This, That

I heard someone offer no good deed goes unpunished--they were talking about one situation on a Saturday morning but I'm thinking of another that happened on Friday afternoon. Around the time I was calling it a day at work and walking towards my car, someone in another car passed me in search of a parking spot.

He found one up ahead, signaled and made the turn into the spot all in one motion. Game over. I continued to walk towards my car which took me past his. The driver was just getting out as I walked by. My Imp of the Perverse having ignored most of the world's seven billion or so other fellow travelers Friday (but check for yourself now) decided social intercourse and human interaction was just the ticket and lurched into action.

My ears heard my mouth offer in an extremely cheerful voice (I hate when I do that bonhomie 'hail fellow! well met!' crap) 'just so you know, your driver's side brake light is out' which, as a conversational opening gambit, falls rather squarely in the innocuous bordering on moronic scale of exchanges. The driver, now standing beside his own vehicle looking at me evenly, noted in a flat tone of voice. "what's your fluckin' point" (but without the L).

I've collected good questions much of my life. I started out trying to pair each of them with good answers but that rapidly became a bridge too far so questions it is. And his was a fine one for any day in the week but especially for a Friday that had seen me blow up a cell phone and not yet discover if telephone, television or connectivity had been restored at our home or if we were fated to spend a weekend in the Amish Relocation Program.

All I could do was smile-no words could adequately explain to the driver that I had only attempted to be helpful, but no worries (as the kids say), SB, it won't happen again. Ever. As for that good deed, hardly a trace left in the here and now, just junk all across the horizon-a real highwayman's farewell.

-bill kenny

Can Your Seeing Eye Dog Hear Me Now?

One man's ceiling is another man's floor, unless you're camping (I guess). It's been a woolly couple of days at Chez Kenny. I'm hoping this weekend I can finally get some of the thrills out of my system because I just can't stand this much fun too much longer.

No sooner did the phone guy come out to the house and put the telephone, television and The Internet (capitalized because we take it Seriously) back on line after the lightning strike, then the cell phone Patrick gave me to evaluate (= to play with and see if I liked and I did) (Notice the past tense? This is called foreshadowing) spit the bit.

Yesterday instead of starting up when I turned it on, the screen blinked then lit up and almost said its name, except it said only "Droi" then it cycled itself, swapped out screen displays and almost said its name again. Lather, rinse, repeat. It would still be doing it, I imagine, if I hadn't figured out how to take the back off of the phone and remove the battery.

I'm not especially technologically ept (Do NOT arch your brow! It's okay to say I'm inept in matters of technology so why can't I use the opposite?) and figuring out how to get the back off was cause for celebration except for the part where the phone still didn't work (damn details).

As I was looking for a rubber band (don't snicker!) to hold the front and back of the phone together with the battery I flashed on a maxim offered by a colleague who revels in all manner of tools and toys, Max Frisch's "technology is the knack of so arranging the world that we don't have to experience it." And then the sound grew louder for "Attention all planets of the Solar Federation..." Terrific. So much for that quiet weekend.
-bill kenny

Those Renegades Were Stricken Blind

What did I do before the Internet? Drink, mostly. Okay not all the time, only while awake. Too much sharing, perhaps? Fair enough. I used to type on a keyboard connected to a typewriter that had a computer screen and when I would reach the end of my story and letters and punctuation, I would turn off the monitor and off to heaven went the words (I guess). It was a hard life, but I was happy.

Now, I have more bandwidth than cents-but not by much and not today, not at all. The mean old lightning we had Wednesday night and early Thursday morning terrified the AT&T U-verse wires so much we have a black hole in the Ethernet right now. We are the sound of one hand clapping in a velvet glove. It was just this kind of dead spot with the cable TV guys that made me crazy so I can't wait for what's next.

But until that moment arrives, courtesy of Bob H (as close as I will ever be to having an actual in the flesh friend) and the relentless and humorless Hoquiam (Washington) police blotter, inanity like that will just have to do. I've always loved James Joyce, The Dubliners and Ulysses-true wonders of wordplay. "'History,' said Stephen, 'is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.'" No worry about hitting the snooze button today.

It is against just such a verbal banquet that you must judge this paragraph from the Associated Press account of the aforementioned story: The victim asked, "Why are you carrying a weasel?" Police said the attacker answered, "It's not a weasel, it's a marten," then punched him in the nose and fled.

Take that Beckett and the Waiting for Godot you rode in on!! We have your sweeping narrative-your dynamic tension and your unresolved drama. I'm in love with the notion that none of the characters in this story have names-they are pawns in a game of which they have no awareness much less chance of winning.

The names have not been changed to protect the innocent-the names haven't been used at all because they're not essential to the story. But what is essential? It's in the second paragraph, my friend, everything you, the lonely sojourner on your unarmed road of flight, needs to know: it's a marten carcass and NOT A WEASEL. Thanks for making that clear. "Meanwhile, way across town in the penthouse suite of the tallest building..."
-bill kenny

The Commute to Grossinger's Would Be Too Much

If you think some of the stuff you read here is scary now you don't want to be around on days the idiot idea governor doesn't kick in, like today. I was sneaking in my two mile power walk yesterday morning while breaking in the cellphone Patrick has loaned me to see if I really like an Android (and the answer, as Father Damien once said, is 'more or less two thumbs up!') in comparison to the Blackberry I've had.

Yes, it's daunting to have a phone smarter than I am, but, I should note I already have a pocket comb smarter than I am. Point in fact I have a rubber eraser in my pencil case that is a member of Mensa in comparison to me. It's a really cool phone though I tend to approach it with a chair and a whip since otherwise I never get close to an even playing field with it.

It has Slacker Personal Radio in it ('the neat little treat you can eat with a spoon' what a pity they aren't Spaghetti O's because that jingle is ace), because I had it in my old phone and I like it a lot, except when they bring out a new version and then I have to relearn all the rigmarole and secret knocks and handshakes that go with it. Especially when you add in a new phone that does the same stuff but differently, ouch! (Didja notice how I worked in 'old phone'? Pretty suave, eh?)

I was having trouble getting Slacker to work-the irony of the name wasn't lost on me but at five in the morning my sense of whimsy isn't often fully awake-and since there was no one else out on the track I was singing to myself. Technically, I was talking as if there were musical notes to go with my sounds, since singing is probably too kind a term for what I was doing while I struggled with the touchscreen interface on the cellphone.

Eventually I got it to work although I think what actually happened was that it decided to work all by itself and luckily for me I wasn't in the way when it chose to so do. The first song it played on the channel I created for The Civil Wars (of whom I am inordinately fond. And who doesn't love the word 'accoutrements'?) was Amos Lee and Keep It Loose, Keep It Tight-which I think, for physical exertion, is some pretty good advice.

Because I wasn't paying attention at that hour, my brain went back to a record library in Frankfurt am Main and a conversation I was having with Gisela's colleague (whose name I remember but will not use here) on material he'd delivered to Radio Master Control earlier in the day. He chose to program an ancient episode of Amos and Andy on electrical transcription and which vanished, thankfully, from the turntable moments before it was slated to air. Had my legs and knees been in their current shape thirty years ago, more than one of us now would still be looking for a job one step ahead of a very angry mob.

And then just as abruptly as that reverie started and stopped, I flashed on 'be the change you want to see in the world' as Mr Lee was taking it to the bridge and realized, with a shock, it was Amos and Gandhi meaning all that sensitivity training was now gone with the wind. I'll be here all week, but thankfully (for you) no more for today. Remember, please, tip your waitress. (And you thought I'd choose this. And of course she does.)
-bill kenny

Lock Your Shoes Up, One by One

Meetings, unlike raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens, are in no danger of ever being one of my favorite things. Not that they aren't, in many instances, both necessary and important; I'm just not a big fan of them. I know I'm not alone in my lack of enjoyment of meetings even while conceding their outcomes can often exceed expectations.

Speaking of which, there was a story in last Tuesday's newspaper about the Norwich Public Utilities Board of Commissioners' decision to reduce sewer connection fees for residential and commercial development projects. This is a decision which could (and should) help boost development in many areas of the city.

The fee reductions complement other development friendly initiatives in recent months to include passage last fall of the downtown redevelopment bond. It's not a magic wand since we're talking about waiving but not waving. It's a tool intended for projects located in one of the city's enterprise zones and which either the City Council, or a development agency, has contributed funding or abated taxes.

The news account began with the turn of phrase 'in a surprise move' which may be true, but was actually the product of a process that began months ago on a Saturday morning in one of the city's firehouses. There, the Mayor and City Manager, joined by members of the City Council, city department heads and staff members, the Donner Party (yeah; I wanted to see if you were still reading), as well as residents and neighbors met in an informal, but focused (sort of), environment to talk with, instead of at, one another believing that together we're smarter than each of us is alone.
There were Mayor's Meetings and Team Norwich meetings on alternating Saturdays (and on Wednesday mornings as well), for the better part of a year, perhaps because we needed to relearn how to better listen to one another and to both hear what was being said and what was being left unsaid. Sometimes silence is consent and sometimes it's surrender.

I've lived here for about two decades and hesitate to call us 'negative', so I'll just use 'discouraged experts.' A pessimist, I'm told, is somebody who feels bad when s/he feels good, out of fear that s/he'll feel worse when s/he feels better. Sounds familiar, doesn't it? There's always been more of that than needed and probably more than necessary.

But way back, almost at the start of those Saturday sessions, when people were bouncing 'what if's?' and 'y'know what's?' off one another, topics like the sewer connection fee and its impact on development were first raised. Other ideas included the outline of what became the downtown bond issue. A docent program, and a more citizen-friendly City Hall, were both helped along by people who turned up on Saturday mornings, no experience necessary.

The first One City Clean-Up crew got formed in the Central Fire House on one Saturday and got its marching orders at the Taftville Fire Station on another one. The downtown trash disappeared shortly afterwards, also on a Saturday. Am I mentioning meetings of the recent past because the first next-generation Saturday meeting, called "One City Forum", kicks off this Saturday morning at nine at the East Great Plains Fire Department? Ayup, I sure am.

If you've been wondering where your invitation is, you're reading it now. Yeah, Saturday is the start of the weekend, so let's see what we can get started together. "You'll find nice things and butterfly wings." (Or maybe not). See you there?
-bill kenny

I Love How the Brown of Your Shirt

We have so many daunting challenges facing us here in the Land of the Round Doorknobs. Who knew life would get so hard with the fall of the Evil Empire? Seriously. I grew up a Cold War kid who was taught to duck under his wooden desk in Mrs. Hilge's 3rd grade classroom on the top floor of St Peter's (sic) School in New Brunswick, NJ, and to turn my face away from the window (like that would help in the event of a nuclear attack). Of course, me and my classmates came of age in the Cuban Missile Crisis and if you want to read quaint, it would certainly qualify.

The world was so much easier when all we thought in was black and white. Now we're not only in color we're in high definition. But if we are, how come so much is so fuzzy so often? Last week's exercise in stupidity that has carried over into this week stopped being funny within seconds of getting started.

The video clip of former Governor, ongoing punchline, Sarah Palin not explaining Paul Revere has been everywhere and so have the battle lines that have been drawn about what all of it means. All Of It? WTFO? To be honest, card-carrying East Coast Elitist that I am, none of what I've seen or read changes my opinion on the 2008 Republican candidate for Vice President. If this isn't John Belushi's speech in Animal House about the German attack on Pearl Harbor, we have no sense of history or humor left. And, bottom line: so what?

I'm struck by how Orwellian this has all become with an army of Winstons repairing reference material to better assure the past reflects the present. You betcha! I cannot begrudge her, or anyone else in this era of instant misinformation, availing herself of the opportunity to explain away what cannot be explained away. You don't think John Kerry wishes he'd thought of this for those Swift Boat ads, or Mike Dukakis and that troublesome tank footage? Pop history quiz--without looking it up-who else ran for President in 1860 which resulted in the election of Abraham Lincoln. Surprised we didn't add a few more names.

I'd knew you'd cheat, but you're forgiven. Now go on a book tour after you finish rehab (Ellen, I guess, Oprah's over, right? Why do I keep looking under my driver's seat and what am I hoping to find?) and like LBJ, show us your appendix scar because we cannot have enough of this picking the scab off of stuff. It's as close to substance as we are ever again likely to get. And that would and should be sad but most of us under forty have never known a national political debate that had anything to do with actual politics, so it's just business as usual.

As often as we'd like to see ourselves as a still-young nation, looking at the tenor and tone of our political debate, I see absolutely no reason to believe we even get to be a country that ever sees 240 years at the same location. Check this out--from the dare to be stupid file. How can you not applaud? I.love.the.title. but even more the proposition that makes historical accuracy part of a litmus test on being an American.

We used to celebrate our ability to disagree and not be disagreeable, e pluribus unum; out of many, one. Those days are over. And the horse you rode in on. Now we're all about Shut the F-well, you know what you can shut and we have operators standing by to make you do it so don't you make us, okay? Not that long ago we had close to half the country referring to the President of the United States as a village idiot and more recently than that the other half insisting the President wasn't an American (like either of those positions were possible to disprove-the old 'is it true you've stopped beating your spouse?' question). And so it goes.

Every time I think we're too shrill or strident, I count to ten and we double down and turn it up to eleven again. Can you even imagine how totally screwed up our political discourse will be by the time we get to the general election in 2012? Not me. Talk about spooky-we'll be in downtown Creep City by then. Everyone will be supporting a candidate who sets a neighbor's teeth on edge, makes a family member's skin crawl and who elevates our own blood pressure so much we'll have folks croaking from Apoplexy Now (where's FFC when we really need him?). And if you thought I'd go this entire rant with out mentioning this week's other big Weiner, you lose (And I'm thinking very few of us will ever call him "Tony" again).

I'm afraid we're losing sight of how important we are especially to those who aren't us-but who have striven and streamed to arrive on our shores, by any means possible, in historic numbers since the Founding of the Republic. I hope we've only momentarily lost our way and not permanently lost our minds. If I could, I'd pray that more reasonable voices, from all sides of the political spectrum, can regain not only the middle ground but our middle ear so we might have a return to balance. We don't need to wave a million bloodied banners if we can follow the flag together.
-bill kenny

Piling the Bricks atop One Another

The younger of our two children finished high school a half decade or so ago and the rhythm of our lives changed from a September through June pattern to the more conventional everyday and every direction in which our neighbors move. We're almost a week into the sixth month of the year already, summer's here and the time is right for well a variety of motions and notions, I suppose (including being Johnny Depp's dad) and it's still hard for me to grasp 2011 is almost halfway over.

Here in the Land of Steady Habits, the state has no actual budget for a fiscal year that begins on the 1st of July which means our cities and towns are doing a small vamp for time with their budgets as it's not yet established just how much money is coming from Hartford and how much will be needed from residents. Let's face it, the amount of dollars requested/required will not be going down so you can take that idea off the list of possibilities. Meanwhile governance goes on, and sometimes, on and on.

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 (SCCOG). If the committee members could only travel to the meeting on a Southeast Area Transit, SEAT, bus, their meeting would take considerably longer to reach a quorum as our regional mass transit system is for more notional than actual.

Tonight at 7:30 in City Council chambers is the first June meeting for the Norwich City Council and a lot of the dollars and sense issues for the next twelve months may be settled in one form or another (with tweaks needed as we roll along). You don't have to be Madame Cleo to realize not everyone will get everything they desire from whatever financial decisions are made tonight. Sometimes a horrible ending is better than horrors without end and if we learn nothing else from all these servings of stone soup we have to keep having, it's that everyone benefits from smart growth and no one wins unless we all win. I just wonder how many more times this lesson will need to be learned before we get it.

Tuesday evening at 6:30, as if to underscore that the future will arrive whether it's planned or not planned for, is a special meeting of the Commission on the City Plan (Plan of Conservation and Development Subcommittee)-the planning to make a plan folks. What we are now is what we were when and what we will be, and hope to be a decade and more from now, depends on decisions we make today. Talking about the future is one thing, living in it is quite another.

Wednesday afternoon at 4:30 in their offices at 10 Westwood Park, it's a regular meeting of the Housing Authority whose explanation of mission and minutes of previous meetings remain as missing as they have from the first time I looked for them. I do admire consistency and yet I'm left cold by the continuing disregard for state mandates.

At six, in room 210 of City Hall it's a regular meeting of the Baseball Stadium Authority and with opening day at Dodd Stadium almost (and finally) here (June 20th), a chance to get a sneak peek at what's planned for the ballpark (aside from hoisting a NY-Penn League Championship banner), and maybe talking to someone in the City Clerk's office about the dearth of meeting minutes on line.

At six, crosstown, in their new location at the Greenville Fire House meeting room, it's a regular meeting of the Greenville Neighborhood Revitalization Committee who, it seems, didn't have a meeting last month.

And also at six, though not listed on the municipal on-line calendar, it's another special meeting of the Sachem Fund Board whose previous meeting was adjourned without taking any actions last Wednesday evening. They were missing two of their members and chose to NOT make recommendations to the City Council without a vote by the entire board. You can use the minutes of their May meeting to see what projects they are considering. As I mentioned last week, their previous 1 June agenda didn't have them making decisions so I'm curious if that omission has been corrected.

And at seven, in the offices of American Ambulance, it's a regular meeting of the Public Safety Committee whose May meeting was cancelled (actually three of the first five monthly meetings have been cancelled so maybe a different frequency of meetings is what's needed?). Based on the April minutes, there will possibly be updates on both Buckingham and Greenville Schools as well as a status report on the Falls at Indian Leap, now called Uncas Leap.

Saturday morning at nine, in the East Great Plains Fire Department meeting room (upstairs over the fire truck bay) it's the first meeting of the One City Forum and for most of the day into the afternoon, there's all kinds of doings at the Leffingwell House Museum that many of us drive by all the time and say 'gee, I really need to stop in there one of these days.' Saturday happens to be one of these days, so we're in luck.

Each of us can be the brightest of sparks or the big black smoke-you decide.

-bill kenny