That Was Just a Dream

When we were kids, today was a very serious and solemn moment on the calendar, Ash Wednesday. 

It's been decades since I gave something up for Lent (truth to tell, I failed my faith and gave up Lent but then kept on living) and I've rationalized my failure by pointing out to myself that since I always went back to whatever I gave up (usually something to eat as opposed to a behavior change), I hadn't really changed at all, so surrender cost nothing because it was worth nothing.

And then I look around me, and see where we are and where I am in the midst of all of that and realize I didn't run backwards or stop running at all to be here (nor did any of us) but rather, just ran a step slower, a step less resolute, perhaps a shorter footfall until the distance grew inexorably longer between where we wanted to be (and knew we had to go) and where we were to end up, so far behind we could no longer see those up ahead.

And when the distance between us was too great to ever fill, we stopped and have forgotten how to start again. Which makes today more important as a beginning than it can ever be as an end, because I think I saw you try.
-bill kenny 

Did You See His Name?

I grew up and more-than-halfway old without the Internet and all the wonders it hath wrought. Instantaneous and worldwide connectivity sure sounded like a good idea, except we get in one another's way and create unintended casualties.  

There are as many online villages and communities of interest as there are people on the planet. Sometimes they do good things, and no one knows who to applaud, and other times they do horrible things, and there's no way to undo the harm. 

Last weekend, on a Facebook group page (among thousands, I suspect) about where I live, Norwich, Connecticut, someone posted a video showing another someone behaving badly (abhorrently to be candid) and then yet another someone else did some 'research' (i.e., Google) and put a name to the face of the miserable miscreant. Insert graphic of self-righteousness here.

I think the kids call that 'doxing.' 

Here's the problem: the person outed by name on the page was NOT the person misbehaving in the video. Too late! Their family and employer have been bombarded with insults, invective, and all manner of imprecations. There's no way to unring the bell, and no one knows where the injured party should go to get their reputation back. 

Sometimes a pause does more than refresh. Maybe we should all try it more.
-bill kenny 

Automobiles and Mattress Sales

Abraham Lincoln's birthday is still on my calendar for 12 February but it has had less meaning for decades, since Congress passed the Uniform Monday Holidays Act, and we rolled it into the birthday celebration of the Father of Our Country, George Washington (listed on my calendar for February), but observed today as part of Presidents' Day. 

That George spent more than half of his farewell address warning his countrymen about the dangers of political partisanship, I find, in light of where we are today, obscenely funny, but that might just be my sense of humor. 

That Honest Abe used his Second Inaugural Address to offer "(w)ith malice toward none, with charity for all..." at a moment in our history where we most fervently hated one another (with a ferocity that would cost him his very life a little more than thirteen months later) causes me to wonder why we, you and me and all the lunatic loudmouths and bombastic blowhards on either side of the political fence, can't pipe down long enough to work together to get this cart we're all in out of the ditch we've maneuvered it into. 

To put it into perspective, when Washington and Lincoln were presidents, people disagreed with one another so strongly that they pointed and fired weapons at one another--and you've seen those weapons. It took a LOT of work to successfully shoot somebody with one of them. None of this cap bustin' stuff, serious mayhem was on the agenda then. We keyboard warriors should blush.

All this pouting and posturing we are up to these days on Sunday morning talk shows, the endless primaries, and in the Halls of Congress makes my brain hurt, and when we get all through sorting out who's to blame for all the wrongs and shortcomings, real and/or imagined, maybe we can devote a scintilla of that energy to fixing things. We certainly have a target-rich environment to choose from, don't we? 

Today, since it is a holiday, is as good a reason as any either of us can think of as a reason and a fulcrum to move one another closer together in order to form a more perfect union. And stop being so damn cranky with each other while we're doing it.
-bill kenny

Pssst....Wanna Buy a Fire Engine?

One owner, meticulously maintained. Go ahead! Take 'er around the block, and then we can talk financing to put you behind the wheel today. 

That's foreshadowing, sort of. 

Here's some more: remember Tommy and Dickie Smothers ('Mom always liked you best), Liam and Noel Gallagher, or Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin (BMT)? All very much "I love you, but I also hate you" relationships. A lot of, as my mom would say, 'cutting off your nose to spite your face.' (In my case, an improvement). 

All of which brings me to my city of residence, which seems determined to prove a small town can house a lot of small people. 

The Day photo by Dana Jensen

We have a population of under 40K with a paid fire department and five volunteer fire companies. They were in a pissing contest when I arrived here in the Autumn of 1991 (NOT suggesting cause and effect) and have recently escalated that to a dimension bordering on Beyond Ludicrous. 

I've followed this quarrel for decades and still don't understand why any principle should be greater than public safety. We have one public utility, one public works department, and one police department. 

I'd appreciate it if the so-called adults in leadership positions in both city government and in the various fire departments would act like they were grown-ups and remember they all serve those who live and work in Norwich. 

This 'ten villages in search of a city' $hit is not a good look.
-bill kenny

My Valentine

Today is Valentine's Day, and while I appreciate the history that the link provides, I'm struggling with the meaning, which remains probably more personal and individual for each of us than anything else we do or ever have in our lives.

My wife and I have been married for forty-nine years, this October, though in recent weeks I've subjected my bride to bracing for the next installment of Wild Billy's Circus Story. We live in Norwich, CT, in a home we once shared with our two children, both grown and gone, far from where either of us grew up, her more so than I.

How it Started

I'm from a couple of hours down the turnpike, New Brunswick, NJ (whose Mayor was my classmate from 3rd through 8th grades. Sometimes it's the journey and other times the destination, I guess). 

She came of age in Offenbach am Main, a city in its own right in the shadow of Frankfurt am Main, (West) Germany (it's hard to realize the number of years that have passed since we no longer needed to make that distinction.)

And of all the places she or I thought we might have been had we stayed married, where we are now is not one of those places. We met and married in her country at the height of the Cold War, and I never really gave thought to living anywhere else.

We, or at least I, lived without a plan and for the most part, without a care. In many respects, I guess, we are the Ant and Grasshopper of married couples. She has always defined who I am and who I could ever hope to be. 

How it's Going

Knowing she will, and always does, love me despite the insanity and inanity of living with me, is all the reward I need to be who I am. I've always admired Robert's note to Elizabeth Barrett, "Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. 

And I wasn't alone in my admiration. In both of those instances, I wish I had half the eloquence each of those men showed to the women they loved, because I feel that way about my wife, but don't possess the gift to express it. 

So I'll borrow from another Jersey Guy. "So hold me close, honey, say you're forever mine. And tell me you'll be my lonely valentine." Für immer und ewig.
-bill kenny

Paraskevidekatriaphobia

Someone the other day, with the best of intentions, I'm sure, told me they liked to stop by and read this stuff, but I needed to understand 'people who tend to read blogs don't really like to read.'

That's okay. I think people who like to write blogs don't really like to write, and especially don't like to write for people who don't like to read. Somehow that makes us even though I am often considered rather odd.

He suggested radically shortening everything, condensing, and reducing it; sort of like a haiku suitable for TikToks. In his opinion, as the crown of creation in this food chain, we are much akin to goldfish, with memories and attention spans that last all of thirty seconds. 

When I read how we whine about our environment, our economics, our national and international relations (or you pick a subject), it's certainly popular to feel that way. Except that doesn't make it right. So stop being a lost soul swimming in a fish bowl year after year. 

Never mind Wish You Were Here.
We are here now. Be. Do. Soon enough, we'll be gone.

Here goes: it's Friday the 13th and exactly ONE month from now we'll have another one. Hey, you said 'keep it short and punchy.' I did. 
-bill kenny

With the Penny Gone, Thoughts Are Now Free

As a frighteningly homely person myself, I've always had a fondness for an observation from our 16th President, Abraham Lincoln, whose 217th birthday is actually today. 

Mr. Lincoln grew a beard as an adult at the written suggestion of a young girl, so he knew whereof he spoke in the looks department. 

In responding to members of both his own party and those across the aisle who questioned his constancy as the War between the States dragged on, he rejoined to charges of hypocrisy that "if I were indeed two-faced, why would I choose this one?" 

Honest Abe seems to have an insightful quote for any occasion, which may be why he's so often invoked by his successors. Well, all except one, who we all know has 'all the best words.' 

Abe's known for his aphorisms, but it's this prophecy that I find most chilling.

-bill kenny