tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38796855703293387752024-03-13T22:52:27.460-07:00JohnPaulJustLikeThePopejohnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-80180587163792018752019-04-26T17:23:00.000-07:002019-04-26T17:23:03.209-07:00The case for giving the Boston Bombers the right to vote.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>This letter is for those concerned enough to entertain
thoughts and logic that extend beyond the time and effort needed to consume a
headline, and immediately rush to an instant conclusion.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Opposition to allowing prisoners to vote stems from the
desire to punish the guilty. Support stems from the greater need to defend the
innocent from unjust prosecution.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the United States made slavery illegal, via the 13<sup>th</sup>
Amendment, a caveat was included that allowed states to deny the tight to vote
to those convicted of committing crimes. For over a century, former slaves and
their descendants have been marginalized by the millions, arrested by laws
written by politicians who avoided responsibility to those citizens who lost
their vote along with their liberty, and with it any prayer for justice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ehrlichman, an advisor to President Nixon, admitted that the
motivation for the “War on Drugs” was to politically suppress “blacks and
hippies.” There is a broad consensus today that our nation has sent too many to
jail. Our “War on Drugs,” while never successful at reducing the flow and
consumption of drugs, was quite effective as a means to incarcerate millions,
and stripping them of their right to vote in the process.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Had they not been deprived of their vote, the politicians
authoring the devices of their destruction would have had to answer to them for
the laws they created at election time. The ability to remove political
opposition through incarceration is a moral crime, and, like all crimes, a
crime that is spawned by opportunity. Guaranteeing citizens the right to vote,
no matter what crimes they commit, would deny the motivation to arrest people
in order to strip them of their vote.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-76251837889755695772019-04-20T08:17:00.005-07:002019-05-15T20:32:07.141-07:00Downtown Bumpout<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h3>
“Have you looked outside?”</h3>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No running today, Claire?” the Mayor asked, calling from
the kitchen where he held his coffee mug in a death grip.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a pause, filled by the sound of the to-and-fro of her
rowing machine, she replied, calling from the basement room a half flight
downstairs from the kitchen, “Have you looked outside?”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mayor Dannel looked out the window and saw the rain falling
silently. Until then his focus had been consumed by the swirls of his cream
rising in his coffee, as seen through the sides of his glass mug.<br />
<br />
He sighed,
disappointed with himself for being unaware of the weather in view, but unseen.
He did a quick 3X3, looking at three things (the clock, the trickle of water
gathering in the gully at the end of the yard, and his cup of coffee), listening
for three sounds (the kettle releasing steam, the wind whistling outside, and the
to-and-fro of the rowing machine), and, finally, touching three things (taking
his pulse – 76 BPM, toeing the pedal at the base of the kitchen trach
receptacle, and then putting his coffee mug against his cheek, warming his face
for a minute with his eyes closed.<br />
<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When he opened his eyes, Claire was standing in front of him,
staring. “How come your drinking coffee here? Aren’t you getting a cup at
Coffee Corner?”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He stifled a sigh, answering after a short delay, “Not
today.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She shook her head from side to side, “But it helps to
patronize a struggling retailer.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Nothing is going to help those poor bastards. They owe
three month’s rent, and the Chief is in no mood to negotiate.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Maybe I should rephrase, it helps YOU to patronize a
struggling retail.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He shrugged. “Maybe not in this case, Claire. ‘Success has a
hundred fathers, but is an orphan.’ I don’t need to be associated with a
failure right now.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Maybe you should tell the Chief that ‘pigs get fat, and
hogs get slaughtered.’”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Maybe. Maybe after the city car is out of the shop and I
return the car on loan from the Central Fire District.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Maybe you should ride your bike. I am sure the bikers would
appreciate the gesture.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He stuffed a zip-lock bag filled with celery sticks in his
breast pocket, and picked up his briefcase. “Have you looked outside?”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Claire stared out the window for a moment at the trickle of
water in the gully at the end of the yard, before returning to look at her
husband, poised to leave. “Those damn bumpouts!”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mayor Dannel stepped to her, planting a kiss goodbye on her
lips. Walking out the door to the garage, he turned over his shoulder, smiling,
he said, “Amen.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<h3>
Where the street has no name </h3>
On Main Street, the Mayor passed the Corner Coffee Shop at the corner of Main and a currently unnamed section of pavement. The work of the state on the bumpouts, reducing the length of the pedestrian walkway by reducing the width of the street, had removed the existing street sign. When time came to replace the street sign, the City claimed jurisdiction over the naming rights, so the street became officially unnamed. Until a new name could be decided on , the state would not replace the street sign. Until the state replaced the street sign, the work remained incomplete, and the sidewalk remained an ongoing work site, surrounded by yellow police tape, closed to pedestrian traffic, despite the fact that no work was being done.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Oxford Scholar</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From his City Hall office, the Mayor could see the far shore
of the Connecticut River. The docks in Portland were immersed below the swollen
currents that had risen above flood stage overnight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sound of his admin through the intercom broke his
trance, “Counsel is here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Send him in.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She’s coming in.” The Mayor greeted the woman coming
through the door without formality, “Doublefee couldn’t find the time?” he
asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She grinned, “No, said he had work to do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sounds like there isn’t much to worry about.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Or, maybe he did not care to be the bearer of bad news.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t like the sound of that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The Council may not like the report we have to offer
tonight, either.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Mayor swiveled in his chair towards the river for a
moment, then returned his attention to the Deputy Counsel. “Well,” he gestured
to a chair with an open palm, “No sense not making yourself comfortable just
because you can’t offer any comfort to me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thank you, Mayor. Rest assured, I hate the first Monday of
the month as much as anyone.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, nothing like presenting the truth to the Twelve
Apostles of City Hall in an election year to up your blood pressure.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She nodded, then paused to put an end to the small talk. “The
Resolution was read, redacted, and read again. It passed the Council, was
published, and ratified by the Referendum. There isn’t any legal reason to
block it from going into effect.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Mayor turned away from her, looking out at the river,
This time he could not break from its spell. Without facing her, he ended her
briefing with a closing statement, uttered in a muted tone, “I have a family
obligation at 6. Looks like I’ll miss out on the fireworks.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a short stint sitting silently, she stood and exited
the office without further comment.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dannel pulled into one of the parking spaces reserved for
patients and cut the engine. He left the accessory on so he could listen to the
end of “Games without Frontiers” on the radio. For the first time all day, he
enjoyed what he was hearing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When he left the car, he left behind his briefcase, and with
it the papers within that documented and defined his role in government, making
him feel somewhat undressed. He walked through the clinic doors without a
portfolio, without any status, just another patient. The undressing continued
inside until he was stripped down to his briefs and a johnny.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was led by a medical assistant to the MRI, and carefully
loaded into the machine, sliding in head first. The magnets whirred, punctuated
by thudding sounds. He declined the offer to take sedatives that some needed to
overcome the tight confinement. It bothered him that he could not come and go
at will, but he suffered silently as the machine and its operators completed
their scan.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At Six PM in the City Council Chambers, the Deputy Mayor,
acting as Chair in the Mayor’s absence, gaveled the meeting to order. “First on
the list is the City Counsel.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Attorney Doublefee rose from the chair behind the podium,
stepped to the podium and spoke to the microphone, facing the City Council. “Good
evening. My staff and I have reviewed the exact language of the Resolution
adopted in September by the Council and ratified by the voters in the November
referendum and are prepared to answer your questions on the matter in detail.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Deputy Mayor looked to his left and right, asking, “Is
there anyone wishing to pose a question to the City Counsel?” Four hands shot
up simultaneously. “Umm, more than one? Who should go first?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Your call, Chairman,” replied the minority leader, Sebarino
Marino.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“If I may begin, “ began Alotta Ballot, co-leader of the
majority party’s rebel faction.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“OK, uh, “ the acting Chair began. “Let’s go with age over
beauty this time. Seb, you go first.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Counselor, what is the effect of
the resolution as it pertains to the way the Fire Districts’ leases are to be
governed?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The critical phrase in the resolution, when read as
printed, provides the City Council authority over leases and naming rights of
the South Fire District.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A gasp rose in the crowd, which included all those filling
all the chairs in the chambers and all those standing in the lobby outside
watching the proceedings on closed-circuit TV.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What about Westfield and Central districts?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At this, the active Chair slammed his gavel, “Councilman
Mrino, you asked your question, and he answered it. We are not here to hold
debates with the City Counsel.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Debate? I am just asking for clarification.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There are other counsilors who also have questions, and we
are going to proceed in order. The Chair recognizes Councilwoman Ballot.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thank you, Mr. Chair. I had another question in mind, but I
would first like to echo the request of Councilor Marino as to why Counselour
Doublefee sees the Resolution only applying to the South Farms District, which
has no leases to speak of, whereas the Central Fire District, in particular,
has a death grip on our Downtown businesses and it was the whole purpose of the
Resolution to take control of their leases and put them in the hands of the City
Council?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Attorney Doublefee nodded slowly, “I believe my deputy, who
performed the technical analysis of the language of the resolution, can speak
to this in detail.” With that he sat back down, making way for his deputy to
stand at the podium.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She stood and stepped close to the microphone, speaking
softly so had her words not been amplified electronically they would not be
heard by the City’s legislature, seated ten feet in front of her. “the case law
firmly confirms that the absence of an ‘Oxford comma’ in the text of legal code
cannot be remedied thorough clerical insertion of a comma that would change the
meaning. This is even in the case where the true intent of the legislation is
arguably very different from the effect of the code as written.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The pertinent language of the Resolution reads, ‘The leases
and naming rights of the South Fire District – COMMA – Westfield District and
Central Fire District shall be governed by the Common Council.” Without a
second Oxford comma before the ‘and’ between ‘Westfield District’ and ‘Central
Fire District’, the phrase logically applies ‘leases and naming rights; to the
South Fire District, exclusively.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Councilor Ballotta pressed down on the table in front of
her, pushing her torso upward, “Wait one second!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The gavel came down again. “This is not a debate! The Chair
recognizes Councilman Bishop.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thank you, Mr. Chair. I would also be curious as to what
meaning the resolution gives to the two districts mentioned that somehow are
not, on a technicality, related to leases and naming rights?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Deputy Counsel glanced back at Doublefee to see if he
wished to resume his position at the podium, but he remained staring at the
floor, and did not meet her gaze. She turned back to the Council, speaking
softly into the microphone, “Yes, this, I believe, goes to a second, albeit
arguably unintended consequence of the change to the City Charter. The phrase
separates, by virtue of the lone comma, the added powers of the City Council in
two components, the first being everything to the left of the comma, and the
second being everything to the right of the comma. The result is that the Common
Council is to control A) the leases and naming rights of the South Fire
District, and B) the Westfield and Central Districts, in their entirety.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A second gasp rose from the crowd. At this point a mixture
of looks of pleasant surprise and befuddlement appeared on the faces of the
members of the Common COunil, and the crowd gathered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Councilman Blank-Card, your question.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The co-leader of the majority party’s rebel faction paused
before finally asking, “So, are you saying the City Council now has
jurisdiction over all aspects of the Westfield and Central Fire Districts?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That is correct sir.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd erupted into a babbling of exclamations.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Chairs raised his voice to be heard over the clamor, “Are
there any further question? Hearing none, the special session is adjouned.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
<br />johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-79598658890509784102018-01-07T18:01:00.005-08:002018-01-31T16:30:04.057-08:00Talcott Junior High - A Short Story
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
Great Divide </span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
advances in technology that put a man on the moon had also, by the
end of the next decade, put in our hands the means to monitor events
in Boston on a hand-held “transistor radio.” In the back of the
bus, leaving Talcott Junior High, midway between New York and Boston,
the aisle served to divide Yankee and Red Sox fans, and a
nine-volt-battery-powered, thumb-wheel tuned radio joined us in rapt
attention. Yaz hit a homer off Guidry, and the color in the faces of
Knight and Goldsmith on one side went white as the voices on the
other side roared. </span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At
home, my father was home early, and we watched Yaz back up, his
non-glove hand feeling for the Green Monster behind him, ready to
leap up to catch a paint scraper that never came down. Bucky Dent
lofted a fly ball to left that landed in the netting. The 23-foot
netting perched atop the 37-foot wall was built in 1936, and was
replaced in 2003 by the Monster Seats, a tenure that constituted most
of the Red Sox's World Series drought. Yaz slumped to the ground in
dismay. Panning back to include the view of the ball high above, the
camera had the effect of reducing him to a small figure, dwarfed by
the distance between his glove and the ball. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A
nationally televised baseball game on a Monday afternoon, it broke
the rhythm of life in New England. A simple graphic indicating only
the teams and the score was ample information to swing the emotions
of millions. I stepped outside to release a vocal outburst too
painful to share with my family. Words alone could not vent the
agony. I needed to move, physically move, to exercise the demons of
this cruel day. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fortunately,
football practice came, and our coaches sent their pent-up players to
run a lap around the backstop at the far end of the field. At the end
of the run, we gathered again around another nine-volt radio, as Yaz
came to bat with two on, both in scoring position, with two out in
the bottom of the ninth, and with the Sox only down by one. Thirty
players in their pads and helmets huddled around the four inch box
housing a two inch speaker like penguins at the South Pole waiting
together for the return of the sun. Craig Nettles straddled the foul
line, waiting for the ball to fall. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
anchor of the Nightly News waxed poetic, echoing the verses
memorializing the fall of the Mudville Nine, substituting final line
with, “The Mighty Yaz has popped out.” In the days when I was
ashamed to cry, I could not stop the tears, walking down the hall of
Talcott Junior High. Today, with so much more to mourn, I cannot
muster a single tear. Disappointment is a luxury I can ill afford, as
every day is a battle won by stepping over the carcasses of fallen
figures my memory strains to forget, in favor of all the pressing
matters of the here and now. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A
few years back, I drove my eldest to the co-ed town league soccer
championship. Her team seemed sure to lose to the undefeated all boys
(after all the girls quit) team. I asked her, “Why are you wearing
your Red Sox cap to a soccer game?” She replied, “for good luck.”
By the time she was thirteen, the netting that caught Bucky Dent's
ball was replaced with the Monster Seats, and the Red Sox had won the
World Series three times, three more times than my father and I had
seen them win before she was born. At the end of the day, at the end
of the game, she stepped up in the goal area and kicked the ball away
from one male attacker after another. After a scoreless overtime, the
game ended when the last of five chosen for the shoot-out sent his
shot wide, and my girl's team beat the unbeatable. The cap had worked
its magic.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That
November at Talcott I turned thirteen, as did my twins this November
past. As the father of thirteen-year-olds, it serves me well to
remember that the events in the life of a thirteen-year-old will
create memories that will forever last. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
Elm </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
contents of the marquis of the Elm Theater were a staple question on
a Talcott teacher's weekly current events quiz. Talcott Junior High
and the Elm were across the street from one another at the southern
end of South Quaker Lane, and so the bus ride to school gave us a
plain view of the marquis advertising the movie playing, and the
movie coming soon. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Before
cable and video tapes made home viewing common, seeing a movie meant
going to The Elm. We queued between felt ropes, talking to our
neighbors and classmates, waiting to buy a ticket for ninety-nine
cents. In the days before social media and cell phones, people met on
Friday night at seven at the Elm, in person, sometimes walking a mile
or two, but still arriving on time. The lobby was filled with people
talking before the show, and during the intermission. The scent of
salty popcorn spread from the kernel cooker across the way, and was
carried further through the theater doors, bucket by bucket, until
the whole place smelled the same. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;">“</span><span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">A
Christmas Carol”, “Fiddler on the Roof”, “The Sting”, “The
Sound of Music”, and all the great movies of the day were seen at
the Elm, during the weeks they were showing, or you might not see
them at all. After the show the patrons filed out of The Elm, and
into the crosswalks, making their way across the intersection of
South Quaker Lane and New Britain Avenue to the Friendly's for a cup
of ice cream. The chatter in the booths filled the air with a
cacophony, punctuated by the sound of sizzling grease making fries
and cooking hamburgers. In the balcony patrons held debates
about what the hero should do next (“She's poison!” versus “Shut
up!”), and an empty beer bottle smuggled in through the out door
could be heard rolling down the inclined lain beneath the seats.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Everyone
knew where Elmwood was, at the southern end of South Quaker Lane,
where the movies played, and the school buses dropped us off at
school. Elmwood Elementary, just behind the Elm, had already closed a
couple years earlier, when baby boomers aged beyond their grade
school years. Born in 1965, mine was the last year of Talcott Junior
High, as enrollment declines reduced the need for four middle schools
to two. The Elm stayed open for a few more years, then it closed, and
the Friendly's did, too. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
Zip code, 06110, still includes the word “Elmwood” in its
postmark. I pointed this out years later to a soldier stationed at
the Army Reserve Center on South Quaker Lane, who was completely
unfamiliar with the name place of “Elmwood.” Used to be, everyone
knew where Elmwood was, but today it is unknown even to those who
have been working there for years. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Recalling
Camelot </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
turn-table in our homeroom spun at two speeds, 45 and 33 RPM,
rotations per minute. Singles, or 45s, small disks with a big hole in
their center, required a disk be placed on the center of the
turn-table, while LPs, LP standing for “long play”, were wide
disks that had small holes in the middle and fit on the turn-table as
is. 45s spun at 45 RPM, of course, and LPs at the slower rate of 33
RPM, so a whole album of songs would fit on the two sides of the
disk. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A
lever was flipped to go between the two speeds, as everything except
the motor and speaker were mechanical. A person had to place the
needle onto the outer grooves of the disc to start the music, and
then when the disk had spun to the end it would trace in an endless
loop around the inner circle, spitting out static until someone came
along and manually lifted the arm housing the stylus off the record
and swung it back to its resting place to the side. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;">“</span><span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Mr.
Price, can we play the song today?” It was a common request,
everyone enjoyed the time when it played, even if no one ever
listened to the song outside of our homeroom. </span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;">“</span><span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Be
my guest,” the young teacher said, gesturing with his hands an
invitation to the pupil to play our homeroom anthem. It was no small
honor, and not a trivial responsibility. A misplaced needle could
scratch the vinyl, causing it to skip out of the groove the next time
it played. While the record spun, a scratch would cause the needle to
ever so briefly take air, actually skipping the way a child did in
hopscotch, landing just a brief ways away on the disk, after the very
shortest of low-earth-orbits, so that the part passed over would
never play, would never be heard again. A scratch in the wrong way
might cause the needle to bounce to a previous part of the track,
then bounce again when it returned to the blemish, and the cycle
might repeat itself again and again until a human hand gently lifted
the needle and delicately replaced it downstream of the scratch. </span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
third floor of Talcott was home to a group of teachers that shared a
common affinity for the late President whose cabinet was called, and
whose favorite song was the title show-tune from Broadway's
“Camelot”. Our teachers dubbed the third floor, “Camelot”,
and many days began with us listening to the sound of Richard Harris
singing a passionate prayer for glory that could be, that would be,
and then lament its fading away. </span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">It
was our great privilege and good fortune to be courtiers in the last
days of Camelot. The song was our herald, we were all knights in a
great order. There was no king, the table was round, and we all had a
seat. We were more than students going to school, we were scions of a
great regime that rose to greatness, and fell into oblivion. </span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Shop </span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;">“</span><span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Jeez,
you damn Indian!” “Why don't you go ask a girl to show you how to
do that?” </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">EJ
was not one to mince words. One of the first things we learned in
shop was how fast a lathe could pull you in if it caught hold of your
shirt sleeve. </span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We
learned how to pour aluminum into a mold, and file and sand the rough
edges before finishing the job with emery paper. We fed wooden planks
into the planer. We measured twice and cut once, and still got it
wrong, and had to start over from scratch. We clamped wood pieces
together till the glue dried, then put on layers of stain and
lacquer. Holes got drilled and tin got snipped. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Whatever
we made went home and was never thrown away. We built paper weights
that held the paper our Mom's set beside our landlines, and took
notes on the paper it held in place for decades to come. It started
as molten aluminum, poured into a mold in the foundry, and came out
in the shape of a turtle. A couple holes were drilled through its
hind legs so it set well on the dowels pounded into holes drilled
into a routered piece of wood, stained brown by skilled hands. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Boys
left shop a bit more like men. Girls left a bit more confident they
belonged in a world built by men. Boys whose turtles had rougher
edges than those made by their female peers braced for the next
quarter, when co-ed Home Ec taught us all how to sew a pillow and
bake a cake. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
Day the Music Stopped for an Uncomfortable Period of Time </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
band stopped marching halfway across the field that today is home to
houses. Back then, it was where Talcott's baseball and soccer teams
played, and where Mr. Bennett taught us how to march and play in tune
at the same time. When we were ready, we would make our way down the
side streets to the delight of the proud neighbors cheering us on.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But
we were not ready yet. The blare of Bennett's whistle brought us to a
halt. Seeing only the back of the head of the person in front of you,
most of the band was blind to the unfolding drama. As the leader of
the band entered our frozen ranks, my vantage from the position of
the first and only french horn gave me a clear view of the man's icy
scowl. He was staring into the eyes of a hapless saxophonist whose
mistake was, if not unforgivable, certainly has proven
unforgettable. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">No
one made a sound, so quiet now, except for the tell-tale hiss coming
from the bell of the saxophone. Not a syllable was exchanged between
the two locked in a stare that brought terror to all in their
company, but the sound of suds jetting from a pin-pricked beer can,
overflowing onto the ground between them, said all there was to say.
When the leader of the band was safely out of earshot, out band
became a chorus, and our laughter became our song. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Brigadoon </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Brigadoon
was a fitting choice for the last theatrical performance at Talcott.
Just as the townspeople stepped out of the mysterious mist after a
century-long absence , recollections of my junior high, long since
dissolved, reappear in my mind, its people unaltered by the great
passage of time. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Memory
has the magic power to span great amounts of time, putting you back
in moments long ago past,or alternately bringing the long ago past
into the here and now. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This
might sound like sheer nostalgia, a desire to hold on to the
familiar, fearful of change. But Talcott's Brigadoon was in one way a
celebration of a break with the past. The lead actor was black, and
the biggest deal with that was the way the student body did not think
it was a big deal, at all. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Project
Concern brought blacks and Hispanics from Hartford to West Hartford,
a short bus trip for a bus, but a gigantic leap for the students from
the inner city. In nearby Boston, scoundrels did more than wrap
themselves in the flag, they wielded it as a weapon, desperate to
stem the invulnerable tide that would put blacks and whites in the
same schools for the first time in forever. It was too soon for some,
but for most in the Hartford area the exchange was accepted with
little fanfare. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Born
black in the segregated North, rising to prominence as the lead actor
in the school play, what seemed of little consequence then, today I
look back with an appreciation of what it might have felt like for
him. He, too, sat at the round table of Camelot, proud and respected.
Maybe it went to his head. Maybe that's why he thought it was cool to
put a beer in the bell of his saxophone. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Type
casting did not take into account skin color in the world Candy
Ciarcia brought to life, teaching drama in Camelot. Hollywood is just
beginning to learn this lesson. When I see the Founding Fathers
portrayed by minorities on Broadway, I see the cast of Talcott's
Brigadoon stepping out of the mist, not to resurrect times long since
past, but rather to connect today to what they knew to be true, what
they made real, and what the rest of the country is taking a long
time to realize. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
School is having a Ball!</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mr.
Leary, whose manners and appearances conveyed a Woodstock pedigree,
assumed a role of authority figure on the receiving end of a
counter-culture outburst, much to his chagrin. In the Cafeteria we
waited for the buses to come, filled with a giddy energy after the
end of classes, able at last to speak to our peers outside the bounds
of classroom discourse. Left to our own inclinations, we would have
been happy to not learn anything. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On
the day of the dance, the cafeteria would soon transform from a well
lit array of tables and chairs lined up in orderly rows to a darkened
dance floor below a spinning disco globe. The students waiting for
the buses to come were anxious to transfer into adherents of
adolescent intrigue. The social studies teacher sported a beard that
suggested a 1960s sit-in for something, and he seemed overdressed in
anything more than shorts and sandals. His ironic task was to advise
us against consuming any mind-altering substances. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He
called for us to cease our fermented banter long enough for him to
dutifully read us the pre-dance riot act. As soon as the din died
down, he was able to utter the first line of the expected code of
conduct for the evening to come, barring the evil of intoxication in
any of its forms. Before he could begin his second line, a table of
eighth grade girls broke out in a chorus. It carried across the
silent cafeteria so all could hear, " I would not feel so all
alone. Everybody must get stoned." </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Despite
being a big Dylan fan, himself, he broke from his script to reply
with mock praise, "Very nice, ladies, very nice." The
projection of his disappointment with them did not seem to bother the
girls at all. The first bus was ready to leave, so we never heard the
rest of the riot act. Within a half hour we were home, getting ready
for the dance. Before arriving, the girls probably got high on
marijuana, and the teacher probably did the same. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rose
of Elmwood </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
may have walked, I may have gotten a ride. It may have been in
winter, it may have been spring. All I remember for sure was the
darkness, and the girl. The light from a hundred mirrors spun around
the caf from the disco ball high above, flickering too fast to see
anything for long. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In
the dark I was shielded from the embarrassment a public rejection
would bring, terrified as I was of the fate suffered by a boy in my
class. He declared to the other boys his intention to ask out a girl
when he got her alone in the stain room. Well ventilated and enclosed
in glass to make a sound proof chamber, we looked on the way HAL
watched the crew members in “2001, A Space Odyssey” through the
pod's porthole. We could not read their lips, but we did not need to
to know she had shot him down.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
could not imagine a worse fate, a more fatal injury than the specter
of such rejection, and it being known to all. In the dark, no one
could see me fail, so I needed less courage to try. Still, it took
all I had to ask, “would you like to dance?” I shuffled my feet
from side to side to the sound of “Hot Blooded.” Then we danced a
slow dance, holding her close, feeling her warmth, smelling her
scent. She smelled like a subtle flower. She smelled like a rose. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It
was a secret thing. Hidden from view, able to be in an intimate
embrace in a crowd of peers, without anyone knowing who was dancing
with whom. There was nothing to account for, as though nothing had
happened. There were no next steps, no words spoken between us after.
Asking a girl at a dance to dance seemed reasonable. Asking a girl
for a kiss, well, how would I ever be able to know if she was
remotely interested? And if she wasn't, what shame would come from
being so out of line? Rather than risk engendering her contempt, when
the music stopped and the lights came back on, I retreated home in
the dark. A rose of Elmwood, such a sweet first dance, it never
mattered to me what her name might be. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Stone's
Tulips </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Down
the ramp from Camelot, Mr. Stone and Mrs. Osgood nurtured our social
outlook in part by showing us truly exotic films. The two were like
opposite ends of a magnet: Mrs. Osgood, a twentyish newlywed,
smothered us with liberal love, drawing us to here with equal parts
of kindness and cleavage. Mr. Stone was the older, more conventional
father figure, who kept us at a distance with stern looks and
halitosis. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
metal reels housing the film was snapped on the end of the arm
extending off the back of the film projector. The lead frames of the
film were hand fed through the lens apparatus and fed further onto an
empty reel snapped onto an arm extending off the front of the
projector. Before the audio of the film kicked in, the only sound
heard in the dark, silent classrooms at the beginning of the movie
was the low hum of a motor, and of the film advancing past the lens. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
man in the movie woke up, feeling changed. He ate and ate and grew
and grew. Once sufficiently larger, his appetite turned to people
within arms reach. His form soared above the skyline, chasing after
the people below, big enough to devour them in two bites. Finally,
the people of the city took to the safety of subterranean shelters to
wait out the menace. With no more people to eat, the now-monster left
the city in search of food, but found only desert. He soon starved,
and fell to the ground, where the people came, at long last leaving
their shelters. They climbed atop the corpse, and then cut his flesh
into pieces, packed them into boxes, and took it back to be stored in
the shelters back in the city. Panning back from the ex-carnated
giant outside the city limits, a line of super-sized skeletons comes
into view, relating a tale of a series of killers, all stripped to
the bone by the survivors of an epic cycle of feast or famine. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A
student who got close enough to know provided a report that was
repeated school-wide, “His breath stank.” The man did not take
undue umbrage at the slight, for Stone had known worse, much worse.
Living beside the high school tennis courts, his house was on the
route to and from school, an easy mark for the many alumni of his
classes in junior high. They would be considered prime suspects for
the crime committed against the residents of his front yard flower
garden. Or was it the work of his current students? Of course, word
travels fast when a teacher's flowers are cut down to nothing. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Whether
they were witnesses to the crime, or simply knew of it second or
third-hand, either way they made him jump. His back to the class,
writing on the chalkboard, a set of whispers, heard by all,
attributable to no one, set him off. “Tulips,” was all they said,
but it was enough to bring a fitful reaction. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Family Photo</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You did not worry
too much about candid photos being taken in the age of film and
disposable flash cubes. It wasn't a simple matter of pulling out your
cell phone and pointing and clicking and posting to Facebook. Some
assembly was required in order to take a snapshot, especially at
night. Unexposed film was coiled up in lengths of 24 or 36 frames,
each 35mm in length, housed in a light-proof cylinder. It was hand
loaded into a camera, advanced one frame at a time. If you sprung for
ASA 400 or 800 you could set your F-stop a little higher at the same
speed and get a wider field of vision in focus without reducing the
shutter speed. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Flash-bulbs came in
cubes, with one flash-bulb in each of the four faces rotated to the
front, one at a time. A tiny chemical explosion lit up the room.
After the fourth bulb flashed, the cube was thrown away, after it
cooled down, and replaced with another.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After the last frame
on the roll was exposed, a button on the bottom of the camera was
pushed, and a crank flipped on the top to allow the film to be
rewound back into the cylinder. You took the roll to the store to get
it developed. Prints and negatives would come back in a week, but you
had to hold onto your receipt until then. To crop a photo, you sent
back a special order with the negative strip included, and a print
marked up to show the person in the lab what you wanted to see in the
new print.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Family photos were
typically an annual event, taken by the professional photographers
who staffed the studio at Sears and Roebuck in the Corbin's Corner
Shopping Plaza. Our parents would lead their five boys on a short
walk down Burnham Drive to the break in the wall at the fire gate at
the end of Elmfield, wearing our best horizontally striped t-shirts.
Over the years, as one was passed down from older brother to younger,
the shirt could be seen in the series of family photos moving from
left to right in the age ordered row of brothers.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In my thirteenth
year, the photographer was having a hard time getting me to smile. A
family photo without every smiling, or at least not frowning, was not
worthy of hanging on the wall at home. She asked me, “Who is your
girlfriend?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, of course, the
honest answer was, “no one,” but that would be more embarrassing
than blurting out the name of a girl I wished was my girlfriend, so
out came her name.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The photographer got
the shot she needed, and my Mom got some intel on my secret world,
and I had spoken my heart and staked my claim to a Talcott
cheerleader with perfect teeth and a tight fitting sweater.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Inclined Planes</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After completing the
inclined plane lab, in which simple planks were set at an angle until
something slid down the ram, we hanged the planks up high in the back
of the room in a place that would soon prove to be a safety
oversight. The problem began when a fellow student announced to the
class that he had observed me doing something I shouldn't be doing.
Maybe I was trying to squirrel away a sinker used to add weight to
whatever we were trying to make slide down the plank. In any event,
he ratted me out to everyone, including the teacher.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My response was
swift and to the point, conveying meaning at the speed of a right
hook to the jaw, followed by a pair of body blows setting up a left
jab, again to the face, knocking the rat back into the base of the
rack holding the planks. The true lesson in potential energy was
unleashed from above, each and everyone plank presenting the
potential to inflict blunt force trauma, falling down on and around
the ass-kicked rat.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mrs. Govotski
shrieked, the fight stopped, and I was sent to the principal's
office. It wasn't quite a big enough deal for “Stiff Nuts”, as
Principal Michael Stephanian was known by staff and students alike,
so the vice-principal dealt with me. “So, he ratted on you, and
then you hit him?”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I nodded, not sure
if it was a question or a statement of fact. Either way, I had
nothing to say.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I get it.” He
got it. It made sense to him. I was dismissed. Other teachers felt
the same way. A straight A student who fought, too. There was
something of a ying and yang duality to it, I guess. In the time when
Gordie Howe and his kids played for the New England Whalers, I had
scored the academic version of a Gordie Howe hat trick: A goal,
assist and a fight, or an A, a 5 and a U.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The status of
celebrity went straight to my head, until clarity came from the girl
identified to the Sears and Roebuck photographer as my girlfriend.
The phantasy came crashing down around me as I closed my locker and
turned to her with the swagger of a conquering hero. But she
pre-empted any approach with a simple sentence, a rhetorical question
for which I had no answer, “So, you think you're a big man now
because you got in a fight?” That was exactly what I thought, and
then I did not know what to think.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was beyond my
comprehension then, and for years to come, that two people could have
a falling out and ever recover. Her words cut the cord between my
reality and my aspirations. It wasn't the last time I got in a fight,
but if I had the spiritual insight to take into account her
constuctive criticism, it would have been, and I would have been
better off for it.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Years later, in high
school, the boy I fought in science class came back to town with a
visiting JV football team, and sought me out. We were all smiles,
joined by the memory of this extraordinary event that elevated our
notoriety to untold levels. In tiem, the fight gained me the
admiration of the guy, but the respect of the girl was gone forever.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Decades later I
heard that her ex-husband had beaten her when they were married. In
the first draft of the previous sentence it began, “The man she
married …,” but, on second thought, I have decided to not use the
term “man” in the description of this person.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A-5-U</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My Power School app
chimes in a half a dozen times or more throughout the work day when
my daughter is home sick, sending an alert each and every time one of
her classes convenes without her present. No one told my parents
about the fight in the science class. After all, I earned a
dispensation for fighting because I punched out a rat. What sense
would it make for the administrator to confuse the greater lesson
learned by turning around and ratting on me to my parents?</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The only clue would
come later, in the form of an A-5-U.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At the end of the
marking period, I carried home the hardcopy of my report card, and
was confronted with the reality that there was no way to change a U
to an S, nor change a 5 to any other number. My three part science
grade was believed to be the only of its kind, and A-5-U. A was for
highest academic performance; 5 was the highest number possible,
signifying the worst possible citizenship; and U stood for
unsatisfactory effort.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I don't give a
crap about the 'A',” my father began. “That 'A' isn't going to
get you anywhere if you are getting 5's and U's.” There was no
invitation or opportunity to account for the failing metrics. The
teacher's opinion was just as infallible, if not more so, than that
of Pope Paul. A father of five boys, he ruled by decree, and he
decreed that I should improve my effort and attitude totally, and
without delay. As President of the PTO, his message to the teacher
was no message at all. The opinion of a teacher was accepted without
question.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
Ramp </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
ramp to Camelot was a highway to skateboarders, a practice Mr. Stone
tried in vain to curtail. It was a transitional DMZ between the
permissive culture of the third floor and the traditional educators
below. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For
me, it was also a waterway. When my mother was in St. Francis
Hospital giving birth to her fifth son, I escaped the containment of
the adult given the hopeless duty of minding the other four. I made
my way to the waters and the wild of the algae choked drainage
channels near my home. The runoff from Corbin's Corner Shopping
Center backed up behind the dam I built with rocks and mud and grass.
When enough water was behind it, the dam was breached, and a mighty
current was sent forth like a raging flood. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A
friend on the other side of the headwaters of Rockledge Brook teamed
up with me, rolling magazines into a pipe from the bathroom sink
faucet to the rim of a tall trash can. Much too heavy to be carried
by two, we were still able to maneuver it to the top of the ramp on a
dolly, just like a science lab on potential energy, or the difference
between static and rolling friction, or how high do you have to tip a
plank before something flat rolls down it. We left it leaning just
inside the double doors, then returned to class to establish our
alibi. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
bell rang, students filled the hallways, and pushed open the door to
usher the flood. Judging by the high water line left behind, the
water spread out, spanning the entire width of the ramp on its path
to the sea. Once it reached the second floor, it collected at the low
point of the flooring, forming a large pool two inches deep in front
of the door to Mr. Stone's classroom. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Arriving
a few minutes after the water, coming from a classroom too far away
to be considered suspects, we watched the crowd gather in the halls,
delayed from entering, as Stone called for custodians, like
Charleston Heston commanding the sea to part. But he did not have a
prayer. We just walked through the pond, tracking water and filth as
we forded his entryway. Class began with our teacher barking into the
air about the sheer, intolerable assault on the dignity of his office
presented by this random act of vandalism.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Free
Throws</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
call came from coach to play man-to-man. All season long we had tried
to mimic Michigan State's 2-3 zone, but now he decided to ditch it
after all. Michigan State, led by Earvin Johnson, beat undefeated
Indiana State, led by Larry Bird, in the NCAA final that year. Coach
attributed the success of the Spartans to their 2-3 zone, and noted
the lack of production by Johnson when his teammate Gregory Kelser
came out of the game.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Within
moments of the switch, I stole a pass and raced half the court on a
breakaway. Ascending to the hoop, I was caught from behind, and we
both ended up crashing into the padding on the wall, four feet past
the end line. For the first time in my athletic career I said
something to an opponent other than, "Good game" in the
post-game handshake line. On my way to the foul line, in a clutch of
players, I turned to him and said, "That was a good tackle. You
should play football."</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
mother of a teammate in attendance told me afterwards that my
breakaway play and the aftermath, "made the game interesting."
It was a revelation that she was less than engrossed by the entire
sporting event. For me, everything in life paled in comparison to the
excitement of an athletic contest.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In
my junior year of high school, my youth football coach, and father to
a daughter, founded West Hartford's girls softball league. Before
then, like back in the years of Talcott, girls in the junior high
years had fewer options. There a lot more cheerleaders. A boy's job
was to compete in uniform, and a girl's job was to cheer on the boys.
It never dawned on me that the girls could find anything of greater
interest than my performance in these hallowed games.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">An
eighth grade cheerleader too an interest in the score sheet after the
game, but it never occurred to me that her interest in me might
extend beyond my stats. She complemented me on my perfect two-for-two
shooting at the free throw line. I might have taken the opportunity
to complement her on how perfect she was to say so, or how perfect
she looked in her cheer-leading outfit, or how perfect her Dorothy
Hamill haircut looked. I was standing on the charity stripe of love,
and did not even take a shot.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One
of the eight seventh graders that formed the JV basketball team, we
played a three game season against the other three junior highs in
town. Coming off the bench, I averaged one point per game, all free
throws. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">True
Faith</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">St.
Brigid Parish encompassed almost all of West Hartford south of I-84,
so we knew many of our classmates at Talcott for years before. Even
if we attended different Elementaries, many if not most of us were in
the same pews on Sunday, and walking across Elmwood on Wednesday
afternoons to the same CCD classes at St. Brigid's school. Sectarian
divisions of the twentieth century were still on their last legs in
Hartford at the end of the youth of the Baby Boomers. St. Francis
Hospital was where Catholic doctors cared for Catholic patients, so
my brothers and I and many if not most of my classmates were born
there. Hartford Hospital cared for Protestants, while Mt. Sinai was
predominately by and for Jews. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Real
estate agents had maps of the town with the Star of David drawn over
the neighborhood in the north, referred to as the “Reservation”,
ostensibly for the preponderance of streets named for First Nation
tribes such as Mohegan, Pontiac, Miami, Seneca, Iroquois, Mohawk and
Huron. At the center of the Reservation was King Phillip Junior
High, named for the First Nation Prince conquered by the British en
route to pacifying the Tobacco Valley. A significant Jewish migration
after World War II brought many from Hartford to northeastern West
Hartford.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On
the southern half of the Real Estate agents map of West Hartford a
cross was drawn. St. Thomas, St Brigid and St. Helena teamed with
parishioners, whereas today the diocese had combined the three into
one, and still have no luck filling the pews on Sunday.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But
when the ballots were counted, my school had elected Goldsmith to be
our student body President. Even without years of doctrine, without
consuming a single communion, he was one of us. And if he was one of
us, and a leader to boot, then we were something more than a group of
Catholics. The clergy depended on us believing their teachings were
the only way to raise your child, and the student body had already
figured out the opposite was true. It never dawned on them to change
their tune, and maybe they never will. The sun sets on cultures who
think they are their own source of light.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In
the Elm, our mother echoed the soulful lyrics, breaking the theater's
never enforced code of silence. With one word she counseled her age
ordered sons seated to her left. It was an adjustment for her when my
older brother Joe told her of his marriage to an emigre from Ukraine
in a civil service, and the plans for the religious ceremony in the
Jewish tradition. She confided in me, but never spoke of it to my
brother, “I always looked forward to you boys getting married in a
church.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then
you shouldn't have taken us to the Elm to see 'Fiddler on the Roof'
and lectured us about the importance of 'Tradition'.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
attempt to reassign ceramics maestro Harry Arnini to Hall High in the
north was met with fury by parents who saw him as an indispensable
part of Elmwood's identity. They won that fight, and we still put the
slip-caste turkeys I made in high school in the middle of the table
every Thanksgiving. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My
math teacher, Mr. Bran, was similarly summoned to the north. H filed
a brief but memorable protest agains what he saw as a sectarian
selection. As a Jew selected to teach the predominantly Jewish
children of the Reservation who attended King Phillip, he had reason
to suspect that religion had something to do with it.When Goldsmith
asked him where he was going, he fashioned an arm band out of a
scoresheet and marked it with a David's Star, fit it around his arm
and replied, “KP, of course.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Goldsmith
laughed, and Bran frowned, and I did not know what to think. Mr. Bran
and the late Dr. Bookman had tutored a math team dynasty at Talcott
that had guided my older brothers to pursue a course that led them to
attain PhD's at Harvard and MIT. Bran did not want to go north. Even
without years of doctrine, without consuming a single communion, he
was one of us.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Maybe
if Bran had taught me for a couple more years, I could have been a
contender. Maybe if the parents made as big a stink about Bran as
they did for Arnini, the world could have been my oyster. But, on the
other hand, the white glazed turkeys are still a big hit on
Thanksgiving.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
Afterlife</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
stairs to the CEO's office at the new headquarters at 999 South
Quaker Lane rose from a free throw line in the old gym. Proud
proprietors of PACMAN and Cabbage Patch dolls, COLECO, an
abbreviation of Connecticut Leather Company, bought Talcott from the
town a year or so after it closed its doors to students.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For
a brief period, though, former students made their way back to the
gym on certain weekends. The shop, auditorium, classrooms, and
cafeteria were relegated to darkened, empty spaces, so that as a
whole, Talcott Junior High had become the world's largest
roller-skating rink. Waiting for a sale to go through to a new owner
with no interest in a gym, its final nights of use by the students of
West Hartford were as memorable as any. That was where a tall blonde,
made taller by wearing roller skates, caught my eye, and smiled, and
motioned with her index finger for me to come to her. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jude
was a rare name then, and rarer still for a girl. But she was such
the complete feminine package that I was convinced for a long time
that the Beatles were talking about a woman when they sang “Hey,
Jude.” Her spirit was as light as her hair. Her smile as wide as
the curves that undulated from head to tow like a sultry ocean of
flesh. My attraction to her overcame my shyness, to the point that
somehow my feelings came to her attention. I am not sure how many
intermediaries were involved, but one way or another she became aware
that I liked her, and I became aware she had a boyfriend in high
school, and then she became aware that I was heartbroken to hear that
it was the case that she was not available to go out with me. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nevertheless,
there we were, out on a Friday night, rolling around the old gym, and
she was inviting me to engage her in direct conversation. A first
year hockey player with almost no skill at skating on ice, I managed
on wheels a modest c-cut, and rolled suavely backwards in her
direction. There she told me how pleasant she found my overtures. It
was the sweetest of rebuffs. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Years
later, sitting in Middletown's Harbor Park, a member of Great White
was sharing shots with me that he had bought, but lacked the stomach
lining to drink. Famous for his music to millions, I could not recall
a single tune. But, I knew of the band. It played to a packed room in
Rhode Island on a Thursday night, before indoor fireworks set the
hall ablaze. Jude perished along with many others in the smoke. The
white liquor from the Great White band member offered no
consolation. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For
Elmwood, rollerskating in the gym was a consolation prize. For me,
Jude's smile just for me was a consolation to be prized. If there is
a heaven to come, let its gates be the double doors to Talcott's gym,
with Jude waiting on the other side, gliding above the wooden floor
on a pair of angel's roller skates, with a smile just for me. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.1in; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0.2in; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: #202020;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">©
2018 John Kilian </span></span></span></div>
johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-78059053114880728502017-10-02T19:25:00.002-07:002017-10-02T19:25:58.061-07:00Stolen Children<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Today I got in the car and heard the
news of the Las Vegas massacre. On the way home, they played Tom
Petty after announcing his passing. His lyric “I don't understand
the world today” haunts me on this day of inconceivable loss. So
many lost their lives to the act of a man that never before raised
the slightest alarm.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In Irish culture, such turns of fate
are explained as the works of faeries, the mystical beings of the
eternal woods who come and exchange the dead for the living. A victim
of a stroke who loses some faculty is said to have been deprived by a
faery, taking his good mind and replacing it with something
tarnished. Like pirates, they return to the forest with their booty,
enjoying endless revelry, unconcerned by the blemishes left by their
passing through the world of mortal humans.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Yeats wrote of the legend of the
faeries, how it would console those who lost a sibling before their
time. While they came and went like grim reapers, the fear of their
coming was balanced by a pagan notion of heaven where the lost child
would enjoy a life without care for time eternal.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<h1 class="western">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="page-title"></a><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web Italic, Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 28pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
Stolen Child</span></span></span></span></span></span></h1>
<h2 class="western" style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(211, 211, 211); border-left: none; border-right: none; border-top: none; padding: 0in 0in 0.02in;">
<a href="https://www.poets.org/node/45485" target="_top"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: founders grotesk textsemibold, Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">W.
B. Yeats</span></span></span></span></a><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: founders grotesk textsemibold, Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><b>, 1865 - 1939</b></span></span></span></h2>
<pre class="western" style="border: none; line-height: 0.25in; padding: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Where dips the rocky highland</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There lies a leafy island</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Where flapping herons wake</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The drowsy water rats;</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There we’ve hid our faery vats,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Full of berrys</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And of reddest stolen cherries.</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Come away, O human child!</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">To the waters and the wild</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">With a faery, hand in hand,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Where the wave of moonlight glosses</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The dim gray sands with light,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Far off by furthest Rosses</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">We foot it all the night,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Weaving olden dances</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Mingling hands and mingling glances</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Till the moon has taken flight;</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">To and fro we leap</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And chase the frothy bubbles,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">While the world is full of troubles</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And anxious in its sleep.</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Come away, O human child!</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">To the waters and the wild</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">With a faery, hand in hand,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Where the wandering water gushes</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">From the hills above Glen-Car,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In pools among the rushes</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">That scarce could bathe a star,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">We seek for slumbering trout</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And whispering in their ears</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Give them unquiet dreams;</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Leaning softly out</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">From ferns that drop their tears</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Over the young streams.</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Come away, O human child!</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">To the waters and the wild</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">With a faery, hand in hand,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Away with us he’s going,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The solemn-eyed:</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He’ll hear no more the lowing</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Of the calves on the warm hillside</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Or the kettle on the hob</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sing peace into his breast,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Or see the brown mice bob</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Round and round the oatmeal chest.</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">For he comes, the human child,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">To the waters and the wild</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">With a faery, hand in hand,</span></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Poets Electra Web, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.</span></span></span></pre>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-80823153545559446272016-11-10T16:39:00.000-08:002016-12-01T13:41:21.371-08:00j24u - a deeper dive into current events by John KilianHere they are:<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SliNRGpiMOI">Oct 25, 2016</a> <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Topics include MidEast conflict, immigration, U.S. health and healthcare,demographic changes in U.S.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=omb3JoqmPb8&t=587s">Oct 26, 2016</a> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">Catholic Church, Afghanistan, Swordfish</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=42ecYk07zKE&t=334s">Nov 4, 2016</a> FBI, Wikileaks, </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">The path to the Presidency for Hillary Clinton seems likely but not uncontested.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zsZnjCbIuhw&t=9s">Nov 6, 2016</a> meaning of j24u, performed by Leonard Cohen,Irish Rugby, Global Warming</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> <a href="https://youtu.be/A6MAF-TP46Q" target="_blank">Nov 7, 2016</a> Landslide predicted, FBI v. State Department history, Canadiens fast start, sans PK Subban</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yDQ6ynjjwS0">Nov 8, 2016</a> Election Day, Cats Stevens, age differences between parties.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BIP6fJnoyZE&t=385s"> Nov 9, 2016</a> Election 2016 postmortem, Belinda Carlyle </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsquWa5RvAA">Nov 10, 2016</a> Wendy Colonna, We Are One, Trump policy on Gun Control, Mental health</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7y1_GYPnRUc" target="_blank">Nov 12, 2016</a><span id="goog_78859006"></span><span id="goog_78859007"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a> The rise of the Montreal Canadiens, and the demise of Leonard Cohen and TPP</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j95YdAgZWuE" target="_blank">Nov 23, 2016</a> Regime Change hurts Canadiens, Darly Hall and John Oates, Demise of youth hockey?, ROW tie-breaker, Election fraud allegations</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Stay tuned for more.</span><br />
johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-86688419033793038652015-08-14T10:37:00.003-07:002015-08-14T10:38:54.415-07:00Middletown PoemsEnd of the Season<br />
<br />
Their only win of the season<br />
<div>
led to a game under the lights.</div>
<div>
They ran and kicked but in the end</div>
<div>
they lost again that night.<br />
<br />
We gathered afterwards on the bench<br />
where all twelve of them could sit.<br />
They spoke of the fun they had<br />
and how much it would be missed.<br />
<br />
The playoff game in latest October<br />
was played in an early November chill.<br />
Even in all the excitement<br />
the weather dampened the thrill.<br />
<br />
A coach had words to say<br />
on how the kids could better play,<br />
but the last word went to the girl not too old<br />
to say at last, "It is cold!"</div>
johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-60403094207404110912014-02-21T05:59:00.001-08:002014-02-21T05:59:44.182-08:00Gold Medal For Kevin Dineen<TABLE WIDTH=100% BORDER=1 CELLPADDING=4 CELLSPACING=3 STYLE="page-break-before: always">
<COL WIDTH=128*>
<COL WIDTH=128*>
<TR>
<TD WIDTH=50% HEIGHT=102>
<P><FONT FACE="Arial, sans-serif"><FONT SIZE=2>A thrilling end of
regulation play in the ladies gold medal hockey game. With a
minute to go and the Canadians on the attack with an extra skater,
trailing by one, a linesman commits a cardinal sin of officiating
and interferes with play on the blue line. An American plays the
puck down the ice towards the empty net,... and it hits the post!
Holy cow!</FONT></FONT></P>
</TD>
<TD WIDTH=50% VALIGN=TOP>
<P><FONT FACE="Arial, sans-serif"><FONT SIZE=2>Une fin palpitante
du jeu de la réglementation dans l'or médaille jeu
de hockey de dames. Avec une minute à faire et les
Canadiens à l'attaque avec un patineur supplémentaire,
de fuite par un, l'arbitre assistant commet un péché
cardinal de l'arbitrage et interfère avec le jeu sur la
ligne bleue. Un Américain joue la rondelle sur la glace
vers le but vide, ... et il tire sur le poteau! Vache sacrée!</FONT></FONT></P>
</TD>
</TR>
<TR VALIGN=TOP>
<TD WIDTH=50%>
<P><FONT FACE="Arial, sans-serif"><FONT SIZE=2>I would have felt
sad for Kevin Dineen if he lost, because the Canadian coach was
also the captain of the Hartford Whalers. i spoke with Kevin not
long ago when he was coaching the visiting team against the
Connecticut Whale. He told me how nice my family was, with a great
deal of melancholy. Within days his mother would pass away.</FONT></FONT></P>
</TD>
<TD WIDTH=50%>
<P><FONT FACE="Arial, sans-serif"><FONT SIZE=2>Je me suis senti
triste pour Kevin Dineen si il a perdu, parce que l'entraîneur
canadien a également été le capitaine des
Whalers de Hartford. J'ai parlé avec Kevin il ya pas si
longtemps, il a été entraîneur de l'équipe
visiteuse contre le Connecticut Whale. Il m'a raconté
comment ma famille était agréable, avec beaucoup de
mélancolie. Dans les jours sa mère allait mourir</FONT></FONT></P>
</TD>
</TR>
<TR VALIGN=TOP>
<TD WIDTH=50%>
<P><FONT FACE="Arial, sans-serif"><FONT SIZE=2>He would return in
the playoffs and his team would rally from two goals down to end
the season for the Whale. On his exit Hartford treated him to a
standing ovation, chanting "Let's Go Whalers" as he
walked around the boards waving and thanking the fans, as he left
the ice he played on, for the last time.</FONT></FONT></P>
</TD>
<TD WIDTH=50%>
<P><FONT FACE="Arial, sans-serif"><FONT SIZE=2>Il reviendra dans
les séries éliminatoires et son équipe se
rallierait de deux buts à la fin de la saison pour La
Baleine. Sur sa sortie Hartford a traité à une
ovation debout, chantant "Let's Go Whalers" alors qu'il
marchait dans les conseils agitant et en remerciant les fans comme
il a quitté la glace, il a joué sur pour, la
dernière fois.</FONT></FONT></P>
</TD>
</TR>
<TR VALIGN=TOP>
<TD WIDTH=50%>
<P><FONT FACE="Arial, sans-serif"><FONT SIZE=2>Lucky for the
linesman, the Canadians complete the two goal rally today, and
then they win in overtime. Kevin Dineen wins the Gold! Let's Go
Whalers!</FONT></FONT></P>
</TD>
<TD WIDTH=50%>
<P><FONT FACE="Arial, sans-serif"><FONT SIZE=2>Heureusement pour
le juge de touche, les Canadiens compléter les deux but
rassemblement aujourd'hui, et ils gagnent en prolongation. Kevin
Dineen remporte la médaille d'or! Let 's Go Whalers!</FONT></FONT></P>
</TD>
</TR>
</TABLE>johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-34881346151992448172014-01-07T04:02:00.001-08:002014-01-07T04:02:40.067-08:00Tenor and Bass - Timeline<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Time-line </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
1938
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
At the beginning of 1938, the Austrian
government, in an effort to maintain its independence from Germany,
ordered a referendum to decide whether to join Germany, and thus
reneged on a pledge to German Chancellor Adolf Hitler to agree to
the merging of the two countries. Pro-independence supporters were
expected to prevail in the balloting, and Italy's Prime Minister
Benito Mussolini pledged to defend the Austrian regime against a
German occupation.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On March 9, Rupert von Trapp completed
his medical school studies.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On March 11, after Hitler persuaded
Mussolini to renege on his pledge to the Austrians, a coup in Austria
coincided with the arrival of German troops to seal the unification
of Germany and Austria. The bells of Salzburg were rung in
celebration at the insistence of the German military. German laws
were adopted quickly that removed Jewish doctors from Austria's state
hospitals.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The Von Trapp Family Choir declined an
invitation to sing at the celebration of Adolf Hitler's birthday on
April 20.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On May 20, in anticipation of a German
invasion, the government of Czechoslovakia mobilized their military.
A clandestine plot by senior leaders of the German military and
civilian leadership determined to depose Hitler by force in the event
he order Germany to engage Czechoslovakia in armed combat.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The Trapp family fled Austria in June
by train, eventually reaching England, and toured Europe over the
summer. The Austrian frontier is sealed shortly after there
departure. Against the will of Georg von Trapp, <span style="color: #282828;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Heinrich
Himmler, a chief architect of the Holocaust,</span></span></span>
takes control of his villa in Aigen.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
At this time, it was a matter of
common knowledge that political opponents of the Nazi Party were
being committed to concentration camps. In the summer of 1938, a
concentration camp was opened in Mauthausen, Austria at the site of
a quarry operation. The steps leading up from where stone was removed
by prisoners became known as the “<i>Stairs of Death</i>.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In fall, the von Trapp family secured
an advance from an American concert promoter and departed for the
United States aboard the <i>American Farmer</i>, arriving on
October...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Negotiations between allies France and
England versus Germany over the summer resulted in the withdrawal of
France and Britain's threats of force to defend Czechoslovakian
sovereignty over the ethnically German portions of the country known
as the Sudetenland. Without the support of its allies, Czechoslovakia
allowed German troops to occupy the Sudetenland without armed
resistance in early October.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="" name="firstHeading"></a> Ernest
Hemingway published “<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en"><i>The
Fifth Column and the First Forty-Nine Stories</i></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif, Arial;"><span lang="en"><i>”
</i></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">on
October 14. The “</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en"><i>Fifth
Column</i></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">”
refers to a clandestine force of sympathizers who support an invading
force by way of espionage and sabotage. People of Germanic heritage
were viewed with suspicion as Europe and the United States witnessed
the expansion of Germany.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> On
November 9, anti-Jewish mobs in Germany and Austria carried out
extensive vandalism of Jewish businesses, houses, schools, hospitals
and synagogues. Local authorities did not intervene as they watched
countless window panes shattered and fires lit, earning the event the
title “Kristallnacht” - the Night of Breaking Glass. Many Jews
were killed in the process, and tens of thousands of Jews were sent
to concentration camps in the wake of this event, triggered by a
reaction to a German diplomat being killed by a Polish Jew.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">1939</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> Johannes
von Trapp was born in Philadelphia to Georg and Maria on January 19. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> In
February, the von Trapp was notified that their visa would not be
extended.</span></span></div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> In
March, they left by ship on the <i>Normandie</i> to tour Scandanvia.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> On
September 1, German troops invaded Poland. </span>
</div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> On
September 3, France England declared war on Germany, and Winston
Churchill was appointed as Britain's First Lord of the Admiralty.</span></div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> On
September 17, the Soviet Union invaded Poland</span></div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> On
October 6, the former territory of Poland was divided and annexed by
the two invaders.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> From
October 7 to 11, upon returning the the United States aboard the
<i>Bergensfjord</i> from their Scandanavian tour, the Trapp Family
Choir was taken into custody on Ellis Island by immigration
authorities. Rupert was spared incarceration due to his status as an
applicant to immigrate.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> On
November 30, the Soviet Union's Red Army invaded Finland.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">1940</span></div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> On
March 13, hostilities between Finland and the USSR ended. The
invasion of Finland by the Soviet Union's Red Army in the winter of
1939-40 was repelled by a force that was greatly outnumbered. The
Finnish troops were trained to maneuver in Arctic environments,
featuring infantry on skis, and camouflagued by white parkas.</span></div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> On
April 9, Germany invaded Norway. <span style="color: black;">The British
Navy's assault on Narvik, Norway in the spring of 1940 sought to
deprive Germany of strategically important sources of iron ore for
their war machine. Austrian mountain troops held the Navy and five
times as many British and French troops at bay by holding high ground
above the port and its entrances. The British could not contest these
positions due to the absence of troops trained in extreme cold and
mountainous and snow-covered terrain. Despite their targets
proximity to the Arctic Circle, only summer uniforms were brought on
board by the British. Norway remains under German occupation until
the end of the war.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en"> On
May 10, Germany invaded Belgium and the Netherlands. On the same day,
Neville Chamberlain resigned and was replaced by Winston Churchill as
the British Prime Minister.</span></span></div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> On
Jun3 22, after British and French forces were pushed back to the sea,
an armistice between Germany and France established a German
occupation zone in northern France that included all of France's
Atlantic coastline.</span></div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> On
July 3, negotiations with the French admiral in command of a large
contingent of vessels in Algeria failed to secure British objectives
that would at least neutralize the threat that the formidable naval
force there would fall into the hands of Germany. A massive barrage
of British naval artillery destroyed the WWI era Battleship Britagne,
with a thousand sailors on board perishing.</span></div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> In
the summer, German air forces attacked British military targets in
Great Britain. British counter attacks on Berlin included a sortie
that inadvertantly bombed the civilian population. The Battle of
Britain then excalated, as Hitler ordered the daily bombing of London
over the course of September and October. </span>
</div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> Germany's
inability to destroy Britain's coastal defenses pre-empted the
launch of Operation Sea Lion, a planned amphibious and airborne
invasion of Britain.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
1941</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On March 11, the third anniversary of
the annexation of Austria by Germany, the United States officially
ended its neutrality when President Roosevelt signed lend-lease
legislation providing financial and material aid to Great Britain,
the Soviet Union, Free France, China, and other allies.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On June 22, Germany launched Operation
Barbarossa, invading the Soviet Union in the largest invasion in the
history of warfare. The intentional deprivation of food to foreign
troops and civilians in areas that fell under German control led to
the starvation of millions.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
During the summer of 1941, the United
States halted the export of petroleum to Japan. Negotiations were
accompanied by the positioning of naval assets by both countries in
preparation for battle over the Dutch West Indies, a strategic souce
of petroleum and rubber, and the majority of Americans acknowledged
the likelihood that the United States would enter the war as
combatants.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On December 7, Japan attacked American
ships recently deployed to Pearl Harbor in the Hawaiin Islands.
Within days the United States declared war on Japan, Germany and
Italy.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
1942</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In May, Hitler and Mussolini meet in
Salzburg. In this meeting, Mussolini commits to the large scale
deployment of Italy's Eighth Army to the Eastern Front that would
follow in June. The force includes three newly created divisions of
mountain (alpini) troops.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
During the summer, the von Trapps
perform for an Army camp in Stowe, Vermont. Later they buy farmland
on Luce Hill there.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
1943</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On January 26, Soviet forces target
Italy's Alpini divisions, the last remaining units of the Eight Army.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
By February, Italy's Eigth Army no
longer exists in Russia, after suffering heavy casualties.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On March 9, on the fourth anniversary
of Rupert's graduation from medical school, Rupert and Werner von
Trapp report as draftees of the U.S. Army. They become innaugural
members of the U.S. Army Ski Troops, the predecessor of the 10<sup>th</sup>
Mountain Division. They soon become U.S. Citizens.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On May 16, the Allies bomb Rome.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On July 10, the Allies invade Sicily.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On July 23, the King of Italy deposes
Mussolini.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On September 8, General Eisenhower
announces the surrender of Italy. The Allies and Germans battle to
occupy Italy over the next 20 months.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">October
18 to November 11</span></span> – At the Third Moscow Conference,
the Allies(China,UK,US,USSR) agree that after the war, Austria will
be treated as the first victim of Nazi aggression, and be permitted
to regain its independence.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
1944</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The 10<sup>th</sup> Mountain Division
deploys to Italy.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The allies drop a single bomb on
Salzburg's Cathedral. During the war, fifteen allied sorties result
in the destruction of close to half the city's buildings.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
1945</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
March 29 – Soviet forces cross
Austria's eastern frontier. The Red Army suffers heavy losses, and
their victory is followed by their perpetrating vast amounts of sex
crimes over several years time, eventually leading the Soviets to
strictly garrison its occupation forces in Austria in 1948.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
April 29 – French forces cross
Austria's western frontier.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
May 8 – Germany surrenders. British
and American forces enter Austria. Austria is occupied by the
Allies(France,UK,US,USSR) until 1955, when its independence is
restored. Salzburg becomes the center of American occupation
operations in Austria, and Werner and Rupert von Trapp return to
Austria as occupying forces in American uniforms.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
July 26 – The Allies(China,US,USSR)
submit Postdam Declaration of terms for Japaneses surrender. The
“prompt and utter destruction” of Japan is threatened.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
August 6 – The United States drops
an atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
August 8 – The Soviet Union declares
war on Japan, breaking a six year truce.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
August 9 – The Soviet Union invades
Manchuria, previously occupied by Japan. Later that day, the United
States drops a second atomic bomb on Japan, this time in Nagasaki.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
August 15 – A recording of the
Emperor of Japan is broadcast on radio announcing his acceptance of
the Postdam Declaration – ending hostilities in World War II. Japan
is occupied by American forces.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The von Trapp brothers return to
Vermont.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
1947</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> Rupert
von Trapp graduates from the University of Vermont, and marries
<span style="color: black;">Henriette Lajoie, whom he had six children</span>.
</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
1948</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Werner von Trapp marries Salzburg
native<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> Erika </span><span style="color: #373737;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Klambauer,
a childhood friend of his sister, Martina, and with whom he had six
children</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">1950
Werner von Trapp erects a stone chapel to honor WWII veterans on
the hill above the family home, carrying the stones used to build it
up the hill in his ruck sack.</span></div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-before: always;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Ski
Troops in WWII</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> The
invasion of Finland by the Soviet Union's Red Army in the winter of
1939-40 was repelled by a force that was greatly outnumbered. The
Finnish troops were trained to maneuver in Arctic environments,
featuring infantry on skis.</span></span></div>
<div lang="en" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"> The British
Navy's assault on Narvik, Norway in the spring of 1940 sought to
deprive Germany of strategically important sources of iron ore for
their war machine. Austrian mountain troops held the Navy and five
times as many British and French troops at bay by holding high ground
above the port and its entrances. The British could not contest these
positions due to the absence of troops trained in extreme cold and
mountainous and snow-covered terrain. Despite their targets
proximity to the Arctic Circle, only summer uniforms were brought on
board by the British. Norway remains under German occupation until
the end of the war.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en"> The
United States formed the 10</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><sup><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">th</span></span></sup></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">
Mountain Division in 1943, before the advent of recreational skiing
in America. Austrian ex-patriots, among them the von Trapp brothers,
Rupert and Werner, were instrumental in training American troops with
no prior experience on skis or alpine conditions. The 10</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><sup><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">th</span></span></sup></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="en">
Mountain distinguished themselves for valor, suffering among the
highest casualty rates of any unit in the war. They exceeded the
expectations of their foes, achieving surprise by taking terrain
thought to be impassable, leading to the capture of troops and
positions that gave the allies a vital strategic advantage.</span></span></span></div>
johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-34786117899141318042013-09-11T13:56:00.000-07:002013-09-11T13:56:03.127-07:00Lost CauseLost Cause
<p>
There was no disguising the pain on the face of the physician when the discussion on the topic of obesity came to a close. Over sixty, he had seen a career filled hard luck cases. Debilitated and dying children were the grist for his mill, yet he remained positive despite the exposure to all these tragedies. Illness in children is not entirely avoidable. A person who works in pediatrics as long as he found peace in helping those he could help, without becoming distraught by the cases where he was helpless to alter dire outcomes.<p>
The conversation progressed from an anecdote of a patient post-op who was accompanied by seven highly trained medical professionals packed into an ICU room. Fourteen drips were running, and another staff member stood before a computer in the hallway, laboring to document the various interventions underway, along with constant assessments being taken and recorded, as well.<p>
How much does it cost to compensate skilled healthcare workers? All are required to complete lengthy preparations that do not come cheap. Just serving the school debts of the people at the patient's bedside is an enormous sum. All tolled, the care for this patient far exceeded any premiums she had paid into her healthcare plan.
<p>
Insurance spreads the cost across a pool of people, managing the risk present for each and every one of its members. Some of us will get cancer, and the bills will be born by the lucky people in the pool who are not ill. It works great for diseases that are relatively rare. It doesn't work at all when 35% of the pool has a severe illness.
<p>
35% of adults in the United States are obese. That is a pool buster. Diabetes, hypertension, cardiovascular demise, they all lead to patients in ICUs surrounded by caregivers who are still paying off their medical school bills. That's what was killing the Doc who had seen it all over his distinguished career. Obesity isn't just killing his patients, it is undermining his profession. How are the 65% who aren't obese going to pay the bills of the 35% who are? And, what really wrinkled his brow is the fact that there is no good reason for so many of our children to be so overweight.
<p>
He had heard the last beats of the hearts of young ones passing on from diseases no one could cure, and managed to maintain enthusiasm for treating those he could. Now, 35% of the country is putting their health up for grabs, despite the fact that changes in diet and exercise are well known solutions. Our nation has become a patient that could thrive, if only it could muster a will to live.johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-19964551626906092972013-04-18T14:32:00.001-07:002013-09-20T17:48:19.932-07:00Downtown Drive-Thru: Abbreviated History of the City of Middletown<b>Abbreviated History Middletown</b> <P><P>
1/18/78 – The roof of the Hartford Civic Center collapses under the weight of snow.<P>
89 – The Buttonwood Tree Bookstore and Performance Center opens on North Main Street.<P>
7/28/89 2:20 PM – Nine-year-old Jessica Short of Wallingford is stabbed to death during a street fair on Main Street.<P>
3/93 – Mayor Sebastian Garafalo appoints himself as tax collector. The Republican Town Committee replaces the vacancy in the Mayor’s office with Stephen Gionfriddo.<P>
94 - Oddfellows Playouse, with extensive community support, acquired and renovated the 10,000 sq. ft. historic building that is now its home on Washington St.<P>
3/18/94 – Klekolo World Coffee opens on Court Street.<P>
96 - North End Action Team (NEAT) evolved in 1996 from a city-sponsored Urban Homesteading Task Force, begun in response to widespread concerns about negative conditions in the city's North End.<P>
2/16/00 - John McCain wins a majority at the Middletown Straw Poll<p>
7/1/01 – Middletown’s Downtown Business District, created earlier in the year via a successful referendum, establishes a tax rate of 3 mils.<P>
2/21/04 - John Edwards wins a majority at the Middletown Straw Poll<p>
6/15/05 - Retired Connecticut State Trooper Michael Bochicchio Jr. opened fire in the Middletown Superior Court parking lot on with a .40-caliber semiautomatic pistol loaded with hollow-point bullets, killing Donna Bochicchio and seriously wounding Julie Porzio. He then shot himself in the head. The shooting occurred in the middle of the Bochicchios' divorce trial; Porzio was representing Donna Bochicchio.<p>
9/14/05 – Mayor Domenique Thornton charged with DUI by the Middletown Police Department.<P>
9/21/05 – Charges against Mayor Thornton are dropped is Middlesex Superior Court.<P>
<a name="electionDoOver">
11/8/05 </a>– The Mayor loses her bid for re-election. The election of Common Council is subsequently ordered by the State Supreme Court to be repeated owing to the use of a faulty voting machine on this Election Day.<P>
6/23/06 – Former Mayor Stephen Gionfriddo pleads guilty to mail fraud and wire fraud charges in federal court.<P>
8/31/06 – O’Rourke’s Diner burns down. It has no fire insurance.<P>
1/25/08 - Ron Paul wins a pleurality at the Middletown Straw Poll<p>
2/11/08 5 AM – O’Rourke’s Diner reopens with help from the community.<P>
5/16/08 1:30 AM – Middletown Police arrest five Wesleyan university students. Tasers, dogs and pepper spray are used to control the crowd. Two students are sent to Middlesex Hospital, one with multiple dog bites.<P>
4/09 - The City of Middletown issues a cease-and-desist order to the local chapter of Food Not Bombs. Prior to the order, the City Health Inspector had cited the organization for distributing food without a license.<P>
5/6/09 Wesleyan Junior Johanna Justin-Jinich is shot to death as she worked behind the counter of the Red and Black Café in Broad Street Books.<P>
2/7/10 11:17 AM A natural gas explosion occurred at the Kleen Energy Systems power station. The initial blast killed five and injured at least fifty; one of the injured later died in hospital, bringing the total death toll to six. Earth-quake-like tremors are felt ten miles away.<p>
5/18/10 After hastily adjourning a special meeting of the Board of Education in executive session, Board Chairman Ted Raczka walks down the hall to confront a Middletown police officer, assigned to guard the Board of Ed offices against evidence tampering in a case between the City and the Board of Ed. Eventually, eight officers are called to the scene, including the Chief of Police. At the same time, MPD is investigating two homicide cases.<p>
2/2/11 Occupants of 505 Main Street flee the building moments before it suffers a catastrophic collapse, due to the weight of snow piled on the roof. Bricks flung from the collapse damage cars on Main Street.<p>
10/17/11 Deputy Chief Patrick McMahon placed on administrative leave following allegations by fellow police officers that he was drinking beer while in his duty uniform and carrying his sidearm.<P>
11/8/11 The Mayor loses his bid for re-election.<P>
2/9-11/12 - John Basinger performs a one man version of King Lear at the Oddfellows Playhouse on Broad Street. Basinger is renowned for reciting “Paradise Lost” from memory.<P>
12/12 - A grand jury subpoena was served on the Middletown-based Community Health Center Inc. in early December, demanding documents including any emails and paper communications with numerous Democratic officials and political aides, including Wyman, Barnes, and former state House Speaker Christopher Donovan.<P>
12/14/12 - Daniel Persaud is unaccounted for since approximately midnight, when he fell into the river near the East Hartford boat launch.<P>
2/8-9/13 Three feet of snow falls on Middletown. Schools are closed for the following week.<P>
3/19/13 – Police are called to the home of Planning and Zoning Commissioner Molly Salafia in response to an unsolicited visit to her porch by Board of Ed Member Ed McKeon. He is publicly opposed to zoning changes that would make it possible to build a Starbucks on a part of Washington Street that previously only allowed residences.<P>
8/3/13 - Middletown Police recover a corpse in the waters between Wilcox Island and mainland Middletown.<P>
8/12/13 - East Hartford Police identify the body discovered on 8/3/13 (see 8/3/13), as Daniel Persaud, unaccounted for since 12/14/12 (see 12/14/12)<P>
johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-85199192793859078212012-06-27T12:35:00.001-07:002013-05-02T06:26:24.215-07:00The KoranTo say the least, the Koran is an interesting piece of work. Revered by over a billion people as the word of God dictated directly to the Prophet Mohammed, it is the foundation on which has been built the largest religion of all time. To followers, the very fabric of the book binding merits honorary status requiring owners to place a copy of the Koran in a supreme location, above all other texts, and is to be handled with meticulous care when removed for the purpose of reading.
The great sanctity so many render to the Koran separates it from all other literature, surpassing even the Christian Bible in terms of the sheer devotion with which so many commit so deeply. When American troops placed copies of the Koran in a pile to be burned, deadly riots ensued. While a similar act by non-Christians burning bibles would certainly stir consternation, such an act would not motivate masses to seek to murder the offenders.
The Koran is more than simply the Muslim Bible. The role it plays in the Muslim world is without compare in any other religious culture. The closest comparison to it might be the way American institutions subordinate themselves to the U.S. Constitution. Servicemembers and politicians swear oaths to it, and it is considered the revelation of self-evident truth of what is right and to be upheld, at all costs. Any incursion on guaranteed rights of expression and freedom of religion is met with opposition by the full forces of the American state, mobilizing people and resources in a manner befitting the ultimate priorities this document commands.
But not even the U.S. Constitution proclaims itself divine, and even provides a means of amendment in recognition of its own imperfection. The Koran is a divine entity, believed to be pronounced words both infallible and immutable. It can be discussed, but Islam does not allow it to be challenged or to change.johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-6262485909394250352012-05-23T12:27:00.001-07:002012-05-23T12:27:14.282-07:00Deserving BetterWhen you take on a position of leadership, it comes with the responsibility to be mindful of those who fall within your sphere of influence. You may get elected for who you are, who you know, and what you have done in the past. If you want to go further,who you pay attention to has to change. You have to take into consideration people's legitimate stake in altering the status quo, because whatever we have in place today won't work forever for everyone.
It is easy for me to think of a "for instance" of law that doesn't work for people who deserve better from legislators, and in particular those who stood against them.When a person needs medical attention, and there exists a substance that is helpful without being harmful, our leaders should not be standing in the door, keeping physicians from aiding the recovery of patients.
An allegiance to keeping around legal barriers to accessing a substance that is readily available through illegal distribution only benefits a few special groups of people: The criminals selling the stuff on the black market, the people banking overtime in a vain attempt to incarcerate the drug merchants, and the merchants of man-made drugs who do not want the competition of an unpatentable, natural occurring agent.
My children and yours will or will not smoke dope according to their character development. Availability under the status quo is plentiful, as the black market reaps the high margins sustainable only by the barrier to entry provided by our current scheme of enforcement.It is a tired argument to make that children will be adversely affected by providing patients in need a substance that will help them. Nothing beats the black market when it comes to the distribution of mind altering substances to minors. And kids really do not give a flying frijole what the statehouse has to say about their means of recreation. From the callous way legislators dismiss the needs of ailing patients, our children would be fools to look at the sausage factory in Hartford for moral leadership.
Coming from a law enforcement background, it is easy to drink the Koolaid that makes you believe in the goodness of locking up people involved in the marijuana trade. If you want to write laws, you should consider the plight of someone who volunteers to donate a part of their liver to save a friend, then suffers extreme GI issues that are made worse by prescription pain killers. Is this person a criminal for taking something to help her get better? This law is changing due to the leadership of those who saw the wisdom of putting the needs of a patient above the wants and desires of crooks, cops, and pharmaceutical companies. Voters need to be careful to elect leaders who have the agility to change when what we are doing is not working for people whose skin in the game is nothing less than their own skin.johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-18765794661375579752012-05-08T07:46:00.002-07:002013-07-29T06:16:58.387-07:00A road well riddenOn the road<p>
On my own<p>
Out of earshot<p>
of other folks.<p>
<p>
Free to stop to hear<p>
pond frogs chirping. <p>
I pause to take a picture<p>
of animals along the way<p>
The cattle stop and look<p>
then hurriedly saunter away.<p>
They are used to people<p>
who quickly pass on by.<p>
They must think it strange<p>
to see someone stay.<p>
<p>
I took to the path<p>
somewhere in the middle.<p>
I will follow it till I don't<p>
and the path will stretch on without me.<p>
Nothing binds me to travel<p>
where I do not wish to go.<p>
<p>
The road rises with the ridge<p>
Until it meets a cliff.<p>
A tunnel carves a passage <p>
through the ancient rock.<p>
It s entrance is dark as night.<p>
The exit far from view.<p>
Make your way with faith and a light<p>
and then see sunlight anew.<p>
<p>
Along the way I'll take breaks<p>
as my body tells me to.<p>
I hope to leave before<p>
the journey breaks my body.<p>
<p>
The sound of wind through mid-spring trees<p>
arises like a choir of leaves.<p>
Whatever water rested there<p>
is shaken free by the breeze.<p>
<p>
I take a detour for shelter's sake<p>
as grey clouds turn black.<p>
Nature has the final say<p>
on how long I ride this road.<p>
<p>johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-34255568858986298492012-03-14T12:18:00.000-07:002012-03-14T12:18:00.665-07:00Stop funding obesityObesity is becoming more and more common, and especially among the poor. This promises to eviscerate the quality of life of people who otherwise could be expected to thrive. This is not a situation where the solution can come from government doing for people what they can not do for themselves. Rather, people, individuals and families, will have to change their own lifestyles from what is prevalent today. <br />
<br />
If we are going to continue to share the risk of illness across a greater community, then the incidence of the co-morbidities of obesity must be much lower than what they portend to be, looking at current trends. Failure to improve our nation’s health will undermine radically the extent to which the public can provide healthcare to those without the means to acquire these services on their own.<br />
<br />
Simply continuing to provide aid to low or no income people without seeing improvement in their health status is unsustainable. The gravitation to a society where people in good health contribute all of their resources to prop up those in failing health is not likely to proceed long on this path before upheaval undoes the connection between the haves and have-nots. <br />
<br />
It is time to require those who receive health coverage from the state to comply with interventions to reduce childhood obesity. We can not afford to take on responsibility for a demographic train wreck, and why would we want to try? Compassion alone should motivate us to put in place requirements that are in obvious need, and absent of which widespread catastrophe can be expected. <br />
<br />
Mere objection to change will not prevent changes from occurring. Given the unsustainablility of the status quo with respect to aid to the poor, change is not only in order, it is inevitable. We can actively alter our course, or allow things to drift in high seas towards a rocky shore. And no one is isolated from the ravages of the demise of families in our community.johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-8991060640738705932012-03-02T10:17:00.000-08:002012-03-02T10:17:48.180-08:00The Storm before the CalmThe Storm before the Calm<br />
<br />
Across the river<br />
from the beach<br />
where cars can come and park<br />
lies a split of land<br />
between the river and the bay<br />
that is swallowed by the sea each day.<br />
<br />
A ribbon of sand<br />
is the only land<br />
where the river and bay<br />
stand side by side.<br />
<br />
In the bay are rocks and surf<br />
big enough to break a boat.<br />
Although small enough to see across<br />
many sailors have been lost.<br />
<br />
The mouth of the river is almost a pond<br />
except the current is strong.<br />
The wind is enough to fill you sails<br />
but only boat wakes make for waves.<br />
<br />
This spit is a place on earth<br />
walked only by those<br />
who take a boat to reach it.<br />
The trip makes clear the mind<br />
so the heart is free to enjoy it.<br />
<br />
When the tide gets high<br />
foam rises<br />
as waves break against waves<br />
headed in opposite directions.<br />
Then together both bay and river rise<br />
till no land divides them.<br />
<br />
When I die<br />
burn me so no water is left within me.<br />
Carry my remains to this spit<br />
so my friends and family will know it.johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-50921431009659368262012-01-20T03:49:00.000-08:002012-01-20T03:52:48.147-08:00John versus the Board of Ed, et alThe acrimony surrounding the state of our school down the road is almost as upsetting as the conditions inside the school, itself. This sort of upheaval, dividing parents and administrators, including calls for dismissal and wide-ranging expressions of disgust are not an unexpected response when the fortunes of our children are at stake.<br /><br /> We have to keep in mind that the problems presented by the loss of discipline in the classroom are not entirely due to anything the school system has or has not done. The chaos inside the minds of children reflect long-term trends in our society, and are especially concentrated in the lower strata of the socio-economic spectrum.<br /><br /> Typically, we live in these separate strata, and so the problems of one seldom matters to the occupants of another. Racial divisions have long existed along these lines of separation, and the injustice of people of different races attending separate schools is something Americans have worked to solve since the days of Brown v. the Board of Ed.<br /><br /> The desire to move to a color blind culture is the noble imperative behind the legislation that put children together in the same classrooms who before were not. And out of this, the collision that occurs is to some degree the inevitable pains of merging across distinct sets of experiences and expectations.<br /><br /> Out of control behavior by students is nothing new in our schools. My first teaching job was at a school for emotionally disturbed teens that charged $51,000 a year to take these children off the hands of parents and school districts that could afford the tuition. This kind of mania is not isolated to the lower rungs of the economic ladder. However, the frequency and youth of students given to these outbursts is noticeably greater in communities where more children have fewer parents with less education and income.<br /><br /> Our integration of school children is an attempt to break the isolation of minorities in settings that tend to lead to a cycle of poverty. And so we have, after redistricting, more and younger students who are not coping with the classroom setting to the point that the entire student body suffers a consequence. What used to be somebody else’s problem is now ours. And the classrooms that were supposed to be a ticket to a better life succumbs to the chaos that happens when a critical mass of students decide to tip the apple cart just for the hell of it. I saw this happen on many occasions in Haddam Killingworth in the 90s. It is happening today in Farm Hill, but to a degree that is orders of magnitude worse – to the point where it can no longer be tolerated if learning is to occur at all.<br /><br /> We cannot, and should not look to keep people separated by geography that mimics economic, and in turn racial differences. But we must separate the students who disrupt the education of others, and stand to learn nothing in the process. After so many strikes, you have to leave. When violence occurs, and threats are real, even a child does not have the right to stay.<br /><br /> We want the new families at Farm Hill to have an opportunity to send their children to a school where their children can learn and lead to a new future. Redrawing lines on a map without addressing the challenges this poses falls short of meeting the needs of all our children.<br /><br /> Setting standards for student conduct required to earn a seat in a classroom is necessary, overdue, and nowhere in sight in this district. Children can and will respond to adult leadership, as they will falter without our clear and considerate guidance. Until students are clear on what they absolutely can and cannot do in a classroom, this school will not be where I send my children to get their education.johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-87026422827289106592011-12-12T19:13:00.000-08:002011-12-12T19:17:25.845-08:00Pages to TurnIn the secretary<br />I found an old notebook<br />With notes written long ago<br />before the children became her work.<br /><br />Now the only pages of interest<br />are the ones with no writing.<br />The blank ones are for me to fill.<br /><br />The pages from the past<br />are the ones to turn<br />so I can reach a place<br />with room for the thoughts of the day.johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-11760290331834839792011-12-05T17:46:00.000-08:002011-12-05T17:57:24.914-08:00Her morningIn the morning I leave her<br />eyes shut and shades still drawn<br />to go to another part of our house<br />where morning chores will not wake her<br />from her last hour of rest.<br /><br />The children stir first<br />awaking with fresh questions for their father,<br />thoughts nurtured overnight in ceaseless imagination.<br /><br />Our boy often joins his mother in his father's place<br />until the shades are raised<br />in the groggy search for clothes for the day.<br /><br />What dreams come to her during the days early rays?<br />Secrets of her soul run deep beneath ample covers.<br />Reluctantly she draws back the bedding<br />emerging as from a cocoon<br />like a butterfly stretching its wings for the first time.<br /><br />The waking world surrounds her.<br />Quizzical kids ask her their first questions of the day.<br />An earth unto herself begins to turn again.<br />Clothing comes after a while,<br />after breakfast and a check of the calendar.<br /><br />Only slowly does she take to the awoken stage.<br />What beautiful bliss sleep must bring her.<br />She leaves behind the consolation of rest and silence<br />the instant she stands to greet her anxious brood.johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-38307617748079254832011-10-03T21:00:00.000-07:002011-10-03T21:02:20.366-07:00TornadoesWhen the tornadoes come<br /><br />There is no warning<br /><br />There is no remembering<br /><br />Only debris to remind you of their path<br /><br /> <br /><br />Fortune favors no one<br /><br />When the gyres wind up your world<br /><br />And toss it to the sky<br /><br />Scattering far and wide<br /><br />What on earth was home and heaven<br /><br /> <br /><br />They will pass.<br /><br />But will we survive?<br /><br />Time will tell, and soon.<br /><br />When the tornadoes come<br /><br />That is all that is certain.johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-20238299632873855822011-09-19T19:38:00.000-07:002011-09-19T19:40:21.544-07:00Return from OdysseyReturn from Odyssey<br /><br />I walked again today<br />along a familiar way.<br />The sights were all the same,<br />only my mood has changed.<br /><br />An old friend came driving by<br />offering me a ride.<br />I declined with a smile.<br />"I need to feel my feet" was all I said.<br /><br />It is a fine thing to return to a place<br />that long ago was your home.<br />The sights are mainly the same,<br />but my mood has changed.<br /><br />Some bushes have grown taller.<br />Some trees older than I have fallen.<br />By storm or saw, it matters not how.<br />It will take more time than I have for them to grow back, now.<br /><br />The children that used to play<br />have almost all grown and gone away.<br />I am one of those<br />whose home is no longer my parent's house.<br /><br />But, whenever my feelings turn foul<br />I tend to return to my ancient sod<br />to feel my feet beneath me,<br />and my mood never fails to change.johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-69349508595241747132011-06-25T07:43:00.000-07:002011-06-25T07:55:10.144-07:00Black PondThere is nothing so special<br />as the sound of rain<br />falling on a million leaves<br />early in the morning<br />early in the summer<br />along the shores of Black Pond.<br /><br />The sound of a bull frog<br />carries across the pond<br />and returns an echo<br />off the far stone wall.<br /><br />This is the pond I sailed<br />with my wonderful daughter<br />delighting in every step<br />of rigging the mast, boom and sail.<br /><br />We did not have enough time that that day<br />to make it to the far shore.<br />Someday perhaps we will.johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-72261347526491304722011-04-07T20:02:00.000-07:002011-04-07T20:16:35.500-07:00King George, Libya and ElmwoodI took the long way around my beloved Elmwood on the way from Hartford Hospital to my mother’s house, looking to bypass the snarled rush hour traffic crawling from light to light along New Britain Avenue. Along the way, I ran into a delay from a congregation of police cars too numerous to be anything short of grave situation. <a href="http://www.westhartfordnews.com/articles/2011/04/06/news/doc4d9b8d2ac0f81153147760.txt">The local news carried the shooting in Elmwood as its lead story.</a>These days I often think a portion of the Irishman Yeat’s poem that reads, <br /><br /><strong>My country is Kiltartan Cross,<br />My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,<br />No likely end could bring them loss<br />Or leave them happier than before.</strong><br /><br />In my mind, I always replace Kiltartan with Elmwood, and wonder what battles around the world are worth a drop of the blood of my neighbors. Canvassing the accounts of great villainy in far off Libya, the spoken words of a King whose eloquence in trying times of epic proportions was made more illustrious by a personal history of stammering applied equally then as today, and equally relevant to the siege of Misurata as to the siege of Abbotsford Avenue: <br /><br /><em>We have been forced into a conflict, for we are called, with our allies, to meet the challenge of a principle which, if it were to prevail, would be fatal to any civilized order in the world.</em><br /><br />I care for the victims of both sieges, but Abbotsford is more familiar to me. I remember a girl in my class at Conard who was a great beauty, and she lived on one the two streets on the other side of Piper Brook still a part of West Hartford. The southeastern point of our town was the home of the lowest of incomes, but every bit as dignified as any other classmate of mine. I can remember how she stood out in my mind as the rose of Elmwood, semi-sequestered by a black ocean of asphalt in front of Caldor’s that bled into the cement banks of Piper Brook like an urban moat between me and her. One day I rode the bus with her all the way to the end of the line just to talk a while longer. The walk back to Corbin’s Corner seemed a small price for the privilege of her company. I can certainly relate to a young man driven by desire to go out of his way to seek the favor of a young woman.<br />So, the matter of a gang of boys, too foolish to merit a title of adulthood, and who may never grow to be true men, affects me personally. I cherish such memories of my late childhood, and the degree to which Abbotsford causes me to recall recent events in place of more pleasant times is a cause of some distress. Mindful that the current student body at my alma mater is, of course, the future fellow alumnae of a great tradition, I wish to address you all<br /><br /><em>with the same depth of feeling for each one of you as if I were able to cross your threshold and speak to you myself.</em><br /><br />You see, the principle that good King George VI spoke of, out of duty to nation that defined his being, with no great affection for the task of putting one’s feelings on public display, is the same that calls me to draft this text.<br /><br /><em>Such a principle, stripped of all disguise, is surely the mere primitive doctrine that might is right, and if this principle were established through the world, the freedom of our own country and of the whole … Commonwealth of nations would be in danger.</em><br /><br /><em>But far more than this, the peoples of the world would be kept in bondage of fear, and all hopes of settled peace and of the security, of justice and liberty, among nations, would be ended.</em><br /><br />How sad to read in wild wonder of accounts of so many held in the bondage of fear in far off lands and then know that the same is true in your own backyard. Can the count of the victims be the sole driver of whom we should rally to defend and of whom we should refrain from defending? If so, I am sure the masses of those deprived of any sense of security in the face of the onslaught of selfish brutality are greater here in our own country than the tallies of even those besieged by an entire army fighting against defenseless cities. Lucky for the Libyans, we have armed forces to counter those that seek their subjugation. We have the will and the ability to rush to their defense.<br /><br /><em>For the sake of all that we ourselves hold dear, and of the world order and peace, it is unthinkable that we should refuse to meet the challenge.</em><br /><br />But our defense of the roses of the Abbotsford Avenues of our nation face a fortune in isolation, often hidden from view, and commonly undefended in the face of violent deprivations of their safety. <br /><br /><em>It is to this high purpose that I now call my people …<br />I ask them to stand calm and firm and united in this time of trial.<br /><br />The task will be hard. There may be dark days ahead, and war can no longer be confined to the battlefield, … If one and all we keep resolutely faithful to it, ready for whatever service or sacrifice it may demand, then with God's help, we shall prevail.</em>johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-81278336050842457862011-02-06T10:40:00.000-08:002011-02-06T10:41:28.944-08:00Ground Hogs Day in the TwentiethFeb 2, 2011<br /><br />On this Ground Hog's Day, we see a ballot in the 20th Assembly District with Allen Hoffman appearing on two lines, just as was the case when he overcame long odds to prevail as the people's choice for state representative in 1994. Back then, he was cross-endorsed by Governor Weicker's "A Connecticut Party." This time, the Republican nominee is also cross-endorsed by the Connecticut for Lieberman party. Both times, I was the one who rallied supporters to his side.<br /><br />The fact that I have sided with this Republican twice, now, comes as a surprise to those who know me as a champion of many liberal causes and campaigns. My first campaign was George McGovern's bid in 1972, when I tagged along with my dad as a seven-year-old. I liked Jimmy Carter, and I still do. Gary Hart was my favorite in 1984, when I cast my first vote in a Democratic primary as a senior at Conard High. I never liked Reagan, and I campaigned for a little known governor from Arkansas in the bitter cold New Hampshire January of 1992. In January of 2008, the Obama campaign selected me to be their spokesperson at the Middletown Straw Poll. Most recently, as the CFL candidate in this district last fall, I praised the merits of the Democratic incumbent as the best man to serve the district.<br /><br />David McCluskey and I agree on many things, but at this point, we are not in sync as to who will best serve as his successor. While Allen Hoffman has a record of serving in the House and bringing to bear a keen intellect and a realistic balance of compassion and fiscal responsibility, nothing has come to my attention that convinces me that Joe Verrengia's concerns extend beyond the narrow constituency of public workers bequeathed unsustainable compensations at the expense of the solvency of the state treasury.<br /><br />While I have high regard for someone who serves in a profession where you regularly pull over people who may or may not be wanted felons, sometimes with a loaded weapon and with nothing to lose, but go in harm’s way, nevertheless, to defend the rest of us against such criminals, this does not exempt a candidate for elective office of the responsibility to share with voters his intentions once elected. To those of us who suspect a public employee will serve their special interest over the common good, his silence is tantamount to a confession.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />John Kilianjohnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-40255193410511824922010-09-15T10:44:00.000-07:002010-09-15T10:46:42.351-07:00Courant GuideCourant Guide<br /><br />Name: John P. Kilian<br /><br />Office Being Sought and District: 20th Assembly District<br /><br />Party: Connecticut For Lieberman<br /><br />Family: Yes<br /><br />Education: Yes<br /><br />Civic Involvement: No<br /><br />Past Political Office: President of Wolcott Elementary Student Council<br /><br /> <br /><br />TOP THREE ISSUES (in order of priority, each response should not exceed 200 words)<br /><br />Issue 1: Our government's role is to enable our citizens to realize opportunities by bringing out the best we have to offer. To too much of a degree, our government today is mired in the role of providing for people's welfare with a series of very large band aids that in the long term can not be sustained. Our state legislature is especially adept at taking out large loans to provide generous benefits without consideration for how the bills are going to be paid down the line. A political empire has been fashioned that lures people into dependency on the state, instead of leading people to follow a path that, in the short term may be more strenuous, but in the long term is the way to go.<br /><br /> <br /><br />We need to find a consensus on what government is supposed to do for people, and what people are supposed to do for themselves. There is a widening gap between people like me, whose families pay for government services that we have never used, and other families who use services they never pay for. That is an underlying source of a lot of the friction that is undermining cohesiveness in our community.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Issue 2: Some of our state's largesse is counterproductive, as well as expensive. Our culture is being transformed by the increased prevalence of single parents whose partner in raising their children is a government check instead of a committed and contributing spouse. If there were only two things I could convince my children to buy into, it would be for them to wait until they have a decent education before getting married, and to wait until they get married to have children. It is difficult to stand idly by while so many children in our state casually, even purposely, decide as minors to have children out of wedlock. The state comes to the rescue of these individuals in the form of government aid, but who benefits when it becomes common place that mothers and fathers have no intention of marrying the person with whom they have children? Minors should not be receiving direct aid for having children. Paying children to get pregnant is a very bad policy, and no one is hurt more in the long run than the mothers and their children who fall into this trap set with the allure of a short-cut to adulthood.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Issue 3: Our economy is suffering from a lack of willingness on the part of private capital to invest in our state. Government spending to bridge a recession is not a bad short term solution, but it is not a long term solution. What government needs to do is encourage the private money sitting on the sidelines to get in the game.<br /><br /> I think the economy could be better if the government phased in significant energy taxes and that would create a market for private industry to solve the problem of needing to be more energy efficient. Changes to the income tax could compensate for the regressive nature of consumption taxes. Also, government investment in mass transit solutions will spawn economic activity around stations while easing the blow of energy costs that will rise whether or not the government raises taxes.<br /><br />Without a phased in, deliberately executed plan to wean us off foreign oil, we are prone to be stuck driving to work, paying whatever the world market will bear, and every dollar spent on imports will be unavailable to provide the incentives and infrastructure to cushion the blow.<br /><br /> Sincerely,<br /><br /> John Kilianjohnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3879685570329338775.post-50663996608009828662010-08-25T18:11:00.000-07:002010-09-09T04:20:14.955-07:00The Gospel Truth about the Tribeca MosqueI am downright disgusted by the way the controversy over the proposal to construct an Islamic community center in the vicinity of Ground Zero has evolved into a political donnybrook of inflated proportions. A great investment has been made by those who seek to manipulate a truly ignorant public for ulterior motives, and it is alarming to see the success that this approach is having. The senseless bias against fellow American citizens, whose crime in the views of the minions of Rupert Murdoch includes devotion to the tenets of Islam, is a good argument for adopting anew the Bill of Rights, that until recently conservatives would have rallied to defend.<br /><br />Such rhetoric is only the latest in a pattern of stoking racial bigotry for political gain. It is very similar to how Shirley Sherrod from the U.S. Department of Agriculture had portions of her address to the NAACP taken out of context and used in a transparent effort to manipulate public sentiment.Then, as now, the target audience included people predisposed to criticize those whose identity includes the possession of a different skin color, religion or whatever else constitutes for them a "normal" American.<br /> <br />The animus fostered in a most calculated fashion by well-heeled propagandists is the kind of strategy articulated by George Orwell’s 1984: the surreal, but all too common version of a “Two-Minute Hate”. This is the kind of sophomoric exercise that belongs in the bleachers of Fenway when the faithful call out “Jeter Sucks!” Everyone knows he does not, but he is wearing the uniform of the arch-rival, and we want to get our money’s worth before security escorts us out the door. It is a mentality that does not wear well on serious matters, at least among those of us who know what is going on. <br /><br />I fear our nation is being purposely misled, in a word, lied to. What advantage can there be for our nation if our decisions are made by the profiteers of poor counsel and knowing misrepresentation that carelessly dispossesses our fellow citizens of the liberties that we reputedly send our sons and daughters in harm’s way to defend? Political advantage. There is no merit to the claims that anything being proposed by a group of Tribeca Sufis amounts to a threat to our nation. This is just a vehicle to sweep the gullible off their feet and cultivate their worst fears into votes for politicians who likely know the truth, but prefer to profit from the stirring of emotions of an uninformed public.<br /><br />To break it down for the average American, Islam has various sects, just like Christianity. The Shiites have a hierarchy similar to Catholics. These are the folks who run Iran. Sunnis are like Protestants in that they have a congregational approach to their organization. A very small number of these are in Al Qaida. Sufis are like Unitarian Universalists. No one understands what their doctrine is, because they don’t have one. They are like Amish with autos. They are unlikely to hurt a fly, but if they ever did the experience would lead to several volumes of cryptic poetry capturing the spiritual essence of the dearly departed insect.<br /><br />So, the Sufis are building a glorified YMCA in the Holy Land near Ground Zero wedged somewhere between a strip joint and an off track betting site. Who are we to say, “There goes the neighborhood”? <br /><br />Those who would benefit from this woeful piece of dishonest presentation lack the basic qualities to lead our nation. If we don’t figure out the truth of the matter soon, it will be our fault for what happens to us should they gain control of our country.johnplikethepopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06471932507721961905noreply@blogger.com3