VENDOR SUBMISSIONS
The Thankless Life Of A Public Servant BY NORMA B., CONTRIBUTOR VENDOR I’ve recently come to realize that individuals who serve their communities are just “regular people” that are, in fact, like so many others overworked and under appreciated. I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know a few of them. One such individual is Vice Mayor Jim Shulman. He recently attended The Contributor awards breakfast on May 11 to show his support for The Contributor and more importantly for me, to escort me on and off the stage to ensure I didn’t fall — again. Yes, I said again. On May 4, 2021 I was invited by him to bang the gavel at the Metro council meeting where he presented me with my medal for being a top vendor of The Contributor. I said a few words, and then fell off the stage scaring everyone to death, including him. Unfortunately, when you have cerebral palsy falls are just a “normal” part of life, and I’ve learned to do it in a way that doesn’t cause me serious injury— most of the time. But he did far more than help me on/off stage that day he took his role as a “public servant” to a whole new level when he served me breakfast after my speech! Not to be overlooked is my local councilwoman Erin Evans from Hermitage, who I first met after the March 2020 tornadoes when she was going through my neighborhood surveying the damage and
taking note of the immediate needs of those affected by the storm, doing what she could to help. Not long after that, she stopped by my spot at Old Hickory Boulevard and Central Pike and bought a paper and gave me a tip. (She‘d heard from Cathy Jennings our executive director my birthday was coming up.) Soon after that, she even got a subscription to The Contributor! More recently, one evening when I was working later than usual selling the paper, she called to make sure I was OK, and that I had a way home. She told me if my ride didn’t show up to give her a call, and she’d pick me up and take me home! She also attended The Contributor awards breakfast, but more than that, knowing I don’t drive, she offered me a ride. As it turns out, her sister unexpectedly ended up having surgery the same day. Talk about a good excuse to get out of a prior commitment! Yet she was at my house at 6 a.m as promised! (Don’t worry, she was there for her sister's surgery too!) As I sit here reminiscing about the events of my recent past, I’m reminded of yet another occasion when a selfless public official saved the day for me. On Wednesday March 12, 1986 (my birthday) John Hancock, the mayor of Gallatin, Tenn., was having dinner at Cherokee Steak House in Lebanon, Tenn.,
where I was supposed to be getting married — but things DID NOT go according to plan. We were going to get married outside by the lake, but the torrential rain put an end to that idea. No problem, the staff at the restaurant said we could use the Banquet Hall and they made sure it looked beautiful! (It helps to have connections. My mom was the salad girl, the maid and the fill in waitress for the Cunninghams (who owned the restaurant). But then, our officiant cancelled at the last minute. So there we were, all dressed up. Me in my pretty pink dress and matching hat, the groom in his best blue suit, but no one there to seal the deal. Looking back, maybe I should’ve taken this as a sign NOT to do this, but I didn’t. Instead I sat behind the counter crying until a man in a crisp white shirt and red sweater and slacks came back there and asked, “Young lady, what’s all the fuss about? Don’t you know people are trying to eat their dinner?” I explained that I was supposed to be getting married, but my officiant cancelled last minute, and I didn’t want to be an old maid. He then asked me how old I was. When I said 18, he asked, “And how long have you been 18?” I replied, “Fourteen hours.” He immediately picked up the phone and started making calls (this was before cell phones). I’m not sure how many people he called, and to be honest I didn’t even
know who he was at that point, or exactly what he was doing. When he finished on the phone, he turned to me and told me to stop crying and to do whatever I needed to do to get ready because help was on the way! (I guess my mom wasn’t the only one with connections!) Within an hour or so, Mr. Guy Randall Jones, then a Sumner County Road Commissioner, (though as of August 2020 he now serves as the Executive Director of the Tennessee District Attorneys General Conference) came in spite of the pouring rain and married us that night! I’d like to think a good time was had by the handful of people who attended my wedding. We feasted on an a nicely decorated but inexpensive Kroger sheet cake, had lots of Hawaiian Punch (my new husband was a recovering alcoholic) and of course, there was plenty of steak and all the fixins to go around! Yum! As you can see from this story, the life of a true public servant is NOT a 9 to 5 job! Still many of them do it with grace and humility often at great cost to themselves and their families. They go above and beyond — and in these cases, FAR beyond — the scope of their job description to help the people they serve. May we ALL give credit where credit is due, or at the very least give commendation when it is warranted. Thanks for ALL you do!
Production Notes: From Your Last White Supremacy Protest Rally BY JEN A., CONTRIBUTOR VENDOR I would like to address the group of white supremacists who showed up at the Juneteenth Celebration in Franklin. If you meant to intimidate the folks attending that joyful celebration of freedom, you totally missed the mark. Did y'all stop to think about what you actually looked like? The only response that your visual presentation evoked was laughter. First off, you wore white shirts and black pants. Good grief men, everyone knows that y'all consider your pants parts as your power center. Covering your man parts in black showed that you think black lower body parts are more powerful than white lower body parts. Were your white pants at the cleaners? Did you stop to consider kha-
kis? Or did you believe that you'd soil yourselves because you were so scared and the black pants would provide more discreet cover as you slithered back off to your cars? The "buffer" of armed gunmen in bulletproof vests. I can't even begin to tell you how pathetic that looked. Are you men or are you mice? Is there any conviction you hold that doesn't need to be enforced and protected with a gun? You looked like a bunch of frightened children. Were your mommies there too? The signs. This was a major visual faux pas. Your slogans were pedestrian and showed no real emotion. “Stop White Replacement” and “White Lives Matter” are passive phrases when viewed in the context of a Franklin, Tenn., that
is 88 percent white. And did it strike any of you as ironic that your white poster-board signs needed black markers to scrawl your hateful messages? You might want to go with black poster board and white markers next time. To be a fullfledged racist you have to think about the image you're projecting. That goes for your white shirts as well. That phoney white-nationalist logo was black. Come on — black shirt, white logo. Finally, the masks and dark glasses. You are an arrogant group of white men who took every boneheaded opportunity to publicly refuse to wear a mask to protect your neighbors from a deadly disease during the height of the pandemic. Now, suddenly, you show up in a ridiculous mask to assert your hostility
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toward your Black neighbors. I'd laugh in your face, if you had faces. How can anyone take you seriously if you won't even show your faces to spew your hate. Your visuals vividly showed the fearful cowardice of your true selves. It did not support the disgusting message of white power y'all attempted to project. I don't know any of y'all. I'm thankful for that. But I believe your attempt at hate and intimidation fell woefully short. You're just not good at it. The next time you're looking for something to do on a beautiful, joyful Juneteenth holiday, why not take part in the celebration. Free yourselves from the bondage of your fear and self-loathing. As Miss Opal always says, “None of us are free until all of us are free.”
