Thomas Paine, patriot and pamphleteer, offered in The Crisis, penned during Christmas week of 1776, "these are the times that try men's souls." He was eye-witness to the birth of a nation, often in the arena, marching and fighting with the soldiers of Washington's Continental Army and never hesitant to chide those whom he called "the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot."
He was very sure of his course and confident of his ability to achieve his goals. I mention him at all since it seems to me that we here in The Rose City are continuing to have second thoughts on our second thoughts about reinventing ourselves and improving both our overall community and our tax base via our Grand List. So, with apologies to Paine, these have become the times to try our collective patience.
(Too) Many of us, even (perhaps especially) those who supported a bond initiative for downtown economic development in November 2010, were pleasantly surprised it was passed by our residents and electors. I'm still having difficulty, sixteen months on, understanding why so many who claimed to back the effort had at some level written it off. Instead of taking part in the defining and refining of the program in terms of stimulus and participant qualifications, they sat benumbed by an unexpected turn of events they should have counted on in the first place.
Meanwhile, let's be honest about Chelsea. Sir Isaac Newton, not a redevelopment specialist noted in his First Law of Motion that a "body at rest will remain at rest unless an outside force acts on it, and a body in motion...will remain in motion." That is to say, it's easier to jump on a bandwagon that's moving than push one that's standing still and then try to hop on.
A lot has been offered, including here, about when American small-town down towns, and in particular, ours, started to disappear and all of the theories, to include the ones offered by on-line commentators who think their dogmatic tone converts their opinions into facts, make valid points, if finding a solution included searching for the guilty.
Unfortunately, that doesn't really get us anywhere or bring anything. It's really not a who's to bless or who's to blame situation. But we abandon that notion only with the greatest of reluctance. The key should be a solution that benefits the greatest number of our residents and businesses at the most reasonable cost at an acceptable rate and pace of change. It's not where we start it's where we finish and it matters not where we've been but where we're going. We can argue summer and sunshine through winter and snowstorm about what was and why or we can be here now. You decide, I already have.
-bill kenny
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Crank Up the Crazy
Gentlemen, start your sweater vests! It's Super Tuesday for members of the Grand Old Party who haven't been behaving in any way even close to approximating their name in recent months. As I understand the math, and we have a multi-trillion dollar deficit to attest that I'm not alone in not being good at math, there are close to 420 delegates in ten states all in play today. On a planet with slightly more than seven billion people, it might be hard to muster double digit headcounts of people who care about this, but they should because this is seriously important process stuff.
We're talking 'the miracle of democracy' here, campers, though based on the way the Republicans have been waging war on one another it seems more like a demolition derby. What did the candidates still standing do with the 11th Commandment their purported idol, The Gipper, used to offer? And talk about making up in volume what they have lacked in ability, you have to admire the number of people who have sought the Republican party's nomination, if for no more than an hour or so. Less than ninety days ago the menu included Michele Bachman and Rick Perry, both now departed (I checked with Randy and he didn't know her. I was afraid to ask Steve just in case he did) and now there's the Fantastic Four.
If life were only as simple as a Marvel comic-we could skip to the last page and see how it all comes out, but we don't have that luxury (I am seriously considering writing in Jessica Alba but write-in ballots with drool are not accepted). In an era of hyper-partisanship, no matter who becomes the nominee of the Republican Party and I'm assuming President Barack Obama will be his party's choice for a second term, the noise will only increase-and I'm not sure, no matter who the victor is on November 6th, any of us end up winning.
I can remember exactly where I as and what I was doing as the Berlin Wall imploded and a sense of exuberant optimism and joy permeated the planet. The hangover has been a bitch. Not sure how long it took for the starry-eyed to become the thousand yard stare but I do know if we're waiting for someone, somewhere to pick us up, dust us off and set us back on track we better start looking in the mirror because the person who is that reflection is all we have left. Or right-as if affiliation mattered anymore.
-bill kenny
We're talking 'the miracle of democracy' here, campers, though based on the way the Republicans have been waging war on one another it seems more like a demolition derby. What did the candidates still standing do with the 11th Commandment their purported idol, The Gipper, used to offer? And talk about making up in volume what they have lacked in ability, you have to admire the number of people who have sought the Republican party's nomination, if for no more than an hour or so. Less than ninety days ago the menu included Michele Bachman and Rick Perry, both now departed (I checked with Randy and he didn't know her. I was afraid to ask Steve just in case he did) and now there's the Fantastic Four.
If life were only as simple as a Marvel comic-we could skip to the last page and see how it all comes out, but we don't have that luxury (I am seriously considering writing in Jessica Alba but write-in ballots with drool are not accepted). In an era of hyper-partisanship, no matter who becomes the nominee of the Republican Party and I'm assuming President Barack Obama will be his party's choice for a second term, the noise will only increase-and I'm not sure, no matter who the victor is on November 6th, any of us end up winning.
I can remember exactly where I as and what I was doing as the Berlin Wall imploded and a sense of exuberant optimism and joy permeated the planet. The hangover has been a bitch. Not sure how long it took for the starry-eyed to become the thousand yard stare but I do know if we're waiting for someone, somewhere to pick us up, dust us off and set us back on track we better start looking in the mirror because the person who is that reflection is all we have left. Or right-as if affiliation mattered anymore.
-bill kenny
Monday, March 5, 2012
The Thames not the Danube
We spend a great deal of our lives waiting. We wait until we're old enough to go to school, we're old enough to ride a two-wheeler (have my fingers crossed this year; makes it hard to ring the bell), until we grow up and then, suddenly, we're waiting for God and somehow we've missed the Main Event.
It can seem like that around these parts, as well. You just wait until we have the money for the infrastructure upgrade or the new police station or the expansion on the school (you're waiting for a pony rides reference, aren't you? Hope you're happy). And we wait right to, and, sometimes, through our moment. Let's try to do that a lot less as we start toward Spring.
This morning at 8:30 in their offices in the Norwich Business Park, it's a regular meeting of the Executive Committee of the Southeastern Connecticut Council of Government whose website gets a little goofy after you try to click on the February meeting minutes. The Regional Water Committee meeting scheduled for later in the morning is cancelled however, the Southeastern Connecticut Water Authority (I don't get the difference, either) is having a special meeting at 5:15 in their offices on Route 12 in Gales Ferry.
The City Council meeting at 7:30 in City Hall, looking at the agenda, would seem to be a straight-forward and relatively swift meeting, which some, especially those who sit in the back row, always find refreshing.
If you saw Thursday's newspaper article on the search for a site for a boat launch in the City, then Tuesday morning's special meeting of the Harbor Management Commission will be of interest to you. But "Shipping Street Area" as the meeting location? That's it, seriously? Judging from the agenda, 'evaluation and review of two potential...locations' I have to wonder if in the interest of negotiations, the HMC won't be headed for executive session and if so, will that, too, be in the 'Shipping Street Area?'
Tuesday afternoon at 4:30 is the start of this iteration of Norwich School Governance Council meetings beginning in the Uncas School library at 4:30. There's a whole raft of these on Wednesday and Thursday; a quick look at the city calendar will give you the rundown for Mahan, Wequonnoc, Thames River Academy, Moriarty, Veterans Memorial and Kelly Middle School.
Wednesday afternoon at 5:00, in Room 210 of City Hall, it's a regular meeting of the Emancipation Proclamation Commemorative Committee (no idea where any meeting minutes are as they're not on the city's website).
At 5:30, it's a regular meeting of the Norwich Public Schools School Building Committee as the myriad of details in the construction of the Kelly Middle School dwindle down to a manageable million or so.
And at six, in the Greeneville Fire House Community Meeting Room it's a regular meeting of the Greeneville Neighborhood Revitalization Committee, whose last meeting, based on the draft minutes posted on the city's website, was in December 2011.
Thursday night at six, in Room 210 at City Hall it's a regular meeting of the Mohegan Park Improvement and Development Advisory Committee, though I suspect that's of moot import to Doug McIntyre. I'd urge everyone driving on Union and/or Broadway during the Committee's meeting to drive within the posted speed limits or we could end up with a walking downtown faster than you can jump to a conclusion, which some would argue we already have and with an alacrity that is stunning.
Saturday morning at nine, in the Yantic Fire House (I think the most beautiful fire house in Norwich but I imagine I'd like any fire house where the firemen came from to rescue my house from a blaze), it's a One City Forum meeting. Rumor has it Tom Sawyer is offering a presentation on paint brush rentals as a form of economic development, but any number of topics can surface at these forums.
One City is an opportunity to take the heck out of the hectic tempo in which we sometimes all get caught up. We've had folks who've inhaled, why not exhale and unwind a bit. You've got your passion, you've got your pride, but don't you know that only fools are satisfied? Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true. When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?
-bill kenny
It can seem like that around these parts, as well. You just wait until we have the money for the infrastructure upgrade or the new police station or the expansion on the school (you're waiting for a pony rides reference, aren't you? Hope you're happy). And we wait right to, and, sometimes, through our moment. Let's try to do that a lot less as we start toward Spring.
This morning at 8:30 in their offices in the Norwich Business Park, it's a regular meeting of the Executive Committee of the Southeastern Connecticut Council of Government whose website gets a little goofy after you try to click on the February meeting minutes. The Regional Water Committee meeting scheduled for later in the morning is cancelled however, the Southeastern Connecticut Water Authority (I don't get the difference, either) is having a special meeting at 5:15 in their offices on Route 12 in Gales Ferry.
The City Council meeting at 7:30 in City Hall, looking at the agenda, would seem to be a straight-forward and relatively swift meeting, which some, especially those who sit in the back row, always find refreshing.
If you saw Thursday's newspaper article on the search for a site for a boat launch in the City, then Tuesday morning's special meeting of the Harbor Management Commission will be of interest to you. But "Shipping Street Area" as the meeting location? That's it, seriously? Judging from the agenda, 'evaluation and review of two potential...locations' I have to wonder if in the interest of negotiations, the HMC won't be headed for executive session and if so, will that, too, be in the 'Shipping Street Area?'
Tuesday afternoon at 4:30 is the start of this iteration of Norwich School Governance Council meetings beginning in the Uncas School library at 4:30. There's a whole raft of these on Wednesday and Thursday; a quick look at the city calendar will give you the rundown for Mahan, Wequonnoc, Thames River Academy, Moriarty, Veterans Memorial and Kelly Middle School.
Wednesday afternoon at 5:00, in Room 210 of City Hall, it's a regular meeting of the Emancipation Proclamation Commemorative Committee (no idea where any meeting minutes are as they're not on the city's website).
At 5:30, it's a regular meeting of the Norwich Public Schools School Building Committee as the myriad of details in the construction of the Kelly Middle School dwindle down to a manageable million or so.
And at six, in the Greeneville Fire House Community Meeting Room it's a regular meeting of the Greeneville Neighborhood Revitalization Committee, whose last meeting, based on the draft minutes posted on the city's website, was in December 2011.
Thursday night at six, in Room 210 at City Hall it's a regular meeting of the Mohegan Park Improvement and Development Advisory Committee, though I suspect that's of moot import to Doug McIntyre. I'd urge everyone driving on Union and/or Broadway during the Committee's meeting to drive within the posted speed limits or we could end up with a walking downtown faster than you can jump to a conclusion, which some would argue we already have and with an alacrity that is stunning.
Saturday morning at nine, in the Yantic Fire House (I think the most beautiful fire house in Norwich but I imagine I'd like any fire house where the firemen came from to rescue my house from a blaze), it's a One City Forum meeting. Rumor has it Tom Sawyer is offering a presentation on paint brush rentals as a form of economic development, but any number of topics can surface at these forums.
One City is an opportunity to take the heck out of the hectic tempo in which we sometimes all get caught up. We've had folks who've inhaled, why not exhale and unwind a bit. You've got your passion, you've got your pride, but don't you know that only fools are satisfied? Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true. When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?
-bill kenny
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Cheap Seats
There are stirrings in Florida and Arizona as Major League Baseball shakes off the winter doldrums and readies itself for another campaign. There is no sport I love as passionately as baseball-I'll stop channel surfing to watch two ball clubs about whom I know nothing play an exhibition game and was notorious while stationed at Sondrestrom AB in Greenland (a/k/a "The Miami of the North") working for the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service, AFRTS, to come back up the station, on the shores of Lake Ferguson three miles above the base and set up the telecine so I could watch the 16mm print of the Game of the Week, usually two to three weeks after it was played by the time we got it. No matter. A bag of chips, a jug of juice and thou-as close to heaven as you got ninety miles north of the Arctic Circle.
This season to make it more exciting for the fans (= more money for the billionaire owners and the millionaire players (see Albert Pujols)), MLB has expanded the number of teams eligible to make the playoffs to twenty-eight. I jest, but only just. Point in fact, your eyes just glided over that number just like any other day on the phonics pharm. We're closing in on the point where MLB looks exactly like the NHL in terms of the regular season being a warm-up for the post-season.
Right after baseball teams who finish below .500 get to play in, what by then will be the, December Classic, someone in the Office of the Commissioner of Major League Baseball, in whose name most of the assault on common sense and intelligence has been waged for the last two decades (and yes, designated hitter, I'm talking about you) will realize this has all gone a little too far.
By then, of course, it'll be too late as pseudo psports like professional jousting will be the hot topic on ESPN. The saving grace in that catastrophe will be they'll assign Chris Berman to cover it around the clock, and I'll never hear of him or from him again. Attention Guys in the Sky Boxes: I root for the game-your team not so much. Play ball, preferably in alphabetical order. By height.
-bill kenny
This season to make it more exciting for the fans (= more money for the billionaire owners and the millionaire players (see Albert Pujols)), MLB has expanded the number of teams eligible to make the playoffs to twenty-eight. I jest, but only just. Point in fact, your eyes just glided over that number just like any other day on the phonics pharm. We're closing in on the point where MLB looks exactly like the NHL in terms of the regular season being a warm-up for the post-season.
Right after baseball teams who finish below .500 get to play in, what by then will be the, December Classic, someone in the Office of the Commissioner of Major League Baseball, in whose name most of the assault on common sense and intelligence has been waged for the last two decades (and yes, designated hitter, I'm talking about you) will realize this has all gone a little too far.
By then, of course, it'll be too late as pseudo psports like professional jousting will be the hot topic on ESPN. The saving grace in that catastrophe will be they'll assign Chris Berman to cover it around the clock, and I'll never hear of him or from him again. Attention Guys in the Sky Boxes: I root for the game-your team not so much. Play ball, preferably in alphabetical order. By height.
-bill kenny
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Different River
I heard from someone I hadn't thought about in over fifteen years yesterday. Nothing dramatic like Banquo's Ghost-just a quick email. I actually didn't recognize his name for a moment and then I did. When I'd last seen him, he was young, in a hurry and going places. The days stretched out before him like a blank canvas and he was hurrying to make and leave a mark.
From what I understood yesterday, very close to none of that seems to still be the case.That, of itself, doesn't make me sad as that's the way we are as a species on the big blue marble. The sad part (and I'm not sure that's the word I'm looking for) is how he gave up and gave in. I'm treading carefully here as I'm not nearly as good picking up on nuances on a screen or on a page as I am in a conversation. I can hear shadings and intonations that, staring at the cursor, as the little message flashes "J--- is typing", will never be able to do for me.
From what I could sort through near the end of a back and forth touch typing contest I lost, very early on a person with great promise made some bad choices and compounded those with others designed to extricate him from the first ones and he wound up surrendering piecemeal the gifts he'd brought at the start.
We were the same people we had been the last time we had stood together in the same room as he popped in to visit before heading to, literally, the other side of the earth. But what he'd seen and done had maimed and marked him. I, the stay close to shore guy, had imagined a world of adventures for him not unlike the world he had hoped for himself. But he had chosen otherwise, neither wisely nor well, and had difficulties accepting the consequences of those choices as his own handiwork.
I tried to remind him as gently as a keyboard allows that being an adult means owning the consequences of your own choices-all that you chose and all that you chose NOT to choose. As the typing went on, I realized whatever had brought him back to visit would not keep him too much longer. As I said, we were the same, and yet we were different, perhaps because we had assumed we would somehow be constants, though nothing in this life remains as it is.
I hesitated as I bade him 'all the best' knowing he would no longer recognize that if he were to see it and would certainly no longer pursue it for himself. The waters now were deeper than 'back in the day' and the current more powerful and purposeful. Or perhaps just our resolve to resist it had weakened just so.We were farther from shore than we realized and no longer had the time or strength to return.
-bill kenny
From what I understood yesterday, very close to none of that seems to still be the case.That, of itself, doesn't make me sad as that's the way we are as a species on the big blue marble. The sad part (and I'm not sure that's the word I'm looking for) is how he gave up and gave in. I'm treading carefully here as I'm not nearly as good picking up on nuances on a screen or on a page as I am in a conversation. I can hear shadings and intonations that, staring at the cursor, as the little message flashes "J--- is typing", will never be able to do for me.
From what I could sort through near the end of a back and forth touch typing contest I lost, very early on a person with great promise made some bad choices and compounded those with others designed to extricate him from the first ones and he wound up surrendering piecemeal the gifts he'd brought at the start.
We were the same people we had been the last time we had stood together in the same room as he popped in to visit before heading to, literally, the other side of the earth. But what he'd seen and done had maimed and marked him. I, the stay close to shore guy, had imagined a world of adventures for him not unlike the world he had hoped for himself. But he had chosen otherwise, neither wisely nor well, and had difficulties accepting the consequences of those choices as his own handiwork.
I tried to remind him as gently as a keyboard allows that being an adult means owning the consequences of your own choices-all that you chose and all that you chose NOT to choose. As the typing went on, I realized whatever had brought him back to visit would not keep him too much longer. As I said, we were the same, and yet we were different, perhaps because we had assumed we would somehow be constants, though nothing in this life remains as it is.
I hesitated as I bade him 'all the best' knowing he would no longer recognize that if he were to see it and would certainly no longer pursue it for himself. The waters now were deeper than 'back in the day' and the current more powerful and purposeful. Or perhaps just our resolve to resist it had weakened just so.We were farther from shore than we realized and no longer had the time or strength to return.
-bill kenny
Friday, March 2, 2012
Learned the Truth from Lenny Bruce
I'm home for the next couple of days and have to stop drinking coffee. Actually, I have to stop drinking coffee with creamer in it and since I cannot drink coffee without a boxcar's worth of artificial sweetener and enough creamer to turn the coffee light brown I've stopped. I only drink coffee for the effect, anyway.
We have tea-and we have a variety of them, even Steffi Graf's favorite (says so right on the box). We don't have Tetley's tea bags. I can't remember if they're the folks that had the sayings on the labels attached to the strings on the bags, but whoever that was, they were good too. I'm sitting here at the monitor, paused, trying to remember what the tea bags looked like, as if that would change anything.
I can remember being a child and before going to sleep, finally, attempting to remember every night, every person I knew. Not just the people I had met that day, but all of the people in my entire life (when you're five, not a lot of effort; at fifty-nine maybe more than it's worth). I convinced myself no one ever really dies as long as someone, somewhere, remembered them. I took that job on.
Sitting here drinking my Lipton's Berry Tea, I remember Wednesday as part of my end of every month maintenance I do, going through my email address book and coming across the name of Bob S, whom I never met but had known for over a decade and who died early last month. I hit the delete key and hurried along but as I sip my adult beverage now, I'm still that kid from then under the covers. What I don't (still) understand is the whole who gets to live and who doesn't part of the equation at the end of the day.
I know a dozen Right Bastards who are in perfect health and may live forever. Point in fact, we'll have to run them down with a truck to reduce them to deceased. And from one minute to the next, Bob's body betrayed him, trapping him for a few days before slowing, powering down and fading to black. He was a TV guy and would have appreciated that reference.
I'm probably on somebody else's RB list-or more than one (I've been busy) and am working very hard to make sure, since I have a ticket, that I get the whole ride. I watched the kids on the far end of the street gathering to catch the school bus-we were supposed to have a bad storm here Wednesday into Thursday and didn't so the kids have to go to school. They're all loud and laughing though when a grow-up walks by they quiet for a moment as they part to let him pass. There's just a tinge of envy in their eyes. They can't wait until they're big like we are. Trust me, you can; you really can.
-bill kenny
We have tea-and we have a variety of them, even Steffi Graf's favorite (says so right on the box). We don't have Tetley's tea bags. I can't remember if they're the folks that had the sayings on the labels attached to the strings on the bags, but whoever that was, they were good too. I'm sitting here at the monitor, paused, trying to remember what the tea bags looked like, as if that would change anything.
I can remember being a child and before going to sleep, finally, attempting to remember every night, every person I knew. Not just the people I had met that day, but all of the people in my entire life (when you're five, not a lot of effort; at fifty-nine maybe more than it's worth). I convinced myself no one ever really dies as long as someone, somewhere, remembered them. I took that job on.
Sitting here drinking my Lipton's Berry Tea, I remember Wednesday as part of my end of every month maintenance I do, going through my email address book and coming across the name of Bob S, whom I never met but had known for over a decade and who died early last month. I hit the delete key and hurried along but as I sip my adult beverage now, I'm still that kid from then under the covers. What I don't (still) understand is the whole who gets to live and who doesn't part of the equation at the end of the day.
I know a dozen Right Bastards who are in perfect health and may live forever. Point in fact, we'll have to run them down with a truck to reduce them to deceased. And from one minute to the next, Bob's body betrayed him, trapping him for a few days before slowing, powering down and fading to black. He was a TV guy and would have appreciated that reference.
I'm probably on somebody else's RB list-or more than one (I've been busy) and am working very hard to make sure, since I have a ticket, that I get the whole ride. I watched the kids on the far end of the street gathering to catch the school bus-we were supposed to have a bad storm here Wednesday into Thursday and didn't so the kids have to go to school. They're all loud and laughing though when a grow-up walks by they quiet for a moment as they part to let him pass. There's just a tinge of envy in their eyes. They can't wait until they're big like we are. Trust me, you can; you really can.
-bill kenny
Thursday, March 1, 2012
I'll See Your Sanity and Raise You
I'm not sure what meat is appropriate when having a Faberge egg. I wouldn't be surprised to find out how you're having it plays a role in which sides you serve. I've never actually had a poached egg and if it's made the way I understand it is, I can't imagine ever being able to make one (lack the patience and the steady hands) much less eat it. And aside for "American Egg Farmers": if Jeff is your spokesman, I think you should seriously consider becoming mimes.
Anyway. I'm not sure why I'm so concerned about this-sausage links or patties? Bacon, or Canadian bacon? (am I the only one who thinks it looks like bologna? And why do I love hot dogs and won't eat bologna even though the only difference is the shape? I'm a riddle wrapped up in an enigma, on a steamed bun with mustard and sweet relish.)
Hash browns or pan fries? No worries as long as we avoid the scrapple and the spam. Ask Anastasia if any of these damn things have double yolks. I'm watching my cholesterol.
-bill kenny
Anyway. I'm not sure why I'm so concerned about this-sausage links or patties? Bacon, or Canadian bacon? (am I the only one who thinks it looks like bologna? And why do I love hot dogs and won't eat bologna even though the only difference is the shape? I'm a riddle wrapped up in an enigma, on a steamed bun with mustard and sweet relish.)
Hash browns or pan fries? No worries as long as we avoid the scrapple and the spam. Ask Anastasia if any of these damn things have double yolks. I'm watching my cholesterol.
-bill kenny
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