The Evenin' Shadders

State School superintendent Sandy Garrett’s proposal to expand the school day by an hour and the school year by five days is, simply put, a good idea. Actually, it’s a really good idea. With a national average of 180 school days and a 6.5-hour day, Oklahoma’s 175-day school year and its 6-hour school day is proof we’re far behind the curve. But, thankfully, Garrett wants to change that. She talks of the need for all Oklahoma students to be able to compete on a global scale. She talks about how students need to be educated to solve problems which have arisen yet, using technology which hasn’t been developed. She’s right. Just think back 30 years — eight track tapes were the vogue (there were no compact discs) and everyone had a record player. Cable television was in its infancy and the personal computer was still years away. DVDs hadn’t been invented yet. There was no such thing as digital photography. Yet, somehow all these things were developed and, today, are part of our world. Thank

For the past several months, members of the Cleveland County Commission have struggled with the issue of whether or not to build a county jail. They’ve also gone back and forth on where that jail is supposed to be located. This, because the current jail is overcrowded and State Health Department officials are breathing down our necks threatening large daily fines or, even worse, closing the facility. A couple of months ago, more than 50 citizens attended a county commission meeting to “voice their opinion” about where the jail should be located. Some said downtown Norman. Others said Franklin Road. Nobody was happy. Now, fast forward to June. A special election for County Commissioner — you know, the same guys who decide where the jail is going to be located — is scheduled. And less than 3,000 of the 28,000 registered Republican voters bothered to show up. Less than 100 mail-in absentee ballots were returned. And only about 20 of you bothered to vote early at the election board. I’m di

Outside, the sky is slate gray — like old metal. The rain falls steady; a liquid, translucent curtain distorting the world I see through the window. It’s 9 a.m. I’m sitting inside a creamy yellow waiting room with my wife and our 8-year-old son. The nurse enters and seats herself at a computer console. Large flat screen monitors surround me. I feel like I’m at NASA. My wife is lying prone next to the machine. The nurse takes a probe, slathers conductive jelly on it, and pushes it against Karen’s large, round belly. We’re here to see images of the newest member of the Carter family. He’s currently under construction deep inside my wife’s womb. The flat screen monitor at the end of the rooms flicks on and suddenly the screen is filled with grainy, black and white images — they remind me of those radar screens used in submarine movies. There, I see my child. He’s (for right now its a “he”) is in his fourth month. The images show his profile, his tiny feet, hands and his face. I watch him