Lighting Up City Hall and All of Downtown

Did we not have ourselves a time around here on Saturday afternoon with the 30th Annual Norwich Winterfest Parade? It was really fantastic and a belated but very heartfelt thank you to everyone who helped The Rose of New England defend its title as Christmas City, first won eighty years ago. 

Habits can be so strong that I started to pull on my coat and gloves to walk down Broadway Saturday night for the lighting of City Hall because that's how we've always capped the Winterfest Parade for all the years I've lived here, but then I remembered we're starting a new tradition this year by having the Lighting of City Hall kick off the First Friday Downtown Norwich, December edition, the day after tomorrow. 

What a great idea (and I can say that because I certainly would never think of it) because hundreds and hundreds (and more) of us pour into every nook and cranny around City Hall for the carols, the singalongs and (of course) the countdown to and lighting of one of the most beautiful public buildings in all of New England (making it even more beautifuler?). And afterward, in years past, we all then just went home. But wait! 

From a "Light Up City Hall" Past

Now, when we're downtown Friday evening, we'll have a chance to sample and enjoy the ever-growing palette of attractions and "I-did-not-know-that" moments which the artists and merchants who call downtown home have to offer. First Friday is a handy label to write on your monthly calendar but the attractions and events are an ever-changing delight. 

Sponsored by the Greater Norwich Area Chamber of Commerce, it's really a collaboration among the galleries, theatres, businesses, and civic organizations allying with local artists to include painters, sculptors, actors, musicians, culinary experts, authors, and photographers to bring each of us a night they hope we'll long remember and strive to equal on any of the other nights of the month that isn't First Friday.

And speaking of authors and downtown, and combining both, tonight at 6:30, Otis Library is hosting Norwich's own John Manuel Andriote for a discussion on, and book-signing of, his latest work, "Stonewall Strong: Gay Men's Heroic Fight for Resilience, Good Health, and a Strong Community." It's an important book at an important time and I think, tonight is a fortuitous opportunity for those who are interested.

Returning now to City Hall, First Friday, and spaces and places that should be lighted as well as highlighted this Friday evening, would you be surprised to learn that if you spent just an hour in each of the attractions, you'd be downtown through Saturday afternoon? 

Different lighting, but the same City Hall

I'm not kidding the scale and scope of activities (okay, maybe a little) that include (alphabetically by height) Encore Justified, Gallery at the Wauregan Inc., Norwich Arts Center, The Art House of Norwich, Reliance Health, Inc., NAC Gallery, Bold As Love Artisan Guild, Central Baptist Church, Bully-Busters; Reliance Health Gallery, and ArtSpace Norwich. 

I know, you can get hungry and thirsty just reading the list; First Friday has something for that as well to include: Billy Wilson's Ageing Still, Harp & Dragon, Namoo, These Guys Brewing Co. LLC, La Stella Pizzeria, Epicure Brewing, Ice & Fire, Mi Casa Mexican Restaurant, and, in their new location on Water Street, Strange Brew.

So I'll look for you Friday night and maybe we can share a laugh at all those who complain that there's never anything to do in downtown Norwich. More for us; works for me.
-bill kenny

The Dark Side of Hands Free Cell Phone Operation

I think we all agree that cell phones transitioned from a "Dig Me!" item of personal and flamboyant extravagance to a ubiquitous and an absolute essential in nearly less time that it would take Donald Trump to diagram this sentence (bigly). I mean, what would life be without the ability to send one another cat memes? If you just said 'catastrophic,' thank you because that's what I was thinking and  I didn't want to be alone.

I agree fully with public safety officials' contentions that, while driving, they are a distraction but I'm waiting for all of those experts to agree with me that we must also include listening to the radio, drinking coffee, eating a burger (and/or a slice of pizza), shaving, and applying makeup (all of which I have watched transpire in vehicles in front and beside me) aren't a walk in the park. 

Truth to tell, putting glass in the front windshield (the Brits say 'windscreen' like you were driving some sort of a motorized colander) was probably the first and biggest distraction and we've been coping ever since. 

Just about every one of our fifty not as United-as-we-hope-to-be-states has hands-free while driving cell phone prohibitions in our laws, and that's undoubtedly a very good thing except when I recall that old admonition about 'idle hands are the devil's workshop.'   

As an example of that, allow me to introduce you to one Ruberto Pasquale, who single-handedly (pun intended) has done more to boost auto interior roof cleanings than anyone in the history of car washes could have ever hoped. When self-pleasuring becomes an Olympic event (you scoff? We have selfies, don't we?)  we're going to see Ruberto on the medals podium. You probably do not need a reminder to NOT offer him a congratulatory handshake.
-bill kenny               

Rumbling from an Alien Distant Shore

These are some notes from some time ago when I hit a Mickey D's in the morning for breakfast, back when the only time they served breakfast was at breakfast. I saved them because I knew a day like today would happen and I would need them. 

! started my day, creature of habit that I am, at a fast food joint, having already grabbed the other daily newspaper for the area (we get one home-delivered and the other one I buy out of a box because I'm an old-fashioned guy, or I was until I stopped drinking). 

When I'm off during the work week, and have breakfast out, I'm always amazed at the number of people I encounter in these places. Everyone knows everyone else, basically from eating breakfast in the same location. Who knew hash browns and a senior coffee had such a powerful impact on building a community? Maybe we should think about carpet-bombing Kandahar or, closer to home, Bridgeport, with Egg McMuffins and see what happens. 

I knew it would be a magical experience when the guy in front of me wearing a vivid (and that word doesn't even come close) golden sweat suit, hood down, ordered 'a medium coffee, black, with eleven sugars' while jogging in place. Yeah, he probably hates the taste of sugar and uses the coffee to cover it. My own breakfast was slightly less turbo-charged and as I sat down, I was within earshot of four elderly men analyzing the newspaper (the one we get delivered to the house) over their growing colder by the moment coffee.

The fellow in the yellow shirt offered his insight into the crisis du jour, (then) Governor M. Jodi Rell's intent to shrink the state of Connecticut's ever-expanding current year operating deficit by reducing aid to the 167 cities and towns across the state, thus putting the deficit monkey on someone else's back. He and his dining companions agreed 'we need to get rid of the lot of them.' 

There were no suggestions on who would replace 'them' or even much of a discussion on exactly who 'them' is, and I estimate of the four of them, at least three probably voted for the Governor in her election attempt, as did so many of us, but now, M. Jodi, don't call us, we'll call you. You may not like what we call you, lady, but you know the gig was iffy when you signed up.

Sitting across from the yellow shirt was Buzz, for haircut-inspired reasons, warning his repast companions of 'what happens after the government starts running health care' though I couldn't help but wonder, in light of their probable ages, if any of them had Medicare and what they thought that was all about. I decided discretion was the better part of valor and kept silent. 

Good thing, too, as one of the other two, with high-water pants (cuffs that wave to, but are nowhere near, by three or more inches, his shoes), explained that government health care will allow 'the illegal aliens to go to the hospital' adding he knew all about this because he'd 'read it in the paper or heard about it on television'. That threw me for a moment because of the confusion on the source. The only way I can ever hear anything while reading the newspaper is if I'm having Rice Krispies with milk. 

Of course, we dissected the sports page-all overpaid babies (they may have been talking about the high school football scores, which means I'm in the presence of hard-core), and wondered as to the whereabouts (and the health) of 'Dave' and 'Bob' as the four of them set about putting the world in order at least for the day from their table facing the window looking out on to West Towne Street. 

I smiled listening, but envied them a bit as well, as when they finished and stood to leave, they shook one another's hands, remembered to say hello to those spouses who were not in attendance and offered each other a breezy 'see ya tomorrow' (as they undoubtedly shall) before heading out to inspect how successful their solutions had been implemented. 

I imagine they'll come rolling back in here this morning between seven thirty and eight, regular as clockwork. Except maybe for eleven-sugars-guy. I wouldn't be surprised if he were still running it off somewhere.
-bill kenny

Where's the Plaque for On This Day

From a disturbingly long time ago, through the miracle of technology, delivered to your screen fresh as the day it was first posted.

I never had the chance to see David Letterman, in a previous life, as an Indiana television weatherman, but I did think of him when I came across this story. To my "Ruth is Stranger than Bridget" file, crammed with examples of The Lord's puckish sense of humor, I can now add, just in time for the holidays, "Paula Deen Hit With Ham, Doing 'Okay'".

To everyone's relief, this story doesn't seem to have any long-term harm or injury to add a lot of tears to the snickers, giggles, and guffaws and it helps underscore the importance of community support for food banks.

I don't know anything about Paula Deen except she's another media attraction and creation. She's famous for being famous, Y'all (and for something to do with food). Heck, I eat food-if you've seen me in the flesh you know it's been decades since I missed a meal, but I don't have a TV show. 

Yes, I understand that Paula Deen's TV appearances are, more often than not, connected to her culinary abilities, which, as someone who struggles with Ramen Noodles, I find to be terribly discriminatory. Just because the woman has a skill (and a killer drawl), she gets a TV show, and poor me, with no skills, gets zip! Discrimination hurts.

As does getting popped in the kisser with a ham. You know the Hormel guys had to be sitting in their corporate headquarters, staring at their pig screen, sorry, BIG screen, TV watching that news clip, trying to calculate just how much that kind of product placement cost Smithfield (and how handsomely it paid off). 

I think we've all learned a valuable lesson here: there's a difference between a spiral ham and a spiral pass. And the consequences for dropping each seems to be different as well. Between us, I wouldn't be surprised to learn Paula doesn't volunteer to help unload the trailer of donated candied yams and I think making her do so might be gruel and unusual punishment.
-bill kenny

All Exits Look the Same

Someone much wiser than I once explained to me that freedom of speech doesn't entitle you to shout fire in a crowded theatre, nor does it afford you the privilege of sitting next to someone and whisper non-stop as the celluloid races through the projector gates. The danger, he said, each one of us faced was that 'sometimes the things you do speak so loudly I cannot hear what you're saying.' 

I thought about that yesterday as I watched people scurrying through the mall beginning the search for low-cost holiday gifts for their mailmen and newspaper carrier, oil tank filling guy, coffee making person, pizza deliverer, etc; a dozen or a hundred jobs that no one notices until they're not done. The trick is to make sure to find something that doesn't like cheap and when you start the hunt early, you have a better chance. 

I've had this conversation with work colleagues in years past who have a very complex and complicated mental math they do to compute just how much to spend on a gift for a person whose name they usually don't know or for one who, if the job is done right, they rarely see (not at Adam's house, of course; he probably takes the news carrier with him for a jog). 

And in the case of the 'sandwich guy' or the 'coffee server' (and the like), it's a person with whom you would never speak, aside from 'please' and 'thank you', but if you crossed paths in a locale such as Borneo or even Boise, you'd chatter away like magpies who'd known one another your whole lives. The concept is called familiar strangers and many of us have a world populated with them and very few others. 

I've gotten better as I've aged (I'm not bragging; I set the bar pretty low) and I no longer immediately say everything I'm thinking, which I did for decades and then wondered why I had tension-filled relationships with people. Turns out I had difficulties distinguishing between inside and outside voices, especially as I tend to hear both, and if you don't, it's your loss. Blurting is often hurting, a little tip from me to you about getting along here on the ant-farm. 

There was a time I'd ask those shopping for the knick-knack thank you gifts, 'why don't you just give the person money?' After all, it's a holiday whose primary colors seem to be red and green and since most of us are in the former why not share some of the latter? I think we give each other seconds of pleasure that are put away and forgotten or lost by the end of the holiday season because we can't stand the insulted silences if we didn't. 

It's not words, so much, that frighten us, it's the quiet between the words. That the words have, perhaps, sharp edges is all well and good as long as they keep coming, because that way we don't have to worry there might be time to think about their meaning and the last thing many of us want to do is find ourselves alone with our thoughts. 

I sometimes wonder if there's life on other planets and, like us, have giant parabolic microphones to pick up the sounds emanating from this septic orb if they've long since learned to turn the volume all the way down. We wouldn't know or mind, I fear.
-bill kenny

Ack! Friday!

If you're reading this on a handheld device while standing in a line outside a big box store to snag a once-in-a-lifetime-deal that isn't on a television, a new cell phone, a refrigerator-freezer or gaming console, please go home now.

No need for greed

All of us who have the capabilities to read this blather have all the physical possessions we shall ever need-anything you're standing in line for now, or elbowing folks out of the way to get to later in the day as Black Friday accelerates, is sheer and absolute greed. 

Thanksgiving, and this is still Thanksgiving my friend, is to celebrate with friends, old and new and not acquire more things to put in the basement or attic with the other things we already own and don't use.

Striving to maintain an attitude of gratitude

Many years ago in Germany I had an acquaintance who described Americans as "people who buy things they don't need with money they don't have to impress people they don't like." I really disliked him for that characterization but I always think about what he said when Black Friday rolls around and know I cannot argue with his point.

Where I live, Norwich, Connecticut, a town of about 40,000, if I were to add up all the square footage of all the shops in our downtown, occupied buildings or otherwise, I suspect it's less than the floor space in the average Super Box Store. It's getting better and will keep growing but the big bucks head to the Big Box stores. Fair enough, I guess.  

I can be gracious and concede that reality because tomorrow is Small Business Saturday, and assuming you're not tuckered out from that super deal you got on the 1932 hand-carved mahogany Terraplane at MaxBucks MegaStore, you could support one or more of the local shops where you live, all of whom help make your city or town an even better place to come home to.

This is what we're about in Norwich. Come join us!

Perhaps to help you keep that same small town in each of us, you have where you live a semi-official start of the season such as ours here. We have a Winterfest Parade tomorrow afternoon stepping off at one that will amaze. astound and (I'd hope) set just the right tone for this soon-to-be-upon-us holiday season.

We've given each other some hard knocks lately, and I'd suspect/expect a few more before the New Year arrives but we do this Christmas kick-off stuff really well and we always have room for more so if you're waiting for an invitation, this is it. And though it's been said many times, many ways.....

-bill kenny

A Song of Thanksgiving

We were, I've read, thisclose to following the suggestion of Benjamin Franklin in making the turkey, and not the bald eagle, our national symbol. Just as well as I have difficulty wrapping my brain around the notion of Hunter S. Thompson embracing Wild Eagle and Ibogaine as essential tools in gonzo journalism. The road not taken. 

This hasn't been the best year for many of our neighbors (and perhaps ourselves) and it's far too easy to regret what we don't have rather than pause for a moment to be thankful for what we do have. That, for the most part, is what today is more or less about. 

I equivocate because there are people, public safety and public health workers and others who don't have a holiday because of who they are and what they do. I don't know how many millions of us work shifts, but there are many and their time off differs from others. For vast segments of the country, today is a prelude to Black Friday which starts earlier every year (as does the decorating, storefront displays, holiday music et al) until quite soon we shall go directly from Independence Day to Christmas and children will no longer be born in hospitals but in malls. 

Haste makes waste and also makes us less grateful for what we have and for the effort it took to possess it. It was many years ago, but I can remember being grateful for sharing an American custom with my bride, who was (and remains) a German citizen in her country where the fourth Thursday of November traditionally falls before the fourth Friday of November. As the years went on, we were to celebrate this holiday with our son and, later, our daughter, both of whom have lives of their own now and who come to visit us in a very different home, in a different part of the world from where we all once lived. 

Sometimes you appreciate more what you once had when it's absent. I have to remember and be thankful for my brothers, Kelly and Adam as well as my three sisters, Evan, Kara and Jill, and for the brave and long life our mother, Joan, shared with all of us as well as for my wife's siblings, Beate, Klaus-Peter and Gabrielle and their mother, Anni. We are, in sum, everyone we've ever known (sorry for dragging down the cumulative, everyone, but thanks for being who you are). 

Of course, our national frame of reference is the First Thanksgiving in 1621. The handful of Pilgrims who had survived the voyage across the Atlantic and the hazards and vicissitudes (something about Pilgrims makes using that word mandatory) of the New-but-growing-older-by-the-moment World had every reason to be grim, but then grateful and thankful for the generosity of Chief Massasoit and his Wampanoag tribe. 

In a way, this is a brave new world in which we, too, are now journeying. Much of what we believed and thought we knew, politically, socially, financially and philosophically has been altered and, in whole or in part, swept away by what is coming and what is yet come. 

With all of our wealth and power, we cannot hold a moment longer than our forefathers could or longer than our children's, children's children will. But we can cherish what we have and share it among ourselves, actually making the blessing greater even as the number partaking of it grows. 

For all that we have or will ever have, to include that which we have lost, we shall always have one another and this moment together. To ask for more is beyond the bounds of this day and to settle for less is too tragic for words. 
-bill kenny