¿Tiene Francia una mayo Quinta?

Today, as you probably know if you've been pricing limes, is Cinco de Mayo.  I'm not sure if you prefer Miracle Whip if you are required to stay indoors and I'm not sure whom to ask for a ruling.

I find it somewhat telling that we do more celebrating of this holiday here, North of the Border, than reportedly in most of Mexico. I think that means we were more desperate to find a holiday that would tide us over from Saint Patrick's Day, where everyone is Irish (more or less) to Memorial Day, where we're all so patriotic we have to have barbecues to prove it.

Lost in all the superficial celebrations across the USA today is a grimly serious and incredibly important milestone in the history of the Republic of Mexico, and by extension, the USA and (to a more limited extent) Western Europe as well but one that is far more quietly celebrated in Mexico.  

Freedom is a process as much as a product-we know that from our own War of Independence and should realize that other nations have parallel experiences.
You needn't have a margarita today to observe Cinco de Mayo-just recalling that your freedom is worth whatever price you are willing to pay for it is often more than remembrance enough.
-bill kenny

Jetzt bin Ich ein Country Maus.....

I settled us in Norwich as the first one who arrived from Germany back in the early fall of 1991.  I've always liked living here even though I'm not from here-perhaps liking it more than many who were born here.

I'm not a nester but I am a slow to relinquish kind of guy, meaning once I have something, I have it. When I rock, I rock and when I roll, I roll. Here's one of the reasons why I like living here.

The Uncas Leap is about a four minute walk from our house and is beautiful every single day of the year and I don't know a lot of things you can say that about, so I count that as a Plus One for my team.

Here's another reason why I like living here.

This is the Upper Falls and I walked across that railroad trestle you see at the end of the clip to get to where I shot this video. Technically, I'm standing in the middle of the Upper Falls Heritage Park but it needs a lot of work and that costs money that we don't seem to have, at least for a place as beautiful as this.

Wherever you live, you have places of which you can and should be proud if you take care of them. Don't be the reason you don't have nice things.
-bill kenny

One Less than Advertised

We had a bustle in the hedgerow here in The Land of Steady Habits earlier in the week and I smiled as a fellow child of the Sixties who is a decade older than I (talk about how good that felt, youbetcha!) had his reach exceed his grasp, in more ways than either of us care to think about.

Paul Simon and Eddie Brickell made like the other Tom and Jerry which may have upset Artie if he found out, at their home right here in The Nutmeg State and both ended up with some 'splainin' to do to the Men in Blue. Koo-koo-ca-chew.

I still find it hard sometimes to realize "stars" are people, too-somebody's husband or wife, a parent, a sibling, just like the rest of us. Maybe they're flying first-class, metaphorically, but it's the same plane, astral and otherwise.

To me, the big part of the story was finding out they lived in New Britain. I'd have pegged them for somewhere in Litchfield County but then again, I live on the Rhode Island side of Connecticut, so what do I know about marital relations. Well, for starters when I and my my wife disagree, I count to ten, Paul, five times.
-bill kenny

Another Pause for Reflection

Today is the birthday of our baby girl, Michelle. She was the smallest and most perfect person I had ever seen on the day of her first birthday. When I held her head in my right hand as she slept when she stretched out, her feet almost touched the bend of my elbow.

She was and will always be my Itty-Bit, my Ichy-Michy even though I concede neither of those nicknames plays well these days (so I hardly ever use them and never in public. Well, except for you on the Interwebs).

At two days old

I have a memory of my father and his first daughter, my sister Evan, that I just recalled as I typed this because, like him, I have a song that captures the dynamic of the relationship. I'm smiling as I type this because his song was and remains part of the soundtrack of the film of his life and I suspect Evan, if she reads this, knows exactly what song I mean.  

Michelle no longer can sleep in the crook of my arm-there are times her pace is so frenetic I'm not sure when she does sleep. I more often than not read about her exploits and adventures on things like Four Square when I get up in the morning only to have forgotten any questions I wanted to ask her by the time she comes home from work. That amnesia may be the secret of our success.

She is her mother's daughter-Thelma to her Louise and I marvel at the self-assured and confident little girl who is a purposeful young adult striding through life equipped, or so she believes, to handle whatever is around the next bend.

"She was wide-eyed, now she's street-wise to the lies and the jive talk. But she'll find true love and tenderness on the block." Happy Birthday, Michelle!
-bill kenny

The Frog and the Scorpion

I could have been a professional playing member of the National Basketball Association, NBA, if I had different parents contributing to my genetic inheritance, different upbringing, any ability or aptitude at all for the sport combined with the training to cultivate the aforementioned skills and abilities. In other words, we could have all had ham sandwiches, if we had ham (and bread). Hold the mustard, especially if you can't cut it.

And in terms of cutting it, I am physically unqualified for the sport-ask anyone, I don't even have the legs for the shorts. I can barely stand to buy sneakers (that high-pitched whiny voice going 'is that American Dollars?" yep, that's me) and there's been no stampede among anyone who makes shoes to have an Air Kenny grace the store shelves (I actually prefer Luft Willibaldo but that would mean making the sneakers longer to accommodate the extra letters; I tend to trip over my own feet, so that's a non-starter).

Speaking of non-starters on the matter of Donald Sterling being voted off the NBA Ownership Island, you've read and heard I'm sure the polished polemic of Al "Super Narc" Sharpton and his polar opposite, Romulus to his Remus, chubby cubby wide-body buddy, Rush Limbaugh. Looking at both of them (though Al's done a nice job of slimming down, sadly without yet vanishing), all I can think of is The Band.

(Aside to Al: I would respect you more as a fellow-traveler on the Big Blue Marble if you'd explain the 'totally' part of 'totally outraged.' As opposed to what, partially outraged?)

This is who you need to read because if anyone knows whereof he writes from his days at Power Memorial in New York City through UCLA to an epoch-defining career in the NBA, it's Kareem Abdul-Jabbar in Time Magazine. We are Here at the Western World and it's Sterling's turn to be the madman, with a world of witnesses. Jabbar's diagnosis of IPMS deserves to be part of our permanent vocabulary and is truly masterful.

I guess, with all the reading I've been doing on this since Friday, maybe the only thing I don't understand is why so many people who saw the signs chose to not read them. Sterling has always been That Guy.

This is not a new news story but an old one, as old as time itself. It's a variation of the frog and the scorpion who both needed to cross a stream. The frog, despite assurances and promises, feared the scorpion would fatally sting him while they were both in the water.

Halfway across that is exactly what happened and the frog, with its dying breath, begged the scorpion to explain. The scorpion as it,too, was drowning smiled at the frog and replied, 'why are you surprised? You knew what I was when you picked me up.'
-bill kenny

Education is the Transmission of Civilization

I should tell you to start that I am the son of a school teacher. We, my brothers and sisters, grew up in a house with daily reinforcements on the importance of getting a good education and were mostly unaware that we were fortunate in that our parents could provide us with an environment in which we could excel.

I mention all of that because every year in Norwich we spar over the amount of money the Board of Education requests of the City Council (and by extension, you and I) for the education of our children.

My children are now adults but, of course, will always be my children. Unlike your children, perhaps, they had the good fortune to attend Norwich Public Schools when offerings included chorus, instrumental music, language, art, MoPeep and a dozen other programs that I can only dimly remember now because we slowly eliminated them in the last decade and a half to reduce overall budget increases and thus slow the rise in tax rates.

When you look at remedial programs offered by secondary schools to whom we are sending our children, designed as tutorials for subject matter the children never learned in Norwich Public Schools so that they can succeed in high school you have to wonder about that carney trick where the huckster takes a foot from the back of the blanket and sews it onto the front and cons the mug into buying a blanket that's now a foot longer.

We get what we pay for and we need to adjust how we view tax dollars that support public education and recognize them for the investment they become instead of the expense we perceive them as being. As has been often suggested, "if you think education is expensive, try ignorance." Trust me-none of us can afford to live in a city where we keep cutting corners on the skills and abilities for success in the 21st Century.

There's not a parent among us who doesn't remember how 'things were back in my day' and wonders why that's not still true. No one steps into the same river twice, because both the river and you have changed. Change is the only constant in the universe and it's how we grow. If standing still could rule the world, how much of what you and I take for granted, the machinery within the scenery, from electricity through automobiles to computers would exist? Would you want to live there and, in terms of education, how do you think we get to tomorrow?

If we intend to rebuild our city, state and nation as the Age of Applied Information begins to bloom, how will we cultivate the talents of our youngest generation and harness their energy and enthusiasm without the tools they and we need?

I've heard it said that every day is a child is born who will change the world. The challenge is we don't know which child it is. Where do we think the next Edward Land, Steve Jobs or Larry Page will come from if not from within our community?

What's the point of worrying about physical infrastructure, from pavement to police stations to gas and power lines, if we persist in the belief we can keep postponing investing in our children? Public education creates a shared cultural frame of reference and values that are a reflection of we are and why we are here.

What do our schools say about us? What should they?
-bill kenny

Something Else Will Touch the Sand of a Foreign Land

Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was in USAF basic training we did physical training, PT ('so good, whiskey no good') in our combat boots or in the worst shoes ever made, chukka boots, to include the always-popular mile and a half run.

You can probably sense the warmth of the nostalgia with which I offer that recollection. Those crazy, hazy days of youth.

I didn't realize the military services, with the exception of the USMC who don't really care what your physical training footwear is, actually give recruits a cash-money-in-their-hand-allowance to buy sneakers (I realize the cool kids lunch table calls them 'sports shoes;' I don't care. They are sneakers) and the big news (I'm talking Big Bucks news) is that we may be guiding the young men and women who volunteer to defend us and the Constitution from all enemies foreign and domestic to buy American which is good news for the makers of the only sneakers I ever wear anymore.

No word on the socks or laces, or even if either (or both) are/will be optional and I, for one, wouldn't be surprised if, in pursuit of a multi-million dollar market, a few other folks jump into the game. Though in light of the logo on one of the brands, perhaps leap is a better term.

And I'm not talking 'bout no beat-up Ballys.
 -bill kenny