More than a Lifetime Ago

I've never, yet, had the opportunity to visit the USS Arizona Memorial in Pearl Harbor. I've spoken with the no-longer-young men who were on Arizona before it was part of the remembrance of December 7, 1941. 

There are so many memorials to those who sacrificed so much in so many wars, I sometimes forget that consciously, and perhaps unconsciously as well, those who fought and died (on all sides) helped shape who we are now, and how it is I am free to sit here and type semi-vacantly into the ether.

I'm told men and women will fight for their country, but will only die for one another, which is an act of such remarkable, selfless, love that it should require of all of us whose lives are made possible (and maybe a little too comfortable) by this act of sacrifice to live lives that truly matter.

As a kid, reading the accounts, I was struck by the ferocity of the attacks at Pearl Harbor. It was years later as a young adult that I first read of those who survived the attacks but who were hopelessly and helplessly trapped in the hulls of destroyed or partially-sunken vessels. I've read reports of survivors lost in twisted masses of metal who tapped, persistently and steadily in absolute and total darkness and probable terror, for days, hoping those 'outside' would find and free them.

I cannot imagine having that kind of courage. Instead, I've allowed my petty concerns and problems to absorb my attention. I've learned to flinch, as Warren Zevon used to sing and to spend my waking hours fearing footfalls that never come from those whom I'll never know. 

Instead of living life out loud, I've elevated 'playing it safe' to an art form without ever considering how those who made the hard choices that brought me here might feel about what I've made of the gift they've given me. 

Unless and until we start to repay the debt of unselfish sacrifice that is the foundation of our world, we'll never be able to build anything of our own to give to our children and their children. Nearly eight decades or eighty decades will be as the blink of an eye for all those who refuse to see.
-bill kenny

Some Second Thoughts on Second Advent Sunday

In less than thirty days we'll be talking about 2021 in the present and not future tense. How is that even possible? The last I looked, 2020 was just arriving, filled with challenge/fueled by hope and here we are with the remnants of those hopes tracked across the living room carpet like so much of so what.

You remember 2020, you have to. This was the year we were to do, we were to talk, we were to live large and to be. And what happened? And I don't just mean the pandemic though that certainly did NOT help. We allowed so many others, maybe too many others (who've already given up on their dreams) to creep in as poor players and poison what wells of hope we'd held for ourselves.

We've no lack of culprits for the politics of anger, though we know the reverse is just as easily as true. For my part, I'm exhausted, physically, and emotionally. It's like I'm running through soup and sand, my feet never quite lifting from and clearing the ground, each stride a broken parody of what it once was with my arms pushing through air I can taste rather than feel. 

And the harder I try the farther behind I fall. I started out beside you but have spent the year watching you disappear before me, long strides taking you over the horizon and when I get to where you were, you're gone with no trace, no track, and no regret. Sic transit humanitas.

This is the year I've been forced to concede the face in the mirror has aged and that the man behind the face hasn't nearly as many springs left as he thought he had and more on point, has squandered, rather than saved, those moments of meaning he thought would come along again as easily as they did the first time. I've actually felt the dullness of the ache in the pit of my stomach and the shocked realization of regret and realization the next time can be the last time always brings with it as a constant companion.

Like many these past months, I blinked at critical moments and lost sight of the important in the rush of the real as the latter became surreal and unreal before disappearing by the dawn's early light. The year in which I had vowed to sort myself out has nearly run its course and the next one will be over even faster than this one, with less to show for it as the distance already traveled never equals the distance yet to go. 

The sense of adventure is replaced by dread as the days draw down and the year ends. The toast we'll make for much success in the new year assumes both will exist but accepts the implication that neither is promised. But it's the what's next that will keep me awake.

-bill kenny 

When Edison Came to Stay

I grew up with rotary phones and rabbit ears on the backs of black and white televisions. I wanted you to have that frame of reference when I offer that, in the words of Paul Simon, these are the days of miracles and wonder.

By clicking here you can watch not only the lighting up of our city hall but see and meet a lot of the people who made the magic available. 

Here's a screengrab as best as I could do, because computers are hard for fossils like me. 

Not content to watch it on screen, I grabbed something a little larger than a screen at City Hall.

Enjoy.
-bill kenny

Swapping Out Cause and Effect

I'm keenly aware countering the testimony of roosters everywhere that, despite their crowing, the sun does NOT come up. I'm more than familiar with the confusion some of us have with cause and effect; some cynics might suggest I made a decent living counting on that confusion.

That said, I enjoyed the front-page article yesterday in our local newspaper on the holiday decorations downtown, concentrated at the harbor, as opposed to throughout, and across, Down City. 

I was sorry to read the snowflakes hanging from street lamps across downtown were worn out and beyond repair but having been called a snowflake myself many times in the course of the last four years during the siege of America I can fully understand and appreciate the stress they must have undergone.

If you want to see the lights at the Harbor, you can do so right here or here.     

As the newspaper explained, tonight's the night for the Virtual Lighting of City Hall, which will happen live on the city's website and I'll enjoy it nearly as much as walking down and standing in the courtyard and counting it down like every previous year but I have a confession to make.

Souvenir from last year

I hope I'm not putting anyone from the city on the spot (but don't really care if I do because as you know if you've stopped by this space at any time for the last dozen years, I'm pretty much an arse) if I hope that with so many things on the 'to-do list' even in a pandemic we still find the time for the Christmas Rose at Chelsea Parade.

Also a photo from last year

In the spirit of full disclosure, I should note I do NOT help erect the display (that would be a calamity) but dedicate myself to coming out every evening when it's dark (even if it's cold) and admiring it until I lose the feeling in my extremities. This photo is from last year and is my effort to crow and cause the sun to come up and it will have to do me, I guess until the crews get to it this year which I hope they do because once it's up, the holiday season is literally and figuratively, truly lit.
-bill kenny

Explains a Lot

According to Merriam Webster, the 2020 "Word of the Year" has been determined. It was pretty close when it came to choosing The One as this has been quite an unforgettable year though many of us will try as hard as we can. 

The Word of the Year for this year is pandemic. And if we keep behaving in the thoughtless, heedless 'my body, my decision' manner we are currently, it may well prove to be the word of the year for the next decade or so.

And if you wonder why or how pandemic was chosen, consider a decision by the Supreme Court just before the Thanksgiving holiday that determined public health officials and Governor of New York State in establishing pandemic mitigation preventative measures could NOT no longer bar religious group services despite evidence that such gatherings are super-spreader events. Proving, I suppose, The Lord does move in mysterious ways.

Which brings us to this, briefly offered on Twitter before being deleted by its poster.

The day will come when we have a vaccine for COVID-19 but will still be no closer to one curing ignorance and arrogance.
-bill kenny

We Need a Little Christmas

You can be forgiven for losing track of time this year. An argument can be made as to why anyone would want to pay any more attention to this year than we already have and that’s a fair point.

It can’t be just me but things have been going sideways in terms of the calendar starting somewhere in March. We’ve got Thanksgiving in the rear-view mirror with the “Most Wonderful Time of the Year” straight ahead of us whether we’re feeling holly-jolly or not.

But rather than mope and moan at how much unwelcome change we’ve had so far this year thanks to the pandemic (named ‘Word of the Year’ (WOTY) by Merriam-WebsterDictionary), how about, instead, being joyful for what we still have and hopeful about what we are looking forward to?

How does that song go? ‘For we need a little Christmas, right this very minute.’ Well no matter what you call it, or how you celebrate it, this is most certainly the time of the year for it and quite frankly not a moment too soon, say I.

You know how we used to all look forward to the Winterfest Parade with its floats, holiday-bedecked fire engines and marching bands, and then the pilgrimage to where Union Street and Broadway meet at Angelo Sanguedolce Square, for hot cider and cocoa from the United Congregational Church, hayrides around downtown, and holiday caroling until it was time to count down for Santa’s arrival and to Light Up City Hall?  This year, because of WOTY, things will be (more than) a little different.

From last year's lighting ceremony

The Winterfest Parade was canceled months ago but thanks to a large number of helping hands from across the city and within city government, if you head to Howard T. Brown Park after dark any evening, you’ll be treated to some gorgeous white lights on the gazebo, a fountain made of lights and tree branches throughout the park festooned with even more lights.

You can check them out from the comfort of your own home with or without chestnuts roasting by an open fire, on the city’s website. And I hiked down to the Harbor this past Sunday to grab some holiday spirit for myself.

Meanwhile, back at City Hall, the 29th Annual Light Up City Hall will happen this Friday at six but as a Virtual Event complete with a volunteer-produced video with holiday greetings from local fire departments, American Ambulance, and civic groups as well as videos of the tree and lighting setups we can all enjoy either at the city’s website, or on the City of Norwich Facebook page.

On Saturday from noon to four there’s a “Shop Local Fair” sponsored by the Greater Norwich Area Chamber of Commerce with dozens of vendors and artisans all along Broadway, Franklin and Bath streets. And before you ask, yes Virginia, there will be restaurants, shops and food trucks because some of us need more than just figgy pudding.

So, wear a mask, practice social distancing, and bring a friend or two. And plan on buying gift cards from your favorite places and spaces so all of us can have a happy holiday.
-bill kenny

Happy Birthday, Evan!

Today is my oldest younger sister's birthday. That sounds more complicated than it is unless of course, you grew up in a large, Irish Catholic family where none of how we track birthdays and refer to one another is the least bit unusual.

I'm quite pleased with remembering it as I have in the past often lost track of the date and offer apologies instead of congratulations but, as always I have an excuse for when that happens as I, myself, was so young when she was born. Of course, I must concede that she was even younger and has remembered it just fine, thank you.

When we were very small (heads at about the height that whacked dining room tables when you cut corners too closely as you ran around the house) I used to call her "Boss in charge of the Dog." I don't think I ever actually did that in front of the dog or better phrased, dogs, as, from the earliest age, she was an animal lover while I only liked them at mealtime.

I've wracked my brain trying to remember the name of the horse she had while we all lived in the house on Blackwell Mills Road. In all candor, I'm more than a little impressed I can remember the name of the road. Assuming I actually have or did, which may not be as true as I'd like it to be, I'm confident she knows the name of that horse as well as any and all of the names she had good reason to call me growing up.

She has a lot on her plate these days but more wishes than worries, hopefully, to allow her to sail through the holiday season and into the New Year. Where and I have my fingers crossed, even better days await. Happy Birthday, Evan!

-bill kenny