The Times They Are A-Changin'

Grant County Journal
“The Times They Are A-Changin’”
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Written by Janet Warren

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.
These lyrics were written by Bob Dylan 47 years ago, sung at the beginning of his career when you could still understand his words. His song, Times They Are A-Changin’ became an anthem for civil rights and anti-war movements in the late 1960s. It shook a lot of people up at the time, but now the lyrics make me melancholy. They are as relevant today as they were in 1964, except now our windows are shaking and our walls are rattling.
When I first started writing my column, Just Sayin’, almost a year ago (yes, it has been that long—the first one was published September 27, 2010) I wrote this: “I want to write about the good things and the good people of Ephrata. I might write about some of the bad, but the ugly, not so much. You can always get your ugly somewhere else.” I’ve held true to that premise; I have tried to put a positive spin on people and situations. As depressing as things get around us in the world, there is always room for laughter, fun, and sometimes plain frivolity so I decided to do a little changing myself.
I want to change the name of the column. I was listening to a spot on the internet from August, 2009, where political comedian Jon Stewart blasted a segment on CNN entitled Just Sayin’. He said, “They report the news like I think—when I was a 12-year-old girl.” Hmm, that was two years ago, so that 12-year-old would now be 14. I don’t have a 14-year-old girl living in my home anymore, but I used to be a 14-year-old girl and I also raised two daughters. I have experienced eye rolling from both sides of my retinas. Here’s what I imagine the conversation would be if my daughter was 14: (Preceded with a very loud sigh and rolling of eyes) “Really, mom—Just Sayin’? Can’t you come up with something less lame? That is so 2009.” I admit it, my imaginary 14-year-old got to me. Then I read an article entitled “It’s Rude! It’s Crude! It’s Stupid! Just sayin’, by Scott Simon. Simon says (Yes, that is the name of his column): “Saying, ‘I'm just saying,’ puts a fire escape onto the end of a sentence. It lets you express a stern — even rude — opinion, but not really. You're just saying. It invites the listener to discount what we've just heard, even as we're reeling from it.”
What if Bob Dylan had written lyrics like: The line it is drawn, the curse it is cast, the slow one now will later be fast. Just sayin’.

I posted a status on facebook (so there, you bratty imaginary daughter—I am using social media, doesn’t that mean I am keeping up with the times?) asking my friends for ideas for a new title for this column. I got a lot of good ideas. My favorite was from my friend Denise. She suggested “Bits from the Basin.” I liked that, but I shortened it to “Basin Bits.” I made the mistake of saying it fast three times and got “Bison Chips.” From there a haunting song from my childhood kept creeping into my mind about pioneer children gathering buffalo chips for fuel.
I’ve covered a variety of topics in my 46 columns (posted on www.justsayinephrata.blogspot.com), and written about some really great people I have met. My column is about first impressions. It’s an opinion column; I haven’t always kept it light, but I have tried to keep it positive. I wrote about Dorothy Bair and her sense of humor, I wrote about breast cancer awareness, the civil air patrol, and women’s suffrage. I wrote about the line dancing grannies and the red hat society ladies. I wrote about Shirley and Joe Reilly—Shirley asked for the community’s prayers that a kidney/pancreas transplant would be forthcoming for Joe. I called Shirley to check up on Joe and prayers were answered. Not only did Joe undergo a double transplant—he is doing remarkably well. Thank you Ephrata from the bottom of their hearts. I wrote about a lot of exceptional people, including my father when he passed last month.
Thank you for letting me into your homes with my column. I’m not sure I’m ready for too much change. I’m going from every week in Monday’s paper to once a month in Thursday’s paper; that might be enough change for now. I’ll leave the name the same until I can think up a better one. After all—“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Just sayin’. Nah—it’s gotta go. I’ll work on that.