How About Norwich Crabs?

Tonight at seven is possibly the most important and also contentious meeting of the City of Norwich Inland, Wetlands & Conservation Commission in the city's history. Let me add substance to what you may have read as bombast. 

Here's the proposal the commissioners will review at tonight's meeting, as outlined on the Norwich Community Development Corporation (NCDC) website, like the many municipal commissions, agencies, boards, volunteers (and paid staff) who work to expand and enhance the Grand List of our city. 

Tonight's meeting is a small piece of the entire decision-making process, and there may not be a 'final' decision, so to speak, tonight at all. A lot has been written on both sides of the issue, and much of it unkind, demonizing those with whom we disagree because that's how we roll (and so do you, to be honest; human nature is often very inhumane).

I'll keep my opinions on the entire project to myself, except to note as a homeowner, when I bought our house eight years ago, my monthly mortgage payment was a shade over $1500, and it's now north of $2400. I could use a little help in funding my city government, so if not this proposed project, feel free to make a suggestion. I'm keen to listen.

Having typed ALL of that, I wanted to resuscitate an observation from a very long time ago whose truth is still current. I thought this was as good a day as any to return to it. It's not an original thought but, rather, what I remember of what someone from the Connecticut Business and Industry Association offered in conversation.  

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

If You Think I Mean You, I Do

(If this helps, and it won't, feel free to substitute the name of your town for the name of my town, even if you don't have a body of water bigger than a puddle.)

Dave and Dan were standing on the dock near the Howard Brown Park in Norwich, crabbing. They'd known one another for many years and had watched as their city, so bustling in their youth, quietly disappeared one business, one restaurant, and one block at a time, leaving nothing behind for anyone. For them, crabbing was more than relaxation; it was a diversion to take their minds off their city's troubles.

Except Dave had other troubles as well. As quickly as he caught crabs and turned around to drop them into his twenty-gallon catch bucket, one or more of the crabs already in the bucket would make a break for it. Dave spent almost as much time chasing fugitive crabs skittering down the dock and back into the river as he did fishing for them.

Dan took his crabbing at a very different pace. He worked with a small hoop net and bait cage, catching no more than one single crab at a time and when he did catch a crab he'd spend minutes turning it over, examining it from every angle, holding it up to the light, looking at the cheliped, the apron and the walking legs. 

Sometimes, after concluding the examination, Dan would drop the crab into a child's sand bucket that was his catch bucket and the most recent captive would settle down in the water coming to rest on top of another unfortunate crab.

At other times, Dan, when he'd finished examining his catch, would simply throw the crab back into the river, rebait his trap, and lower his hoop net over the side of the dock and resume crabbing.

As the hours wore on, Dave spent more and more of his time struggling to keep any of the crabs he'd caught in his dockside catch bucket, often first hearing the lid clatter as it was pushed off by one of the crabs, then chasing it down the dock before, with one final leap, it eluded his grasp and reached the freedom of the river. 

Dan watched Dave struggle, slowly shaking his head in sympathy, and, as the shadows grew longer in the afternoon sun, he offered his friend some advice.

"You're doing it all wrong," Dan said. Dave stared at Dan for a moment before pointing out, "It looks to me like we're both doing the exact same thing-so I don't understand what I could be doing wrong that you're not. Point is, Dan, I've caught a LOT more crabs than you have, but I'm not able to keep them because they never give up trying to escape and eventually get away!"

"Yeah," said Dan, "that's your problem. It's what you're catching."
Dave, by now nearly furious, could feel the gorge rise in his veins as he practically shouted at Dan, "How can there be a problem with what I'm catching? I'm catching crabs-you're catching crabs. We're both catching crabs!" 

"True enough," Dan said, "but you're catching all kinds of crabs. I'm only catching Norwich crabs." Dave stared at his friend. "What do you mean, you're catching 'Norwich crabs?' What the hell is a Norwich crab and how could that possibly make a difference?" Dave demanded to know. 

"It's the most critical difference," said Dan. "With Norwich crabs, when you have one and put him in the catch bucket, if he tries to get out, all the other Norwich crabs hold on to him very tightly and keep him from ever succeeding."

When I was first told this story, I thought it was extremely funny. It never occurred to me that it was also true. If we, and by "we" I mean you and me, whoever and wherever we are, don't learn to let go of the hurt and anger from previous failures and choose instead to reach for rewards, despite the risks, at our next opportunity, this story goes from being very funny to very sad all the way to being our last story and the one that becomes our epitaph. Trust me on this one.

-bill kenny