The Yellow and Green House on Old Route 12

Reading the local newspaper this weekend and the big, famous papers on-line, it looks like we're changing the direction of the circles at the national political level, while here in the Land of the Round Door Knobs we've cultivated 'tsk-tsk' as a tool of counterpoint and repartee as the state's operating budget hemorrhages money and Connecticut town's and cities brace for organized can and bottle drives to help control deficits.

A lot of us are really angry about where we are and have pretty strong feelings on how we got here. Most of that seems to involve blaming someone else, because, let's face it, you and me are pretty decent people, right, and we didn't come up with sub-prime mortgages and all the other magic bookkeeping that caused things to get so stupid that General Motors didn't just lay off employees, they laid off divisions of car companies (Saturn and Pontiac joined Oldsmobile on the dustbin of history). So much for too big to fail? Did we miss the iceberg warning?

I drove on Route 12 yesterday from Norwich to Groton, not because it's scenic, though it's pleasant enough but because it's how I go to work and have for the last eighteen plus years. It's a pretty straight shot, even if don't always know the names of the streets--Washington down past the Harbor, right over the Laurel Hill Bridge onto Route 12, straight on until morning. Yes, after a while, the car drives itself and I just slightly steer.

I used to drive, for well over a decade, the same route in both directions, going to and coming from work. Some years ago as the Laurel Hill Bridge was being reconstructed and my time is so important I couldn't waste any in traffic, I started coming up with other ways to go home-sort of a game, just for my amusement. Some of that has stuck around as the construction is long done, but I tend to bug out over the Mohegan-Pequot Bridge to cut back to Norwich on the way home.

Obviously not during the winter, when it's pitch black at both 4:30's on the clock but more in the Spring, heading to work, I'd passed on "Old Route 12" (it's where, I guess the road once was, and then it gotten straightened and became a loop like in a shoelace) four or five houses on good sized plots alongside of one another. The yellow and green house used to have kids' toys strewn across much of the lawn. It was set far back on the property and since the 'real' Route 12 was above, there was little traffic. Sometimes in the afternoons, I'd see children on the lawn and it was just a matter of course as they went from playing catch to kicking footballs to seeing sled tracks in the winter time.

I think in all the years I've passed the house, I've watched two, maybe three, sets of moving vans turn up and depart as new families made a home in the yellow and green house. I missed the last van, I guess, or perhaps the people who lived there just scattered pell-mell in the dark of the night. I'm not ever going to have a lucrative career as a spy or observer, because I'm terrible at connecting the dots. In my defense, I'd point out that I'm not laone.

At some point, perhaps two years ago as the first rumblings of the economic tsunami were being felt in boardrooms( the equivalent of first-class staterooms over the rest of us in steerage), the yellow and green house became suddenly empty. Over the course of the following months, all the various toys, soccer goals, and the small child's swing set, all disappeared, the grasses grew higher, but then I suspect the neighbors intervened to keep the lawn in check. The house was abandoned in place. There are no curtains on any of the windows and I noticed some months ago, the front porch has started to collapse, pulling lower the roof that I imagine the master bedroom upstairs once looked out upon as the parents' gaze continued to their children playing on the lawn.

Yesterday afternoon, coming home I got a good long look at the yellow and green house. I could see insulation and what looked like roofing material in the window that I've always assumed is the attic. That can't be good for anyone. And that's when I realized, for me at least, how we have come to be here in this precarious predicament, so far, without a happy ending. When banks and brokerage houses needed rescue, we did, because saving and doing big things is incredibly important. And because of all the energy and effort we expended there wasn't enough money, or time or concern or interest in saving the people whose family had lived in the yellow and green house, whatever color it was, on Old Route 12, or wherever in your neighborhood, the dream died.
-bill kenny

F.O.D.

Was sent on an errand by Sigrid, my wife, yesterday morning. I was home because I had bronchitis and since the last two times I've had it I've either ended up in the ER or actually admitted to the hospital, I decided Thursday afternoon to cut to the chase, leave work early and see my doctor during his regular office hours. He was quite pleased to see me though I got the impression he was surprised to discover I could learn things, like how to not be such a knucklehead with my own health.

He gave me a Z-Pack (because the name is too long to ever need to learn to say) and a note telling the people I work for I would not be into work until Monday (the joke being that I won't give them the note until Monday when I'm back at work) and sent me home to put on scruffy clothes, drink lots of fluids and stretch out on the couch.

I decided yesterday I would get cough syrup because I was barking as Sigrid phrased it, "like you are smoking two packs of cigarettes a day", which, since I used to smoke three packs a day (and stopped thirteen plus years ago), is a bit spooky. While I was out, I bought the other daily newspaper in this region (we get one delivered to the house, but it's not my favorite of the two) and I was to swing by the donut place and get a box of Munchkins.

I get that they are the filling knocked out of the doughnut hole-but Munchkins? I like the name but I'm wondering how they managed to get the rights to use it from MGM and whoever owns all the ancillaries connected with The Wizard of Oz. As if with the headache I have from the percussive coughing I'm doing, I have enough room in my brain to worry about this stuff. And for no especial reason there were ten people in line before me, so I had some time to ponder the mystery of the Munchkins.

We did move rather quickly, all things considered, and it wasn't long before the fellow behind the counter asked me for my order and I told him, Munchkins. Any particular type, he asked, which wasn't a question I expected since it never crossed my mind that Munchkins came in types. No, I told him, but try to avoid giving me too many of the Lollipop Guild because they sing so loudly I can't hear my car radio. He stared at me like he'd never seen a person with bronchitis before.

-bill kenny

Watch the Ripples that Unfold Unto Me

Had a pleasant surprise the other evening in my email inbox, a postcard from my past. I had a kind note from Johannes D in Regensburg to chat, briefly, about a Graham Parker project he's working on and to share with me his memories of listening to me on the radio, in another life, on the multiple occasions Graham was kind enough to stop by the station and visit.

The 'station' was American Force Radio, headquartered in Frankfurt am Main in the old days of the two Germanys; in this case in West Germany, known as the Federal Republic of Germany, to distinguish it from the People's Republic of Germany. Those were Cold War days, not that I had a walk-on part in any of that as a skeeter-winged Airman in the US Air Force who played records, wrote and produced public service announcements and interviewed rock and rollers for GI listeners and their families numbering into the hundreds of thousands. And don't get me started on the millions in the 'shadow audience' (citizens of the nations in which US forces were stationed).

I had the time of my life. Though to be honest, I had also enjoyed AFRTS Sondrestrom, Greenland even when it went to seventy five below zero on Christmas Eve 1975 and stayed there for three weeks in the twenty-four hour darkness. Sure, it was miserable, but we were all miserable.

Being an Airman, even a jeep (junior enlisted personnel), in a primarily Army organization, like AF, was, a day at the beach by comparison and you never had to worry about the sands of time getting in your lunch. Except, of course, they did. Rock and Roll kids grow old, even if they don't grow up. The number of nights in the week where you can hang with the trolls and the gnomes after the gigs starts to shrink as Neverland recedes in the rear view mirror.

I smiled reading Johannes' note for all that it brought back to me and for all that has escaped forever, never to return, because had I realized then he was listening as intently as he was, I might have tried harder to be better at what I did than I proved to be. Maybe worked out more, or harder because "...you can't be too strong. You decide what's wrong. Can't be too hard, too tough, too rough, too right, too wrong."
-bill kenny

Hitchcock's Revenge?

For months, sitting in the cage, on the hook attached to the bracket held up by the suction cup has been the (uneaten) block of suet for the birds outside my ground floor office window. I don't expect I'll see as many of them when/if I'm finally relocated to the fifth floor (I didn't get promoted, but some wag figured since I behave as if I were oxygen deprived, I may as well achieve altitude) but since I stopped filling a second feeder with seed because all they did was fight, bang against the window and makes a mess (often all at the same time), living large has been downsized.

I still throw peanuts out for what was once an army of squirrels who've gotten fewer in number as the winter has gone on. I'm not sure if they book passage on tramp steamers for warmer climes, but they're not around here very much at the moment, though the one that does show up is ravenous in terms of appetite.

It was just the other day I realized the suet was disappearing, especially after last weekend's cold snap, which may make sense since birds are cold-blooded and, I assume, need more fuel in the winter months, to keep on keeping on. Earlier in the week, the suet block had been reduced to about four beakfuls and I watched as a titmouse repeatedly strafed a woodpecker who was hanging on for dear life to the holder as his tormentor wheeled on wings and came back to divebomb him again and again.

From inside, safe and warm, it looked like the woodpecker was holding me responsible for this turn of events which guilted me into making sure to pack into my 'going to work' bag the new suet block my wife, one half of Thelma and Louise, had taken out for me. Stumbling around by the dawn's early light, (and earlier than that, come to think of it), I managed to open the now-completely-empty holder, add the new block, and reposition it.

Until about three minutes ago, when finally one of those itty-bitty birds too numerous to count, decided to take a bite, not one bird went anywhere near the feeder. I looked out the window and saw the squirrel giving me that 'calculating the length of the nearest evergreen branch to the feeder, the distance between the two and the approximate length of the leap to close the distance, snag the suet and nothing but net...' look that can spell only trouble unless he answers to the name of Rocket J. And from what I've seen, he answers to no one. The best I can hope for this time around, with my apologies to Mitch Brenner, might be '...a pair of birds that are....just friendly.' (And maybe, bus their tray.)
-bill kenny

Government as a Team Sport

Suspect your house is a lot like mine in terms of activity and hours in the day to accomplish things. We’re already into February and it was just the other day we wished each other a Happy New Year. Of course, as we should know by now, it takes more than wishing to make happy happen. And for any number of reasons, ranging from meteorological to and through fiscal, this is literally, the winter of our discontent. (Except, perhaps for my youngest brother, celebrating the anniversary of his birth today, so Happy Birthday!)

The (most recent installment of the) challenge of change which, here in Norwich, we began in November is to never lose sight that it’s a never ending process and not a product—a journey, rather than a destination. There is no Grandma’s House towards which we’re driving. And the road can and does often feel like it goes on forever.

Every day, city administrators and their professional staff, joined by, and with, volunteers on advisories, board, commissions and committees, all of them our neighbors, begin again as every aspect of municipal government’s ability to deliver good and services in response to our desires for a particular program (sometimes to complement another one and sometimes in competition with it), is balanced against the ability to afford the delivery of those goods and services.

Governance at all levels shouldn’t be a spectator sport, but because of the pace of our lives, we sometimes do not choose to invest the time in much more than glancing at a headline about a state or local issue. That becomes our level of engagement but elevates the degree of difficulty in arriving at decisions.

We have a general sense this coming budget season in Norwich, and not just here, will involve hard choices almost pre-ordained to make no one happy. If politics is the art of the possible, then, without our informed opinions and observations, we’ll see elected and appointed officials attempt mission impossible. When the smoke clears and we look for someone to blame for results we don’t like, look no further than the nearest mirror.

Almost every weekday, and weekends, too, there are public meetings on the nuts and bolts operating issues and many of the spice of life aspects that define us as a city--be they Board of Education, the Historic District Commission, Public Safety, Commission on the City Plan, Public Works and so many others-usually without anyone from the public attending.

Check the city’s website and pick a meeting. You might want to take a look at the on-line posting of recent meeting minutes so you are caught up, so to speak when you take a seat (and make a note if the minutes aren't posted; it's a violation of CT public law). You’ll know one or more of the volunteers on the board of committee, so the ‘them’ factor disappears immediately, which leaves only ‘us’ which is as it should be, if we are ever going to reinvent ourselves and our city. And since we’re learning to effectively speak to, rather than at, one another, why not use this as an opportunity to practice listening as well as speaking.

-bill kenny

Phil and Bill

That's Punxsutawney and Murray, if you're keeping score at home (and if so, why; and if not, why not). I know someone who not only was born on Groundhog Day, but was born in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania and has spent a lifetime enjoying the looks of incredulity with which this news is met.

What's a little spooky, to me, as if basing predictions of additional winter weather on the appearance or non-appearance of a furry animal's shadow isn't already goofy enough, is how much time flies and remains the same simultaneously. Speaking of which and having nothing to do with it at all, my brother, Adam, celebrates his seventy-eighth birthday (he was born an old soul) tomorrow, and at the time of day he goes running, there are NO shadows of any kind anywhere in this hemisphere. Or groundhogs.

Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, newly-inaugurated President of the United States Barack Obama was predicting bi-partisan support for additional stimulus funding. He, as have we all, has since learned that a wish is a hope you make with your heart. Until the moment the fellow on the far side of the aisle announces nothing would give him greater joy than cutting the heart out of your hope because when the roles were reversed, it was done to him.

This 'eye for an eye' stuff only works twice and then we're all blind, which is how many of those whom we elect act all the days of the year anyway. We shake out heads in dismay and wring our hands in despair and then vote for the same old gladiators the next time around. And the parting on the left is now the parting on the right (for the person who asked me Saturday, I didn't grow a moustache; I shaved off my beard).

Last February, one political party was in the ascendancy and this February, it's the other one. Glad something is working out for somebody somewhere. Unemployment and underemployment have continued, and in many areas, have actually risen (except among those whose job is to explain that bad is good and day is night; those careers are booming and no one knows why). This time last year, both sides were girding their loins (there's a scary visual!) for 'the health care debate' (as if THAT would ever happen) and this time this year, well, we all know the name of that tune, right?

Last February we had national elected leadership struggling to develop political solutions to military situations that started out as politics in Iraq and Afghanistan, not forgetting sidebar distractions with Iran and North Korea. And sonuvagun, it's unclear (to me) what if anything has changed. And if you're thinking Hugo Chavez is a striker for FC Barcelona, put down the Coke Zero and get your own smile.

I do know we all missed Stephen Tobolowsky at last night's banquet but in light of how much the only constant is change but how constant that change has become, I'm sure we'll meet again before that Second Sitting. But I'm not sure what happens if someone other than Phil sees his shadow. Six more weeks of chocolate bunnies, I fear.
-bill kenny

A Lot of Ghosts in a Lot of Houses

Never mind the thermometer readings, it's heating up across the city in terms of meetings in need of a public so dive in and be surprised at the variety of topics and the impact each makes individually and collectively on where we are on our way to the Peak of Normal.

This morning at eight, in their offices in the Norwich Business Park, is a meeting of the Executive Committee of the Southeastern Connecticut Council of Governments. As even a cursory reading of the January meeting minutes will suggest, the SCCOG is engaged in a variety of projects across the region (considering its name, I know, 'gee, that makes sense'). But my larger point is they advocate for holistic and systemic solutions as opposed to drive-by fixes. Strategic planning is often striking in its absence and being the voice of reason in a room/region filled with clamor can often be a lonely and thankless job.

This afternoon, at four thirty in the Otis Library, State Representative Melissa Olson will hold 'office hours' which is our chance to speak directly with one of the three representatives we have in Hartford (and the only one whose sole franchise, so to speak, is Norwich). If you've been shaking your head at the way Connecticut's political system has refused to acknowledge, much less solve, our budget concerns, STOP being a bobblehead long enough to speak with your representative.

A bit later, at 5:15, in their offices at 1649 Route 12 (Gales Ferry Commons) in Ledyard is a regular meeting of the Southeastern Connecticut Water Authority. Yes, Norwich Public Utilities is our source of potable water but works on a regular and collaborative basis with our neighbors through agencies like the SCWA. I read a line the other day, 'no single raindrop feels itself responsible for the flood' that I think is appropriate as long as you don't ask me why. Think of that as Zen Stand-up.

At seven-thirty, in Council Chambers (the room has a number, but I can't think of it) it's a regular meeting of the Norwich City Council with a short agenda that I thought was to be at least one item longer, the last time I read about it in a local newspaper.

Do I get worried anytime we suspend the rules to add an agenda item-yep, every time. I am concerned because citizen comment is confined to items on the agenda-and the suspension to add items always comes after citizen comment. Would I be less concerned if I were a bigger fan of the well-intentioned proposal to lease/buy the failed YMCA and convert it to a community center, though I've yet to see any data supporting this decision? Absolutely.

I'm having a problem wrapping my head around the idea that the City Council has had five Saturday workshops to learn about and practice separating emotion from fact in making decisions and designing solutions, and then Monday night will consider, it seems, just this kind of action, where we forget that hope is not a plan, and are then surprised when things fall apart. Have a Reason for Everything You Do.

Wednesday afternoon at 5:30 in the Norwich Public Schools Central Office, across from the Norwichtown Green, is a regular meeting of the (Kelly) School Building Committee. A review of their January meeting minutes indicates that, despite the cold weather, site preparation seems to be basically completed and construction has begun. Not sure I understood the background behind a note on a conversation about his continued participation by one of the committee members with the Corporation Counsel.

Also at 5:30, says one of the local newspapers, is a meeting of the 350th (Anniversary) Executive Committee, a private organization (that received some public funds) that is technically not a municipal board or committee. Not really sure where in City Hall it will meet.

Wednesday evening at seven in Room 335, is a meeting of the Republican Town Committee. I'm sure Dennis B will be pleased his note about their March meeting was posted, in its entirety, as an entry for the meeting of 14 January (where almost no one will see it). I have enough trouble remembering the 'who can attend?' (everyone), 'who can speak?' (everyone) and 'who can vote?' (only those registered in the respective party). I will NOT volunteer to remember when their next meeting is. Something about "'i', before 'e', except after 'c' or when sounded like 'a' as in 'neighbor' or 'weigh'." And then take your right foot out and turn yourself about, or not.

Thursday morning at eight, according to a local newspaper is a City Council workshop, though there's no word on this anywhere on the City's website in terms of location or purpose of the meeting. We have residents who watch our politics with a jaundiced eye so this omission, or is it commission, isn't helpful if we hope to rebuild confidence in who we are and how we work together..

Also Thursday morning, at nine, in their facility in Old Lyme, is a regular meeting of the LEARN Board of Directors. Maybe just me, but as attractive as I find their website to be, I wish it did a better job of telling me what LEARN is and does for my schools and my children (okay, not my kids anymore at 27 and 22, but you see my point).

We, as a culture, pay lip service, and (I hope) a whole lot more, to the notion 'our children are our future' but we're not so good at fully explaining the people and programs we employ and deploy to help enrich and elevate our children's lives. I have every confidence that LEARN is a marvelous organization-but I'm sketchy on specifics and might be better served if I understood the nature of the challenges they face and how those challenges have evolved through the years and what adaptation has been necessary for LEARN to remain relevant and successful.

Thursday night at seven in the Planning Department conference room in the basement of 23 Union Street is a regular meeting of the Inlands Wetlands, Water Courses and Conservation Commission whose January meeting minutes illustrate the scale and scope of involvement in the responsible economic development we all hope for in Norwich.

Saturday morning at eight, in Room 335, the Mayor, City Manager and (hopefully more of) the City Council (than made this past Saturday's meeting) will continue to address the creation of a comprehensive community and economic development plan. This, too, failed to make the city's on-line calendar of meetings, perhaps to discourage being mobbed by crowds of interested citizens. (Good News! Absolutely no worries, there.)

Saturday's Large Question is "Why Has the Grand List Declined Over the Years?" Assembling the pieces having to do with People, Infrastructure, Procedures and Policies, especially in learning to evaluate every situation via a checklist that has those components will get us a lot farther along than chest pounding and finger pointing, even if the only two folks in attendance at the meetings without a dog in the hunt prove to be Keith R and Mrs. Kenny's oldest son. "There's good points and bad points, but it all works out." As long as we remember that two laws cannot be repealed: gravity and unintended consequences.
-bill kenny