The Valley got a little meaner this week when the local daily decided to take a swipe at Selectmen (and former State Senator, School Board member and now coach) Mark Hounsell on the by-pass issue. Hounsell took the bait and responded with a clever rhyme (people said) in which he obliquely accused the paper of not caring about Berlin and Gorham, oddly enough. Who does care about Berlin and Gorham? Nobody, clearly, but that is a topic for another day.
I think the Daily has it right. $60 million is enough to buy half the homes on Conway Lake (the west side anygate) but it doesn’t buy a whole lot of highway. Last summer I timed the crawling pace from Beep Beep Deli to the Conway light and it was ten minutes every time even when we had to wait for the Seybold Express to blow through. That doesn’t seem awfully long. Not like trying to get into town/North Conway on a rainy summer night. I’ve seen traffic backed up to the Albany church. But that’s only once in a while and if you’ve been up here long enough, you know how to get around if you’re not smart enough to stay away or arrange your schedule so you don’t end up in that snarl.
Come to think of it, I do feel badly for the poor guys in trucks and busses that come down from the Grand bois du Nord. But is that worth the money? When they get to their teeming destination they have to put up with the same thing.
The “study” that has been going on for more than three decades is a farce. They have been talking about it, and having meetings up the ying yang and have even bought up land for it and now it isn’t going to happen. Why isn’t it going to happen? Because it’s not worth it. Then what the Sam Hill was the “study” for? It certainly wasn’t free. Are their reports to be had by the public that can tell us why they made all those people move out of their houses when they didn’t really have to? Some of them were in there for generations. I know they spent tens of millions on the “study”. Who is responsible for this “study” to no where? The whole bloody thing gives me an eyeache.
Some of us feel strongly that the reason everything is so crowded up here and tarted up like route 1 in Saugus is because we keep widening the roads so more people can come faster and then have to wait in line when they get here. I suppose that makes sense to people other than Billy Marvel and me, but its foolishness. The views to the mountains are scarred with McMansions and condos. The strip looks likes one outside of Cleveland or Phoenix and even the Catholic cemetery has lost the hedge between the stream of cars and those trying to rest in peace. My peeps are in that place and it fairly pisses me off.
Then I remember: Carroll Reed built an empire from a little ski shop in Jackson and sold out to a huge conglomerate. He set the tone in North Conway Village and it’s still pretty good. He also set the pace for making it big off the tourists. There’s nothing we can do to stop all these people coming up, I suppose. But do we have to make it easier?
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Notes on a blog
I am beginning to catch on how to blog (that nouveau verb that I thought I detested till I started doing it) even as the SJ is beginning to catch on. Recently we added a RSS feed which is at the bottom of the very first post (as in: Ctrl end) and there you can follow the easiest possible instructions on how to have the SJ come onto your screen with the least amount of effort on your part if you know what you’re doing. All suggestions for improvements are and will be appreciated. Thanks AJ, Master Cylinder and Victoid. Your service and devotedness to this weensy slice of the sphere is … bewildering.
Also, I’ve had some comments about the email that I send every time I post a new blog. Over a hundred of them go out Bcc. If you think that I just send one to you, well that’s alright too. Thank you, Margo; may you always have fair winds on your luxurious yacht, or I guess, uxorious yacht when you are ala barre.
And to all who knew me when I was penning my pompous prose for papers that paid: Thank you for reading and voting and mostly for commenting. To my advertisers: Pay up!
A word about the purpose of the blog, which is: To report on the Mount Washington Valley goings on and the media that covers it as well as weigh in on the world wide news randomly.
Also, I’ve had some comments about the email that I send every time I post a new blog. Over a hundred of them go out Bcc. If you think that I just send one to you, well that’s alright too. Thank you, Margo; may you always have fair winds on your luxurious yacht, or I guess, uxorious yacht when you are ala barre.
And to all who knew me when I was penning my pompous prose for papers that paid: Thank you for reading and voting and mostly for commenting. To my advertisers: Pay up!
A word about the purpose of the blog, which is: To report on the Mount Washington Valley goings on and the media that covers it as well as weigh in on the world wide news randomly.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Frannie and Freddie, just two crazy kids
Just before the housing collapse I started selling mortgages. The prime was around four and if you had “excellent” credit and a job you could get the best rate. The office was like a setting in a John Steinbeck story. It was seedy in that it was so undernourished. The only computer was on the “boss’” desk which when he finally strolled in, mid-morning, he would spend rest of the time till lunch greedily gawking porn sites. If we wanted to check someone’s credit rating, we waited till he was off. I’m pretty sure he was in the witness protection program because he did very little in the way of sales and his piece of what we did would barely keep his Harley in gas.
I was encouraged to bring in whatever business was out there and when ever I did latch on to something I was told “we don’t do that, yet.” One of them was a reverse mortgage for a friend of mine which even though it finally went through, the jagoff company never paid me for it. Then I went to work for the subsidiary of IndyMac that was pushing these things. IndyMac, 10th largest bank in CA, just shut their doors.
The concept is basic biz: if you can afford it you can have it. But as Jon Stewart said last night to some twit who had written a book about it, “So if I can’t afford it, you’ll still give it to me but just charge me more.” Laughs from the audience, a look of bewilderment from the expert.
What is unclear to me is why the mortgage bankers would loan money to losers. Not just the guy who wants to put a trailer he has been given on wetlands that his father-in-law sold him for $25K, but our little company in general. I remember Billy who had been in car sales talking on the phone to customer while emitting an occasional glorp of goo from his mouth into a coffee cup. Paul wanted me to help him sell modular homes but the only mortgage he sold while I was there was to his father. John had the most sales because he had seniority and would cherry pick the lists to cold call so that the rest of us would be calling people who had just refinanced, sometimes not even six months before.
If this company could get qualified to sell mortgages, it is absolutely no wonder that the system was and is chock a block with avaricious arseholes who’d figured a way to scam whoever came along. And then the guys just above us were in it so that they could bundle these sales and pass them on until Japan ends up with them.
So what happens when Schmucko goes away to the county lock up for a few months leaving his pregnant bride with the kids, and no car to get to a job? He defaults. Now my old company does not say “Schmuckey, we might have over extended you a tad and rates are still low, how about you give us a little less for the next few years till this thing blows over.” They don’t say that because they can’t. They’re not holding. And who is holding is who gets stuck when the payments stop coming in. Screw them. But apparently not. The government finds some way to help out the big shots at Fannie and Freddie, but the Schmuckster loses his house and any credit he might have had. Why not have the bailout for the little guy who can then keep making his payments and the money continues to go up the food chain? I’m just sayin’.
I was encouraged to bring in whatever business was out there and when ever I did latch on to something I was told “we don’t do that, yet.” One of them was a reverse mortgage for a friend of mine which even though it finally went through, the jagoff company never paid me for it. Then I went to work for the subsidiary of IndyMac that was pushing these things. IndyMac, 10th largest bank in CA, just shut their doors.
The concept is basic biz: if you can afford it you can have it. But as Jon Stewart said last night to some twit who had written a book about it, “So if I can’t afford it, you’ll still give it to me but just charge me more.” Laughs from the audience, a look of bewilderment from the expert.
What is unclear to me is why the mortgage bankers would loan money to losers. Not just the guy who wants to put a trailer he has been given on wetlands that his father-in-law sold him for $25K, but our little company in general. I remember Billy who had been in car sales talking on the phone to customer while emitting an occasional glorp of goo from his mouth into a coffee cup. Paul wanted me to help him sell modular homes but the only mortgage he sold while I was there was to his father. John had the most sales because he had seniority and would cherry pick the lists to cold call so that the rest of us would be calling people who had just refinanced, sometimes not even six months before.
If this company could get qualified to sell mortgages, it is absolutely no wonder that the system was and is chock a block with avaricious arseholes who’d figured a way to scam whoever came along. And then the guys just above us were in it so that they could bundle these sales and pass them on until Japan ends up with them.
So what happens when Schmucko goes away to the county lock up for a few months leaving his pregnant bride with the kids, and no car to get to a job? He defaults. Now my old company does not say “Schmuckey, we might have over extended you a tad and rates are still low, how about you give us a little less for the next few years till this thing blows over.” They don’t say that because they can’t. They’re not holding. And who is holding is who gets stuck when the payments stop coming in. Screw them. But apparently not. The government finds some way to help out the big shots at Fannie and Freddie, but the Schmuckster loses his house and any credit he might have had. Why not have the bailout for the little guy who can then keep making his payments and the money continues to go up the food chain? I’m just sayin’.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
It’s about Iraq, Jack
Annoying twit, that Nouri al Maliki. We create a safe haven for his like and then he bites us in the ass by asking us to leave. Leave? I don’t think so. We didn’t go into this thing for any other reason than to establish a beach head on the Tigris so we would own policy and process in the Centcom/Arab states into the next millennium and beyond. We aren’t building the billion dollar Baghdad bomb shelter/embassy because we can’t figure out other ways to waste money we don’t have. Oh nooooo. The cost of this 21 building, 104 acre behemoth is more than the GNP of half of the African countries. When McCain says he doesn’t care if we’re there for a hundred years, he knows of what he speaks. The Iraqi government sold us/US the land in ’04. We own 104 acres of their country!
Now Maliki’s making noises, most probably for his homies, about achieving a viable, livable surge-induced calm that presages a path to what could pass as a normal life for what’s left of the population there. We and they claim that democracy of sorts was the goal and it has been met. So they no longer need us and it’s time for the troops to go home. But we all know that “Blood for oil” is not just some lame lefty slogan. Every action that the present administration takes toward the oil industry is only what you would expect from these greedy psychopaths.
Most disturbing right now is what might happen in Iran. If we don’t have the troops to finish up in Iraq and Afghanistan, how do we contemplate a confrontation with the 18th largest country in the world? They’ve got 70 million people and military might that Saddam Insane could only have dreamed of. There are ¾ of a million Iranians in uniform. One of the oldest and sophisticated civilizations, they have stuff that dates back to 4000 BC. These guys helped start the UN. In fact, the only two countries they don’t have relations with are Israel, because they don’t exist, and the US, because we’re friends with the country that doesn’t exist. And, O maybe a little left over bitterness from the time we wrecked their democracy and put in our own guy. He had quite a military too and he got whupped by mullahs with sticks and stones. I remember Henry Kissmyass had to sneak him into this country to get treatment for his terminal cancer. He terminated anyway.
So how do we fight these buggers? (The ‘why’ is because Cheney wants to). The only possible way given how stretched we are in that area, is by air. Bomb the snot out of ‘em. Wipe out civilians and ancient culture, make even more enemies and just watch what will happen in Iraq. There will be no reason for the Iranians not to come streaming across the borders for revenge and no one to stop them. What are we going to do, have another surge? How many of them do we have to kill from the air before the world cries out for the madness to cease?
Seymour Hirsch thinks there is going to be war and he certainly knows a lot about it. The next president won’t do it so it will have to be the Dubber and I don’t think the shameless cipher has it in him. If you look closely you can see him getting slightly cyanotic from holding his breath waiting for the nightmare of his presidency to be over.
Now Maliki’s making noises, most probably for his homies, about achieving a viable, livable surge-induced calm that presages a path to what could pass as a normal life for what’s left of the population there. We and they claim that democracy of sorts was the goal and it has been met. So they no longer need us and it’s time for the troops to go home. But we all know that “Blood for oil” is not just some lame lefty slogan. Every action that the present administration takes toward the oil industry is only what you would expect from these greedy psychopaths.
Most disturbing right now is what might happen in Iran. If we don’t have the troops to finish up in Iraq and Afghanistan, how do we contemplate a confrontation with the 18th largest country in the world? They’ve got 70 million people and military might that Saddam Insane could only have dreamed of. There are ¾ of a million Iranians in uniform. One of the oldest and sophisticated civilizations, they have stuff that dates back to 4000 BC. These guys helped start the UN. In fact, the only two countries they don’t have relations with are Israel, because they don’t exist, and the US, because we’re friends with the country that doesn’t exist. And, O maybe a little left over bitterness from the time we wrecked their democracy and put in our own guy. He had quite a military too and he got whupped by mullahs with sticks and stones. I remember Henry Kissmyass had to sneak him into this country to get treatment for his terminal cancer. He terminated anyway.
So how do we fight these buggers? (The ‘why’ is because Cheney wants to). The only possible way given how stretched we are in that area, is by air. Bomb the snot out of ‘em. Wipe out civilians and ancient culture, make even more enemies and just watch what will happen in Iraq. There will be no reason for the Iranians not to come streaming across the borders for revenge and no one to stop them. What are we going to do, have another surge? How many of them do we have to kill from the air before the world cries out for the madness to cease?
Seymour Hirsch thinks there is going to be war and he certainly knows a lot about it. The next president won’t do it so it will have to be the Dubber and I don’t think the shameless cipher has it in him. If you look closely you can see him getting slightly cyanotic from holding his breath waiting for the nightmare of his presidency to be over.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
A little housekeeping
Fair and balanced
Too bad about Tony Snow. He seemed a genuine good guy who has done the press sec. job better than anyone in recent memory. And when you think about all the people in the present administration that would not be missed, the irony borders on the macabre.
A nice cuppa
To the lady who has made such a splash in the Sun trying to get a warning named after her son ala the “Amber Alert”, great job! You’ve given the letter writers new reason to live and the rest of us a good chuckle. Now it’s time to go to Mickey D’s drive-thru and get yourself a nice hot cup of “shut the fuck up”.
It’s grip time. Get one.
And to the other poor soul trying to get Donnie Grow elected to Sheriff of Ossipee, a couple of things: a) he didn’t sign up, and b) the Sheriff is in charge of all Carroll County which has 19 towns including Hale’s Golf Course. (Disclaimer: I have signed on to be the campaign manager for Tamworth C of P, Dan Poirier who is running for Sheriff for real as an independent and safery nose tackle. If Franny Lord wins the Republican Primary, we are going to clean his clock in the general and I certainly do not have the candidate’s permission to say so, so I may be gone by the fall anyway, sort of like Phil Gramm and Samantha Power.
NIMBY but, how about yours?
I am waiting to hear back from Senatorial candidate and six time Rep rep Dave Babson who is against the idea of having licensed methadone clinics in this state despite the growing use of drug addiction and what that entails for the community. I thought maybe he would be willing to give up some portion of his version of the King Ranch down in Ossipee so he could make a few bucks and Conway wouldn’t have to have the unsightly mess of smack freaks hanging around the town. Don Grow could run it when he doesn’t get elected to Sheriff.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Getting your Baracks off on the NYer
I read and I watched the barkers trading opinions on whether the cover should have run and how it rated on the tasteless meter. It’s split. But when I see Carville defending it down the line to Bill Bennett who pretty much says what I did, I have to give pause. I remember that I chuckled verbatim in the way that Barry Blitt wanted me to when he cartooned a cover with Achmed Dannyjob sitting in the loo with his pants around his ankles and tapping some (likely) senator’s foot in the next stall. If I liked the present President of Persia (we’ve never met) I might have thought it was unfair treatment of a guy who is doing his best to make his country get along with the rest of the world. But then I remember his foolish comments about no gays in Iran and the drawing fit like a glove.
Cartoonist are supposed to be funny as part of their message. But not just funny, because they are usually trying to make a point and draw us in through humor. Not every one laughs at the same kind of stuff and though we might “get” a joke it may not rate so much as a smirk.
The spate of late night jokes about McCain’s age are curious. The only other place you see these jokes really are when they are re-run in the main stream media. Most are lame and make me squirm in a way that the cover did. I suppose it is his fault that he is old and we usually applaud that. But do you see any goofy guffawing at his mother’s age? The only one I’ve heard, he told, about her trying to rent a car in France. The agency said they wouldn’t let a 95 year old have a car, so she bought one.
Caricaturizing Levantines with XXL schnozzes is common as dirt and just as funny, unless, you are predisposed to having those people made fun of because you think they deserve it. People who were interviewed for TV yesterday, peeps on the street, thought the Os were Muslim (not that there’s anything wrong with that). So instead of the cover trashing the 527 type lies and disinformation that is out there in pretty good numbers, a lot of people will have their fears or prejudices reinforced. Of course the mag can print anything they want, but “brilliant” as NY Mag’s John Heileman called it, and similar praise from Joan Walsh of Salon, is a little self serving. I notice that most of the paid commentators are coming down firmly on one side or the other while CYAers are in the “I don’t know, whadda you think?” school. For me, the joke needed to be funnier.
Cartoonist are supposed to be funny as part of their message. But not just funny, because they are usually trying to make a point and draw us in through humor. Not every one laughs at the same kind of stuff and though we might “get” a joke it may not rate so much as a smirk.
The spate of late night jokes about McCain’s age are curious. The only other place you see these jokes really are when they are re-run in the main stream media. Most are lame and make me squirm in a way that the cover did. I suppose it is his fault that he is old and we usually applaud that. But do you see any goofy guffawing at his mother’s age? The only one I’ve heard, he told, about her trying to rent a car in France. The agency said they wouldn’t let a 95 year old have a car, so she bought one.
Caricaturizing Levantines with XXL schnozzes is common as dirt and just as funny, unless, you are predisposed to having those people made fun of because you think they deserve it. People who were interviewed for TV yesterday, peeps on the street, thought the Os were Muslim (not that there’s anything wrong with that). So instead of the cover trashing the 527 type lies and disinformation that is out there in pretty good numbers, a lot of people will have their fears or prejudices reinforced. Of course the mag can print anything they want, but “brilliant” as NY Mag’s John Heileman called it, and similar praise from Joan Walsh of Salon, is a little self serving. I notice that most of the paid commentators are coming down firmly on one side or the other while CYAers are in the “I don’t know, whadda you think?” school. For me, the joke needed to be funnier.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Obama's trauma
If you have already seen the newest New Yorker cover you know what the flap is about. BarackO taking it on the chin because the ace wits at the celebrated mag thought they would poke some fun at the non New Yorker types who actually think that the presidential candidate was raised in a Madrassa by Taliban war lords and that he is a five prayer a day guy right now. The cover has O’s wife looking like Angela Davis wearing cammies, combat boots, and an AK47 slung over her shoulder. Of course they are fist bumping, or doing “the terrorist fist jab,” as Fox would have it.
The O's are not happy and don’t want to extend the life of this nightmare with any comment. McCain’s camp came out immediately decrying the poor taste. Rick Hertzberg who edits and writes for the NYer came on TV this morning to lamely defend the decision and David Remnick, who is largely credited for doing a great job while he has been at the helm, felt the need to submit something to the news stations. It will be interesting to see what the Danes have to say about it all.
I think they shouldn’t have done it in that it can hurt him by reinforcing to some that these stereo types may have some traction. But I’m against censoring anything because of how it might be perceived. In the end, if I was calling the shots, I would not have run it. Vote at the right for what you think. BTW, the NYer website did not have an image of the cover when I last looked.
The O's are not happy and don’t want to extend the life of this nightmare with any comment. McCain’s camp came out immediately decrying the poor taste. Rick Hertzberg who edits and writes for the NYer came on TV this morning to lamely defend the decision and David Remnick, who is largely credited for doing a great job while he has been at the helm, felt the need to submit something to the news stations. It will be interesting to see what the Danes have to say about it all.
I think they shouldn’t have done it in that it can hurt him by reinforcing to some that these stereo types may have some traction. But I’m against censoring anything because of how it might be perceived. In the end, if I was calling the shots, I would not have run it. Vote at the right for what you think. BTW, the NYer website did not have an image of the cover when I last looked.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Who said what.
John McCain isn’t my favorite. I sat with him in the Daily’s office eight years ago and then again a month or so before this year’s NH primary. If he wasn’t "John McCain — The Personality" he would have put every one to sleep. The same old answers robotically delivered and seldom addressing the actual question. The only surprise was how many times he managed to bring up how “green” he is which I found interesting and it gave me something to write about. My somewhat conservative paper would not be happy with what I would have liked to write.
What happened last Sunday morning is the kind of stupid gotcha politics that makes all the players look like jerk-off kids pointing and laughing at someone who has just farted. Bob Schieffer broke in on what Wes Clark was saying to ask with a tone of incredulity, “Are you saying riding around in planes and getting shot down” isn’t a big deal? And Clark responded with Schieffer’s own words, “No. ‘I’m saying riding around in planes and getting shot down’ doesn’t qualify him to be president.” I think most of us would agree. George McGovern flew 35 missions in B24s during WWII and received the Distinguished Flying Cross but he didn’t even come close to giving Lt. Nixon, a poker playing supply officer, a run for his money. Today the chicken hawk Rs revile him as a namby pamby lefty.
Clark gets dumped on by the carnival barkers because they leave out what Schieffer said and it makes the story: War hero General Clark dumps on war hero Candidate McCain. Clark stated over and over again that John McCain’s military experience won’t be an asset should he ever get to be pres. McCain meanwhile is learning to live with the fact that he foolishly said he doesn’t care if we have troops in Iraq for 100 years. Neither do I, if it’s less than a dozen soldiers and they are inside the Green Zone drinking beers with all the civilians. But that isn’t what is being barked at. News that I watch wants to portray his numb-nut gaffe as wanting to fight the war for 100 years. Obama mentions it when ever he gets a chance, just like the Rs play the Rev Wright tape over and over.
In (my) perfect world the candidates would be touting their plans to address what Presidents can actually do to make the country better. But that would bore the hoi polloi to pieces. If you want to know what the country wants to know, turn on the Today show at 7 am some morning. They make a ton of money giving people what they want. You will doubtlessly be shocked at how much time they spend talking about “pain at the pump” and stranded air line travelers, even as the administration fails us on every front and affronts us unassailably.
What happened last Sunday morning is the kind of stupid gotcha politics that makes all the players look like jerk-off kids pointing and laughing at someone who has just farted. Bob Schieffer broke in on what Wes Clark was saying to ask with a tone of incredulity, “Are you saying riding around in planes and getting shot down” isn’t a big deal? And Clark responded with Schieffer’s own words, “No. ‘I’m saying riding around in planes and getting shot down’ doesn’t qualify him to be president.” I think most of us would agree. George McGovern flew 35 missions in B24s during WWII and received the Distinguished Flying Cross but he didn’t even come close to giving Lt. Nixon, a poker playing supply officer, a run for his money. Today the chicken hawk Rs revile him as a namby pamby lefty.
Clark gets dumped on by the carnival barkers because they leave out what Schieffer said and it makes the story: War hero General Clark dumps on war hero Candidate McCain. Clark stated over and over again that John McCain’s military experience won’t be an asset should he ever get to be pres. McCain meanwhile is learning to live with the fact that he foolishly said he doesn’t care if we have troops in Iraq for 100 years. Neither do I, if it’s less than a dozen soldiers and they are inside the Green Zone drinking beers with all the civilians. But that isn’t what is being barked at. News that I watch wants to portray his numb-nut gaffe as wanting to fight the war for 100 years. Obama mentions it when ever he gets a chance, just like the Rs play the Rev Wright tape over and over.
In (my) perfect world the candidates would be touting their plans to address what Presidents can actually do to make the country better. But that would bore the hoi polloi to pieces. If you want to know what the country wants to know, turn on the Today show at 7 am some morning. They make a ton of money giving people what they want. You will doubtlessly be shocked at how much time they spend talking about “pain at the pump” and stranded air line travelers, even as the administration fails us on every front and affronts us unassailably.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Uniting in Unity
The day after my regular class reunion I hooked up with Tommy Decourcy who had come down to Milford for the all class reunion. This event drew about 2000 former graduates from all the classes up until the school closed in ’83. Tom had been to a reunion the night before too, down the road from his house in Unity, NH.
We grew up on the same street but both of our families moved to NH before we had a chance to graduate MHS. Tom’s been living in Hawaii for years but bought his parent’s great old farm house and now spends summers up here. Because part of the main event on Friday night in Unity was a fellow Hawaiian remembered there as “Barry” Obama, Tom went down to see what all the fuss was about.
It was quite a hoot. The school’s maintenance man is the unelected Mayor of Unity and was chosen to make the introductions. He said he thought it was a bit odd for him to be doing so since he was a McCain man and he made an excellent point when he noted that the 214 votes in the primary were split right down the middle. Where’s the unity in that?
Tom was close enough in the rope line to share a “shucka” with Obama. It is a Hawaiian hand signal that indicates a friendly greeting. If you know the ‘hook’em Horns’ gesture using the thumb and pinky to indicate a pair of steers horns you have the idea. Only the thumb points up and the pinky goes down while a quick shake completes the greeting. Obama responded and came over to Tom and Ada with his winning grin and asked if they were Hawaiian. Tom explained they were from Molokai.
In seconds after Obama moved on, the Secret Service were in Tom’s face. “What does that mean?” they wanted to know. Tom told them and they too moved on.
It’s kind of a small world, but I wouldn’t want to have to paint it.
We grew up on the same street but both of our families moved to NH before we had a chance to graduate MHS. Tom’s been living in Hawaii for years but bought his parent’s great old farm house and now spends summers up here. Because part of the main event on Friday night in Unity was a fellow Hawaiian remembered there as “Barry” Obama, Tom went down to see what all the fuss was about.
It was quite a hoot. The school’s maintenance man is the unelected Mayor of Unity and was chosen to make the introductions. He said he thought it was a bit odd for him to be doing so since he was a McCain man and he made an excellent point when he noted that the 214 votes in the primary were split right down the middle. Where’s the unity in that?
Tom was close enough in the rope line to share a “shucka” with Obama. It is a Hawaiian hand signal that indicates a friendly greeting. If you know the ‘hook’em Horns’ gesture using the thumb and pinky to indicate a pair of steers horns you have the idea. Only the thumb points up and the pinky goes down while a quick shake completes the greeting. Obama responded and came over to Tom and Ada with his winning grin and asked if they were Hawaiian. Tom explained they were from Molokai.
In seconds after Obama moved on, the Secret Service were in Tom’s face. “What does that mean?” they wanted to know. Tom told them and they too moved on.
It’s kind of a small world, but I wouldn’t want to have to paint it.
Our reunion
Back in the fifties down in Milford on the Connecticut shore, we rode fat tired Schwinns, marched in scout uniforms in the Memorial Day parade, skated on the Town Hall pond and rocked out to Buddy Holly and the Crickets. The “fifties” came to signify a time of prosperity and ease and when I polled a bunch of experts at my recent 46th Milford High reunion, they gushingly agreed. It would be hard to encapsulate in a sound bite any decade where you go from 7 to 17. Ours was a period that began shortly after WWII. It ushered in the Korean “conflict,” sputnik, and had a lot of history and a certain magic that was oddly iconicised by enormous tail fins, d.a.s and turned-up collars.
1950 was only five years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the first and only nuclear attacks. The first part of that decade is synonymous with bomb shelters, hiding under your desk, “pinkos” and McCarthyism. Those who already owned a TV, got to see the new Queen (Lilybet Windsor) get her crown. Polio was a plague that left kids crippled and struck fear in every parent. Though the vaccine was discovered in ’52 our schools hallways bore the messengers of this dreaded virus. You don’t see this stuff on Happy Days and it is usually left out of sight and mind in our convenient memories. The rest of the decade was pretty much Elvis movies, the Mickey Mouse Club and the Dodgers and Giants fleeing for the left coast.
At the end of the decate Castro came to power, John Kennedy ran for president and I made it through my freshman year. It was surprising this past weekend to see so many people at our shindig that I remember from that time. And it is somewhat of a shock to the sensibilities to be amongst all these old people. It shouldn’t be as I go every five years to catch up with them and I find pretty much the same group. This year we had 92, more than a third of the class. Twenty-five were in the “In Memoriam” book which was a bit creepy as I looked at their year book pictures trying to imagine them older than 18.
When I first met my final wife I told her that I would never invite her to my reunions. I wanted to flit around the room, the perennial social butterfly, remembering the trouble that we got into or the cute girl in home room who moved by Halloween. In past meetings I had seen spouses who didn’t get the whole experience or were jealous of ancient relationships, and they came between us and the good time it was meant to be. But this time I brought wifey so she could put a face to the people of my past who remained a part of my present if only every five years. She got a kick out of hearing stories of back in the day and finally meeting the gray haired old lady who I had always remembered in a cheerleader outfit.
Richie and I remembered that we always won the window painting contest at Halloween when every store in town was decorated with paintings of goblins and ghoulies. Wayne brought up falling through the ice while seeing who could skate closest to the open water and Jonpy told her about me getting seasick while sailboat racing in the sound which we did every summer weekend. But this time my favorite story was my friend Jean telling my wife, “I had a real crush on him even though I was a head taller. Of course, that was before I knew I was gay.”
As always the management had to keep blinking the lights to get rid of us. Even the ones who still live in Milford and get to see each other all the time were lingering for a last air kiss and a drunken promise to keep in touch. I did manage to collect some business cards and said that I would send the blog. I’ve already emailed Paul who is a hot-glass blower in Seattle and I have been on line to check out Jonny Dio’s swing band based in Paris that plays weddings all over the continent.
One last great story. I knew George since we were in the fourth grade He lived on the block behind us. I always remember his birthday and as we were walking into the joint I wished him a happy sixteenth. He laughed that someone as old as I had such recall. His new wife told me they had a “Sweet Sixteen” party on Feb 29 and his son had said, “Dad you bought me a car for my sixteenth birthday and now I’ve bought you one for yours.” It was a new Jag.
I don’t think most reunions are as meaningful as I find mine, but I wish they were.
1950 was only five years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the first and only nuclear attacks. The first part of that decade is synonymous with bomb shelters, hiding under your desk, “pinkos” and McCarthyism. Those who already owned a TV, got to see the new Queen (Lilybet Windsor) get her crown. Polio was a plague that left kids crippled and struck fear in every parent. Though the vaccine was discovered in ’52 our schools hallways bore the messengers of this dreaded virus. You don’t see this stuff on Happy Days and it is usually left out of sight and mind in our convenient memories. The rest of the decade was pretty much Elvis movies, the Mickey Mouse Club and the Dodgers and Giants fleeing for the left coast.
At the end of the decate Castro came to power, John Kennedy ran for president and I made it through my freshman year. It was surprising this past weekend to see so many people at our shindig that I remember from that time. And it is somewhat of a shock to the sensibilities to be amongst all these old people. It shouldn’t be as I go every five years to catch up with them and I find pretty much the same group. This year we had 92, more than a third of the class. Twenty-five were in the “In Memoriam” book which was a bit creepy as I looked at their year book pictures trying to imagine them older than 18.
When I first met my final wife I told her that I would never invite her to my reunions. I wanted to flit around the room, the perennial social butterfly, remembering the trouble that we got into or the cute girl in home room who moved by Halloween. In past meetings I had seen spouses who didn’t get the whole experience or were jealous of ancient relationships, and they came between us and the good time it was meant to be. But this time I brought wifey so she could put a face to the people of my past who remained a part of my present if only every five years. She got a kick out of hearing stories of back in the day and finally meeting the gray haired old lady who I had always remembered in a cheerleader outfit.
Richie and I remembered that we always won the window painting contest at Halloween when every store in town was decorated with paintings of goblins and ghoulies. Wayne brought up falling through the ice while seeing who could skate closest to the open water and Jonpy told her about me getting seasick while sailboat racing in the sound which we did every summer weekend. But this time my favorite story was my friend Jean telling my wife, “I had a real crush on him even though I was a head taller. Of course, that was before I knew I was gay.”
As always the management had to keep blinking the lights to get rid of us. Even the ones who still live in Milford and get to see each other all the time were lingering for a last air kiss and a drunken promise to keep in touch. I did manage to collect some business cards and said that I would send the blog. I’ve already emailed Paul who is a hot-glass blower in Seattle and I have been on line to check out Jonny Dio’s swing band based in Paris that plays weddings all over the continent.
One last great story. I knew George since we were in the fourth grade He lived on the block behind us. I always remember his birthday and as we were walking into the joint I wished him a happy sixteenth. He laughed that someone as old as I had such recall. His new wife told me they had a “Sweet Sixteen” party on Feb 29 and his son had said, “Dad you bought me a car for my sixteenth birthday and now I’ve bought you one for yours.” It was a new Jag.
I don’t think most reunions are as meaningful as I find mine, but I wish they were.
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