Brilliant ideas: Always a staple at ACC

By the time I arrived at the Annual Scientific Session of the American College of Cardiology on the morning of Tuesday, March 16, I had already had my fill of conventioneering.

Having just spent the past five days in Washington, D.C., at the Annual Meeting of my employer, the American Pharmacists Association, my brain was tired of being on autopilot (Hi. How are you? Good to see you). The sleep deprivation, complicated by the lost hour on Saturday night when Daylight Savings Time began, had me barely awake, much less functional.

But it's hard to be at ACC and not pick up on the energy. People are hustling this way and that, attendees sitting in the conversation pits at Atlanta's Georgia World Congress Center excitedly trade information about stents and surgical staples, hawkers try to stuff the convention daily into the hands of some 30,000 passersby, and the television crews liven up the press area.

So, after a few minutes in the hall, I was wide awake. The day went swimmingly. The first news conference was fabulous, with lots of great information about warfarin and genetic testing. I was able to reach a presenter from a previous day as she traveled home by car. I walked into a session just as the speaker I wanted to hear began and was able to get interviews of two other speakers at the end.

Soon I was cruising the exhibits, about as fresh as one can be on a couple hours of sleep. I ran into someone I know at McGraw-Hill, which publishes a couple of my books. We had a great conversation until the show closed and workers began rolling up the carpet while I was standing on it.

On the way back to the media center, I walked past a video recording studio set up in the hallway. I stopped to watch. At my own convention, I had interviewed several people on camera, but I did so from off camera. We had recorded in a normal convention center meeting room, and the noise spillover from outside was a problem at times.

That's when I realized this studio-in-the-way was a great idea, one I want to implement at the APhA meeting next year in Seattle. Not only does it look really cool, but people will later want to watch the video they saw being recorded. The natural sounds of the convention center are expected in that setting, thus avoiding the need to try to create the total silence of a television studio. And maybe by next year, I'll be more comfortable being on camera myself!

Conventions, tiring as they can be, are a great source of ideas. Even when your job is communicating trends in medicine and health care to pharmacists, you can pick up a wonderful new concept at a meeting about the heart. As I drove back to Athens, chugging Coke Zero and chewing on ice and peppermint candy to stay awake, I realized what a great six days it had been, networking and hobnobbing with thousands of my closest strangers.

Green v. green, left v. right: Oconee holds a town hall meeting

I slipped quietly into the back of a town hall meeting held by the Oconee County Commissioners on February 16. I didn't have any specific purpose at the session. I just thought it would provide good background on what people in the county had on their minds.

I was right. While most of the discussion veered far from health and medicine, some very useful insights came my way. The first thing I noticed was that someone was recording video of the session right in front of me. I thought the fellow looked familiar. When he started speaking on mitigation and destruction of wetlands in the county, I realized it was our own Dr. Becker, a Grady College professor.

Since I could get online using the free wireless system in the Oconee County Civic Center, I started Googling around for background on the wetlands issue. I found a letter Dr. Becker had written recently in the Athens Banner-Herald and also a blog in which he is posting his thoughts and observations about Oconee County in voluminous detail.

Several other people, all sitting on the same side of the room as Dr. Becker, rose in turn to speak in favor of a wetlands resolution that has sat dormant before the Commissioners since last spring. One of the people on this side of the room made a joke about people realizing there was more than one kind of "green" in the county. He (or was it a she--I don't remember now) was referring to the green money that developers seek, while others are more worried about the environmental "green" issues.

When that person stops speaking, the guy moving the microphone from one side of the room said, "OK--now a question from the right." Suddenly, it hit me that he had been saying "question from the right" and "question from the left" all along. All the environmentally green comments, and other generally progressive/liberal comments, were coming from the stage left side of the room. On stage right, the developers and other more conservative people sat.

Oconee County is truly a divided county. It has been unabashedly conservative. In 2004, the county voted to re-elect George W. Bush by a 3:1 margin (73 percent to 27 percent). McCain/Palin attracted 71 percent of the votes in 2008. But a few liberals are living here, and they occasionally make their voices heard.

That is what I learned at this town hall meeting. Oconee County may seem like a wealthy, conservative enclave whose citizens mostly commute to Athens to work. But in many ways, it's just like every other place. It has problems that need to be addressed, people who differ in their outlooks, and issues that can't be swept under the rug by ideologies.

Great background indeed!

Oconee County: Things change, sometimes

As a young boy riding with my parents from south Georgia to visit my older siblings who were "off at school" in Athens, Oconee County has always meant one thing to me: You're almost to the Classic City!

At the time, in the 1960s, the 20-something miles of Oconee County consisted of rolling hills and what appeared to be small cattle farms, with an occasional chicken house mixed in here and there. Not long after you entered the county on south US 441, a big barn sat off to the right, with "See Rock City" painted in fresh colors. Beyond that, the wasn't much else between the county line and the small towns of Farmington, Bishop, and the county seat of Watkinsville. Even after Watkinsville, the road was mostly undeveloped until you entered Clarke County on the Macon Highway and came to the stop sign at South Milledge Avenue, where the Davis Brothers restaurant was a great place for us to meet my brother and sister and have lunch too.

Today, it's safe to say that the southern part of Oconee County is not very different than it was 40 years ago. The barn has long since collapsed, but if you know where to look, you can still see the pile of rotten boards that are gradually disintegrating. Farmington is about the same, but the train station has been fixed up into some sort of new-fangled tourist trap. In Bishop, things start to change. The antique stores beckon, selling buyers what sometimes looks like cleaned-up junk that probably sat around someone's yard for most of the 20th century.

As you leave Bishop, the subdivision signs start sprouting. And 4 miles later, where Watkinsville used to start--well, you don't even go through Watkinsville anymore. A bypass built in the 1990s takes you halfway between the actual town and an area called Butler's Crossing, an intersection that looks pretty much like north Atlanta or any other rapidly growing suburb. A Publix sits across the street from a Bell's grocery store, and the ubiquitous dualing chain drug stores are catacornered from each other.

In short, today's Oconee County is centered at Butler's Crossing. The county courthouse still sits on Main Street in Watkinsville, but most other county buildings are along Georgia 53 between town and Butler's Crossing. Subdivisions have replaced farms all along Hog Mountain and Mars Hills Roads, which form the intersection at Butler's. Businesses sit next to homes in a patchwork that only zone-lacking Georgia can produce. Both high schools are in new buildings not far away, near the recently built Civic Center for the arts and Veterans Park, which has sports fields and walking paths.

If you live in this crescent of the county, you are most likely one of the reasons that Oconee has the highest per-capita income in the state. Like 90% of other people in Oconee, you're white, and you're younger than the rest of Georgia, on the average. Everything you need is a short drive away, including the office buildings, urgent-care centers, and strip malls that have sprung up along Georgia 316 as it approaches Athens from Atlanta. In fact, that's probably the road you take to work, since at least half of the employed people in Oconee work in Athens–Clarke County, mostly at the University of Georgia. Doctors, exercise studios, all kinds of shops, veterinarians--everything is in your neighborhood.

But if you live in the rest of Oconee County, everything is far away. If you're well off, as many are, you can afford to drive to Butler's Crossing, or even to Athens or Madison, for shopping. For the 7% of Oconee residents who live in poverty, services are not very accessible. Even if you have transportation, the cost of gas to get to shopping areas could be more than you have to spend once you get there. Without a car, you're stranded in a food desert.

For this semester, I'll be getting to know Oconee County on a deeper level. By covering the heath beat in this rapidly growing but sometimes conflicted county, I hope to explore those areas of health and medicine that challenge citizens of Oconee, including those who live in affluence and those not so lucky. It should be an interesting ride, one with Oconee as the destination this time, not just the last thing that stood between me and Athens.