I Don't Want Another Drink

Sorry for the red herring to start today. I'm not concerned about Hurricane Irene not because I'm an idiot (though I am) or impotent in being able to change the weather (which is more than certainly true), but because I can do exactly as much about it as I was able to with whatever kind of earthquake we had in these parts earlier in the week (the other spelling was often used to describe it, which is fine).

I know someone celebrating a birthday today, the first on a new coast though not their first and I hope it's happy if the weather does make it a bit of a struggle keeping the candles on the cake lit. Historically, it's a decent day to be born (actually any day is a fine day to be born), sharing a natal anniversary with folks such Alex Lifeson (I did not realize he was younger than I; bastard), Paul Reubens (ditto, for different reasons) and Lyndon Baines Johnson (ibid not ebay).

Don't know about your neck of the woods but school of all shape and size gets started around here next week (plus minus a day, maybe, for whatever damage the hurricane brings)--not so much in our house as our two are adults (except in their father's eyes, and don't I know who that reminds me of) but the neighborhood will soon have children of all ages at the foot of driveways waiting for buses to take them away. Sneak a peek at the littlest ones as they wait and try to remember when we last felt the excitement about anything you can see in their eyes.

"Open up your back screen door/ Let me see your face once more.
My hands are cold and my feet so sore/And I can't go on this way."
Whoa! Turns out I was fooling myself, again. Damn, I'm good!
-bill kenny

When You and Sleep Escape Me

Here across the Northeast, in varying amounts in the course of the next thirty-six to forty-eight hours, we are bracing for a visit by Hurricane Irene (probably NOT named for this one) who will behave in a manner say some forecasts that may cause serious harm, hurt and havoc before its course is run.

My wife spent a great part of her yesterday storm proofing our yard--securing all the stuff (benches, feeders, bird baths) her boob of a husband walks by everyday with open eyes and never sees. The stuff, that, in a strong wind, gets blown right through a window or lifted over a fence after which I react with dumbfounded shock and incredulity because I am incapable of linking cause and effect in a timely manner for any practical purposes.

In a way it's good that she did that since I can recall being a small child, when our mom and dad rented bungalows in Atlantic Highlands, watching hurricanes come in off the ocean while standing on the beach. Their sheer power thrills me still. I don't know why. My favorite part of the Wizard of Oz is when the house and everything else is lifted by the tornado and I used to wonder growing old (as I've never grown up) if you could really and truly ride a bicycle while in the funnel.

This is serious stuff for many people and I don't mean to trivialize it or minimize its might or its majesty. As a matter of fact, I'd point out I'm doing just the opposite. While many of us have already and/or continue to stockpile milk and toilet paper (that's how we roll here in New England, pun intended) because if you reach the magic number, nothing happens and Gravity's Rainbow passes over you, I'm somehow comforted by the thought that there are forces more powerful than any we can create or unleash.

And at some point on the horizon, silhouetted against an open sky, you, me and the most powerful or wealthy men and women in the world look exactly the same as the eye of the storm descends upon us. No matter who we are, what we own or do, we are all finally and fully equal and can only hope to hold on until the heavens clear. I'm just never too sure about the something good part....
-bill kenny

So Much for Sports as Metaphor

This is a fun two weeks for me as a sports television viewer. I love baseball-of any kind at any time. I live in Norwich, Connecticut and we have a minor league affiliate, the Connecticut Tigers in the New York-Penn League (I know 'but you live in Connecticut' and earlier in the week we played a team from Aberdeen, Maryland. What's in a name, Rose?) and, warming to my subject and part of today's teachable moment, a very active Little League as well.

Our kids didn't make it to this season's Little League World Series (but some of their parents might be seen on an upcoming episode of "Cops") and that's what I'm enjoying right now. I have absolutely no dogs in the hunt in terms of youngsters for whom I'm rooting. I watched a game Tuesday night where it seemed there were more wild pitches than hits but the players on both sides of the ball gave every pitch their all for the entire game. And yesterday's Mexico/Venezuela game was so beautiful it deserved to be framed.

The announcers remind me every half inning or so that kids learn a lot about life from sports. I learned a lot about cursing though I suspect that's not what they're talking about. Okay; from your lips to God's ear if you mean we learn that sometimes you win and sometimes you don't and often it has nothing to do with how hard you work or try but with how lucky you are.

I actually wish they didn't keep score in the games of the Little League World Series in (South) Williamsport, Pennsyslvania. Anything to make it last longer. The stands are filled every game with people who love to root for youngsters who love to play baseball. The tickets are free and the concession prices would lead you to conclude Ike is still President, except the Interstate highways are all constructed. Every team from around the world shows up as the epitome of sportsmanship and the players behave exactly as our own children would-when we are watching them armed with electric cattle prods. Norman Rockwell would paint the LLWS just the way ESPN broadcasts it.

As I said, the sad and essential part of the Little League World Series is that score is kept and some teams win and move on and others lose and go home. Winning and losing are the two sides of every coin and to savor the former you must suffer the latter but when you're twelve, the last thing you need or want is a mercy rule because you never believe you're out of it and your team is coming back in your next at-bat, you just wait (spit on the ground and hope to die).

I love the grit, the drama, the relentless optimism and the joy of being alive that everyone from the players through the volunteer umpires, fryolater cooks, parking lot attendants, parents with orange slices and Gatorade to the army of brothers, sisters and cousins who unfurl those giant banners proclaiming "We Love Leland!" (or whatever his name is) that are visible from space and cheer themselves hoarse at every opportunity. The championship game is this Sunday afternoon at three and it's a cliche to note that for all the teams it's an honor to have made it to the Series especially because when the championship game is over, the end of summer is that much closer. And autumn brings changes both welcome and unwelcome.

That's one lesson and here's the other. Women's collegiate basketball had most unwelcome change earlier this week when Pat Summitt, the Lady Volunteers basketball coach at the University of Tennessee, one of the premier programs in college sports, in any sport, announced she has early onset dementia. As a devoted UConn Lady Huskies fan who believes Geno Auriemma should be President of the United States, I was much more than saddened to learn of Coach Summitt's condition.

Tennessee and UConn, in my opinion, created the environment where professional women's basketball in the United States was economically viable. Without their classic contests a decade and a half ago fanatically followed by packed houses on both campuses and by millions on television across the country, women's pro basketball would be women's pro soccer in terms of market share and fan interest.

Coach Summitt is the best-known ambassador of her sport in every positive sense of the word and I know all, fans and otherwise, will learn a huge amount about life and living with grace in the coming weeks and months as she prepares her team for this season as if nothing were different when she, and we, know that everything has changed.

Yeah, sports is life and sometimes all the things, good and bad that come with life. Between the Little Boys of Summer and Coach Summitt of Rocky Top are constant reminders that hope springs eternal even if eternal spring is a fantasy and a fallacy. Look around, leaves are brown and the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
-bill kenny

The Tyranny of Tomorrow

It was Shakespeare's Macbeth, who may have been the first literary figure to offer an argument on the virtue of planning your work and then working your plan when he offered, "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day..."

In addition to its eloquence, it's memorable for both its utility and applicability-though in an era of diminished expectations and shortened attention spans it's easy to understand how quickly we can seem to get lost as individuals and as political units from cities to our national government.

There's always more than one way to get from here to tomorrow. The more successful paths seem to often involve inspiration and perspiration in nearly equal amounts, that is, a brilliant insight or an original idea combined with hard work. And don't forget some good luck.

My father was fond of invoking the Pennsylvania Dutch as the source of one of his favorite expressions "the harder I work, the luckier I get" but I defer to wherever your mom or dad say they heard it, too. Luck, like hope, is a four letter word and both of them have that in common with a plan. But critical to any plan are having definite, precise and clearly defined goals with a strategy of how to use the tools at your disposal to achieve those goals.

Without all of that, a plan is just a wish you make with your heart. And while that worked out very well for Jiminy Cricket, we're having a critical shortage of wishing stars right now so we'll have to make do the old-fashioned way. For what it's worth, don't take Pinocchio to any of the seafood nights at local restaurants, at least not for the next few weeks.

There's been enough words written on "how get ___ back on track" where we each insert the name of where we live, step two paces back and admire our handiwork seldom realizing that a good beginning is only that, a beginning.

Articulating a plan means making sure that everyone who needs to be on board with it, and that usually means everyone where you live, understands what you're sharing, the reasons for what you're proposing, the impact of the sacrifices they will need to make for a common good and then to get on board with the program and own the plan for themselves. All or nothing at all.

Top down, bottom up, there's no one path because there's no one destination-only a journey that has a beginning of each day and never ends. The only constant in our world has always been change and the need for change. There's never an end to progress-only pauses along the way and no matter what happened yesterday, tomorrow will be here in a moment and care not about those successes and failures. We can learn from them and we can build on them but we can't live forever on their memory or their meaning. As Banquo admonishes, "if you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak." Far too often, all that remains is silence.

-bill kenny

Keep Those Cards and Letters

I spend a lot of time working with personal computers, often to no avail. Like so much else of all the machinery that comprises my scenery, the personal computers in my life have a tendency to do what I tell them instead of what I want. I suppose I should be grateful I don't have voice activated software for them because in my case, I'd need to replace the Idiot's Guide with the most recent update to Masters and Johnson, since many of my voice commands would be anatomically and electronically nonexecutable.

I stare into the depths of the blue screen of death a half dozen or more times a day-O death where is thy sting, I sing; well, actually it doesn't sound very much like singing when I do it but you get my drift. I've endured countless admonitions that I've attempted an "illegal operation" as the PC shuts down and goes dark to teach one of us a lesson (all of which is wasted on me).

My favorite PC fantasy in recent weeks (okay perv, let's try that again) my favorite PC operating fantasy has become the one where whatever I'm doing has stopped doing it-perhaps frustrated by me or just exhausted by my persistent insistence. There's a finite number of times you can hit Control-Alt-Delete (I haven't reached it yet, seemingly, but it's upwards of a hundred because I have done it that often in a single bound) and up pops a variation of this screen:

There's little in life less worth living than being judged to be nonresponsive. Empires have been overthrown for less and voyages of exploration have been undertaken to avoid its curse. I used to always click "Send Error Report" no matter what had happened or when it occurred because somehow, I just knew the boys and girls of Microsoft were sitting in their operator cubicles on pins and needles in downtown Redmond, Washington, waiting to read about the background of my latest computational catastrophe. Together, we would become better people and programs.

Not exactly as it turns out. Slowly, as time went by and the same stupid nonresponsive program messages kept popping up, it crossed my mind that The Gates Gang wasn't especially quick on the uptake or why else would the same program error keep happening. It wasn't like I was getting any smarter at screwing things up. Nope, not me. I had pretty much flat-lined on the learning curve.

And while even in the most recent of times I'm still generating computer error messages by the bushelful, I'm no longer providing hours of amusement to those whose pockets are protected from all manner or matter great and small. I alwys opt now for "Don't Send." It's as close as I can get to going commando in a spam-filled virus infested phishing pool. I need a unit to sample and hold, but not an angry one. A new design, a new design. And Kanye, turns out you weren't first or even close, so how about shutting up.

-bill kenny

And maybe just one scoop of ice cream

Someone years ago offered 'We can do anything! We can't do everything.' She also told me to wear a tinfoil hat outdoors so aliens couldn't steal my thoughts so not every word was a gem; besides, have you checked the cost of foil lately?

It's a good thing in a city as large, or as small (you decide which we are) as Norwich, we have people of all kinds with the time and talent to share so that we can all benefit from so many individual efforts.

This afternoon at two, and I mention it more as a matter of complete inclusion as I suspect it's most likely to become an executive session/hearing, in City Council chambers is a "Special Meeting of the Committee of the Council" that may, or may not, have anything to do with this locally published news story but certainly has a great deal to do with the right of personal privacy for any (and all) public employees. The Committee of the Council reports back to the full City Council at its next regular meeting, Tuesday, 6 September (Labor Day is the 5th) so we'll all know when we all know.

At five, you have choices. In Room 335 of City Hall, it's a regular meeting of the Ethics Commission while in Room 210 it's a regular meeting of the Redevelopment Agency with a presentation by Mayor Nystrom as part of his continuing initiative to build support for consideration of infrastructure improvements in the Shipping Street area as a means to expand the city's grand list and enhance the community's quality of life.

Tuesday afternoon at 3:30 in the Central Office Conference Room of the Norwich Public Schools at 90 Town Street, across from the Norwichtown Green, it's a regular meeting of the Board of Education Policy Committee. The note about the meeting is on the city's website as the school's site has, its last posted minutes, the meeting from last September. Yet another not so friendly reminder Public Act 08-3 is not a suggestion, but state law.

At four, perhaps (they're only held when requested so check with the City Clerk), is a regular meeting of the Building Code Board of Appeals in the Planning Department conference room at 23 Union Street. The municipal website's notes on the Board show ALL of the members' appointment expired a year and a half ago and there's hardly even a rumor of meeting minutes in this decade (sounds really dramatic, doesn't it?).

The Harbor Management Commission meets at five in the City Manager's office (Room 219) in City Hall. I found the agenda for their July meeting but no minutes of that meeting on the city's website. I'd assume the HAC has been an integral part of the discussion on measures to enhance the value of the Downtown Harbor area, but the Feast of the Assumption was last week, so your guess could be as good as mine (maybe better).

At six in the Planning Department's Conference Room at 23 Union Street is a special meeting of the Plan of Conservation and Development (POCD), Commission on the City Plan (CCP). If you attended Saturday's One City Forum, you'll be more than interested in the role the Plan of Conservation and Development plays as a road map to the Next Norwich, and here's their June meeting minutes so you have a snapshot of where they are in that process. I'll note 39,981 (estimated) Norwich residents weren't at the Saturday meeting though it didn't stop an online reader from rising early Sunday morning to comment on the news report of an event they didn't attend.

Wednesday morning into the early afternoon is the Norwich Outdoor Farmers' Market in Howard T. Brown Park from ten until two for fresh fruits and vegetable as well as the creative offerings from a growing number of artisans and local merchants.

Wednesday afternoon at 3:30 in the Norwich Public Schools' Central Office there's a meeting of the Board of Education's Building and Space Committee (the cancellation reference is to the March meeting; I think we can take that down now). On the Board's website, it's the usual 'no soup for you' approach to the posting of agenda or most recent meeting minutes; I do so admire the consistency of non-compliance with state law.

At five thirty in the Latham Science Center conference room on the campus of the Norwich Free Academy (NFA), the NFA Board of Trustees will hold a special meeting to formally hire a new Head of School (some of the meeting will be in executive session though certainly not the announcement itself and hopefully none of the celebratory pony rides).

Also at five thirty in the Planning Department conference room is a regular meeting of the Board of Review of Dangerous Buildings whose meeting minutes are few and far between on the city's website, perhaps because their meetings are less frequent than announced (I don't actually know) though I just realized the public meeting a few weeks ago on the Greeneville and Buckingham Schools disposition and demolition was with the Public Works and Capital Improvements Committee and NOT the Board of Review so how dangerous does a building have to be to get a drink around here?

At six thirty, in the same place and with the same folks, it's a regular meeting of the 751 North Main Street Advisory Committee who seem to have last met six months ago, unless the city's website is out of date (my keyboard lacks a tongue in cheek font).

At seven, the Golf Course Authority has a regular meeting in their facilities on the New London Turnpike. Their July meeting minutes are right here and remember to sign your scorecard before leaving.

Thursday morning at seven thirty in their offices at 77 Main Street, it's a regular meeting of the Norwich Community Development Corporation whose minutes aren't available on the city's website, but should be as a matter of course and public law. It's easy enough to get them by sending a note to here. In light of the role NCDC plays as the city's municipal developer, it's worth your while if you have the time to attend a meeting, I'm sure.

As the summer days draw down, it feels counter intuitive to head indoors to attend municipal meetings but there's lots to be done and never help for all of it. So maybe this is the week you roll up a sleeve and lend a hand by becoming a volunteer or perhaps just someone who attends a meeting and let your neighbors know you appreciate their effort and assistance in working to maintain a piece of the pie.

-bill kenny

anyone lived in a pretty how town

When we were kids our teachers told us in America anyone could grow up to be President (at the time I was a kid, that actually meant anyone who was white, male, Protestant and married). We have now, in the course of my lifetime, reached a point where everyone can be President. Seemingly at the same time. Is it too late to make urinalysis mandatory before forming a political action committee? Please.

I was having a decent enough weekend until an acquaintance dropped me a note to ask if I'd heard Karl Rove's observation that Sarah Palin would be announcing her candidacy for the Presidency in the coming days. I hadn't. To tell you the truth, I so enjoyed Karl's work on the Valerie Plame affair that had I gone the rest of my life without ever hearing his name, or voice, again that would have been fine by me and I suspect with him as well.

I'm sure, one of my younger sisters, Jill, was NOT specifically describing American Presidential politics when she coined the descriptive phrase, "stupider and stupider" but I fear she somewhat presciently belled the cat. There's no break in the election cycle; we sort of downshift for a few months (weeks? days?) after we pick an occupant for 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue to let all the folks who ran in the last demolition derby pass the hat and gather up money and talent for a new pit crew and then it's back to the bricks.

For those who are champions of egalitarianism, I guess we should be happy that so many truly mediocre people, of all persuasions, would like to be our President. I voted for the guy currently there but that doesn't mean all sales are final but pitching candidates at me by the truckload is NOT gonna sway me as much as you'd think. There are so many bent and broken people already in the race that I'm almost tempted to run. Except no one would notice.

And that's too bad because I'm ready and this could be my time. I have a red tie which all men candidates must have when they talk on television about how much they love America, which is all you really need to do in order to campaign and be elected. I'm not kidding. Look at the folks on the hustings now and tell me you, too, don't wonder what the fuqq happened around here.

If Sarah Palin were the only 'weighed and found wanting' candidate seeking higher office, I wouldn't be too upset. Natural selection within the Body Politic will take care of Mama Grizzly and she'll return to whatever planet McCain's folks found her. But here's the deal: someone turned the crazymeter up to and then past eleven and snapped the knob clean off. She's just the latest turnip to fall off the truck and I'm thinking maybe she got pushed.

We should have people who aspire to be great not expire trying to fit in. When all you can offer me as you start a campaign for the most important elected office in the history of the world is every cliche you're ever heard, you need to stifle yourself. I've read enough US history to already know these are tough times but not Thomas Paine tough and it takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. And lower cases aside, all by all and deep by deep and more by more they dream their sleep. Possessing the soul of a poet instead of the mentality of a three card monte artist might just be what we need.

-bill kenny