Dr. Spock. Was He the One with the Pointy Ears?

It may have been in your paper this weekend and you just skipped over it. Here's where it started, in Saturday's Boston Herald. In a world of blame, this item presents a target-rich environment. I suspect we don't need to worry about getting a photographer from Parents Magazine on the horn to come out and get some happy snaps of Mom and Dad with Cullen, the little boy with the hash brown burn marks on his neck.

I fear the tyke was indeed hurt and not just a little bit-but arrogant, tag-along Dad (my wife did ALL the heavy lifting-I was closer to being a much older third child than a partner in raising our two) of now two grown-up children in their own right that I am (phew! that was pretty long, wasn't it?) I'm not sure he's eligible for emancipation of minors which is what I would counsel him to be his next and best option. I don't imagine having Robin and Greg in the front seat gives Cullen anywhere near enough space-I'm thinking a TRO should do the trick.

It's hard to feel anything other than anger for Mom and Dad, especially when the next to last line of the story seems to get to the heart of the matter which (surprise!) may not have as much to do with Cullen's owie or those yummy, but dangerous, hash browns as one might suspect, "The suit also accuses the franchise’s insurer, CNA Insurance Company of Chicago, of refusing to make a 'good faith offer' to settle the claim." So when the threat of extortion didn't work, someone stole a page from the marketing strategy book of the National Lampoon (technically, the January 1973 magazine)?

Dr. Benjamin Spock whose "The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care" is reportedly the SECOND largest selling book published in English, behind the Bible, to my knowledge contains ZERO references to feeding a young child fast food of any kind or at any time. I might have guessed it was okay to try a Munchkin (though not if you're trying to keep the baby fat off, based on those numbers), but I'd be wrong and upon advice of my attorney I will have no comment, though I will have a Coolata if the calorie count calculus works out.

Sorry, Cullen. Children don't get to pick their parents, which may be how you ended up with Robin and Greg, though I fear they may be genetically predisposed to reach for the Happy Meals. They think it's something you get at the Golden Arches while for you it's anything more age-appropriate to eat that doesn't injure you. Don't forget to use your napkin.

-bill kenny

Personal favor: If you're in my neck of the woods and see a 1995 Mitsubishi Mirage, light green, with CT license plates 229-HGS-please call a policeman. It's my daughter's car and it was stolen from in front of our house after eight o'clock this morning. Thanks

Bring your Appetite, and not just for food

This is the weekend to be here in The Rose City of Norwich at the confluence of the Shetucket, Thames and Yantic Rivers (imagine the size of that 'Welcome to' sign! It would blot out the sun). And admittedly, there's some meterological discussion still going as to how much sun we'll actually have around here this weekend as opposed to how much drizzle and out and out rain but we can't really complain as we've had great weather for quite some time. (But we will, because we can).

Bring your sneakers, maybe a water-repellent jacket and a folding chair (looking to cover all the contingencies) as you can feast and foment revolution (I'm kidding! But I love alliteration and it just felt good) all at the same convenient location, or extremely close.

It's the Taste of Italy at Howard Brown Park, at the mouth of the harbor (how perfect is that, considering all the food). Don't be fooled by the careful and thoroughly adult wording of the oh-so-grown-up press release on the City of Norwich website. There has to be a certain decorum to these things, don't you know? It's one day and it's spectacular. You have to come here and come hungry-as if you could possibly eat all the things that are being served. HA!

On Saint Patrick's Day everyone is Irish, no matter what your mom calls you. Today I answer to Guglielmo because the same thing happens here with being Italian for Taste of Italy. I've never seen that link before. I'm using it so you have a map, but you can just roll down the car window and follow the aroma, too. I'm saying that because bocce balls have no scent. Did I mention there are fireworks and how much I love fireworks (almost as much as pony rides)? Except that they'd get spooked by the explosions, I'd watch the fireworks riding a pony.

Coming up Washington Street towards Norwich Free Academy, and past Chelsea Parade (and we'll talk about there in a minute so keep your bib on) we'll catch Day Three of the Grecian Festival at the Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church. It's on the right and don't worry, you won't miss it. The church is actually about a four minute walk from my house, and it's even closer when the gyros are just about done. If you see someone moving briskly but no one is chasing him with a stick, it could be me 'measuring' the distance (depends on the cooking time).

Back at Chelsea Parade, starting at one and forecast through four in the afternoon, is the Chelsea Parade Tea Party. Unless you're new to the planet, we both know these don't have a lot to do with little girls in crinoline and plates with lady finger cookies on them. But I'll tell you something else based on the tea party I attended on the 4th of July. Maybe because we're just nicer people (okay, some of us), or we're more mature or maybe the ones I always see on the TV news are just goofier, based on the get together at the Harbor back in April and the one here in July, we speak more and yell less at these things, which gives everybody a chance to listen and that's always a good idea (the ratio of ears to mouth and why comes to mind but you already thought about that).

Speaking of mouth, for today, and today only as the announcer might say, you can try speaking with a mouth full of scrumptious Mediterranean food. Being a concerned citizen does have its rewards, sometimes more tangible and delectable than others. Enjoy yourself, and one another, except where void or prohibited by law.
-bill kenny

You're Missing

I've watched this date approach for weeks, and words are not enough. It's a hole on the calendar, about the size of the hole in my heart. It doesn't hurt less knowing so many of us ache for the same reason. Eight years on, remembering and thinking about the events of 11 September 2001 doesn't diminish the pain of remembrance or reduce the power of recollection.

Four planes, people whose lives were suddenly and horribly ended in the air and on the ground, three buildings- two totally destroyed, the other deeply scarred, and a Pennsylvania field forever transformed into a memorial. And eight years later, the sharp edge of regret and loss has dulled slightly, as time has worn it down, but the hurt gets worse as the heart gets harder.

Earlier this week, in the here and now of politics as usual, there was a great deal of talk about "teachable moments." I can recall one such moment eight years ago as vividly now as when I first experienced it, mesmerized as were we all by the video screens, struggling to comprehend the small dots and tiny figures we saw falling from the upper stories of the World Trade Center to the street below were actually human beings who, moments earlier, had been at work, now confronted by horrors without end no matter how they chose. I had started prep school in New York City the same year of the groundbreaking for the World Trade Center, so all of the construction and the destruction happened, so to speak, on my watch.

The WTC towered over 'The City' as a fact of life in downtown, a force of nature and a presence, more felt than seen. There's a hole in the earth where the twin towers stood and then fell, referred to now as Ground Zero (arrive at Grand Central, Port Authority or JFK, it doesn't matter, and tell the cabbie 'Ground Zero' and everyone knows where you mean). Manhattan looked to the WTC the way the fingers on the hand look to the thumb. The destruction was no less real at the Pentagon, in Washington, D. C., where so many in and out of uniform who served America and worked to preserve her peace had war visited upon them, without warning or reason. Nor was the devastation across a Pennsylvanian hillside less painful or complete where, for weeks and months afterwards, no blade of grass grew and no bird flew. All we felt was a raw ache.

We seemed to move closer together, if only for the briefest of moments-a parent spending an extra eye blink as a child departed for a play date or outside for catch-a spouse lingering in the arms of a significant other for the shared heartbeat of a joined and joint caress before the workaday of everyday recaptured them--an almost imperceptible nod towards a neighbor as we passed on the street or at the market. No one was untouched.

We seemed to listen more carefully to one another, at least for a time afterwards. We spoke to each other instead of at each other. Having witnessed how frail and fragile life could be, it seemed we had resolved to see past and through the political and cosmetic differences and find the essentials and seek a common ground. And then tomorrow and tomorrow and that well-known petty pace crept in and we found ourselves standing together at anniversary remembrances of today, but not as close as we had stood the year previous.

Slowly, we chose a return to a country that always seems to involve blaming and shaming, shouting and pointing, pushing and shoving, posturing and pouting, until here we are, eight years older but, I fear, not eight years wiser. Many of us have forgotten, or choose to forget, that we have been always been where everyone else on earth has wanted to be. No one seeking to come here has ever thought we were perfect, but believed we allow everyone and anyone the opportunity to dream and to become their dream. We were the folks with the open hearts and open minds, who rolled up a sleeve to help out a neighbor or someone we'd not yet met half-way across the world, who looked you squarely in the eye and whether we agreed or not, always let you speak your mind and tell us your heart.

For some, today is a national day of service (to others and to the ideals upon which we were founded). And that is a path worth exploring as we can still use a lot of help even if we're not sure how to ask for it. Maybe we can start on a return to being the greatest nation on earth everyone else continues to believe we are-and to be, again, the Americans that everyone else sees when they look to us. We could get along better, maybe by muddling along together, by rediscovering the beliefs and values that bring and keep us togther, make us who we are and seeing how that goes. Perhaps we could begin to do all of that today. "Let kingdom come I'm gonna find my way, through this lonesome day."
-bill kenny

Do NOT Make Me Pull this Blog Over!!

I'm more than a little over the Nit Wit Twits, a/k/a Jon and Kate Once Had Eight or whatever their fifteen minutes of fame is called by the people who produce it. I have no idea how long the show has been on the air, but can guess (too long) or what the point and purpose of this video venture is supposed to be, aside from (based on the briefest of samplings) the relentless self-aggrandizement of people who should have been galvanized at birth.

What haven't they done to one another in our full view? And we keep coming back, for more. I read not that long ago that the debut episode of whatever this season is produced the largest viewership in the history of the program AND in the history of The Discover Channel, the conduit through which this Stygian stew flows.

Assuming there are people who enjoy it, and I'll skip the 'how could you?' because far be it from me to critique your TV choices since I may be not only the only person who ever watched The Paula Poundstone Show years ago on ABC but who liked it (I'll pause while that sinks in.) but don't even their fans get tired of these people?

When the cameras cap and the crews leave, who are they and why do their lives matter? They generated a huge number of children whose lives will, in turn, be marred and/scarred by everything that their folks, with seemingly very little thought, allowed to wash over them.

I always saw as part of my job as a Dad to my children as shielding them from as much as possible of trash and crap in this world, for as long as possible. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I fear I'm not, Jon and Kate seem to be in charge of flagging down the garbage truck and, reverse indicators beeping frantically, getting it to back the load up to the living room and dump it right through the open window. Kids, our world- warts and all; World, our kids.

And the rest of us, fascinated, cannot look away. Back in the Sixties, PBS' Great American Dream Machine gave us The Loud Family who, much like K&J, eventually disintegrated under the glare of the kicker lights on the video cameras and were scattered like so much chaff, with skin, to the four winds. And more than a generation later, it happens all over again-this time brought to us by the fine folks in our local towns who brew, bake and boil products we use in our homes everyday.

This story (I first typed NEWS and then deleted it as it's certainly not news) finishes me with these imbeciles for the rest of my life and hopefully theirs as well. Talking about putting the funk in dysfunctional--what a cautionary tale (for the rest of us). But as I wave goodbye to them, I must thank them as well because when I measure my life and problems against them and theirs, I feel really good about how my series is going. Heck, we're up for renewal and even a syndication deal!
-bill kenny

So this is how Red Riding Riding Hood Felt

I had my eyes dilated yesterday. It's part of the annual preventive care regimen that you, or someone you know who has diabetes, makes part of their lives. Diabetic retinopathy--prompts me to regard those with Type I diabetes, or youngsters who are growing up with juvenile diabetes, with special admiration as I have it a lot easier as a Type II non-insulin whiny person who controls mine through oral medications (lots of pills which beats lots and lots of injections), diet and exercise.

I'd forgotten the doctor would do the whole battery of tests and went alone with no one to drive me. Not a big deal, it just meant I had to sit in his waiting room like a gargoyle with a Members Only jacket on as my eyes struggled to get used to the intense light that's always a result of the pupil dilation. It feels as if the sun's exploded, even on a cloudy day. I have it done so I can better see other people's points of view. You think I'm kidding. I know I'm not.

I have sunglasses and another vision screen in the car, so after about an hour (plus a few extra minutes) the staff felt I was okay to drive (not that any of them went out into the parking lot to see how well I could corner or stop) and released me. I headed off to the rest of my life, already in progress. A bit later, I stopped in at a sandwich place for lunch.

The sandwich artist behind the counter was one of the young people who this time last year slept through Senior English at Anytown High. He knew a dude who was going to score him a great job, so why bother studying or getting good grades? He'd be making ten bucks an hour, easy, soon enough and living the Life of Reilly, except he didn't know how little money was left from a ten dollar an hour wage, especially when you're the one earning it. Maybe Michelangelo started out this way -pretty much the same when you get down to it. You want that toasted? Or would you prefer the Sistine Chapel? Maybe not so much that 'the same' thing after all, eh?

I took my sunglasses off so I could see the sandwich artist's pallet of pleasures. I looked up and into his eyes as he was staring at my extremely dilated (still), in a state of surprised alarm. Attempting to be funny, but making myself and my generation the butt of the joke, I quipped 'Yeah, I just smoked a bowl.' He looked at me carefully, studying my face as he asked, 'a bowl of what?' Townsend and Daltrey were right-but only the Loon and The Ox were listening.
-bill kenny

The Boys of Summer's Going Out of Season Sale

Tomorrow night after an absence of seven years, the turf at Dodd Stadium in Norwich will be in use this late in September as the Connecticut Defenders (the Double A affiliate of the San Francisco Giants), regular season champions of the Northern Division of the Eastern League (Double A) meet the New Britain Rock Cats in the first round of the 2009 playoffs.

I'm a Yankees fan-you may be a Red Sox fan. The guy down the street could be a born-again Rastafarian country and western fan but we can all root, root, root for the home team in one of the great places to watch baseball in the history of Western Civilization (DANGER! Will Robinson! Hyperbole alert!), aside from Yankee Stadium, of course (I told you I was a Yankees' fan, right?), so you really should think about catching a game to help celebrate the end of summer.

What's not to like? Dodd Stadium is close, the seats are great and cheap (maybe inexpensive is a more elegant word, but you get my point), parking is on site and a bargain, refreshments (to include both sparkling and bubbling), as well as eats of all kinds, aren't going to cost you your child's college tuition, and the quality of baseball is excellent. This hasn't exactly been the Summer of Love in these parts in a number of areas, so why not put the world on pause for two and half hours and watch young guys chase their dream across a patch of grass so green you'd swear it was painted, except it's not. Does a heart good some time to watch people do something they love for a living.

Read a sports page and make a note of how many guys on the Giants' roster were here in the last two or three years. It's staggering, so the team here is doing its job and getting guys up to The Show. But you know what? None of that means anything now. It's the playoffs; our team against those other guys, and the Defenders need to win six games to be crowned Eastern League Champions. The Rock Cats are a perennial EL power, but this season the Defenders have owned them.

It's a best of five series and game time Wednesday is 6:35. Wear or bring something warm as it can get chilly that high up on the hill at the stadium this late in the season-haven't had to worry about that for awhile, but it's nice to be rummaging around for a sweater while thinking about grabbing for that brass ring to crown the ride on the merry-go-round. It's great to be part of the human chorus of a Baseball Song.

-bill kenny

Outside It's a Bright Night (Norwich Meetings 8-11 September)

This week in the Rose City and in towns all across The Nutmeg State there will be a lot of tinkering with municipal budgets developed, debated and deliberated upon during the spring that took effect by state statute on 1 July, even though the State of Connecticut had no budget.

Then last week, there it was, a state budget and now our elected local leaders get to disassemble our budgets and make due with even less as almost everyone ended up with less money than had been forecast. What's that tee-shirt say, 'bi-partisan fecklessness happens'? You betcha.

It's against this background of increased financial exigency that our neighbors assemble this week for a variety of meetings that touch on just about every subject and aspect of living in the greatest city in Connecticut.*

Today, if you have the time off from work enjoy it; if you have to work because of the nature of what you do, thank you. And as few of us who can be in this scenario, the better.

Tuesday begins almost literally and figuratively at 8 AM with a meeting of the Southeastern Connecticut Council of Governments Executive Committee in their building in the Norwich Business Park. There's no agenda posted, and I know you know how surprised I am by that, but here's the August meeting minutes. Lots of people talk about 'working together' and 'learning to think regionally' but SCCOG attempts to turn words into deeds.

At 5:30 in the Kelly Middle School Library it's a regular meeting of the Norwich Public Schools Board of Education. This is where their agenda should be, but isn't, and they're coming back after a summer break to some less than sanguine news about test results in connection with No Child Left Behind (just found that; pass it on!) to contemplate on top of the impact the reduction of state funds to the city's budget will have on our schools.

The Downtown Neighborhood Revitalization Zone Committee meets at 6:45 in the Otis Library. The city's website can offer you a copy of their October LAST YEAR meeting minutes and/or this past June's minutes unless you're interested in a July Agenda that may have been from a special meeting (because of the change in location). I seem to do this every meeting preview: here's the state law on postings on municipal websites with what should be there and when. It's not a suggestion, it's the law. Why do both of us know this is not the last time I'll step on this soapbox? We are, if nothing else, around here, consistent.

The Zoning Board of Appeals meets at seven in the downstairs conference room at 23 Union Street. They have a full plate, looking at the agenda which probably has some items that were held over as their August meeting was cancelled. And the City Council at 7:30 holds its first regular meeting of the month with a comparatively light agenda unless, of course, it's your neighborhood getting sewers. I think hearing the discussion on "New Business, Resolution One" (some background here) could prove to be informative especially since I heard a story over the weekend about a new NPU policy that could very negatively impact redeveloping properties in the city (like that's a cakewalk now) and that seemed to take two Aldermen by surprise when they first heard of it.

Wednesday morning at five o'clock as the day begins--sorry! As I was almost saying, Wednesday morning at a quarter to nine, the Rehabilitation Review Committee meets in the downstairs conference room of 23 Union St. There are NO minutes, no agenda and all but one of the members' appointments have expired, otherwise we're swell. And speaking of missing agenda and meeting minutes, at six it's a regular meeting of the Baseball Stadium Authority in Room 210 of City Hall. And there's little else to be said on either of these meetings except it underscores the importance of open and transparent government. And meanwhile only 22% of our registered voters show up on election day and no one knows why or what to do about it. Yeah, amazing, innit?

At seven, across town in the Taftville Volunteer Fire Department, is a regular meeting of the Public Safety Committee who've worked hard with the public safety professionals and volunteers to get us away from a 'who gets the next truck?' mentality but may have a challenge in light of fiscal restraints in providing timely funding to support requests for new equipment. Here's their August meeting minutes (a draft) to give you an idea of the scope and range of their deliberations and concerns.

Thursday afternoon at 5:15 at the Lakeside Pavilion up in Mohegan Park is a regular meeting of the Mohegan Park Improvement and Development Committee, who appear to meet every other month (with a Q in it; NOT). I found the 'empty seat on the committee' under old business of the draft minutes from July utterly fascinating since at the top of this page under Volunteers Wanted, there's a detailed explanation of how the process is supposed to work. Rules, I should always remember, are for people who don't know better.

Later Thursday at six, is a regular meeting of the Board of Directors of the Uncas Health District, in their main office at 401 West Thames Street. They don't have the most up to date meeting schedule or archive of minutes or agenda, or even close which is to me somewhat unfortunate as they are engaged in many worhwhile and valuable activities (more than once going through their website I realized after reading something 'I didn't know that') and I suspect I'm not the only one who needs to get a lot smarter on a valuable, local resource in my community

Friday morning at eight on the steps of City Hall will be a commemoration of attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon on September 11, 2001. I doubt that more than a handful of us, across the country can remember the top five issues we were arguing about in national politics from the night before. My point, in light of the eight years since this cowardly catastrophe, is we owe all those who died, and ourselves who've survived, a bit more civility and courtesy in listening to and interacting with one another on the important issues of the day, (especially today), in which we find ourselves. We're called the United States of America for a reason-- maybe this is the morning when we start acting like it.

This is as good a week as any to be an exclamation and not an explanation.

Everyone, everywhere can use a helping hand, so offer someone one of yours.

-bill kenny

(*at the confluence of the Shetucket, Thames and Yantic Rivers and named Norwich. Your mileage may vary. City's reputation in mirror is larger than it seems. Void where taxed or prohibited by law. No animals were harmed in the framing of this disclaimer. Lou Reed is probably not too pleased with me right now.)