God Gave to You

It's interesting to me how we revisit our parents upon our children, sometimes accidentally and/or incidentally. I was stopping at the local grocery, whose name is the non-gerund form of that word plus shop. I park wherever there is a spot, and yes, I have a handicap placard that I use to good effect as circumstances permit. 

I don't bother to circle the lot looking for a spot-do you know people like that? If they have a passenger I'll bet they're tempted to have them bail out, tuck and roll and stand in front of the sliding doors holding them wide open to see if the vehicle will pass through them into the store. That would be cool, would it not?

A mom and a small child of three, maybe four, I'm not really sure (I used to be an expert on small children, being in the biz and having two myself and all, but those days are decades ago) but I think he was a boy, were heading towards the entrance.

The mom seemed to be going over her shopping list in her head while he was skittering to keep up with her. Our moms did it to us--they are holding the child's left hand with their right hand. Due to manufacturing difficulties, the child's hand and arm come just barely to the top of his head--Mom's hand and arm reach only to mid-thigh so one of the two is on tiptoes at high speed where ever we go.

I hailed the woman and pushed a cart from the corral towards her and offered it to her for the child. She glared for just a moment and then relented as she picked him up and put him in the seat and, I watched, buckled him in. Not sure what she was glaring about though I get that look a lot so I suspect it has something to do with my face. No matter as it's not my point.

This is: In twenty years, when you see a young man walking down the street NOT dragging his left hand on the ground, that's the toddler I helped out. Go ahead and wave; he'll be able to wave back, and both arms will be the same length.
-bill kenny 

The Band You've Known for All These Years

I am the oldest child of our family and was born before Ike beat Adlai Stevenson the first time for the Presidency of the United States. I was in Mrs. McGarry's fourth-grade class in the basement of Saint Peter's (sic) School in New Brunswick, New Jersey, when President Kennedy was murdered in Dallas, Texas.

Everyone grew a LOT older, a LOT faster after that day, and a LOT sadder.

My memories of that time of my life are mostly in black and white, though I know I was living in color. I mention the black and white aspect because that was how I and tens of millions watched the performance of John, Paul, George, and Ringo, 'The Beatles,' as Ed Sullivan introduced them on his Sunday night TV variety show and the world changed.

The ripples in the pond of our lives, all of us born after The Beatles arrived, are incalculable, and their influence and impact are beyond my ability to comprehend. They were, and remain, the soundtrack of not just my life but a frame of reference for many who will otherwise never know anything about one another but that we are/were fans.

To be honest, it doesn't seem like it was fifty-five years ago today.
-bill kenny  

The Dangers of Cheap Grace

Eighty years ago today, Dietrich Bonhoeffer was hanged at Flossenburg, Germany, after having been arrested and incarcerated for plotting against Adolf Hitler.

Today might be a good time to read or re-read his Letters and Papers from Prison. It's a declaration of intent from a man who was steadfast in speaking his truth to power, consequences be damned.   

I can't help but wonder what he'd make of all the red ballcaps.
-bill kenny

Picket Lines and Picket Signs

We had a grey day in this neck of the woods and wilds of Southeastern Connecticut on Saturday, with a chill wind and unkind drizzle, but that didn't keep residents and neighbors from near and far gathering to push back on the Broligarchy that's dismantling much of everything the United States and its government has stood for since the end of World War II. Too many of us seem to have forgotten that silence equals consent. 

Time for some new math. 1 + 1 = a good start, and when you find something to believe in, it's easier to believe in yourself. People turned out globally and locally, and, cynical, old curmudgeon that I am, I have no idea where this is going, but from what I saw and felt on Saturday, no one is going away anytime soon.

Around the corner from my house.

However, for those who only now are getting engaged because your grocery prices haven't gone down, cheap gasoline isn't flowing like honey in the Promised Land or your 401K collapsed but who were unmoved at the calculated cruelty to those seeking a better life on these shores, to people of color, veterans, women, those juggling multiple jobs to survive in the richest nation on earth and those of a gender orientation or identification different from what you would like, welcome but it shouldn't have to HAPPEN to you for it to MATTER to you.
-bill kenny 

S*it Gets Real

The Norwich City Manager presents his proposed budget tonight in City Council chambers at 7:30 in City Hall. Here, again, is the tentative schedule of public hearings and department presentations, all of which will be carried on the City of Norwich website.

I suspect some of us will feel the gorge rising long before tonight's presentation is even close to ending, and as righteous as that indignation and anger may feel, this is what I strongly suggest everyone who has skin in the game in Norwich watch BEFORE authoring comments on the daily nespapers' coverage of the evening, or on any of the innumerable social media platforms we seem to rely on for all of our news and information because those with the training and education are now deemed to be 'fake news.' 

And who says ignorance isn't bliss?  

Instead of putting the 'No' in Norwich at budget time as we always do, let's do better, or at least try.
-bill kenny

A Marsupial from Memory

Found this on a shelf in the cupboard from a very long time ago. Things were weird back then, so I'm perplexed that I am now surprised they're even weirder. 

I'm thinking maybe our English cousins celebrate April Fool's Day a bit longer (and more intensely) than we do on this side of the pond. Or not. You be the judge: submitted for your inspection, "Woman Suffering from Depression to have 'Therapy Pet' Kangaroo Taken Away." 

I realize that in many applications of tough love programs to combat substance abuse, there are animal-based figures of speech, such as cold turkey or get the monkey off your back. And if one fails to get or to stay clean, you've screwed the pooch. 

I don't grasp exactly what therapy pet kangaroo taken away might be as code, and I didn't want to be L7, so I checked in urban dictionary. No joy. The notion that this is an actual, legitimate story from the same people whose language so many of us speak and whose royalty fascinates us (though not enough to emulate George Bernard Shaw or even Robert (I always thought it was a good sized boat) should provide food for thought but I'm more of a dessert tray guy myself.

The old 'what did you say?' story about how the kangaroo got its name has been pretty much been put to bed, which is certainly more than can be said for Irwin, the subject of our newspaper article, leaving me to wonder if somewhere Rolf Harris is smiling or grimacing. From a distance they look very much the same.

-bill kenny

If Dreams Were Thunder

For me, this is the roughest time of the year. The calendar says Spring is here, and when you look outside, you're inclined to agree. Except more often than not, it's brisker and crisper than we'd like, and the breeze is more of a shriek than a whisper.

Major League Baseball 2025 edition has already started in a season that will, as has been the case in recent years, end in November, which is way too long for anything other than a fantasy involving cooking oil, satin sheets and a lady named, well, I'm not allowed to detail any more of that in this space today (or any other).

I love baseball, though I have close to no idea what kind of a Grapefruit League season "my" New York Yankees had, and because the games don't count, I don't either. I've rooted for them most of my life, with a brief interlude elsewhere as I was entering double digits when Joan Payson owned the New York Metropolitans.

I still root for Mr. Met for many of the reasons as first chronicled in Jimmy Breslin's masterpiece, Can't Anybody Here Play this Game? The latest version is a much better team, and its loyal fans should be proud of them.

But that's not really important. What is important, I believe, on MLB's Opening Day, is everyone's team, whoever they are, starts the season in first place. Every pitcher's earned run average is a Hall of Fame worthy 0.00, and you can't help but believe 'this is the year.' All of us know that no one wins the World Series on Opening Day, but, conversely, no one can lose it. And that's as it should be.

The season is still in its infancy, and more so than in recent memory, we need all the optimism and enthusiasm we can gather from whatever sources for as long as we can keep it. 

Opening Day has whetted our appetites for the months ahead. We get from Point A to Point B in a variety of ways but in the same number of days. Whether we live them in hope or in dread is a choice we make and then must own. 

-bill kenny