Apparently the National Basketball Association is considering doing away with the word “owner” because it is racially insensitive.
Yes, you read that correctly.
Hey, I can never say what does or does not offend others. No one can.
It is, however, anyone’s place to have an opinion on things, but this seems to be completely silly and distracting from actual issues in our attempts for better race relations.
Take the knuckleheads at two Smoothie King stations in North Carolina who thought it would be funny to put racial slurs on customers’ order receipts. That’s a much better place to start than some faux outrage about the word “owner” and its connection to slavery.
Are owners of restaurants or hardware stores in this, too? Or is it just the NBA, a league in which more than 80 percent of its players are men of color, that finds the “owner” term offensive.
Well, truth be told, comparing an NBA player – they have a minimum salary of $385,000 and are paid as much as LeBron James’ $37-plus million deal – to a slave is way more offensive than the word “owner.”
Radar, oh my
There was a little controversy earlier this week in Southern California.
The National Weather Service radar had a massive “storm” headed to San Diego County. It was 80 miles by 80 miles and was moving fast.
The issue was not with the rain – there was no rain.
The radar picked up a dense bloom of ladybugs. Yes, ladybugs – millions of them – that was so compact it registered like rain clouds on the radar.
Obit observation
My heart was heavy this week as news broke that Nash Norris died on Tuesday. He was 14.
Nash was the kind of spirit who could never be denied or defined. Not by the limits of expectations. Not by the limits of experts. And certainly not by the constrictions of the glioblastoma he was diagnosed with at the age of 18 months.
Yes, the treatment and the chemo did not allow him the ability to use his left arm, but that did not stop him from playing baseball and being one of the faces of – and the spirit behind – the Chattanooga Miracle League.
He was part of the glorious group of the Children’s Miracle Network and one of the biggest fans of the Soddy-Daisy Police Department around.
You know, it’s not so much what you do in your life as much as what you leave behind after your life.
And Nash left a shadow of grace and greatness, of courage and charisma.
Rest well Nash, for your’s was a life too short but exceedingly well lived.
Saturday star
D-Day was observed this week. So the countless folks who helped change the world as we know it on that day are stars this Saturday and every Saturday forever.
But a single member of that glorious group caught my eye.
Meet Tom Rice, the 97-year-old World War II vet who parachuted into Normandy 75 years and two days ago.
He celebrated on Thursday by re-enacting his jump, this time part of more than 200 jumpers honoring the anniversary of D-Day.
Rice trained six months to be ready for his ceremonial jump, and he did not disappoint.
“It went perfect, perfect jump,” Rice said after catching his breath. “I feel great. I’d go up and do it all again.”
No need, Tom. Twice was plenty.
Contact Jay Greeson at jgreeson@timesfreepress.com.