Let the Day Begin

Realizing this is a bit belated but nevertheless sincere (the special election for the Norwich City Council vacancy was, after all, last Wednesday) I'd like to thank both Shiela Hayes and Bill Nash who volunteered their time and talents and offered themselves as candidates for the vacancy. 

Congratulations to Mr. Nash on his victory and I'm sure he's already rolled up his sleeves because he and the other six members of our City Council have a lot of hard work before them.

What had been a council with four Democrat and three Republican members is now just the opposite. Just as its never eaten as hot as it's served at the local level as at the state and national level, I don't think anyone, including the members themselves, anticipates cataclysmic changes in the policies and/or priorities of the Council between now and the November elections when we'll choose a new City Council and Mayor. 

I think/hope we'll see/hear nuances rather than differences in the tenor and tone of the discussions and in the making of the decisions that will move us forward. Sometimes while we hope for substantial or substantive change, we benefit more from subtle. 

And while news stories have persuaded us to see politics in the stark contrasts of black and white, here locally, where everyone is, or should be, everyone else's neighbor, we will continue to disagree without being disagreeable (fingers crossed).

I'm unclear when we went to the polls last week how much any of that was on anyone's mind. I usually have my hands full just making sure to fill up the whole oval and remembering to let go of my end of the ballot when the tabulation machine grabs it (timing is everything). 

Quite frankly, based on the paltry if not pathetic turnout, I'm not sure how many registered voters appreciated the opportunity to make their choice known and their voices heard. But again, in this case, change is what happens when you're busy making other plans, perhaps especially when you make no plans. Choosing to not make a choice is actually a choice and all of us get to live with it. 

Cynic that I am (I know; feign surprise), it'll be as easy as always to spot the stay-at-home voters over the next weeks and months as they'll be the ones loudly lamenting across various social media platforms about how 'no one ever listens to them'. Between us, I've seen that movie once too often. 

I think the question we and, by extension, those whom we choose to represent us in elected office, struggle with here in The Rose of New England is 'What should we do next?' Perhaps for a start, we could promise one another to give everyone in office, whether we voted for them or not, the benefit of the doubt and help them to succeed because when they do, we will as well. 

Think of it not so much as a leap of faith but more like a short hop with an element of a skip thrown in for good measure (just remember to stick the landing). We too often and so quickly jump to conclusions about ulterior motives based on little to no evidence whatsoever that just maybe allowing an extra moment to listen to another's point of view might be what helps us to help each other to build, or rebuild, this place we call home.
-bill kenny

I'm Wearing Vegan Sneakers

Came across a random feature the other day, a listing of foods that help you burn excess weight (usually through a process that requires your body to use up more calories processing the food than the food, itself, has in it). 

You've seen lists like this for years and about once a decade someone comes up with a new name for it and you have the Blah-Blah Diet with a book for only $29.95 (plus processing and handling) and an infomercial where a lot of folks who look vaguely familiar sit on a couch and tell each other stories about their own amazing weight loss journeys while taking turns staring in wide-eyed incredulity at somebody else's 'true story of weight loss'.

"Gee Buzz, your colon is so clean you can pass a car through it!" exclaims Mitzi, who looks like one of the people who used to be on Three's Company. Not one of the original members, of course (the survivors are out doing supermarket openings), but one of the replacements after the show started into its glide slope of ratings decline and burned up on reentry. 

And Buzz who may or may not have been in Encino Man with Pauly Shore (how'd you like to have that on your resume?) tells us all about it. I had a great idea for a drinking game one night watching these infomercials. The group makes up a list of pat phrases you know will be said and every time one of them is uttered, everyone has to quaff a beverage. And the winner is me because I didn't come to your house and do this drinking game stuff.

Meanwhile, back at the list.
They're basically all the same--just a slight variation of what your Mom told you to eat and not to eat. There's never a lot of chocolate eclairs on these lists of fat-burning foods and I've often wondered, near-altar boy as I am, why is it that God, who moves in mysterious ways His wonders to perform, didn't make the stuff that's good for us taste better? 

I know broccoli is a lot better than a hot sausage sandwich for me, but guess which one tastes better? Maybe He could hire the fine folks from International Flavors and Fragrances (you thought I was goofing on you?) to work on short-term solutions to that challenge. Of course, smiting would work just as well. I figure after a while we'd all get tired of attending funerals where the guest of honor had marinara sauce on his cheek (and you could still see where the lightning bolt hit him).

I don't care how good something is for me. If I don't like the taste, sight, smell, or sometimes the sound (or the name-I almost ate calamari once. I will NEVER eat octopus), I'm not having anything to do with it. 

My favorite example is hot oatmeal. I've tried everything and I still can't bring myself to eat it. I know it's good for me (I don't know why, but nevermind) and I can read the side of the box and get the nutritional information (by the way, what is the point of nutritional information on bottled water?), and I'm sure the flavors are marvelous.

I boil the water and pour it into the bowl and stir it up without gagging and dip the spoon in and lift it out, next stop, lips, and glottis, and no deal. I will not open my mouth, no matter how good oatmeal is for me. And if you want to offer me a swig of a probiotic drink to wash it down, you'd better have a Maid of the Mist raincoat on, buddy boy, because you are so going home to put on new clothes. Could be quite a hike; I'd chow down first.
-bill kenny

Maybe?

Realizing some of us have already started grilling while others are sorting out the teams for the backyard softball game we play every year when we get together, if I may, maybe a novel way to remember our war dead this Memorial Day would be to remember our war living every day. 

Just a suggestion.
-bill kenny

Runnin' On (Close to) Empty

One of the most interesting and lesser-advertised positives behind retirement, at least for me, is the reduction in mileage I put on our car. No joke, This was a matter of some concern when we opted to lease rather than buy our 2022 Subaru Forester. 

We ordered it in the midst of the COVID-19 supply chain disruption over the Thanksgiving 2021 weekend and a big decision was the 'how many miles to lease it' question. We opted for 36,000/3 years which made me a little jittery until I realized even after we clocked 3,075 miles traveling to visit Michelle and Kyle in Virginia and then continued to Florida to see Patrick and Jena (and came back) we were still home and dry. 

We didn't hit the first 10K until about two weeks ago, or fourteen months after we took delivery. 

I love the car and the mileage it gets but, speaking of that, perhaps like you, when the needle on the fuel gauge starts to head south of a quarter tank my palms start to get a little sweaty. I have never in over five decades of driving ever run out of gas. Not once. Hey! I know it's not impressive, but it's the closest thing to a superpower I have (and explains the cape I keep in the car. Sadly, nothing explains away the tights.). 

But, in answer to everyone's question, and the title of the story, here's how far you can go. 

And you thought I'd invoke Jackson Browne. You were so close.
-bill kenny

The Note Is Eternal

I've always enjoyed music and admire immensely and insanely those who can make it in any manner. I cannot carry a tune in a bucket and cannot play an instrument of any kind, and have on more than one occasion been asked to leave a Guitar Center because I'm frightening the salespeople, so this caught my eye and ear, a polychromatic keyboard and the sounds it makes.

The composer/performer says, "Exploring the musical space between consonance and dissonance." I say beautiful.
-bill kenny

Pedro for President

I have a confession, of sorts, to make: I have never watched Napoleon Dynamite in its entirety. I've dropped in on the movie, 'Already in Progress',' a few hundred thousand times and have found what I viewed to be funny not necessarily at the Algonquin Round Table level of counterpoint and repartee but at least beyond the puerile label, so many folks have for it. 

No matter. 

One man's Jon Heder is another one's Sir Alec Guiness (though without the dance moves I suspect). And having endured the Reign of Error that The Malevolent and Maniacal Mango Mussolini ushered into the White House not that long ago, who am I to cast aspersions on the ambitions of Efren Ramirez?

I mean, between us when did you last think of Tater Tots and NOT think of him?
Well, until now, I mean. Bon Guten Appetit! 
-bill kenny

Translated from the Original Hieroglyphics

Wow. If you dig deep enough, sometimes you find a pony in all this horseshit. 

Admittedly, NOT today, but it could happen. I wrote this in 2009 and the subject passed away from COVID-19 some fifteen or so months ago. Anyway. At the time I called it:

All Hat

Driving in the middle of the day on Wednesday, I passed a fellow in an electric blue Miata convertible with the top down, wearing a large hat. The fellow, not the car. Actually, I knew the driver, not that I waved or gave any sign of recognition, though the 'You're #1 with me' gesture did come to mind.

I'd worked with the man a really long time, and I suspect neither of us recall that period with any warmth or fondness. He had the Miata then, when it was a new and cute little car that sort of reminded fossils like me of a classic Lotus without all kinds of pieces falling off every time you drove it someplace. 

For over a century, the sun never set on the British Empire and for many years the same was true of British Leyland Motors. The same nation that built Lancasters and Spitfires to thwart Hitler and his Horde for the ages cranked out Austin Metros and Triumph TR7s with little thought of tomorrow. From the few seconds I saw it, the years haven't been kind to either of them-and between us, he had far less to lose to start with.

Anyway. What had caught my eye was, on a beautiful day (and it was and we deserve as many in a row as we can get for as long as we can have them), he had the top down, to catch the rays (I'll assume). Except, he had a large hat on in the car, behind the wheel. To me, that defeats the whole purpose of having the top-down. If you wear a hat in a car with the top down, it should be the law you must also shower while wearing a raincoat. I'm sorry, some rules are needed here. What is the point, otherwise, of having a car with a convertible top?

If you have a sensitivity to the sun, put the top down only at night or when the car is in a garage; leave the top up when you're driving outdoors (and when you're driving indoors and the indoors is a car wash) or just sell the car and buy one with a permanent roof (We have a name for a car whose roof can be lowered or removed, a 'convertible.' What should we call a car whose roof does NO tricks at all and why doesn't that car deserve a name?). Or in this guy's case, lose the hat that covers your scalp and get one big enough to cover your head. Keep America Beautiful, bozo (and if it's of any solace, that's NOT what I started to type).
-bill kenny