Logo

  As the Midlands Transit Riders Association was beginning to take shape, I felt that we needed a logo to distinguish us from the Comet.  Our business cards showed a generic bus on the road.  We needed something more unique.

 I contacted Richland School District One for help.  After all, the bus system (Comet) had a contest for their naming.  I spoke with the head of the Art classes for the District, and she said she would ask the schools to suggest a logo.  First prize would be a 30-day bus pass.  I waited a month and never heard anything.  I had then seen a story on the news about the Transitions Homeless Shelter that had an Art class.  A homeless person would benefit more from the 30-day bus pass, so I made an appointment to talk to the man in charge of the class.  We had a nice talk.  I told him that I had been homeless, so he took an interest in what I wanted from his class.  I never heard back.

 While I was patiently waiting for either group to respond, we had a quarterly meeting of the association.  I asked those that were there if they had any suggestions for a logo.  We got some suggestions, but they just didn't seem appropriate.  So, I asked a friend, who was a graphic designer, if he knew of anyone who could design a logo for us and would work for free.  He said he would give it a go.  My friend was a professional.  I told him we couldn't afford to pay him.  He told me he would do it out of friendship.  He designed a logo that was an abstract picture of motion.  When I presented it to the Board of Directors, I got criticism that it looked like slices of pizza.  There were some on the Board who would object to everything.  They suggested that I put it to a vote at the next membership quarterly meeting.  

 When the meeting came around, I put it on the agenda for a vote.  Some of the members present wanted to know why their suggestions weren't being voted on.  I explained that we discussed those suggestions, and they didn't seem viable.  There was opposition to the new logo, but it passed.  Anyone wonder why I needed professional counseling during my stint as President of the MTRA?  Those who opposed the logo would also say the sky was green, when it was blue.  And, I offered the 30-day bus pass to the artist, but he suggested we give it to a rider, so we had a drawing for it.  Someone was happy to get it.  I was just happy that we had a logo.  It wasn't slices of pizza.  I guess art is in the eye of the beholder.

Financial

  The MTRA was starting to get recognized in the community.  We wanted to have an office downtown, so that we could do the work we wanted to do.  We had been using the Modjeska Simkins house as our base of operations.  It was where to Progressive Network had their office.  We were using their copier for our mailings and brochures.  We were using their meeting space for our Board of Directors to meet.  It would be better to have a place of our own.  There was a house just one block up the street from the Simkins house that was zoned for business, so that seemed like a good place.  It was available.  

 I spoke to a friend at the United Way and asked if he could check around town and see if we could get any donations.  He came back to me about a week later and said that several companies were interested, but we needed a 501c3 for them to donate, so that they could take the donation off on their taxes.  I reached out to the hospitals in town and got the same response.  Keith heard from the Walmart Foundation.  They were willing to give us a sizeable amount, but we needed a 501c3.  No one on our Board knew much about how to go about getting a 501c3, so one of our Board members suggested a friend who was a financial planner.

 The man came to our meeting and said that he could help us out for free.  Free was good.  As I mentioned earlier in a previous story, we were working off of a shoestring.  We were paying for our own stuff, except what we got for free from the Progressive Network.  We were mailing out at least 150 envelopes a quarter, and sometimes more.  We were buying our own stamps and envelopes.  We bought our own business cards.  We bought our own post office box.  All of which came out of our own pockets.  The planner said he would get the paperwork together and send it off to the IRS.  He also said he would help us get grants from the government and people interested in transit.  I had created a budget for the Association based on estimates for an office, utilities, insurance, office supplies, and more.  We also needed a car to travel around town and elsewhere for Association business.  One of the stipulations to be on the Board of the MTRA was that one needed to be a bus rider.  That meant no car.

 So, we gave the planner everything he needed and waited.  We waited.  We waited some more.  After a few months of waiting, his friend called him and asked how the process was going.  He said that he hadn't gotten around to it.  It turned out that the planner wasn't a planner after all.  He had run into some legal problems in Orangeburg and skipped town.  Thankfully, he didn't have any of our social security numbers.  Just our budget.  So, no office, copier, car, nor big donations.  We did find that we could reserve a meeting room at the library for free, so that is what we did.  And, a friend at the library allowed us to meet in their auditorium for free for our quarterly membership meetings.  Free was good.

Sandhill

  There is a shopping area out Two Notch Road in Columbia called the Village at Sandhill, but most people just call in Sandhills.  It is an area with a lot of stores, many of them upscale, in the area.  There are also some apartments and condos in the Village.  Ironically, across the street is a Walmart and Target.  We wanted to get a bus out there, but many of the residents and business owners didn't want one.  They never said it directly, but they implied that the bus riders didn't fit into their places.  After all, only thugs and gangs rode the bus.  That was their opinion.  One thing I hate is stigmas.  It borders on racism, in my opinion.

 I went to the Comet with the suggestion of getting a bus to Sandhills.  They had just gotten a new route planner who had come from Florida.  He took a car out that way and was amazed how many businesses were out there.  He came back and agreed with me that we needed a bus to Sandhills, despite the opposition from the elite.  Many employees of those stores rode the bus.  However, the Comet's Board of Directors were not all on board of putting a bus into a wealthy region.  Some wanted to maintain a bus presence in downtown Columbia and not venture out to Sandhills.  They had heard the criticism from that community, too.  

 My VP Keith and I made an appointment to see the Richland County Councilperson who represented Sandhills.  We told her what the benefits would be to have a bus go to that location.  She agreed with us.  Meanwhile, a woman in a wheelchair went to the Comet's Board of Directors and told them that she worked at the movie theatre out there and needed to get there, without depending on people to take her.  Between her story and our work, we were able to get a bus to go to Sandhills.  The Richland County Council recognized Keith and me at one of their meetings.  That recognition also validated the Midlands Transit Riders Association with the council.  When we spoke, they listened.  That clout would help us moving forward.  It also showed the county that we could get things done, when others were unsuccessful.  It also showed the merchants out there that not all bus riders were thugs or in gangs.

Comet

  The Columbia bus system was looking for a name that would be succinct,  and also a color scheme that would catch the eye.  They put out a request to all of the local schools to ask students to come up with a name.  The winning entry was The Comet.  The student took the current acronym of CMRTA (Central Midlands Regional Transit Authority) and thought of something in motion to come up with The Comet.  It was a bit ironic that the buses could be slow and off schedule, but the name stuck.  The color scheme for The Comet buses and stop signs was presented by a local ad agency.  When I saw it, my immediate response was that it would give me "acid flashbacks".  Folks laughed at that, but I was truly worried.  The colors were altered a little to give it the look of what a comet might look like in a modern flair.  We looked at numerous designs for the bus stops.  The current bus stop signs were attached to telephone poles.  We wanted something that visitors to the city and first-time riders could see easily.  We incorporated the Comet colors with route numbers and later schedules at the stops.  The height of the signs, which were attached to their own poles, were chosen so that people walking down sidewalks could see them from a distance away.  

 The Comet wanted to recognize the student that came up with the idea for the name.  They wanted to give the person an award, but they didn't know where the student went to school other than his name.  I told one of the Comet Board members that I was pretty good at finding people.  I had been taught that from my days working with the federal government back in 1980.  I had a name and the internet.  I knew about how old the boy was by now and started searching local high schools.  After emails to some schools, I found a boy by that name.  There was one problem.  The school told me that he was in a criminal gang, and that he was currently incarcerated in a juvenile prison.  I went back to the Comet and reported what I had found.  They weren't pleased.  They didn't want the face of the Comet to be a gang banger.  So, the plans were scrubbed to recognize him.

 A few years later, one of the MTRA's Board members ran into a guy on the street.  He said that he had come up with the Comet name and wished he had been recognized by the folks there.  My Board member went to the Comet with the news.  It turned out that there were two guys by the same name and age in Columbia.  I had picked the wrong one.  Thankfully, the Comet was able to give him the award he deserved.  I wish that I had searched further and not given up after finding out about the gang member.  Two different guys.  The same name.  The same age.  The same city.  Different high schools.  What were the odds?  I was never a very good gambler.  

Flume

  Back around 1968, a group of six boys from First Baptist Church in Columbia went to Atlanta for an overnight trip with our Youth Minister.  That night, we went to a Braves baseball game.  The next morning, we went to Six Flags over Georgia.  I love Six Flags and have been there many times.  In fact, I have also been to the one in Texas and the one outside St. Louis.  

 On this particular trip, we wanted to do something that no one else had done, as far as we knew.  We found the Log Flume ride and wanted to cram as many of us in the one log.  There was no rule how many people could be in one log, so we devised a plan.  There was one kid in our group that new something about weight distribution, so he suggested that we get in by how much we weighed.  The heaviest would be in the front of the log, and the lightest would be in the back.  That way, we would get more speed going down the last hill.  The other part of the plan was that we figured that water could go over the top of the log due to the weight, so if that happened that some of us would be in charge of baling the water out of the log to avoid us sinking.  

 So, we went up to the ride and asked permission of the operator to let us all get in the log.  They weren't happy about that, but there was no sign stating a maximum, so they had to let us try it.  The heaviest boy was short, so we put him in the leg opening under the front of the log.  Then each of us, including our chaperone, got into the log one by one and crammed in as close as we could.  I was next to last and inside the log.  The seventh boy and lightest was actually sitting on the top of the log in the back.  The operator told us he couldn't do that, so we squeezed him in.  We had seven people in a log really made for four.

 The ride started.  The first thing we noticed was that water was coming over the sides, and we were afraid of sinking, so three of us began baling.  When the log started going into the first turn, those not baling were pushing off of the side of the rail to keep from flipping over.  We then figured out that if we leaned away from the curve, we wouldn't be in danger of flipping over.  We had to react backwards from what would be a normal reaction on that ride just to stay moving.  Things were going well, although the log was moving slower than usual due to the weight.  Then, we got to the last hill.  

 There was some debate amongst us as to how we were going to approach that last hill.  Our original thought was to lean back going up the hill and then lean forward going down the hill for maximum speed.  There were those who wanted to do that, since we wouldn't get so wet.  But then, another problem arose.  Some suggested that if we were to all lean forward that the log might flip over at the bottom of the hill from the weight.  We weren't keen on drowning, so we decided to do something differently.  Going up the hill, we all leaned forward to allow the chain to take us up easier.  Going down the hill, we all leaned backward to keep the log from flipping over.  This meant that we would get very wet from the splash, but it was better than drowning.  We survived.  We cheered.  We got up to the end of the ride, and the operator was pretty mad.  Some officials from Six Flags were also mad.  But, we did it.  Seven people in a log made for four.  We felt that it we had an unofficial world's record for the number of people you could get into a log at Six Flags.  I dare say we still have that record.  And, Six Flags has a sign on the ride now that says no more than four to a log.  Guinness should have been there to validate our achievement.

PBS

  Because I live below the poverty level, I get Food Stamps (SNAP).  I also get Medicaid.  Back in 2011, I started getting Medicaid.  It seemed pretty good, because I had also been getting indigent care from two doctors and a hospital.  Those folks could bill Medicaid for some procedures, I thought.  Upon further research in 2013, I found that Medicaid was different whether one was a man or a woman.  If I was a single woman with dependent children, Medicaid would cover just about everything.  By being a man, the only thing I could get for free was a vasectomy.  That just didn't make sense.  A woman with a bunch of kids could get everything.  They would pay for a man not to have children.  I didn't take the free offer.

 A provision in the Affordable Care Act would give the states the option to take an expansion to Medicaid which would help people like me get quality care.  Yes, it would cost the states money to opt into the program, but it would help so many residents to get healthcare that they couldn't afford.  It was estimated that up to 500,000 people or more would have been helped.  Our governor decided not to do the Expansion.  So, in January 2014, I was asked to participate in a rally at the State House to oppose her decision.  People came from all over the state to protest and beg the governor to reconsider.  

 I spoke at a press conference that was held inside the State House near the governor's office.  "Enough Is Enough" was the slogan of that day.  There were TV stations from around the state there, as well as some national outlets.  I was interviewed by the Charleston newspaper.  I told the reporter that I was 60 years old and couldn't get Medicare for 5 more years.  I told him that I just prayed that I wouldn't get a catastrophic illness until then, because I couldn't afford it.  I could get a free vasectomy.  

 We went out on a stage behind the State House for the rally.  There was a group that brought a casket and set it in front of the stage to symbolize all those people who could die without the Expansion.  I had prepared a speech that I thought would be quite powerful, but I wasn't asked to speak.  Too bad.  I would have brought that crowd to a frenzy.  It was called "I'm Tired".  Basically, it had to do with me being tired of politicians not doing stuff for the State, but rather for only certain constituents.  It would have been a barnburner. January in Columbia can get pretty cold.  I had on four layers of clothes.  The wind coming around that stage was brutal.

 After the rally, we went  to a holding room at the Treasurer's office.  PBS was there to interview some of us who had been to the press conference.  Time was tight, so they only got a couple of people on camera.  The PBS reporter said that she wanted to interview me later and wanted to do so at my apartment. I gave her and her cameraman the directions, and they said they would be there later in the afternoon.

 Late that afternoon, the two folks from PBS showed up.  The cameraman was based in DC, and the reporter was from Denver.  She wanted to interview me about the lack of Medicaid Expansion in SC, and how it has directly affected me.  Because of my Beatles memorabilia in my apartment, I asked the cameraman not to shoot that, because I didn't want to advertise what I had.  I also told him that there were rules about shooting the outside of the apartments for privacy reasons.  MIRCI is very clear in the lease about that.  He agreed to those requests.  I moved some things around in my apartment to get a clear shot of me.  We talked for almost two hours.  At one point, they wanted me to go to my refrigerator and take out a TV dinner and go to the microwave to cook.  It had to do with not being able to eat healthy.  It took a couple of tries to get the thing right.  

 As they were leaving, the reporter told me that it would be on the PBS News Hour in a couple of weeks.  I walked them out to their car.  The cameraman wanted a shot of me going to my apartment, so I headed back inside.  I turned around and saw them leave.  He didn't film me going back in.  I guess they wanted to go.  But, I wasn't boring.  A couple of weeks later, I received an email from the reporter.  It was going to be on that night.  I watched intently.  My picture was shown from being on stage at the rally.  And then came the interview.  They were in my apartment for two hours.  The interview lasted about a minute, which included my walk from the refrigerator to the microwave.  But, I did get on PBS.  And, the governor refused our plea to take the Medicaid Expansion that would helps thousands of our citizens.  Thankfully, I didn't have a catastrophic illness before getting Medicare.  Only by the grace of God.

Heflin

  A few months before my Mother died in 2004, she had expressed that she wanted to be buried next to her mother and father in Heflin, Alabama.  My brother and I wanted to do what she had asked, but it was just too expensive to do that.  Also, there was already a joint gravestone made for my father and mother in Magnolia Cemetery in Greenwood, South Carolina.  The only thing missing from the stone was the date of her death.  There was also a burial plot for her at that cemetery, so we decided it would be best for Mother to be buried in Greenwood.  Incidentally, there is one more plot in our family section in Greenwood, and that is reserved for me.

 Mother loved Alabama.  She was born there.  She went to college there.  Her college was called Alabama College.  It was an all girls school.  The name was later changed to the University of Montevallo.  She always pulled for the University of Alabama football team (Roll Tide!).  The Merrill name was synonymous with Alabama.  My brother and I had agonized about our decision to bury Mother in South Carolina, so he got the idea to honor her by placing a memorial stone in the Merrill family plot at the cemetery in Heflin.  It was a wonderful idea.

 The plan was to do a small service at the cemetery in September, 2013.  It would be an overnight stay, so I went online to search for a motel room for me.  There was a motel in Heflin, but they had terrible reviews about bedbugs.  I found a good motel in Oxford, Alabama which was about 20 miles away.  The motel was just down the street from the old Motel Samantha, where I almost drowned in their swimming pool as a kid.  I have written about that story earlier in the blog, but I am very grateful that God put that soldier there that day.  My brother rented a car for me to drive to Alabama.  I left on Sunday.  The service was to be on Monday.

 When I got to the motel in Oxford, I checked in and drove over to Heflin.  If you have ever been on I-20 into Alabama from Georgia, Heflin has a sign.  It is a small town and the Cleburne county seat.  I drove over to where my Mother's family lived.  The old house was torn down years ago and is just an empty lot.  After my Grandfather died in 1958,  my Grandmother built a house next door to the old homeplace.  It was next door to the Heflin Baptist Church.  I stopped in the parking lot and began to take pictures of the place.  My Grandmother died in her home in 1969.  Later, it became the law office for my Uncle Carl until his death in 2001.  It was later turned into a home for helping those in need.  Grandmother would have liked that.  On the backside of where the old home once stood are some stone steps.  I thought of my mother and a brother or two sitting on those steps.  My mother would tell me stories about her friends going down to the railroad tracks and waving at the trains.  The tracks were just a block from their house.  I then drove down to Main Street and took pictures of the courthouse, where my Grandfather worked.  He was always referred to as "The Judge", because he was.  There were still some old buildings downtown that looked like history had stood still.  I headed over to the cemetery and saw the graves of all of my Merrill relatives.  I also saw the memorial stone for my mother.  It was placed between her father and mother.

 I left Heflin and drove back to the motel.  While resting there, my cell phone rang.  It was one of my MTRA board members wanting me to get something done.  I explained to her that I was in Alabama and couldn't do anything until Tuesday.  She apologized.  I miss landlines.  

 Monday came, and I drove to the Heflin funeral home.  I met my brother and sister-in-law there.  Also, my Merrill cousins from Anniston were there, as well as some relatives I had never met.  We drove over to the cemetery.  There were some guys cutting the grass and making a lot of noise.  We asked them to stop for a few minutes, but they didn't want to.  They were getting paid to cut the grass.  We asked them to move to another part of the cemetery, and they did.  We had a short service on a cold and windy day.  It was good to see my cousins.  Mother would have liked it.

 We were then invited to go to lunch at my cousin Martha's house on a mountainside in Anniston.  Her house was huge.  I brought some Merrill artifacts to give to my cousins including The Judge's walking stick and a commemorative award from FDR to my Grandmother for her work selling war bonds during World War II.  We told stories about our Merrill family.  There was a lot of laughter.

 I was thinking about when to leave to drive home.  I had to go through Atlanta but wanted to avoid the rush hour traffic.  Since Alabama is one hour behind Georgia, I had to figure the time carefully.  I said my goodbyes and estimated that I would get to Atlanta around 3pm.  All was great, until I reached Atlanta.  A truck had run into a church bus.  All lanes on I-20 were blocked.  So much for planning.  I got home late, but it was a great time.  Mother would have liked it.