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Chattanooga Bar Assoc. honors its dearly departed

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8 | Friday, March 9, 2012 Hamilton County Herald www.hamiltoncountyherald.com<br />

Are We<br />

There Yet?<br />

By Jay Edwards<br />

jedwards@dailydata.com<br />

Watermelons and blood<br />

One of my friends I’ve known since college, Melanie McClure<br />

Gibson, recently posted a photo of her and some of her Pi Phi<br />

buddies from when we were in college, probably 1977-ish. It<br />

was a photo I keep returning to, and not just because of the Daisy<br />

Dukes. It brings back memories, all good now, even though if I<br />

think really hard, I can come up with a few not so pleasant ones –<br />

one of which happened early on, in my fi rst semester when I was<br />

a student in Yocum Hall. In those days, the boys stayed in Yocum<br />

and the girls next door in Humphries.<br />

Before I rehash the bad memory let me throw in a good one. It<br />

was at the beginning of college life – I don’t even think classes had<br />

begun yet, which, as my father constantly reminded me, “It’s why<br />

you’re up there.” Anyway, some of the girls from Humphries had<br />

set up some games between the two dorms, next to Brough Commons,<br />

with the intention of getting us all together. e games were<br />

a good idea but not really necessary. It was late August and they<br />

just had to make themselves visible in their anti-humidity attire<br />

(see previous comment on Daisy Dukes).<br />

So my friends and I (a contingent from Catholic High who<br />

never planned to get a haircut or wear a tie again) ventured out<br />

to participate in the events. A girl I knew from back home pulled<br />

me over to an area where they had some watermelons. e event<br />

was seed spitting, which I won, with a distance of over 22 feet. My<br />

prize was lots of attention, not a bad thing considering the attendees<br />

– and later a poster with my photo and some artwork about<br />

being the World Champion Watermelon Seed-Spitter.<br />

Five girls delivered it that evening and taped it on the wall next<br />

to my dorm door. While they were there we planned a party for<br />

that night, either because it was Tuesday or that the grass was<br />

green. I was liking college so far.<br />

So the party happened, with the only casualty being one of our<br />

CHS guys, who was never much of a drinker in high school. He<br />

tried to make up for it that night, and we spent some time with<br />

him later as he got acquainted with the bathroom facilities. As we<br />

walked him up to his room on the ninth fl oor, he turned to me,<br />

white as a sheet and asked, “What time do you want to get breakfast?”<br />

I pushed him through his door and told him he had four<br />

years and needed to pace himself.<br />

Seven weeks later, we were well into the college groove. It was<br />

Texas Week. ere had been a little bit of trouble between our<br />

guys and some other guys on our fl oor from Memphis, but up to<br />

that point, only words.<br />

After the game (an 18-24 loss to the hated burnt orange) we<br />

stepped off the elevator onto our dorm fl oor. It was Kathy and me,<br />

my roommate John, and his date, Ashley. Suddenly, two guys came<br />

out of a room toward us. One I recognized from our fl oor. He was<br />

one of those Memphis guys we hadn’t really hit it off with. e<br />

guy with him was bigger and menacing and stepped forward and<br />

uttered some insult. John moved toward him, which he was always<br />

willing to do.<br />

In a fl ash the stranger swung one of those fraternity paddles and<br />

caught John upside the head. en he hit him again and blood was<br />

everywhere. e girls screamed and other guy and I grabbed each<br />

other. We wrestled around, throwing mostly harmless haymakers.<br />

More guys joined the melee, for both sides, and soon it was chaos.<br />

Somehow we fought our way down six fl ights of stairs, to the<br />

lobby. I saw John, covered in blood, but giving it back to paddle<br />

boy, who we later found out was an ex-con from Memphis and the<br />

brother of the guy I was tangling with.<br />

It soon came to an end in the lobby at the insistence of about six<br />

of the Department of Public Safety’s fi nest.<br />

Days later there was a Judicial Board hearing, which my dad attended.<br />

at’s the bad memory I referred to earlier.<br />

e felon had disappeared. Some of our group was suspended<br />

and some, like me, were put on double-secret probation. We also<br />

had to move out of the dorm into an apartment off campus for the<br />

rest of the semester, where diff erent fraternities rushed us. Apparently<br />

they didn’t mind our checkered past.<br />

Looking back, between the two, I’d have to say I prefer seed<br />

spitting to fi st fi ghting.<br />

Four-legged friends getting help with<br />

‘Feed the Love’ food drive<br />

In this recovering economy, local food banks face the dual challenge of diminished contributions and an increased<br />

number of individuals in need of food not only for themselves but also for their pets. Through March<br />

27, the “Feed the Love” pet food drive will help those already receiving assistance from <strong>Chattanooga</strong> Area Food<br />

Bank to care for their pets as well. Pre-packed “Feed the Love” bags are now available for purchase at all BI-LO<br />

locations, and can be placed in specially marked donation carts at the entrances of the stores. <strong>Chattanooga</strong> Area<br />

Food Bank will pick them up and distribute them to needy households in the community. Each “Feed the Love”<br />

bag sells for fi ve dollars when purchased with the MY BI-LO BONUSCARD and contains a week’s worth of dry and<br />

canned packages of PAWS Premium, BI-LO’s own brand of cat and dog food. (Photo provided)<br />

RIVER CITY Continued from page 7<br />

unforgettable. As the camera<br />

closed in on a single jellyfi sh to<br />

provide an astonishing glimpse at<br />

<strong>its</strong> transparent body and sinuous<br />

movements, the lady sitting in<br />

front of me reached out to touch<br />

the creature. “ e Last Reef 3D”<br />

is that immersive.<br />

As for the message at the<br />

heart of the movie, Cresswell and<br />

McNicholas make a strong connection<br />

between the way we’re<br />

using our planet’s fossil fuels<br />

and the gradual disappearance<br />

of coral reefs around the world.<br />

While the narration is melodramatic<br />

in places, the co-directors<br />

reinforce their impassioned pleas<br />

for environmental reform with<br />

skillfully edited sequences that<br />

demonstrate the degree to which<br />

all living things on Earth depend<br />

on each other.<br />

For example, Cresswell and<br />

McNicholas start the movie by alternating<br />

between footage of coral<br />

reefs and large cities. As “ e<br />

Last Reef 3D” progresses, the cuts<br />

become more frequent until the<br />

two worlds collide in a haunting<br />

sequence that shows coral slowly<br />

covering the underwater remains<br />

of World War II weaponry. Cresswell<br />

and McNicholas then begin<br />

to urge better treatment of the<br />

reefs by showing statues of people<br />

submerged in dead reefs to encourage<br />

the coral to re-grow. e<br />

co-directors intend the images in<br />

the closing moments of the movie<br />

of children swimming through<br />

the colorful reefs of Palau to<br />

motivate change. For us to thrive,<br />

we must take better care of our<br />

world, and live in closer symbiosis<br />

with <strong>its</strong> many life forms.<br />

“Avatar” contained the same<br />

message, along with lots of explosions,<br />

but “ e Last Reef 3D”<br />

leaves a more lasting impression.<br />

I recommend seeing the movie<br />

both for <strong>its</strong> ideas and <strong>its</strong> ability to<br />

transport viewers to worlds unlike<br />

any they have seen.<br />

“ e Last Reef 3D” is suitable<br />

for all audiences and has a running<br />

time of 40 minutes. Email<br />

David Laprad at dlaprad@hamiltoncountyherald.com.

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