by Tom Kelly
Editor and Publisher

There's always a zippy new thing in the world of environmentalism. The latest news from Washington, however, tops anything I've heard of in quite a spell in the slightly nutty drive to make paper from anything except trees. You know the drill: We're running out of trees; trees make oxygen; therefore, we're running out of oxygen. Humans breathe oxygen; therefore, we're gonna die by slowly losing our breath. Makes sense, don't it?

Except for the bothersome facts that (1) we ain't anywhere near running out of trees, and (2) every growing green plant, including turnip greens, poison ivy, crab grass, and seaweeds in the ocean, makes oxygen. Look it up under "photosynthesis."

But . . . well, I can't say it any better than to quote from a UPI wire service report: "Paper manufacturers continue to come under attack from environmentalists concerned about deforestation and chemical pollution, but just as oil companies have been stepping up efforts to find energy sources that are more environmentally friendly than fossil fuels, paper manufacturers likewise are trying to develop products that either require fewer trees or no trees at all."

The report goes on: "They are trying so hard that even manure from kangaroos and cows has been considered as a possible ingredient for making paper . . . (and) Paper made from cotton linters--essentially the husks of the cotton flower after the fluff and oil are removed--has become a popular alternative."

Not to mention sugar cane bagasse, rice straw, perhaps, and who knows--maybe even belly button lint.

I don't mean to take "green-ness" lightly. But the mental pictures of paper mills built next door to Kansas City cattle feedlots, in order to harvest the endless crop of cow-pie, or the cotton farmers gathering the bales of used-up cotton bolls for a trip to the paper factory, do not pass the straight-face test.

I can't help but recall the bumper sticker handed out by J. Randy Bowen of International Paper in Bastrop at the March Forest Products Summit in Monroe. It reads, "If you don't want to cut trees, try plastic toilet paper." Randy is regional director of Pulp and Paperworkers Resource Council.

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I'm old enough to remember when the phrase "the phone company" meant dependable, reliable old AT&T, known affectionately as "Ma Bell," and her "children," the regional Bell system companies. Southern Bell. South Central Bell. Southwestern Bell. And so on. When you got "the phone bill," it was probably on a single sheet of paper, included your local service charge, plus itemized long distance, and the cost was not that outrageous. You could dial Zero and get "the operator" without punching any code numbers, and in a plain Southern English conversation, solve just about any problem you had with "the phone company." If you took a stroll downtown, went to your club meeting or church service, you'd likely bump into the local phone company manager and if you felt like it, complain to him, or discuss a community service committee project you both might be working on together.

Now we have "competition," new-and-improved service, impenetrable bills, portable cell phones that double as cameras and hand-hand email appliances, a bewildering maze of "if you are calling for X, press 9" instructions, Hindi and Urdu-accented responses. And "slamming."

Couple of months ago we opened a small branch office of The Piney Woods Journal in Ruston. Got a phone line, with DSL high speed internet service. Nothing fancy, just a small spot to handle growing interest in the Piney Woods further north.

I dropped in the Ruston office a week or so ago, and sat down to get on-line for a brief internet session. No connection. Tried again. No connection. As is my nature, I methodically . . . No, let's be honest--I frantically began to find the problem. Problem? Phone line is dead. Using my trusty cell phone, I called the Ruston number. Got The Message: "You have reached a number that has been disconnected"!

Well, back at the "Mother Ship" in Dodson, I called trusty old BellSouth, and learned to my amazement that I was no longer their customer. Service had been transferred to "another carrier." Who? "That information is not available to us." Why? Who authorized that? "That information is not available to us." Well, in short order, we agreed that BellSouth would get me back in service, and both the Ruston and Dodson numbers would be "frozen," to avoid any other takeover from unknown and unauthorized carriers.

Needless to say, such a problem was not one that could have occurred when Ma Bell, that stodgy old monopoly, was up and running. And sadly, AT&T, that once-great company known as Ma Bell, is just about as dead today as your great-great grandmother, and she ain't coming back. Pity.

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