End of the Season

Tomorrow marks the start of Autumn or, since I'm a half-empty glass kind of guy, the end of summer. I don't know when it started, and I don't really remember when I first noticed it, but the seasons don't last as long as they used to, at least not the ones I like. Just call me Melvin Morose (as opposed to Gibson or Laird; we're all starting to share a hairline, guys).

As a kid in New Jersey, I have memories of snow in the backyard in our house in Belford, taller than I was (the part about being shorter than I am now always slips my mind) and shovelling pathways across and throughout it that looked like rabbit runs. We lived near my Mom's older sister, Anne and her husband, Chief (his real name was Donald- something I did not know until after he was dead; he died long after his wife died of cancer) and their children, my cousins, Donna (a year older than I), Diane (two days younger than me!), Daria (not the MTV one) and Chip (whose name was also Donald-I guess Chief, Too, wasn't much of an option even in the days of black and white TV and no Internet (or computers except for those UNIVAC behemoths, bigger than a house)). Even then, no matter how long the visit lasted, it ended too soon.

When we drove home from their house we used to pass what looked like a college, but it was a prep school with very snooty lettering on its white sign that I understood to say "Crayon Hall Academy"-turns out, not quite. Talk about "Every day's the end of days for some." A lifetime later, as a student in what proved to be the last graduating class of Carteret Academy for Boys, a suity and snooty place itself, thank you very much, I got knocked out, cold, in their field house driving for a layup during a varsity basketball game and came to on the bus heading back to our school. Nice people. (I got credit for the bucket; I checked with the scorer.)

We moved to Wanamassa, which is why I smiled reading my brother's notes the other morning while drinking my morning Fanta, which is when I first discovered the Beach Boys' Endless Summer wasn't and where I started grade school. I can still remember trying to make myself understood to my mother about 'but I went yesterday!' when I discovered there was more to this school thing. Turns out, going was one of the few things in fifty-six years I was any good at. I should have majored in "Bus" with a minor in "lunch line".

I was almost going to count the summers, falls, winters and springs since then but that would very much harsh anyone's buzz, so I'll just note it's a lot but also concede no matter how many more are yet to come, they will not be enough. Sometimes it takes a Hurricane Party to really grasp that. It's how we are, I think, as a species--we want what we want while missing what we had and worrying about we've yet to receive. Just in case we finally and truly get what we really deserve.

"Winter will come any day. Back in the scrub on a wet afternoon. Down in the mud, dreaming of flowers in June. End of the Season." Are autumn leaves like winter snowflakes, no two alike? We can compare notes on this real soon.
-bill kenny

Sitting on a cornflake, Waiting for the van to come

I watched someone the other in a bookstore purchasing a book on Bridge. Sorry, Cornelius Ryan, this is not that but more like this (I love that TV commercial)--involving cards. Go back again and look at the site that has the bridge book recommendations and count the number of books. Amazing.

Just me or does every daily newspaper have a crossword and/or a Sudoku (puzzle? What are they officially called? All I ever see is the one word, like "Bowie", "Sinatra", "plastics") and a column on Bridge. I get about the same out of all three (my wife does crosswords in ink which I find unnecessarily self-assured and reminds me of a joke involving the Pope, a crossword and needing to borrow an eraser, but space doesn't permit me to continue this humorous intermezzo).

I get as much, if not even less, from trying to read the newspaper features on Bridge than I do from watching Univision (No hablo español) but I don't get to watch the women wearing smiles and outfits that leave little to the imagination (and I have a vivid imagination) while struggling with the newspaper. It's a good thing Parents Television Council doesn't have a TV with SAP, eh?

I mean, it looks exactly like English, "...for a defender to falsecard his partner" (it doesn't sound especially nice and my need to tell you its meaning probably exceeds your need to care, unless you're a bridge player). Where I grew up, a trick had a very different meaning, though Paul Simon assures me this one is cheaper to board but harder to saddle. And for those who are aching to explain it to me, leave out the part about 'it's borrowed from whist', because I don't speak whist either, you wascally wabbit (not that Mel Blanc saw any money from this; I imagine it's harder to shuffle the cards after use).

I have enough trouble with the World Series of Poker-not just following the action but trying to figure out why ESPN thinks it's a sport (that and the National Spelling Bee--how about this, if you miss a word, you run a lap. Now it's a sport) and then there's the Bridge players who may not be the same thing as contract bridge players (I'm imagining a Tony Soprano character trying a trump trick, whatever that is, to win tickets to a Journey concert, as Al Pacino is fishing a pistol out of a toilet's water tank), who are now upset I've made light of them, when I haven't, because I can't. I don't get any of it.

In a sport with terms including overcalled, a returned spade, and a defeated contract all in the same paragraph, the turn of a card can wipe the grin from a Cat's face, or vice versa. John (and Paul), call on line two for you, coo, coo, kachoo.
-bill kenny

Vanna, If I might purchase a vowel please....

We're smack in the middle of The Big E an event to which that I paid absolutely no attention for over a decade when we first arrived here on the Mayflower (moving van, that is. Sorry DAR). It wasn't a sense of history or mystery, for that matter, that prompted my jaunt to West Springfield.

This time two years ago my wife had flown home to visit her family in Germany. She had departed in early August and was forecast to return in October. Since I was the primary person to whom she was returning, I made it a point to keep our two children, Patrick and Michelle, in close proximity when we were discussing her return timeline. I'm not exactly a prize worthy of a Cracker Jack box and I was counting on the children to be more of the deal clincher than I knew I would be.

Patrick has lived his own life, under his own roof, since he was nineteen. His sister, our daughter, Michelle, was and is a student at Eastern Connecticut State University (Go, Turquoise Wombats! I'm actually making that up. I have no idea what colors or mascot they have) and two years ago was a commuter, meaning I had to worry about dinner for two for sixty plus days. When your culinary repertoire is Lipton's Chicken Noodle Soup and Campbell's Tomato Soup (made with milk, please) and Grilled Cheese Sandwiches, figuring out ways to explain to your now-returned wife, that you inadvertently poisoned and/or starved our only daughter becomes dangerously close to a logical pursuit.

All I knew about The Big E is that it has lots of food and lots of different kinds of food. To someone who had made a salad of three pounds of bow tie noodles, tossed with bacon with cherry tomatoes (lightly fried in bacon fat) only to learn (too late) that three pounds of cooked pasta actually lasts you a decade or more, a chance to offer my daughter something different and something she would actually eat was too good to pass up.

Once we went, I knew we'd go back because The Big E is just plain fun, no matter what your interests are. There's buildings full of farm animals, and gadgets, there's a horse riding track with a show competition of jumping and prancing and whatever it is horses do, and each of the New England States has a permanent exposition hall to showcase the specialities of that state (and now, John Rowland is NOT demonstrating hot tubs in the Connecticut Hall anymore than Buddy Cianci is offering free samples of his tomato sauce in Rhode Island. And the Rhode Island building, btw, doesn't seem to be smaller than the other ones.).

I've seen the world's tallest horse, a HUGE animal that looked a lot like a small building (perhaps the original RI Hall?), and the world's tiniest banjo (through a microscope) and it only cost me a dollar for each of those. Last year, my daughter and I insisted my wife go to The Big E (my son was working) and she had a great time (figure anyone who can stay married to me for almost 31 years has a sense of adventure and humor, if not a large plate of slightly fried cherry tomatoes and bow tie pasta), and I suspect and expect when we return tomorrow, we'll enjoy it all over again. The Big E runs through a week from this Sunday, the 28th, and is large fun. I'll see you there-I'm going to be circulating a petition to get all the other vowels a fair of their own as well, so bring a pen. I'll show you where to sign.
-bill kenny

I Don't Believe in Peter Pan, Frankenstein or Super Man

I've been to enough circuses, here and in Germany, to appreciate a secret truth within John Irving's novels: the trick really isn't training a bear to ride a bicycle, but, without an opposable thumb, to be able to ring the bell.

Irving's bear was my first thought earlier last week when the news stories broke on Lance Armstrong's 'return to cycling'. I had the yellow wrist band and I admire immensely the courage and strength the man has, and has always displayed. I've never really understood how a grownup makes a living riding a bike, unless it's an itty-bitty one and he's wearing a red nose and has big feet.

I'm being snarky, admittedly, except for the part that I took it to hyperbole. Think about it: someone pays men and women (but almost always it's men) HUGE sums of money to play 'professional sports' (or in Carl Pavano's, case to be physically co located near people who do) and we don't bat an eye. In some sports....we all know about baseball, football and basketball players and to a lesser extent hockey players and race car drivers, but what's the going rate for a professional lacrosse player or how many seats do you think get filled for a professional curling match (or scrum or whatever they call it)?

What happens to them all once our gaze goes elsewhere after their careers end? I grew up rooting for Willie Mays and watched him in center field at Shea Stadium, after the Giants traded him to the Mets in the twilight of his career, almost get brained by fly balls he'd made a career out of catching. When he retired, he took a job as a greeter at an Atlantic City hotel and casino, and the Lords of Baseball, fearful of the return of Shoeless Joe, quietly blackballed him (pun deliberate) from ever being part of Major League Baseball. But still, a man (or a woman) has got to eat, right?

Maybe that's what it is for Lance Armstrong. Man cannot live by headlines and adulation alone and I've yet to figure out what his 'real job' was/is or could be. I never understood what happened to the family he had while he battled cancer, and I do know it's politically incorrect to ask about them now, so I'll pretend I didn't, if you will, too.

He and I move in different circles, so while I've read about Sheryl Crow, Ashley Olsen and Kate Hudson, I don't think I have to worry about him hitting on my wife, no matter how sexy he looks in his speedos. And he'll be too busy chasing his own ghost to have much of a social life, I guess, at least for awhile. I'm more of a brown open-necked shirt guy myself, but if a yellow tricot helps him earn some green, I suspect he'll soon enough remember to look out for those beauties, oh yeah.
-bill kenny

Bringing It All Back Home....

Never let it be said I never give you advanced warning-put this one in your 'things to do' planner now, even if it's three plus weeks away: Thursday, 9 October in Norwich City Hall, Room 335, starting at 5:30 and slated for two hours, the Mayor's Economic Roundtable Forum (I'm not sure what to put in capital letters and what Not to; like that right there, or This).

The previous two meetings of the forum (community leaders of all stripes and interests) had been devoted heavily, if not exclusively, to the (nearly) seventy acres of the former Norwich Hospital property. I was in the audience for both of these meetings and appreciated the discussions that went on throughout but got a bit lost in the tall grass in terms of what was accomplished. Having been the subject and often the object of local politics for about a decade and half, I hope those who still are will NOT be offended when I characterize a lot of it as akin to the 'rap sessions' we used to have back in the day while twisted on 'weed, whites and wine.' Much of the time, then as well as now, it's not so much will and desire as wallet and a plan--the former we seem to have in abundance and the latter, well, not so much.

Don't get me wrong-discussion is always good and a thorough examination of all aspects and impacts of a project can only improve the final product. But...you can talk things to death or at least into a stupor. And after about three and half hours, total, in connection with the Norwich Hospital property, it looks like come 9 October, and now for Something Completely Different (nudge, nudge).

The topic for the 9 October Economic Roundtable (having thought about it, I'm a caps kinda guy) third installment is the Norwichtown Mall (NT Mall) the proverbial red-headed stepchild of retail activity (or inactivity to be more precise) in the region and a cautionary tale of consequence for any developer or wannabe developer. The panel for the Economic Roundtable, as outlined in one of the local newspapers, is as impressive and well meaning as such assemblies of talent can be, but rarely are.

Maybe just me (I'm practicing self-effacement; in reality, there's no 'maybe' about it) I would have thought a discussion on the NT Mall might better be served and far more useful to everyone if the owners of the property, Edens and Avant, were to offer a status report on where they are, outline about where they hope to go and discuss they plan to get there. Actually all of this is long past due, in my opinion. The NT Mall is, last time I checked, privately owned and NOT public property like the Norwich Hospital.

In an aside before Monday's City Council meeting, one of the alderpersons told me he'd been informed Edens and Avant were invited, but wouldn't be attending. They asked, he said, to be updated on whatever happens at the meeting. When I wondered what possible value could come from an intervention where the 'subject' wouldn't even be in the room or in the state, he insisted it could still be a positive opportunity for the community to tell the developer what those of us who live here think should happen. I'd really love for that to happen, and admire him him for his positivism. But if twice (or twenty times) as many customers of the NT Mall show up on the 9th, it'll still be me and four other folks (feel free to hum a few bars of "Eddie Are You Kidding?" right about here.)

With all due respect to those who offered their time and talents to develop and discuss ideas at the first two roundtables and who continue to attend and participate --what exactly does ANY of this get the city and where is the map of conclusions being drawn from those previous meetings? If we should have a reason for everything we do, what, then, is the reason for the roundtables? And how do we transform discussion into implementation?

Don't get me wrong-I'll be there in Room 335 on Thursday, 9 October (and encourage you to do the same) because while I'm not from here, I just live here with my wife and we raised our two children into adults as residents of the Rose of New England, even if I've been too often a thorn for some who think of this city as their personal leisure time activity. Smart Economic Growth seems to be a lot like the weather--large amounts of talk and little action. I'm bringing a raincoat, a beach blanket as well as snowshoes because you don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.
-bill kenny

What do you mean "My Aim is True?"

This is a little awkward. Where I work has separate men's and women's bathrooms (unlike the ones we have at my house and yours, I suspect; I'm not sure why we behave in public differently than we do in private) but that's not the awkward part.

A visit to the men's facilities is always informative if not educational because of the amount of reading material ranging from newspapers and (horse) racing forms (which confuses me since I don't think we have horse racing in Connecticut; I can't imagine Bryce or Prudence bouncing out of their saddles as they race their polo ponies on the Gold Coast) through news weeklies and publications that tend towards many pictures, carefully placed staples and not a lot of words.

For a couple of days, one of the latter has been circulating throughout the, umm, cubicles. Just the name of it causes some to roll their eyes and let out a little sigh, but believe me when I say most of us only glance at it for the articles. Admittedly, it has been known to take hours to find the articles in it, but that's just another sign of the prevalence of Adult Attention Deficit Disorder.

Yesterday, the Synonym for a Proverb (I'm trying to be couth, which is more than can be said for that publication) was replaced by American Rifleman, the self-proclaimed "premier magazine for shooting and firearms enthusiasts." I especially enjoyed the "Dope Bag" whose title caused me to titter like a schoolchild until I remembered where I was and what I was doing. You don't have to call me lieutenant Rosie, and I don't want to be your son.

And almost as importantly, I'd wish for better graffiti so I had something else, anything else, to read. I now better understand how many periodicals are often called magazines, but how magazines are a whole 'nother thing with a completely different purpose.
- bill kenny

Hey Norwicheans, Let's Pop the Hood and Check the Engine

Democracy, like many of those raffles whose tickets we bought to pay for our kids' school field trips, often requires you be present to win. Starting today and hopefully every Monday (but I know me better than you know me, and I suspect this will be more of a hit and miss, with the emphasis on 'miss') I'll offer you a preview of this week's Norwich municipal meetings as I've gathered the information, because so often, we end up with decisions that we don't understand only to learn later there was an opportunity and a forum to know more, or offer comment, but we didn't know about it and we didn't avail ourselves of it.

Here's a really good place to learn about Norwich public meetings. I'll bet your town has a page on its website that does pretty much the same thing, so your choices now become hand-wringing about decisions you don't understand or getting smarter about the mechanics of local government.

Yeah, it takes an investment of time to learn how the various activities, boards, commissions and advisories work to make where we live a place we can either call home or here, but it's better than hoping the folks who donate their time and talents are doing a good job (because they are trying to do a good job but if we don't tell them what we feel about their decisions and ideas, they're bowling without seeing the pins).

Feel free to ignore the snarky remarks and catty observations-I find it therapeutic, but your mileage may vary. Here's how I see the week:

Monday
Senior Affairs Commission, 9 a.m., Rose City Senior Center;

Design Review Board, 4 p.m., 23 Union St.;

Harbor Management Commission, 5 p.m., City Manager's Office;

City Council Informational meeting, Ethics Committee, 6 p.m., Council Chambers;
(The ethics review committee turned in its report in mid-March, six months ago. I was on this committee and will be attending this informational session, sitting in my usual place. Will be curious as to how this conversation goes and what happens next. Maybe you as well?)

Charter Revision Committee, 6:30 p.m., Room 335;
(the resolution that created the volunteer panel of five local lawyers stipulated it was NOT to be called a charter revision commission as the panel looks at language and areas of improvement within the charter and makes recommendations back to the City Council by December. I have some right now: make sure the membership is listed here (under "C") and the minutes of the previous meeting and the agenda for the next, like those of the City Council are also posted.)

City Council, 7 p.m., Council Chambers.
(Tonight's agenda is right here and I'm curious about the unfinished business, in light of a meeting slated for Tuesday (more below, on that), and I hope to hear a cordial discussion on the 'new business' resolution that would have the City Council, as the Zoning Board, meet as that body at a separate time for only that purpose.)

Tuesday
Board of Assessment Appeals, noon, Room 319, City Hall;

Norwich Free Academy Board of Trustees, 5:30 p.m., Sidney Frank Building, NFA;

Connecticut Trust for Historic Preservation
and Connecticut Department of Culture and Tourism, 6 p.m., Room 335, City Hall;

Public Parking Commission, 6 p.m., Buckingham Memorial Building;

Commission on the City Plan, 7 p.m., Room 108, City Hall;
(The public will get a chance to comment on the proposed $22 million regional transportation center. There will be two public hearings on the center, one on flood plain issues and one on the more general question of location. Later in the meeting, the commission also will review the site plan proposal for the center and proposed road improvements. In light of this last point, not sure why the Council on Monday, see their agenda, is doing anything until the CCP has reached a decision. I have my own concerns and if you have any, this is a good night to show up and voice them and stop making this a "Thayer Family vs. NCDC" drama.)

Wednesday
Children First Norwich, 9 a.m., Dime Bank community room, Salem Turnpike;

Housing Authority, 9 a.m., Rosewood Manor;
10 a.m., Schwartz Manor and
11 a.m., Westwood Park;

Board of Assessment Appeals, 3 p.m., Room 319, City Hall;

Integrated Day Charter School board, 5:30 p.m., Media Center, 68 Thermos Ave.;

Youth and Family Services, 6:30 p.m., Room 335, City Hall;

Golf Course Authority, 7 p.m., Golf Course meeting room, New London Turnpike.

Thursday
Chelsea Gardens Foundation, 8 a.m., Room 319, City Hall;

Historic District Commission, 5 p.m., room 210, City Hall;

Ice Rink Authority, 6 p.m., Ice Rink meeting room, New London Turnpike.

Put this on the calendar now-though it's NOT for this Saturday, but the next:

Saturday 27 September- 1000-1400 Otis Library.
Candidates' Forum.
Invitees include: State Senator Edith Prague, D, unopposed;

42nd District Representative, for Ledyard and Preston, Tom Reynolds, D, unopposed;

46th District Representative, for Norwich, Melissa Olson, D, unopposed and

47th District Representative, for Canterbury, Norwich, Scotland and Sprague, Jack Malone, D, opposed by Christopher Coutu, R.
(I'd make it a point to ask those with a "D" behind their names (stands for Democratic Party but also means the Dominant party in the statehouse as they have absolute majorities in both chambers) why they haven't gotten more done for us since creating majorities that can override the Governor's veto and/or in essence chart their own course. Be proactive instead of reactive unless you are part of the very politics as usual you claim you're not.

You don't need to make it to every meeting--heck, I have NO Life and I won't, but I'd hope to see you at something in the coming week. You can't be too strong or too smart when it comes to life in these (more or less) United States here in the 21st Century. Be an exclamation and not an explanation.
-bill kenny