Kodachrome

I think I get accused of being in my own world so often because I prefer it so much more. The movies I make in my head of what could happen are so much more vivid and logical (and dare I say artistic?) than real life, why spend anytime hanging out with Norman and Norma Normal.

Last night I attended a budget workshop of sorts, where the Norwich City Council, minus the Mayor, joined by the City Manager, the Comptroller and the Assistant Comptroller, sat down with the city's department heads and walked one another through the city manager's requested budget. I was a little disappointed in the turnout from those of us who pay taxes: Shiela, Andy, Marterese and me along with some guy who used to tend bar. I'm gonna start a rumor that we had pudding afterwards (and maybe they did. I really wouldn't know since I was there by a quarter of six, and it started at 6 PM (Norwich Time of course) but by a quarter of nine, and into the Board of Education's portion, my aching knees shared that they'd had enough and I crab-walked my way out of the hearing. Such is the life of a fallen Rockette, I guess).

Here's what I am pretending could have happened (dream along with me, please): The seats would be packed with people-thousands of residents yelling and hollering 'Bring on the next one!' (OK. At least enough people to fill the seats, if you insist on some reality) Since there were in 'real time' only two women and two men in attendance, in my movie, Shiela and Marterese knit as the guillotine does its work. Andy and I go out in the hallway and drag in the cart, rough-hewn wooden wheels clambering on the polished floors of City Hall and on the cart, sitting in a cage open to the elements on all sides, is a bedraggled department head pulled inexorably by the Two Yankers of the Apocalypse while Madame Defarge Squared knit.

The cart and cage are placed in front of the Council who are hurling pens and pencils, small notepads and cell phones with calendars through the bars all the while howling out budget questions in high keening voices like creatures of the Serengeti. 'And how many sandbags does the dump truck hold?' shouts one while the department director's eyes dart furtively around the room in search of any way out, but finding none. Another alderman demands, 'what about the lights at the Hamilton Avenue football field?' When the answers are incomplete, or mumbled or just non-existent, the Council members confer for a moment and then, as one, signify their displeasure with a unanimous thumbs-down. Me and Andy drag the caged birds and the cart back out into the hallway and, despite their protestations, push them down the stairs. Their screams echo in the hallways in the night and could melt a heart of stone but not ours. We turn our attention to the next cart and pull the luckless, lunchless little one into the Circle of Inquisition, Thumbs Up or Thumbs Down, and so it goes.

Now, that sounds like a really cool meeting, doesn't it? One that you're sitting there right now and reading about and saying to yourself 'By gum, they are colorful and vibrant folks what live in Norwich, CT. We never have such goings on in these here parts.' (or words to that effect). It sure beats the stuffings out of what actually happened. There was a lot of polite conversation (but NOT all polite) that touched on everything but everyone in the room believes the budget, brilliantly assembled and staffed, is too much for many here in Norwich to pay in taxes this next year. But none of us can figure out how to do anything about it and none of us are ever going to say that out loud and disappoint everyone else to whom we are handcuffed. If this isn't the Abilene Paradox, jet fuel from peanut oil corollary, I don't what is.

So, can you blame me for NOT wanting to hang out in the conventional world? Black and white with shades of grey. Unflavored gelatin because we don't deserve any better with a hearty helping of paste for dessert. What harm can a little whimsy do? Makes the day go faster and the humdrum more palatable. Of course, if large numbers of folks who weren't present for last night's discussion show up Monday night in City Council chambers to kvetch, I fear me and Andy (and maybe the former bartender, Craig (I think his name is; I didn't recognize him without his List)) are gonna be loading carts onto cages all night long. I can tell you one thing: We are going to need more stairs. And how do you like these scarves Andy and I have? They match our new sweaters (and they don't itch even a little bit). Guess who made 'em for us.
Gives us the greens of summer-Makes you think all the world's a sunny day.
-bill kenny