: Ich bin ein New Yorker
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, September 11, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
Jean Bolduc Columnist
Last year on this day, I started my morning out in its ordinary routine. A little after 9, I sat at my computer and opened my browser to The Herald-Sun's Web page.
It was there that I saw the shocking photo of one of the trade center buildings with thick, black smoke billowing out. I burst out of my seat and ran to the television, where I remained, it seemed, for a week.
During those first days, watching the journalism field transform itself was simply amazing.
Reporters who the day before were interviewing janitors to ask if they'd seen Gary Condit throw away a piece of trash were now a few blocks from the Trade Center talking to people who were dazed, confused and injured.
No, not just injured. Some were bleeding, everyone was crying and reporters were soon among those weeping. Some barely able to complete interviews, there were images of New York City officials of every stripe hugging reporters, softening their voices whenever they spoke of those in the twin towers.
They reported haltingly that there were few casualties turning up in area hospitals.
After watching all the coverage, all the time, it seemed, my interest didn't fade. I wasn't in the hurry to "get back to normal" that I expected.
To be sure, as the months passed, my sense of immediacy changed. I wanted to read stories instead of watching reporters clamor for immediate details, I was more interested in reading more thoughtful stories that had taken days to develop.
The field that I love so much, that of finding and reporting facts, was helping the country to understand an act of war on a scale that was unprecedented in our history.
The layer of baloney among politicians was refreshingly stripped away for a time, too. I watched as Sen. Orrin Hatch of Utah spoke on the very day, Sept. 11, declaring unabashedly that this attack was the work of Osama bin Laden.
His demise, Hatch said, was the only acceptable outcome to respond to this attack. Our president's now famous "dead or alive" comments echoed that sentiment.
As days turned into weeks, however, Chapel Hill found its own way to "return to normal," but it was, instead, the normal of political correctness.
"God Bless America, woe to our enemies" read the banner at the Top of the Hill, yet someone found that offensive. No, wait, someone worried that someone else might find it offensive, and so the controversy over sign sizes began.
Yet we all knew it was what Scott Maitland said, not how big he said it. In fussing over a banner's excessive size during a time of war, our town looked small and cowardly. This same community that invited a black eye from the General Assembly just one year later by having the unmitigated gall to require incoming freshmen to read a book about the Quran.
Imagine ... a university requiring reading. Outrageous! Almost as daring as taking the chance of offending an enemy.
I have no patience for anyone trying to sell a T-shirt or a key ring with the twin towers on it. To that end, I'm not sure that some of the network programming that calls itself "commemorative" isn't really an excuse to re-run (with advertising) some of the most horrifying sequences of murder and mayhem ever recorded.
But looking back and stopping to thank our own firefighters, police and rescue workers for the work they do and the risks they take every day isn't maudlin.
It's respectful of those we lost and those who protect us still.
I'm not only "OK with that," I demand it. I want the country to have trouble getting through this day, this terrible day.
I want to know that we are not so cynical and so in love with the pop culture nonsense of "closure" that we skim over the vast and profound fracture in our nation's storied history.
Our history book has a handful of days that are "before and after" dates. They define us. They changed us forever.
There was the day we declared independence from England - a date that established our nation and declared a war. There were the first shots at Lexington and Concord and those at Fort Sumter.
We were one kind of nation before the Emancipation Proclamation and a different one the day after.
Dec. 7, 1941, was, in fact, a date that very much lives in infamy, just as President Roosevelt predicted it would. The murders of presidents Lincoln and Kennedy came at such delicate times in our nation's story that many still wonder how dramatically our history might have lurched in another direction had each of them lived.
Instead, two President Johnsons led a shocked and grieving nation into turbulent times. And with the resignation of Richard Nixon came the age of cynicism that broke our hearts and caused us to realize that many are called to power for power itself.
In each of these cases, our country can be described as being one way before and another way after.
Our post-Sept. 11 world is one in which, if we forget everything else, we should remember what those passengers on Flight 93 did before charging the hijackers and taking over the plane, an action that resulted in their own deaths.
Thanks to their cell phones, they knew of the attacks in New York and at the Pentagon, but before attempting to rush the hijackers, they took what they knew to be the only moral step to make the decision to pre-emptively strike down their would-be killers.
Before taking down the plane that we now know would likely have crashed into the U.S. Capitol, the passengers voted.

Every vote counts ... and another thing
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, September 18, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
Jean Bolduc Columnist
Every vote counts ... and another thing
When I see a celebrity on television talking about having a medical test done and what the results mean, it makes my skin crawl. Honestly, I really don't want to hear that "everyone should get this test because it saved my [fill in body part]."
Similarly, in politics, I don't really need Rosie O'Donnell to tell me how to vote.
As much as I like Rosie, she should stay out of that stuff and, instead, urge Americans of every political stripe to be sure they get out and do the voting, not just the complaining.
Being "famous" doesn't make any of us better, smarter or deserving of any special consideration.
In fact, in the matter of voting, we Americans want to be treated as close to anonymously as possible. Who we are and how we vote is as private a matter as we have in our civic lives.
I say this despite what happened to me on Sept. 10. I went inside to get the job done for which I'd come. I walked in with a married couple - people I certainly didn't know.
They went to the two guys who do the first part of the "check in" process.
"You can have any ballot you want, so long as it's Republican," said the first wiseguy.
Neither of the two marrieds got the joke. No really, they said, we're Democrats.
After a shrug, they handed over the Democratic ballot.
My turn next. "Jean Bolduc," I said.
Wiseguy number one verified the spelling. "Jean Bolduc, Democrat," he said to his colleague to the right - literally and otherwise, I expect.
"Democrat?!" asked his helper, obviously disappointed.
"Yes," he said.
I took my ballots, stepped to the next check-in area and said hello to my neighbor, who has volunteered at the polls for the past decade at least.
After voting, I put my ballots in the box and was walking over to get my "I voted" sticker when I heard this lady give her name at the check-in desk.
"Rolland Wrenn," she said. "W-R-E-N-N"
I walked up behind her and put my arm around her. "This lady is one of the great columnists from The Herald-Sun newspaper," I said.
She straightened up and turned around to look at me, smiling. "Do I know you?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," I said. "I'm Jean Bolduc. It's great to finally meet you."
Rolland gushed for a moment about how great it was to meet me, too, and how very much she enjoys reading my columns.
I thanked her and returned the compliment.
And then, the light dawned for the two wiseguys.
"Oh, that's it. You're that FAMOUS writer for the newspaper," said one of the two, absolutely dripping with sarcasm.
Without hesitation, Rolland and I, still standing arm in arm, each pointed to the other and said "She is" in unison. It was so hilarious, I nearly fell down.
He looked directly at me, squinting, then pointing accusingly and said "No, you ... YOU'RE that very famous writer I've been hearing so very much about."
I walked over to the heckler, who is Bob Bateman's cousin Carey Bateman, smiled, put on my sunglasses and said, "Oh, yes, I'm sure you have, and it's obviously time for me to go now."
Later in the day, I heard accounts from others that were similar and worse.
He asked one woman if she was married to a former elected official of a Democratic persuasion. He asked this while looking at the voter registration list, knowing the answer to his own question.
When she confirmed that yes, she was his wife, Carey Bateman said, "Oh ... I feel sorry for you." She didn't get the joke either.
I called the Board of Elections to see if I was being overly sensitive about this - it turns out, I'm not. Bateman's comments were completely out of bounds.
"I don't get the joke either," Director Carolyn Thomas told me. "We won't tolerate anything like that. I wish you had called me right that very minute," she said. She would have yanked him out of there immediately, she said.
"I promise you he won't be working another election in this county," Thomas said. Then, she thanked me for letting her know.
Precinct workers are trained to understand the things they can and cannot say during this check-in process.
The "cannot" list includes any commentary about party affiliation. The First Amendment doesn't apply in the voting process itself, except as it relates to the voter's expression on that ballot.
Whether it's specifically prohibited, an ounce of common sense would instruct most of us that the polling place is not the appropriate location to strike up an argument with a stranger.
Given the South's history, it's not surprising that most people are very sensitive about the issue of what happens in the precinct.
It's no time to allow any room for doubt about who's got a right to be there and how they choose to affiliate themselves.
I don't want to ever dread going to a polling place. I think that the act of going out to vote is among the most satisfying in all of civic life. Even if the Heckle and Jeckle crowd spoil that, I can still vote thanks to the "One Stop" option available at the Carrboro Town Hall, the Board of Elections office in Hillsborough and the Morehead Planetarium. This allows voters to drop by at their convenience in the two weeks preceding an election.
I'll find a way to get the job done, but I prefer my precinct - apparently home to famous writers.
Cheaters frequently prosper, apparently
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, September 25, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
Jean Bolduc Columnist
Recently on the "Today" show, Matt Lauer made a joking response when someone asked him what he scored on the SAT. Lauer said that he didn't remember, but he was pretty sure it was the same as the guy who sat next to him.
Lauer and his colleagues laughed, of course, because cheating your way to a college degree is in many ways a laughable, lazy, pathetic thing to do. Why stop at fudging on a paper here and there? Go ahead and print the degree from your computer and sign it yourself. It would be worth as much.
I have nothing but sympathy for the professors at UNC and other universities around the country who are stuck with the job of catching students who would clip a paragraph or two, rewrite it slightly, then claim to have attempted paraphrasing the author.
A few years ago, a friend called me, absolutely furious about a teacher's comments on a paper her daughter had written.
At my friend's request, I went over to her house to read the paper. I knew the daughter, then a high school junior, and was familiar with her writing skills. She'd written an article for a newsletter I was editing at the time.
The paper she'd written was about a classic piece of literature. It was clearly written by a scholar and not by this English student. To her credit, this Orange High School teacher read the first few pages and stopped. She wrote a note on the page that said she found the scholarship interesting, but it was clearly not the student's work, so she'd stopped reading.
Her instructions were, I thought, generous. She said that if this student was ready to write something of her own and submit it, she'd be willing to read it and give her a grade.
Not wishing to offend my friend and giving the student the benefit of the doubt, I asked her questions about the paper. I asked her to describe for me, in her own words, the issues discussed in the introductory section of the paper. In other words, I asked her to paraphrase herself.
She couldn't do it. She couldn't come anywhere close to doing it. She was clueless about what the paper's main argument was or who the characters were that she was writing about.
She deserved an F for the course. This was no accident. This was a kid who found some article written on this literature and just typed it up and called it her own.
I told my friend that, in my opinion, her daughter had surrendered to the temptation of lifting someone else's work. Though she had promised to abide by my objective opinion, she appealed the matter at the school.
I don't blame her for that in a way. Parents can't be expected to be objective, but they ought to realize the opportunity that is presented by such a situation. It's a chance to teach morality for its own sake.
Your personal integrity is all you really have in securing a good education. Expanding your mind and your thinking is one of the few things that you can do in life that can never be erased or revoked.
You can throw opportunities away with both hands, however. That is exactly what these "students" do when they steal the work of others and represent it as their own. People who might never knock over a convenience store seem to think nothing of lifting a page or two from a scholar who has put in 15 years of research.
I'm thrilled that the professors now have the technological equivalent of the 7-Eleven security camera to catch them and throw them out. Let 'em flip burgers and sweep up instead of diminishing the value of a college degree by cheating their way to graduation day.


Risking the loss of hair power
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, October 02, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
Jean Bolduc ColumnistI put myself in the hands of an expert with sharp scissors this week and got a new look. It's short - really short.
Rosie O'Donnell and an old friend got me thinking about it, actually. O'Donnell quit her show and has recently stirred up all kinds of controversy and fuss over the fact that she used bad language in her stand-up comedy act and insisted on editorial control of the magazine that bears her name.
Then, the haircut. O'Donnell doesn't have an enviable body, but she does have thick, healthy hair and plenty of it. She not only cut it short ... she cut it dramatically short. Heck, I'll bet that's a No. 3 clipper they used to do one side of it.
I gasped when I first saw it, but quickly decided that I liked it. Not only because it flattered her face, but because she turned 40, quit her show, cut off her hair and ... well ... went a little nuts.
I admire that. I appreciate the nerve it takes to leave the known for the possible. I have a lot of appreciation for being willing to see yourself in a different way - to put your self-esteem on the line.
The other night I was Instant Messaging over the Internet with an old friend who is now in another state. I haven't seen him in a couple of years now and we were catching up on people and places - family news and gossip.
He told me that he had run into someone here in North Carolina who either of us would cross the street to avoid. The creep didn't recognize my friend, though, because my friend had shaved his head.
Wow, I responded. What made you do that?!
It was easy, he told me. He did it because his sister was going through chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. She was losing her hair, so to make her feel better, he gave up his voluntarily.
Apparently families and friends of cancer patients often do this sort of thing. I saw a story about a high school swimmer who got cancer and his teammates shaved their heads in solidarity. They even picked up a second or two, they said.
I hope my friend's dome has a flattering shape. That's a lot of hats to buy if it turns out you have a big dent on top or something.
Still, for we of the XX composition, our hair is a big deal. I've always admired Annie Lennox, the singer from Eurythmics, for keeping her hair so very short and dressing in men's suits. Though she seems to eschew the standards for female beauty, she never seems to look unfeminine. It helps to be gorgeous.
For the rest of us, there's the need for height. We tease, we spray, we hang our heads upside-down then flip back and preen. To be left with those few strands just hanging there ... it's just unthinkable.
But now it's October. It's breast cancer awareness month and I'm reminded of those thousands of women who are picking out scarves and hats and wigs, to retain their sense of dignity and beauty as they take on the fight to save their own lives.
For all of us, controlling the way we look is a way of keeping our hands on the wheel - staying in charge of ourselves. For cancer patients, that's more than a morale booster, it a part of defeating your opponent - the disease. You have to fight cancer with every tool in the bag. You have to be committed.
And in that regard, the beauty of the scissors is their lack of ambiguity. Once she started cutting, I was in for the whole ride. It's good to shake things up, I guess.
But, it will grow back ... right?

Talking to the police, and listening
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, October 09, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
Jean Bolduc Columnist
Last week, I got a delightful and unexpected call from none other than Carolyn Hutchison, Carrboro's police chief. She called to comment on my column from last week and to catch up - it's been a while since we last spoke.
I used to talk to Chief Hutchison from time to time when I covered the town of Carrboro. I complimented her on the fact that I haven't seen her name in the paper much lately. Her town has been pretty quiet from a crime perspective.
It's funny that when things go wrong, the police chief gets the blame, but I'll bet nobody's offering to double her salary when things are quiet. Hutchison is easy to talk to and we share an irreverent sense of humor. It occurs to me that the job of a police chief is so often more one of communications than chasing a bad guy through a parking lot.
This kind of communication - that of relationship building - is something that Hutchison seems to do very well. It translates well in her job, both in how she deals with her staff and how she works with the community.
Since late last week, I've been listening with care to the many press briefings given by Chief Charles Moose, the head of the Montgomery County, Md., Police Department. The recent sniper attacks there have put the chief in the very frustrating position of giving press conferences with precious little to tell that's specific or soothing.
Moose has been head of his department just a year and half, but his more than 20 years of experience as a cop is serving him well this past week. He's smart enough to know that, especially in a crisis like the one he's facing, hearing from the police is important to calm the nerves of the community.
As he spoke Monday afternoon about the shooting of a 13-year-old boy, Moose became emotional, describing all of the sniper's victims as innocent, but that the shooting of this child was simply over the line. "Personal" was the term he used to describe this particular attack, and tears streamed down his cheek as he expressed resolve to bring to justice the shooter(s).
I feel sure that Chief Moose's community is squarely behind him. If he says "Jump," they'll only ask how high.
In contrast, I couldn't help but think of the remarkably disconnected communications delivered by Durham's City Manager Marcia Conner. When she announced the ill-fated selection of a police chief some weeks ago, I couldn't help but notice that she did so while standing at a podium - before an empty auditorium.
She made a formal announcement, reading a statement and taking no questions - a one-way valve. This only grew worse and more disconnected as the revelations regarding her choice came forward. Rather than sitting down with reporters, Conner became less and less available.
Also last week came Durham Mayor Bill Bell who said that he no longer could sit quietly and watch the violent crime numbers get worse and worse while Conner breaks another promise - that of an early deadline for her renewed search.
Durham officials are caught in a terrible cycle in how they talk to the community. Conner even resorted to a pathetic display of finger-pointing.
"The police can't do it all," she was quoted as saying. The media, she said, should say to criminals "you're not wanted in our city and our neighborhoods."
Surely, if the crime statistics should turn around in Durham, The Herald-Sun will get no credit for the reversal. Indeed, when citizens are urged to support anti-crime legislation, the money typically is slated for police departments, not newsrooms.
But just for the record, everyone I know at The Herald-Sun is against crime and in favor of public officials accounting for how they do their jobs. Maybe that's the rub.

Just in from the coast - oh, my tired arms
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, October 16, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
Jean Bolduc Columnist
I spent a few days in Los Angeles on business last week. From this experience, I have determined that I am an ordinary American.
I'm part of that massive number of people who exist somewhere in the middle of the bell curve - the huddled masses. Maybe it's all that standing in line when you travel. It gives you time to think about what you're doing and how you fit in.
I enjoyed talking to the people in line. I was in lines in Baltimore, Nashville, Los Angeles and Durham, of course, as I waited to leave. People talk about the same things in these situations. They avoid controversy. They talk about sports teams. They talk about the weather. They talk about the line.
That's a study in human behavior all itself. Maybe we should treat our family members during the holidays as though we were standing in line with them. Steer clear of touchy subjects - politics and religion. Talk about the food. Talk about the football game.
I flew Southwest Airlines this time. I wanted to try the airline because I've heard so many good things about them. As far as I can tell, it's all true.
I was impressed with how Southwest responded to the troubles that Midway Airlines had. When local workers were laid off, Southwest promptly held a job fair here in the Triangle ... trying to snatch up some good people they said.
They must have snatched up all the good ones we had. Flying Southwest Airlines is just plain fun.
On one of my flights, I heard three things I don't remember ever hearing on an airplane before - singing, irreverent humor and applause.
Taking our seats on the flight leaving Raleigh-Durham, the attendant said we could sit anywhere - "just like church," she said. There were comments about the seats being almost as uncomfortable as pews. The flight attendant didn't argue.
At one point, a flight attendant made an announcement about the seat belt sign remaining on and why that had to be done. Moments later, the pilot made a nearly identical announcement. The attendant then came back with "and now, back to your regularly scheduled programming ..." I think that's a polite way of saying "Uh - duh."
Coming into Baltimore, the announcement came that we were landing about 35 minutes ahead of our scheduled arrival. When the passengers didn't really react, the attendant tried again.
"Once again, let me point out that we are arriving here in Baltimore 35 minutes AHEAD of our scheduled arrival time," she said, emphatically. We laughed, then applauded.
"That's more like it," she said. "And if you fly with us again sometime soon, remember that you don't get to complain if we're 35 minutes late, because we're entitled to do that now." We booed.
How quickly an audience can turn on you!
As we taxied to the gate, another attendant sang for us to the tune of "This Old Man Came Rolling Home." It went something like this:
Thanks for flying
With Southwest
We think flying is the best
It's a lot more fun and faster than the bus
Marry one of us and you'll fly free.
Now, I'm sure I missed a verse in there somewhere, but the point remains. The experience on the plane, as at the gate, checking ID and anywhere that gave me contact with a Southwest employee reminded me of the most important thing in a successful business - the people. Clearly, Southwest has a culture of fun at every level. They all smile, they joke with passengers, and they're determined to make flying fun again.
I'm old enough to remember when it was fun to fly somewhere - almost anywhere, really. The butterflies I get before flying used to be about the excitement of the trip itself - not anxiety over flying. It's good to know that can come back again.

All politics local, except candidates
Originally published in:Chapel Hill Herald
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
Edition: Final
Page: 4
Jean Bolduc ColumnistI
t may not be a race for dogcatcher or county commissioner, but I consider the U.S. Senate race an important one for me, my kids and our family. With great anticipation, we watched the debate between our two candidates for Senate.
The format of Saturday's debate was ill-considered and physically awkward for the candidates. Elizabeth Dole was the first to pop out from behind her lectern, a move matched by Erskine Bowles and equally awkward for him.
I kept getting up, going into the kitchen, coming back and sitting in a different place in the room. More than the movement of the candidates themselves, I had trouble following the bouncing ball of their positions - especially Dole's.
Offering her resume as a Cabinet member under presidents Reagan and Bush, Dole reminded the audience that during her tenure as transportation secretary, the government issued regulations requiring that cars be manufactured with airbags and a third brake light.
How could this be? I thought Dole was the conservative candidate - the Republican. Was she pointing out that she helped institute new federal regulations to protect consumers?
A moment later, she was talking about Bowles' trusting the federal government, while she trusts you and me. Maybe so, but she didn't trust our driving habits enough to expect us to not rear-end the guy in front of us. We needed her help to stop that.
And while we're on the topic of driving, she reached into my living room and said that she wants a sample of my son's bodily fluids. That's right, my almost 14-year-old son will be taking a driving test before too long, and Dole says that her plan calls for him to have a drug test before he can get a driver's license.
For the sake of this discussion, we should ignore that the federal government doesn't issue driver's licenses. No doubt this would all be attached to the conveyance of federal highways to develop infrastructure and provide leverage for the federal government to muck around in state affairs - just as the feds do with education dollars. But I digress.
No, more to the point, Dole said, she wants to make clear to kids - to MY kid, that "drugs aren't cool, they kill."
I like "just say no" better. At least Nancy Reagan came by that line somewhat honestly. A kid asked her what he was supposed to say when his friends pressured him to smoke dope. Her response caught on for its obvious appeal - that if you can say yes, you can say no, too. Just make the choice and be responsible for it.
Dole's drug testing idea for a driver's license is an insidious example of where politics have gone so terribly wrong. It's a position offered by a woman with no children of her own, telling me, the mother of two children, that the federal government will be responsible for making sure that my son doesn't drive while impaired by drugs.
It's not just that this position is a campaign promise with no real support, no real future, no depth of thought as to the implications that bothers me. No, it's the pure insult of such a proposal - the sheer gall of thinking that voters are so vapid that we can't think through what this would mean.
Now I should sit back and relax because the federal government will test my teen before he gets a license? In doing this testing, the government would know that on that one single day, his urine was free of illicit drugs. So what? So after this, the roads would be safer?
This would predict nothing and presumably would be a test not imposed on new residents who come to this state - new residents who may be moving in with the baggage of multiple DWI convictions in their past.
No, I don't think we need Washington to muck around in how we issue a driver's license in this state. North Carolina's graduated licensing program is a good one. If Dole had lived here the last several years, she'd know that. But she hasn't. She's been here long enough to fill out some paperwork to transfer her voter registration for technical reasons. No one has spotted the Doles moving out of the Watergate apartment they've shared for many years.
Even though her husband asked the voters to "send [him] to the White House or send [him] home to Kansas," Elizabeth and Bob Dole have stayed put at the Watergate - in the apartment adjacent to the Lewinskys. I just hope no one steps on Dole's mother as they burn rubber to leave Salisbury on Nov. 5, regardless of the election's outcome.
I was disappointed in Bowles, too. His campaign has repeatedly thrown the Social Security issue around in an effort to scare the tar out of senior citizens. As unnecessary as Dole's privatization plan is, it would not affect benefits for current Social Security recipients.
Bowles' chuckling and sighing during the debate reminded me too much of Al Gore - snooty and dismissive. He, too, has spent a lot of time in the Beltway and not enough at the local Rotary Club or church supper.
In this race, there's enough baloney coming from both sides to make a heck of a sandwich - cold comfort to us who will have to depend on the winner to represent us when it's all said and done.

Walking the walk, talking the talkOriginally published in:Chapel Hill HeraldWednesday, October 30, 2002Edition: FinalPage: 4JEAN BOLDUC ColumnistAnyone in my house can tell you, I have an addiction. There never seems to run an episode of "Law & Order" that I won't be glued to when it comes on. Following a case from the invariably grisly beginning to the last bang of the judge's gavel is for me what Perry Mason was for my mother.
I take more than a little ribbing about my attachment to crime shows. My kids and their friends hate to join me in watching movies that have a murder mystery in them - apparently, I'm a little too prone to sniffing out that bad guy at the end of the first act.
In the last month, we have watched all at once grimacing and unable to look away as the Washington, D.C.-area snipers have gone about their murderous way. Some have criticized the extensive news coverage as excessive, perhaps even exploitative.
One or two pundits have suggested that the high interest in the television coverage reflects Americans seeing these events as "entertainment." These pundits are surely among the numbers of Americans who last week made the movie "Jackass" number one at the box office.
As I have watched this story with grim fascination, I continued to be impressed with UNC alumnus and Montgomery County Police Chief Charles Moose, who exuded our state's motto - to be rather than to seem. According to a story in this newspaper, the chief has both an undergraduate and doctoral degree from the Southern Part of Heaven.
When Chief Moose came out to the press conference he has so looked forward to - the "We've got our suspect(s) ... alive" announcement - he demonstrated a kind of class and dignity that was just plain moving.
Emerging from the building, the hard-nosed, cynical reporters applauded. A small, but unmistakable smile crept across Moose's face for a moment as he walked toward the podium, ahead of his colleagues. He quickly wiped the slight grin from his face and gently waved his right hand toward the reporters, indicating they should stop the display of victory.
This was no time for celebrating, he indicated with that simple, discreet gesture. He then proceeded with the expected announcement, and others came up to microphone to announce and pay respects to the shooters' victims.
As reporters inquired briefly, asking Moose what his feelings were, what his sense of relief was, what his sense of accomplishment might be, he dismissed the queries.
Moose had to be exhausted but professionally gratified that such a high-profile case had reached this stage. Working through to this point must have been one heck of a ride, professionally speaking.
This was not about him, he said. Not at all. His respect for the human toll, and the dignity and professionalism that required him to take few questions, then call it a night are the kinds of traits that we need in our society. They transcend the job you're in. They make it possible for a governor to pay tribute to a bus driver with emotion and appreciation for service and sacrifice.
Twice in two years, we have been reminded in the most horrific manner that people who go off to work and do so-called everyday jobs are not guaranteed the ride home from work. Again, we can see the need to say, "Have a good day at work or school, I love you," to our spouses and children, respectively, and to really mean it.
Forgiving inconsequential differences becomes easier with such focus. It's less about living in fear than it is the realization of life's frailty and the sometimes cruelly ironic equality of how evil can lurk and strike.
Tomorrow night, the kids in my neighborhood will try to scare me as I open my front door. They'll dress up in costumes with their faces painted with phony scars, and scream with make-believe bloodlust as they haunt my front yard in the annual spooky tradition.
It's a joyful thing, Halloween. Trick or Treat.
My English homework is 27 years lateOriginally published in:Chapel Hill HeraldWednesday, November 06, 2002Edition: FinalPage: 4JEAN BOLDUC ColumnistAnticipating the occasion of my 25th high school class reunion last year, I set up a Web site just for fun. It has turned out to be some of the best money I ever spent on the entertainment side, and much, much more.
Not long after the site was set up, America was struck right between the eyes in the terrorist attacks last fall. Dozens of my classmates posted messages on the reunion site, expressing their shock and grief. We railed and reminisced about the unstable Middle East that we studied in high school and how so little had changed while we were growing up into the next generation of worried parents.
One of our classmates lost his older brother in the World Trade Center last September. Another saw his teenage son shipped off to Kuwait to patrol the Iraqi border.
The Web site was a lot of fun during the actual reunion over last Thanksgiving, with classmates from all over the country chatting live with those who were able to attend the party in New England.
Since the party, things have gotten more quiet, but many of us are keeping in touch.
We hadn't heard much from the teachers, though. Not until last week, when I got a letter (through the "regular" mail) from one of my English teachers, Jan Glitzenstein (we called her "the Glitz").
It seems her daughter-in-law found the reunion Web site, and that led to the letter. Though the Glitz does use the Internet, she had some trouble hooking up with my e-mail at first. That's all fixed now, though.
After opening her letter, I ran to my keyboard and dashed off a message to her e-mail address, which she was kind enough to enclose. I told her that her name had come up as I corresponded with my friend Liz after so many years.
Oh, she remembered Liz just fine, she said. She recounted a harrowing tale of the two of us making her life miserable one day in her poetry class. We "sold her down the river," she said, when her boss came in to observe one day. The poem was John Donne's "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning."
Liz and I, according to her account, basically boycotted the assignment after having been scolded for being to chatty in class the days preceding. We obeyed our correction. We sat mute as she reviewed the piece to the sound of mosquitoes in the classroom.
As I raised my hand, she called on me, but I clarified that I was just scratching my head ... nothing to offer.
I don't know what was funnier - what a great stunt that was, or the fact that she remembered it so vividly and I had totally forgotten it. Even better, she said that she'd gotten the big smackdown from her boss, that she was using material too difficult and should consider easier work for us.
And so began the downward spiral of American education. I admit it - it's my own fault.
I regaled my former teacher with the fact that I was working with my son to complete his book report on "To Kill A Mockingbird." His reading list at Cedar Ridge High School looks a lot like ours from those many years ago. That's a comfort to me.
To make it up to her, I looked up Donne's poem on the Internet. I read it carefully, thought about it with serious determination. I wrote back to "the Glitz" and offered my analysis of the poem, which is about the separation of a man from his soul at the time of their parting - his death.
It's a foolish thing to try and explain their love for each other, Donne says, for it is a love that is too complex and unfathomable, too important to reduce to so clumsy a thing as words and expressions. And the weeping and grieving so associated with mourning is a disservice to the dead, he says, as it diminishes the passion for living that the lost one enjoyed.
I read all of this and wrote my commentary back to my high school English teacher, along with my earnest request for an appealed transcript if she thought the work was worthy. I also was fascinated with how contemporary the work was as it applied to the memorial service of Senator Paul Wellstone. The important thing to remember about it was that Wellstone would have enjoyed it - even the controversy.
And so, my English teacher was kind and said that I did a good job in my review of the work. She offered to amend my transcript, which has surely been reduced to microfilm by now.
What hasn't been diminished, however, is my affection for my high school teachers. They were sending us into a cynical post-Vietnam/Watergate world. They sent us out there, heavily armed with the power of questions - the power of citizenship.
We were very lucky in those days - safe schools, a high standard of literacy and expectations for a better tomorrow. If we'd known then that they were the good old days, maybe we'd have enjoyed them more. I know that if I had it to do over again, I would have read more poetry.
A cheering crowd for good gradesOriginally published in:Chapel Hill HeraldWednesday, November 13, 2002Edition: FinalPage: 4JEAN BOLDUC ColumnistNo one begrudges the support shown for sports teams. They're an important part of school life, giving energy and pride to the whole school when they struggle with their rivals on their respective "fields of battle."
That said, if you ask most sports fans what distinguishes Carolina and Duke from the rest of the NCAA most glaringly, it would be their graduation rates, which have never been sacrificed in the name of winning a championship.
Coaches from both schools take as much pride in being educators and mentors as they do in how many trophies they possess. That's one of the reasons that we, their fans, take relentless pride in them. Their real excellence is reflected in the uncompromising academic commitment their programs represent and reward through scholarships and other awards.
Somewhere out there is a genius who came up with the idea that it would be smart to overtly scream and shout for kids who show up every day and hit the books to achieve academic excellence.
This is, at least in part, the mission of the Renaissance Club, which sponsored an academic pep rally at Cedar Ridge High School on Friday. It's the Orange County Schools' affiliate member of a national organization that partners with businesses to provide recognition and reward for students who are getting the job done in school.
Students received a certificate of recognition, as well as a coupon book that entitles them to discounts at movies, fast-food restaurants and the like. I confess, I was disappointed that I didn't see any coupons in there for the big-name bookstore chains that would seem to be a logical choice for sponsorship.
The rally recognized students who had perfect attendance through the first marking period or had a GPA of 2.5 or better.
I arrived at the gym on Friday to find cheerleaders, a band and bleachers filled with buzzing teenagers.
The band is a humble unit. They're not at full strength as I understand it, but fear not. They can (and did) knock the roof off the place with their music. I shudder to think what they'll be able to do when they double in size, and I pity the enemies of the Red Wolves on the football field when that band is playing.
And play they did. "The Star-Spangled Banner" came up early, of course. We sang and they played ... at the perfect level, in my estimate. Quiet enough that we could hear singing, loud enough that the people next to me probably couldn't make out my crackling tones.
And on we went to the greetings and speeches. They were much as we'd expect on such occasions. The bad acoustics of a gym don't lend any help to a speaker trying to whip up a crowd.
No, this was an occasion best suited to singing and dancing, and holy mackerel, did we ever get those.
The Cedar Ridge High School Gospel Chorus is a rock 'em, sock 'em, stompin'-awesome, breathtaking bunch, led by their director, Jason Thompson.
They walked to the middle of the gym floor and gathered in a circle. I don't know why, really, but I just had a feeling in watching how they carried themselves that these kids could really sing. I mean really, really sing.
Sad for us, they did only one selection, but I could have listened to them all day. In fact, I hope that they will consider this a formal request for a CD of their music. If the Orange County Schools wants to recover that $179,000 it just sent back to Raleigh, it should look into CD sales from this chorus.
Dealing with the excess profits will be the real problem, but I'm confident that we can find a home for the money.
Speaking of which, a woman sitting next to me told me that her granddaughter was on the Dance Team that performed at the event. They did a tribute performance for the many honorees and also were quite impressive.
The team was disappointed recently, the grandmother told me, because the uniforms the dancers were promised would not be paid for by the school. The money went to recycling bins instead, she was told. "And they didn't even really need them," she said. "They have plenty of them."
I have trouble imagining the spreadsheet that puts dance team uniforms and recycling bins in the same budget category. If that's the case, maybe that controversial sod for the football field could have come from the money designated for stocking the library.
Back to the Gospel Chorus. I do want to go on record about just one thing. The music they performed was religious music, about the love God gives us - that it never fails.
As much as I love and support the work of all those who protect civil liberties, let me be the first in line to urge ... do not "protect" me from hearing this or any other gospel music in a public high school.
The chorus, by its existence, is a form of religious expression supported by a public institution. It is a celebration of the First Amendment to hear them sing, not a violation of it.
Any which way, the event was a blast for us parents and, obviously, for our kids, whose school is taking on a life and personality of its own.
Go Red Wolves!
My own exclusive club - for idiotsOriginally published in:Chapel Hill HeraldWednesday, November 20, 2002Edition: FinalPage: 4JEAN BOLDUC ColumnistThe word exclusive means, of course, to exclude - to keep out. In our society, we are increasingly (and thankfully) focused on the opposite much of the time. Some would even say we are obsessed with inclusion - the practice of deliberately including through outreach and solicitation.
I've decided to start an exclusive club, a club for idiots. If you have an ounce of common sense, I'm sorry, this club is not for you. No offense, you just wouldn't feel welcome.
My marketing base is enormous, perhaps endless in fact, as eligible prospective members keep appearing in a most reliable fashion. Just a few examples for your consideration:
Making the rounds on the Internet is a story about a guy who walked into a fast-food restaurant and tried to order a half-dozen chicken nibbles (or whatever that restaurant calls them). Nobody really knows what's in them, just that they taste great.
The fresh young face behind the counter explained that he could not comply. "We only have boxes of 6, 9 or 12," he said. "No half-dozen boxes." The befuddled customer settled on six and walked away scratching his head.
My husband came home last week and told me that he had a nominee. It was the person who sent him a fax containing some important information. It was so critical in fact that she included this message at the bottom: "Please call me if you didn't get this fax."
I think he should have faxed back a blank page, documenting the phone call he didn't make. Common sense prevailed, however, and he decided to just laugh and disregard the stupidity of it. Too bad. He's excluded from the club.
A self-appointed women's rights activist was recently on a talking head "news" program on television blustering about the need for the Augusta National Golf Club to include women among its members. The club is a private one. It does not admit women as members, though they are welcome to play there at invitational tournaments and as a guest of a member.
The club should be forced to admit women, said the talking head, because excluding them is depriving them of equal access to the game of golf. As delighted as I am to take on anyone who is discriminating against women, this argument is as laughable as it is insulting.
I have played golf for the better part of 30 years. I started playing with my dad's clubs. There weren't any clubs for kids back then, and though there were women's clubs, I didn't have a set of those until I was in my twenties. I'm a member at Occoneechee Golf Club in Hillsborough - have been for years. I play too seldom, but love the game. The thing I love the very most about it is that I can play it with men and beat the tar out of some of them. The course and the game are designed to make the playing field equal for men and women golfers as well as old versus young golfers. That's an equality that golf offers that most other sports cannot come close to claiming.
Occoneechee could help me out a little by making hole No. 2 a ladies' par five, but I have no complaints. After all, the ladies' tee on No. 6 (a par four) gives me an outrageous advantage - about 100 yards. I've nearly driven the green on that hole. It evens things out over the round. Besides, one day, I'll drive the ball long enough to get on the green in two on No. 2. Goals are important.
I can't join Augusta National. That's fine with me. I come down with Tiger Woods, Karrie Webb and Annika Sorenstam on this one. It's their club, say the best golfers in the world. They can do what they want.
When the women's game is big and strong enough to bring crowds and millions of dollars to Augusta, they'll change their rules - just like they did to admit Woods, a guy who will never be admitted to my exclusive club for idiots. I doubt he's disappointed.
Icy blast, some snow (at last), brrrrrOriginally published in:Chapel Hill HeraldWednesday, December 11, 2002Edition: FinalPage: 4JEAN BOLDUC ColumnistOK, I admit it ... at first, it looked kind of fun last Wednesday - the flakes were falling and the snow desk was busy on all the local channels.
As visions of a wintry Christmas morning began dancing through my head, my husband, Rick, was slipping and sliding his way home from work. He started onto Interstate 85 but quickly noticed that the cars were stopped on the highway. He backed down the on-ramp and took the back roads home - a 45-minute adventure that normally would take less than one-third of that time. He talked to a friend from his office the next day whose equally short commute took more than three hours.
Rick was lucky. He arrived home before dark, and we paced the floor until about 5:30, when our son's school bus finally arrived - an hour and a half late, but in one piece.
As the evening wore on, we anticipated being home for a day or two of sledding and snowball fights. Maybe a downed tree here or there, but we'd been through plenty of ice before.
During the night, it sounded like thunder and more on our roof. About 7 in the morning, the next grand thump came, followed by a rolling sound and a crash outside. A maple tree hangs over our bedroom, and large limbs were breaking off, landing on the roof, rolling off and landing in a remarkably neat pile in the back yard.
Similarly, limbs and branches filled our back deck, dangled from the roof and were scattered across parts of our driveway. When we got outside to inspect the damage, we could do so only briefly, as limbs were breaking off and falling (from very high perches) every few minutes.
It's a dangerous time, after a storm like this, but it always tells a lot about your neighborhood. Rick and several of our neighbors soon were out on the street, cutting up our precious fallen trees to clear the road.
When you're cutting with a chain saw like that, you can't really hear the trees crackling and breaking all around you. You have to watch the tree you're cutting with one eye and the sky with another. My husband is an insurance executive, not a tree surgeon, but he did just fine - nothing broken, and the road got cleared.
In 1973, when I was about 15, we had a major ice storm in Connecticut. We had a bit more snow on the ground at the time and no relief on the temperature side for many, many days.
There were thousands of homes without power, and we should have been in a state of emergency, but we were not.
This was because Connecticut's governor was in New Hampshire on a ski vacation with his family. He elected not to come home and did not see fit to make an emergency declaration.
Such declarations are more than political public relations - they allow townships to declare curfews to clear the streets and prevent looting and other criminal activity.
Power companies can confiscate generators or other equipment needed to restore power and vital services.
Emergency plans of all sorts can be activated under a declared state of emergency and paid for from contingency funds instead of draining routine budgets. It could determine whether my homeowner insurance rate goes up if I file a claim to repair my gutters.
So when our governor returned to Connecticut back in '73, he found the end of his political career waiting for him. He was bounced handily in the next election.
In 1978, we were smacked with a blizzard that delivered 24 inches of snow in a day. Ella Grasso, our new governor, declared an emergency just hours into the storm, whose proportion was clear on the weather forecast.
We were cold, and many were without vital services for a day or two, but the streets were empty and power crews had all they needed to get the job done safely and quickly.
Can you say enough good things about anyone who lends a helping hand in the bitter cold during these situations? Whether it's your neighbor bringing you a bowl of warm soup or a cup of hot tea or utility workers working 12- (and more) hour shifts to bring back the juice - holy mackerel! There's an awful lot of good people out there working very, very hard to help others.
What do you want for Christmas? I want an outrageous list of miracles and wonders. I want every kid in East Durham who has been shivering for the last week to have a half-hour in a hot tub and no homework for the month of January. I want all their wishes for toys to come true. I want them to see a gentle blanket of 3 inches of snow on Christmas morning, with all of the beauty and none of the inconvenience.
Mostly, I want to continue my rediscovered appreciation for the miracle of electricity. You know what they say: Without it, we'd be watching TV by candlelight.

A Lott of intolerance, a lot to learnOriginally published in:Chapel Hill HeraldWednesday, December 18, 2002Edition: FinalPage: 4JEAN BOLDUC ColumnistWhen all is said and done, our nation and our neighborhoods should thank Senate Majority Leader Trent Lott (R-Miss.) for his contribution to race relations in the United States. If we make a quantum leap in the next few years, we owe it largely to him.
I say this not because I agree with his oft-quoted view on the merits of electing Strom Thurmond president in 1948. I say it because his bumbling effort to extract himself from inadvertently revealing his ideas on race has launched a debate on race that will tell us a great deal about the future of American politics, all of which are local.
Years ago, I stood before the Orange County Commissioners and talked about the need for a local human rights ordinance. The Klan is alive and well in Orange County, I said. And so it was. There were members sitting in the audience just a few feet away.
After the meeting, a friend asked me how I had the nerve to do such a thing - to simply acknowledge what everyone in the room knew to be true. My answer was one of confusion and quandary. What else would you do? Ignore it? Deny it?
I appreciate that intuitive response. After a local Klan rally I'd read with interest a story on a local paper's front page. It featured a stunning color photograph of a woman Klan member angrily gesturing toward the crowd. It was a great news photo and a very intimidating image. Absolutely chilling.
The only thing that could top it was the feeling I had (a paralysis, basically) when I was in the Hillsborough Wal-Mart a few days later and found myself standing right next to the very same woman, who seemed like a nice enough person without her hood.
I wish I could report that I had some clever line to deliver to her. I didn't. I was stunned to see her and intimidated by her very presence there. Those are the very local, personal effects of a system that demeans and terrorizes people.
And so when Trent Lott makes some stupid remark about all the "problems" our country could have avoided by electing a segregationist Dixiecrat, I realize that if not for the actions of local folks in small communities all across the South, he might have slipped another one through.
Another wink-wink wisecrack like so many that he and thousands of other tiny-minded rich white guys have used as "the code" for the last 30 or so years. The tacit understanding that they really know who's boss but have to take on certain appearances to make nice with the folks who somehow got the right to vote.
Blacks, women, pick your group - the candidates have to pay their dues and make it look right for them, but then the wink-wink code conveys that, after the election, they'll go back to business as usual.
As we watched Lott on Black Entertainment Television on Monday night, looking like a hostage reading a prepared statement written by his captors, I was struck by one simple fact.
Jesse Helms would never find himself in a mess like this. He wouldn't go on BET and vow his support for affirmative action and talk about how "white America didn't understand the contribution of Martin Luther King Jr." to explain his vote against the King holiday. Once again, Lott speaks for himself.
Not Helms. He'd go on there and say, hell, yes, he thinks various forms of discrimination are just fine and dandy. Take him or leave him, at least Helms knows who he is.
Lott's stammering and ineffective attempts to extricate himself are failing because he lacks the integrity to simply stand up and say what he believes. What he believes in is power and the idea that he should keep it.
Leaving Lott to be devoured by his colleagues is all he deserves, but the local, state and national debate he has accidentally launched could have lasting meaning and value. Every 2004 political race, from school board to county commissioner to president, just got much more interesting.
All I want under tree is peace, quietOriginally published in:Chapel Hill HeraldWednesday, December 25, 2002Edition: FinalPage: 4JEAN BOLDUC ColumnistI've decided that the universal Christmas wish for "Peace on Earth" has been widely misunderstood. In reality, all we really need is a couple of days of peace, all right - peace and quiet.
And whom do we turn to in the annual failed attempt at accomplishing this? Our families, often in another state.
And so, ignoring the logic of "I moved far away for a good reason" we get together over the most stress-packed couple of days available on the calendar. It's pure genius, isn't it?
As many of us fall to our knees this morning to thank the good Lord for all our blessings (read: The shopping is OVER!) perhaps a dose of reality-based, 50-cent therapy will help us along through the day, avoiding international incidents.
Harken back to those simple rules that your mother gave you when you were in elementary school. They're the best, especially around relatives, like your mother.
1. If you can't say something nice, don't say anything. I know, it may cut down on the number of things you can talk about, but everybody knows the turkey is dry. Get over it. Compliment Mom on all her effort, just as she did for you when you brought home drawings from school that made no sense. That's what love should drive you to - excessive praise.
2. What Peter says about Paul says more about Peter than Paul. Keep gossip out of the holiday and you'll avoid touchy confrontations. If you wouldn't say it to Uncle Joe's face, you probably shouldn't say it at all.
3. Keep your manners. Just because you're related doesn't mean you can't show off how polite you can be. If we treated our families like we treat strangers in an elevator, we might avoid a scene now and then.
4. Everything in moderation. A little too much of the wine and the whining will begin.
5. Let it go. Whatever your stupid cousin said, whatever you said last year that started that fight, whatever you think you should have said - let it go. Hand out cards this year that tell your family members that whatever crap they've done this year, you forgive them, and ask that they do the same.
I've come to realize that the absolute best memories I have of Christmas revolve around the rituals and the conspiracy of magic surrounding the holiday. That continues to do my heart good and is the very best part of the holiday.
I was in the hobby store at University Mall the other day, buying a chess set. My son was with me, and I didn't want him to see that I was getting it. The employee who helped me connected the dots immediately and with a minimum of words, spoken in Christmas code, we arranged for her to get another set from the back room, bring it to behind the register and not have anyone see what I was buying.
When I was a kid, my parents had a sort of mutual deal with our neighbors. If one of their kids was getting a bike for Christmas, it would be in our garage until Christmas Eve (under contract with the North Pole, of course).
It wasn't until years later that I figured out that if I wanted to know what I was getting for Christmas, I should have been be searching the Sullivans' garage, not my own.
Likewise, my father kept tons of presents in the trunk of his full-size car. There I was, driving the car around myself, not realizing that I literally held the key to sneaking a peek.
One year, I did catch a peek of what I was getting. I tiptoed into my mother's room and found in her closet a record player I had begged for. I was thrilled - for about 30 seconds. Then I started to feel just awful about having spoiled the surprise. Just remembering that feels like it was yesterday.
In longing for the things of my childhood Christmases, I find that I'm wishing for the things that cost next to nothing. Shampoo in a champagne bottle, fuzzy slippers, candy and the rituals of reading "'Twas the Night Before Christmas," followed by the tossing and turning and wishes upon wishes.
I always did wish for Peace on Earth, for less fighting, for soldiers to come home safe to their families.
This year, my nephew is one of those soldiers, serving in Saudi Arabia this Christmas Day. In Eric's honor, our turkey will be dry today and we'll wish above all other wishes that he comes home on schedule and in one piece in just a few more weeks.
Meanwhile, we'll have some pie, watch some old movies and try to kick back and relax. After all, the tax packages are in the mail and everyone's favorite Uncle (Sam) will be reminding us to keep in touch in just a day or two.
Now that's a gift I'd dearly love to return unopened.
Readers may e-mail Jean Bolduc at jean@penandinc.com or write her in care of The Chapel Hill Herald, 106 Mallette St., Chapel Hill, NC 27516.

posted by Jean Bolduc @ 9:31 AM 0 comments