Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Sharing a clementine with my darling

A little poetry, inspired by our resident food thief..

My feet are resting,
one on the other,
on an ottoman, and I can feel
my torso sinking into the leather chair.
In this rare moment of early afternoon peace,
I begin to unpeel a clementine, among the last in the box,
as the few that remained were growing soft
and possibly rotten.

As I eat pieces of the orange fruit, my daughter,
who is one, tramples over and blurts out a series of noises,
which I have learned to interpret that she wants my food.
But I cannot give the child pieces of clementine because
under my supervision my son nearly choked on an orange slice
when he was her age.

So, like a robin feeding its young with regurgitated worms, I set aside
pebble-sized bits of fruit that I’ve already chewed, and place them in a line
onto the arm of my chair. She stands beside me, knowing all along that I would do this,
and she happily plucks each tiny clump of food in between her increasingly sticky fingers,
satisfied for the moment that I’ve obliged her.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Genetic testing for $399

Spit into a tube, send it to a lab, and 6-8 weeks later, you get a DNA analysis that can tell you if you have an elevated risk to have some cancers, diabetes, Parkinson's, and other diseases.

As one who would like to know this sort of information - it seems unbelievable that it
is even available - this is very tempting. But suppose you get some difficult-to-take results, and then brace for a particular condition at some point in life, and then it never materializes? Tough, tough call to make. Is it better to not know? What if precautions one takes in hope of avoiding getting a disease don't work?

https://www.23andme.com/

No more pens from drug companies to docs

Interesting story in New York Times about many drug companies voluntarily stopping the practice of giving away to doctors trinkets and freebies, like pens and tissue boxes, with their names emblazoned across the side. Many doctors agree it had to end, but some, according to this article, will miss the goodies.

The question is: do items like this have any effect on prescribing medications? Most say no, and you have to believe them. Doctors have a greater responsibility to their patients to prescribe the right drug, or determining if their patients even need a pill.

But, does having posters of the human body in examining rooms with drug companies' names written on the bottom, magnets, pens, and pads, have perhaps a subconscious effect on doctors' decisions? Does having a likeable drug rep influence prescriptions that doctors write? Hopefully, the answer is no.

But there are some greedy doctors out there. Medicine is a business. And there are some unethical doctors - as in any line of work - who take kickbacks from drug companies, and commit fraudulent acts like misbilling insurance companies. At the same time, there are also docs who serve on advisory committees for drug companies, positions that are well paid, like consultants, and yet that's not a conflict of interest?

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/31/business/31drug.html?hp

Scrubs returns!

New shows of the quirky hospital sitcom - arguably one of the best comedies on TV - will appear on ABC, beginning Jan. 6. How cool is this? Nice!

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/30/arts/television/30scru.html

(Too bad they couldn't have done the same with Ed a few years back.)

Saturday, December 27, 2008

Reckless and happy vs. Conservative and dull

Sometimes, a simple observation like seeing the guy who works at the town dump smoking a cigarette and holding a Dunkin' Donuts coffee can spark a deeper question of philosophy. That is, does it pay to be excessively careful with your life and risk ever feeling contented, or is it better to live life on the edge and perhaps die early, but happy?

This seems like a classic debate to me, so no right answer. But this guy today was clearly satisfied, at least at the moment. You could see it in him. Cigarettes cause cancer, and coffee, while not a hazard in and of itself, is not exactly health food. Who knows? It could have been this guy's fifth cup of the day?

There are many things that people do that aren't socially acceptable, like riding a motorcycle without a helmet, or riding a motorcycle in the first place, overeating, gambling, spending too much on your credit card, whatever. Yet, these things can yield happiness to people. Critics to my theory would of course say they bring temporary happiness. But I would argue that many people are never, or possibly only occasionally, happy, and this is possibly because they live too carefully, too boringly. Most everyone lives this way, sometimes, but maybe we should be this way less often.

It seems that people either need to give in to some wicked thoughts now and then, or change their idea of happiness and maybe not kid themselves that acting politically correct all the time or eating salmon and brown rice nightly is very fun.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

My %$#@!% snowblower

This past weekend, we got a sizable snowstorm, about 10 inches, dumped on the area - school was cancelled on Friday, Saturday was okay, but then on Sunday we got more snow and ice and sleet and freezing rain. School was delayed on Monday.

Whenever there is more than a few inches of snow, I believe I owe it to myself to use my snowblower, a very heavy, very expensive (at one time) machine, to take care of the snow removal on my driveway, which is long, and exhausting if I'm shoveling it. My snowblower, which is only five years old, has a big engine, and is imposing, for a snowblower. It should rip through snow like a hot knife through butter.

The problem is that it doesn't do that very well.

It gets clogged whenever there is the slightest amount of wetness to the snow. That means snowblowing the end of the driveway is problematic, since the snow plows add salt and dirt to the street and then plow it at the end of my driveway.

On Friday night, another bad thing happened involving my snowblower: I pulled the cord to start the engine, and the rope broke in my hand. The remaining part of the cord snapped back into the engine, disappearing in an instant.

So then I had to use the electric start feature, which sends about 90 million volts of electricity through an extension cord to start the machine. Problem was, I couldn't find the cord that came with the snow blower. I ended up using this weak little inside extension cord for a floor lamp, probably putting my life at great risk, but it worked.

Unfortunately, the snowblower later stalled a couple of times - at the end of my driveway, because, possibly, the snowblower was clogged with wet snow and slush. So I'd have to push the snowblower back to my garage to start it again. It became a cruel cycle, one that almost caused me to lose it.

I probably need to get the snowblower serviced, which I haven't done since I've owned it. I treat the snowblower as I do with most other machines I own with engines. I pour gas into the tank, and sort of expect everything to work. I pour oil into it occasionally. I don't check the spark plug. And anything else that the engine needs to work is a mystery to me.

I am dreading the next snowstorm that brings rain or is heavy snow because my snowblower will get clogged again, likely stall, and prove to be useless. We may have to purchase some better shovels if this is the case.

Otherwise, the snow plow guys may find my snowblower during the next storm in the middle of the road, abandoned, ready to advance to the big snowblower party in the sky, where snowblowers of the past are swearing at their owners for not taking care of them the way they should have.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Christmas shopping: Men vs. Women

A piece rejected by the USA Today, New York Times, Boston Globe, and Hartford Courant...

Of all the amazing differences between genders, how each handles the task of holiday shopping is one that ranks among the most remarkable.

Many women get excited about Christmas shopping; many men, if I can speak for an entire gender here, fear it. I will generalize and this will surely lead me into some trouble, but women are just more skilled than men are at shopping, period, which surprises me that Santa Claus is a male. Santa, if he is like most guys, would prefer to remain at home, in the bowels of his basement workshop, hammering things, or counting his screwdrivers or throwing drill bits into the loose insulation dangling from the ceiling. Even I, who am rather limited with tools, would find something to saw or bore a hole into rather than fight mall traffic at Christmastime.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that guys lose it in Christmas traffic; it goes against everything that evolution has taught them.

But the thing that truly baffles me personally each year at Christmas is profoundly simple – that is, knowing what to buy for people. Typically, I go out on Dec. 23, or perhaps Christmas Eve, aiming to buy a trunkful of gifts without having prepared a list of any kind, or even having a clear idea of what stores I’m going to. Interestingly, I just allow my car to lead me in a direction, which is usually a shopping mall in one of two directions within 20 minutes of my house, and then, when I get close to extensive commercial development and buildings that have banners which read SALE, I turn into a parking lot, often at the last second, and it might be because I have a green arrow for a left turn as opposed to taking a right turn into a parking lot and having to wait in a long line.

Idling in a line of shoppers seeking the perfect parking space, I’ve found, is not a good time to develop patience.

There is no strategy, really; there is no rhyme or reason for where I end up. But once I’m inside a retail business, whether by accident or through a set of variables that I can’t even explain here, the real cluelessness begins. I ask myself things like, “What am I doing here?”, “Whom do I have to buy for?”, “Did I remember to bring my wallet?”, and “Did I get them gloves last year?”
This is when I wish I had the functionality of a woman’s brain, at least for this one day.

As a man, this is confusing territory. I mean, there are only so many gifts one can buy that are generic enough to give to people whose Christmas list you forgot. This is another critical difference between men and women. Men don’t remember what people ever say they want, despite how many times someone might repeat it. This shortcoming definitely has to do with the ability to listen, which guys are notoriously bad at.

In my experience, women are quite good at this. They can remember what someone may have whispered to them during a Fourth of July fireworks finale, when it’s impossible to hear anything but loud explosives. Many women have a keen ability to screen out all distractions when another person mentions something they want. Somehow, they are able to say to themselves, “I have to remember to get them that for Christmas”, whereas men are thinking, “Wouldn’t it be cool if those fireworks shot off sideways and blew up an entire building?”

Perhaps if shopping malls shot off fireworks around the holidays, it would motivate more men to get there, much like the strobe lights that car dealers and movie theaters flash across the night sky to attract people. I am always a sucker for wondering where those lights are coming from.

Monday, December 15, 2008

NYC observations

It was good to see, during a recent trip to The City, that newspaper journalism appears to be flourishing there -a hopeful sign for the dying industry. A lot of people still read papers there.

Despite the fact that that newspapers - which are struggling to get advertisers and are losing circulation to the web, TV, and because of the slumping economy - are gasping for breath, the giant recycle bins were filling up at Grand Central Station. After their Metro-North train ride, passengers dumped their Wall Street Journals, New York Timeses and New York Posts into a tall metal cylinder. Many were commuters from Stamford, Greenwich, and surrounding towns like Darien. who probably read for financial information. But, nonetheless, readers are readers. While papers like the Hartford Courant fail to understand how to adapt to the changing times (terrible redesign and format!), others still survive, and seem to be doing it fairly well.

Great headline: The day after an Iraqi journalist threw his shoes at President Bush during a press conference (Bush ducked out of the way), the New York Post runs "Lame Duck" on its front page.

Other things I noticed during our family trip to NYC:

There doesn't seem to be an identifiable middle class in the City. You're either barely making it or you're Upper West Side affluent. Not a lot in between. Maybe it's me. People barely making it are doing the service jobs, and somehow affording to live in or near one of the most expensive real estate markets in the country. The affluent control the country's financial industry or are independently wealthy enough to hang around, wearing expensive clothes, putz around bountique stores, and eat at great restaurants.

New Yorkers seem to not get fat because they walk so much. We walked more than 50 blocks total! My feet are killing me!

If you don't know where you're going in an unfamiliar city, you get stuck eating lunch at restaurants like Mars 2112, which is where we ate. Oh, man. The place was underground, dark, with red lights, and decorated like Mars, the planet, which apparently has a temperature of -85 degrees Fahrenheit. The food was very, very bad. But we did take a picture of a guy dressed as an alien who was greeting people sitting at their tables, which isn't something you see everyday.

The Abercrombie and Fitch, unlike the mall stores every place else which have mannequin half-naked people, had real half-naked people standing just inside the door greeting people.

Metro-North RR is a great thing. I wish we had commuter service around here, or high speed train capability from Hartford to NYC or Boston or Providence. We met some cool, friendly people on board, and it was nice to not have to drive into New York. We took the train from Stamford, and it was a fun time.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Jimmy V

I tuned into a college basketball game tonight (Davidson vs. West Virginia - great game), and, as it happens each year, turned out to be watching the Jimmy V Classic, the memorial tournament held at Madison Sqaure Garden in honor of the former North Carolina State coach who died of cancer in the mid-1990s.

I watched the end of the first game and then, as usual, ESPN showed Valvano's acceptance speech for receiving the Arthur Ashe award for courage in 1993. The speech is one you can't turn off. I remember watching it live, and now, I watch it every year. (It is re-shown during the intermission between the 7 and 9 o'clock games.) Valvano was, and still is, an inspiration. His messages are important. He says to spend some time every day doing three things: laugh; spend time in thought; and be emotional. When he gave the speech, he had cancerous tumors throughout his body, so his message was profound, coming from someone who knew his time was limited.

But what amazed me tonight, beyond his message, was thinking about the amount of money raised for cancer research. The Jimmy V Foundation claims to donate 100 percent of its donations directly to cancer research, and over the last 15 years, it has raised $80 million. I'm not sure what exactly that has helped to fund, but you hope it's being used intelligently and in a useful way.

I thought that it is unfortunate in a way that a private organization has to raise money for a deadly disease, to help seek a cure or at least better treatments. I turned to my wife and said, "Man, why can't the federal government fund cancer research better?"

And she made a good point: the federal government is busy bailing out banks and car makers.

I'm not sure we have our priorities straight on this.

The Jimmy V Classic is an important fundraiser, and Jimmy V has inspired millions to give money to help this cause. More people should spend time in deep thought, particularly lawmakers and government officials, to figure out ways in which public money can be used to fund new treatments and research, without having to rely on private funds.

But as I was telling my wife - perhaps the government isn't doing enough about chronic and fatal diseases like cancer because, if cancer was wiped out, there wouldn't be a need for as many cancer doctors, and ultimately the health care system would suffer the effects of this lack of treatment, from body scans to chemotherapy. I'm sure hospitals make a lot of their money because of the disease itself. Take it away, and it's a huge financial loss.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Santa's Run

Today, I ran in my first official "race", the 3.5 mile Santa's Run in Glastonbury, amid flurries, 32-degree breezes, worthy of stinging my ears and hands, and 1200 other runners, some of whom were dressed up in holiday garb, including more than a few Santas.

I finished at 29:50-something (only about 12 minutes off the winning time!). I was sprinting toward the finish line and didn't look up at the clock to see the exact time I finished. But I was pretty satisfied with my performance, given that I hadn't ever run in a race before, and on Thursday, during a practice run, finished the course in 31:34. I set a goal for myself of finishing under 30 minutes, and achieved it, so that was cool.

Running is hard. Especially running beyond a mile, for me. The first mile, which I completed in 7:46, wasn't bad. The second mile was tough, as the course meandered through some neighborhoods with slight hills that weren't as gentle as they appeared. I finished the first two miles in 16:30. The last mile and a half were, interestingly, not as difficult as the second mile, or so it seemed. I attempted to sprint for short stretches, as someone suggested, and perhaps that helped my pace, I don't know. Every time I sprinted I felt like I went a lot slower than I had run before the sprint.

Many, many people beat me, which of course I knew would happen. But many people ran faster than me who I wouldn't have thought would beat me. You can't base someone's running time on appearance, but there were people one a half times my age or older who passed me without great effort. I suppose they practice. You have to give older runners a lot of credit, regardless of where they finish.

I now know that I should have worn gloves on such a cold day. And a better hat - not a baseball cap. My mp3 player was missing an earplug so that wasn't ideal. I had to hold the thing in my hand. My shoelaces came untied once, so I had to stop and tie my sneakers, which took off about 10 seconds, possibly. I probably should, if I ever run again, invest in running shoes and not run in my cross trainers.

I did make a special playlist on my mp3 specifically for the run. Strangely, the songs repeated themselves instead of moving to the next one, which could have been the mp3 player resetting because of the bouncing or perhaps I hit the back button without knowing it. For the record, though, here's the music mix I made for the run. As always a lot of pride went into making this.

Times Like These - Foo Fighters
Training Montage - Rocky IV
Superman Kryptonite - Three Doors Down
I am the Highway - Audioslave
Dreams - Van Halen
Right Now - Van Halen
Baba O'Riley = The Who
Learn to Fly - Foo Fighters
Burning Heart = Survivor
Streetcorner Symphpony - Rob Thomas
Everlong - Foo Fighters
Everybody's Changing - Keane
You're the Best (Around) - from the Karate Kid
Supernatural Superserious - REM
Tom Sawyer - Rush
515o - Van Halen
Mean Street - Van Halen

Running, I can tell, can be addictive, particularly if you get caught up in wanting to beat your previous time, or placing in the top 10 in your age category. It's interesting, in that obviously people have physical limitations, and here are thousands of people, millions nationally, who push their limits, despite headaches, sore feet, a dry mouth, cramps in their ribs, sore legs, and general exhaustion. That, I think, is what's cool about it. Bunches of people showing up to do something that they know won't be easy, yet they do it, anyway.

I hope to run more next year, in a few 5k type events, anyway. Although I can't see myself running for serious competition, I liked the scene of the race and the feeling of accomplishment I had when I finished it.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Christmas trees and buying cars

You might not think that purchasing a Christmas tree has much to do with buying a car, but, I'm telling you, they are more similar than you might think.

True, my Christmas tree that I bought today cost $40. The average price of a new car is between $25,000 and $30,000.

But what I have found is that you approach the purchases the same way - wanting to get the best possible product, and spending some time to get it. Buying a car takes research - test driving, comparing prices, maybe even going to Consumer Reports to see their recommendations.

Buying a tree involves a lot of observing, picturing these trees in your house. Will they be too wide, too tall? What about that gaping hole in the back? Some needles might be dying already. The tree could be growing crookedly.

And then, after a lot of wandering around a tree farm in the cold - equivalent to weeks of visiting car dealers and tolerating their salesmen - you grow tired of the process. It gets late, you grow irritable, and then you end up cutting down a tree that you walked by four times. But now, you're impatient about the whole thing, and the tree suddenly looks good. If you had chopped it down in the first place, you could have saved an hour of your December afternoon.

Same thing happens with buying cars. You start off very excited about the prospect of a new car. But after weeks of searching for the right car at the right price, you're pretty satisfied with your old car.

I guess it's this way with any purchase. Or maybe some people can actually make up their minds relatively quickly and move on.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Laundry baskets

We have a number of laundry baskets in our house - I think it's about four. Most of them are up in our bedroom, on the floor, full of clothes. But, increasingly, it is getting harder and harder to determine if the clothes are clean or dirty.

This happens because Alison, our 15 month old, likes to pull clothes out of the baskets onto the floor. She loves emptying her dresser drawers, her brother's dresser drawers, and taking the pots and pans out of the cabinets in the kitchen.

We keep a laundry basket in our bedroom for dirty clothes. And sometimes, there are two laundry baskets full of clean clothes, waiting to be put away. The laundry problem wouldn't exist if we were better at doing this. But this takes time, even if it's a few extra minutes, and often, just bringing clean laundry upstairs is an accomplishment. Putting the clothes away is just another thing that we don't feel like doing.

We've certainly rewashed clothes that have been clean that we have thought we dirty, and we've also probably worn dirty clothes. The other day, I was trying to figure out if a shirt was clean, so I smelled it. Deodorant smell is an obvious give-away, but sometimes it isn't that easy.

The shirt I was holding didn't smell, nor did the others around it, so I wore it. It may have been dirty, who knows.

I wonder if anyone else lives like this, or are we truly slobs? Perhaps I don't want to know the answer.

Friday, November 28, 2008

Dinosaurs!

One of the charming things about having very young children is the hilarious remark that will often pop out of their mouth.

Take today, for instance.

We were at a Christmas-type store, looking to purchase a Department 56 piece for our Christmas village. (I almost wrote "holiday" village - shame on me!)

We were looking to purchase a new building to add to our collection, which has been a tradition each year. We'll usually purchase an accessory, little figurine people, or a building. This year, in honor of our son, Ethan, who loves fire stations and anything involving emergencies or sirens, we were looking specifically for a fire station.

As we surveyed the display of tiny villages and buildings, suddenly Ethan says, "Look! Dinosaurs!"

Confused, I turned to see what he was pointing to. (Surely, there are no dinosaurs in the Dickens village...)

A camel. Ethan was looking at a camel in a nativity scene.

A classic. He thought the camel was a dinosaur.

This ranks up there with the comment he made the first time we brought him to the beach.

"Look!" he said. "Chickens!"

And of course what he saw were seagulls.

I wonder what a seagull would taste like in my sandwich.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

James Taylor at Tanglewood


There is nothing quite like seeing JT perform at Tanglewood, in Lenox, Mass, framed by towering spruce trees, the Berkshire Mountains and Stockbridge Bowl, the local lake.

And next summer, in August, he will put on four shows - two mainstream concerts, an "Evening" with his band, in which he plans to talk about his songs and play them, kind of like VH1 Storytellers, I presume, and then a final performance with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, which I think I'll skip. But two of the four are definitely warranted, especially the "evening" with the band, which will be in Ozawa Hall, not the main shed.

Another bit of good news: Garrison Keillor leads the Prairie Home Companion at Tanglewood again, in late June 2009.
Unfortunately, the July 4 performer is Diana Krall, whom we've seen there before and is a bit too low-key for an Independence Day party. And Wilco, who we saw play Tanglewood last year, is not on the schedule. Would love to see Cake perform at Tanglewood, but I'm afraid they wouldn't draw the kind of crowd Tanglewood normally targets.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Crappy places to live (and send your kids to school)

People talk about the widening of the so-called "achievement gap" in the academic performance of city kids vs. suburban kids, which, unfortunately, boils down to, in large measure, minority kids vs. white kids.

This is a problem, but consider this. The top 2 news stories in yesterday evening's local news were:

1. A boy who was arrested for bringing a loaded gun to Weaver High School in Hartford

2. A man who flashed an elementary school classroom in New Britain


Now, these two stories are taken from one day's news, and I am making somewhat of a generalization. However, how is the achievement gap ever going to close when you have incidents like this happening in city schools? I know I couldn't focus on learning if a classmate had a gun, or some dude opened up his trenchcoat my classroom.

The thing is, if you compare graduation rates, test scores, grade point averages, crime, DCF referrals and a whole bunch of other criteria, it is sad to say, but you'd be a fool to send your kids to these low-performing, crime-ridden communities. The problem is, people can't afford to move anywhere else. What can they do, other than hope for a magnet school slot in a better town? What can they do, other than be good parents, and instill in them good values? I guess you cross your fingers and do a lot of hoping.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Losing things

Things we've lost (that I can remember) since having kids:
(I'm not necessarily blaming them, it's just that our brains can only tend to higher priority matters, like if our son has a knife or our daughter is about to lick an ant trap...)

1. Two cellphones

2. Three cordless phones (somewhere there is a giant stash of telecommunications equipment...)

3. My watch

4. Various books (including a specific one about lighthouses)

5. A set of car keys

6. Many, many pens (both kids like using them)

7. Hair (in my case)

8. Sleep (mostly in my wife's case)

9. The ability to stay up past 10 p.m.

10. The ability to sleep past 6 a.m.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Gun Control

I'm wondering about something: The second amendment guarantees us the right to keep and bear arms, including semiautomatic weapons, a vast majority of which end up in the hands of those who shouldn't have them, but marijuana is illegal?

The reason I bring this up is because yesterday an 8-year-old from Connecticut accidentally shot himself, with his father standing right beside him at a gun fair in Massachusetts.
(See story: http://www.courant.com/community/news/ec/hc-ap-gunaccident-1027,0,7933566.story)

I fail to understand how "productive" ways of guns ownership (hunting, self defense?) can outweigh the problems associated with guns.

Just tonight on NBC Nightly News, it was reported that, in this horrible economy, gun sales were up 10 percent in the last few months. Brian Williams didn't have a very good explanation for why this is true during the broadcast, saying that perhaps people are taking money out of their banks and keeping it at home, so they need a gun to protect them. Is a knife or baseball bat not good enough? Are people that paranoid about getting robbed?

And then we have video of Sarah Palin taking target practice, showing off her ability to shoot a handgun and people are getting excited about this?

If it were up to me, police, armored truck drivers and DEP employees would carry guns. I just don't see why common people need them, or should have them.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

John McCain and Mr. Roper

As we watch CNN's weekend political coverage, it just occurred to my wife and me that the weird smile that McCain makes after telling a joke is just like Mr. Roper, of Three's Company (see Best Sitcoms post), looking into the camera with his sinister smile after busting on his wife's mother, or poking fun of Mrs. Roper.






I hope the photos convey this effectively.





















Thursday, October 23, 2008

Dark chocolate

When the media reports that something is good for you that was previously thought not to be good for you, like alcohol, people who use, or abuse, that substance tend to get a little excited. Much has been written about the antioxidant power of red wine, for instance. But the amount of flavenol or reservatrol, or whatever the substance in the skin of a grape is called that would deliver the high dose of antioxidants needed to boost peoples' health is equivalent, I heard, to 90 bottles of wine. A day.

There are, of course, other sources of antioxidant riches. Broccoli apparently has some. But broccoli is not that exciting to eat. Yogurt even has some stomach-balancing property in it. But yogurt, too, is nothing special.

Chocolate, now, has some potential. "Dark" chocolate, as opposed to milk chocolate, also been shown to have some antioxidant properties. When I heard this a year or two ago, I bought some dark chocolate M and Ms. And ate the whole bag - in, I think, two nights.

Over the last three weeks or so, we've (I've) bought some dark chocolate candy bars. Far and away, Whole Foods swiss dark chocolate is the best. Newman's, not so good. Hershey's dark chocolate, decent. Whole Foods, at $1.99 a pop, is outstanding.

The trick is to make it last more than one night.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Powell for President

Colin Powell, the decorated war hero and former secretary of state, told Tom Brokaw yesterday on "Meet the Press" that he is supporting Barack Obama for president, which is better, in my opinion, than supporting John McCain. Obama, despite his relative inexperience, understands that the country must look forward, and as cliche-ridden as it sounds, change. McCain, I'm sorry, just isn't convincing about leading us out of the recession, war, health care crisis, environmental and climate woes, etc. And Obama has a better plan for the middle class, which is helpful to me.

But what sort of troubled me about the announcement was the idea that Powell, who has essentially sworn off public service, or people like him, isn't running for the nation's highest office himself. While Obama is articulate and visionary, Powell is that and so much more. He's seasoned, he's tested, he's accomplished. Obama's intelligent, but Powell is a classic novel to Obama's short story. (McCain would be a letter to the editor...)

It's understandable that Colin Powell does not want to serve his country as president - he's already done so much. But it's depressing that the presidential race never truly garners the best possible candidates - only the candidates who are willing to run, can get their party's backing, raise millions, and are generally popular.

The Leader of the Free World is an awfully powerful title, but a salary of $400,000 a year (which is what a U.S. president makes) seems a touch low, and the toll, physically, emotionally, on the president and his family, isn't always good.

Still, it'd be nice to see a truly intelligent, talented, creative, innovative, tough, and sensible leader - a modern day Rennaissance Man (or woman) - in the White House. For now, I guess, Obama is the best we have.

When you look at who's there now, it's clear to see that it could be worse.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

58 degrees just isn't right

My quest to not have to turn on the heat until November came to a reluctant end tonight when I set the upstairs thermostat to 63 degrees, clicking on the oil burner, which you can now hear shuddering in the basement.

The daytime temperature upstairs today dipped to 58 degrees, which may be the reason why noses are running for everyone in my family. It was an act of mercy -- I felt a little guilty when the kids' cheeks were cold in the morning -- and to avoid co-pays at the pediatrician.

But, mostly, I felt a little stubborn.

Let's see how long 3/4 a tank of oil lasts us.

Note: Tomorrow morning, once everyone's up, the heat goes off.

Breaking News!

Well, it's not really breaking, but Education Week, the fine weekly (not daily) paper of the education industry, published my new essay/commentary, titled, "How My Three-Year-Old Taught Me About Education."

http://www.edweek.org/ew/articles/2008/10/08/07polochanin.h28.html

Sunday, September 21, 2008

We're all influenced by corporate giants

I don't know what the economic term is for what I'm trying to say - I just searched briefly on Wikipedia and have come up with nothing - but today, I played a part in the sad financial portrait of the common man when I bought a Dunkin Donuts coffee at Stop and Shop.

This was the first time I've done this, and I detest the idea that Dunkin' Donuts stores are proliferating like mushrooms in my backyard. There are Dunkin' Donuts stores, not only in Stop and Stop, but also in Home Depot. Not to mention D and D stores exist about every two miles, closer than that in some towns.

But I didn't have a coffee with breakfast this morning, and I was craving one. I was grocery shopping with both kids by myself, and was seeking a quick source of pleasure.

The coffee tasted good, but I'm embarrassed to admit having made the purchase in the first place. It's another example of how places like CVS, Stop and Stop, and Dunkin' Donuts - which on are on every corner here in New England - govern our actions and behavior.

Turning on the heat

I'm personally determined to not turn on the heat in our house until October. Today's Sept. 21, and last night and the night before were chilly, quite chilly.

(The thermostat upstairs dipped to 58 degrees both nights.)

We sent the kids to bed wearing layers and everyone slept until 7 a.m., which is later than usual. We broke out extra blankets for everyone's beds.

We have about 3/4 of a tank of oil. It would be nice to not need oil until November, maybe even December. Unfortunately, we're on Automatic Delivery, so I have a feeling the oil company will come when they're scheduled to come. Also, it will get colder soon. I don't think we'd be classified as good parents if the inside temperature dropped to the 40s - that's cold!

The good thing is, today was warm, the outside temperature reaching the upper 70s, and the thermometer got up to 68 degrees upstairs, plenty warm. We closed the windows to seal in the heat after the kids' naps this afternoon. Yesterday, we did not take advantage of the warm daytime temperatures.

It will be a slight defeat when we have to turn on the heat - which we will only do upstairs, for naps and sleeping times. Let's hope for some warm nighttime temperatures!

Last game at Yankee Stadium

I'm watching the last game at Yankee Stadium tonight (Damn, Damon just hit a homerun) because:

1. It's a sad thing for Yankees fans and I like to see Yankees fans sad.

2. If they lose, they will not make the playoffs, and it would be great to see the Yankees clinch their "tragic number" on their home field, playing for the last time there. (Red Sox already won today.)

3. I'm a little intrigued about all the attention that is made of Yankee Stadium, given that it is the pit that it is.

I have been to Yankee Stadium twice this year, and the visits have confirmed for me that the place lacks charm, character, a general feeling of safety, a location in an actual neighborhood, and the excellent close-to-the-field seats and sightlines that Fenway has.

The monstrous, concrete structure that is being built beside Yankee Stadium looks just like the current facility. Looks like not much will change next year for the Yankees when they play home games - they'll be in another uninspiring, soulless excuse for a ballpark.

I'm sorry, was that mean?

Monday, September 8, 2008

St. Eligius

It may sound a little odd, but for a while now, I've occasionally watched reruns of "St. Elsewhere", the 80s hospital drama set in Boston, online when there is nothing else to watch on TV, which is pretty common, or when I don't feel like reading at night. I got into this show when I was home on winter break during college, and I rediscovered it online earlier this year. Bravo at one time ran the reruns, but doesn't currently.

St. Elsewhere - even in its drab 80s technicolor - blows the doors off most TV dramas nowadays. It was very intelligently written, it casted its actors incredibly well, and apparently it was among the first programs to offer multiple story lines at a brisk pace. It gave Howie Mandel and Denzel Washington their start on prime time television, and other actors won Emmys for their work on the show, including Ed Flanders, who played the chief of staff. Of course, it never was ranked highly in Neilsen ratings like a lot of smart, well-written shows, because it wasn't stupid and catered to an educated demographic, but NBC still kept it on the air for six years, anyway.

The final episode goes down in TV fame as one of the best series finales ever.

Seriously, if you watch one show, I bet you'll get hooked.

www.fancast.com/tv/St.-Elsewhere/91984/watch-videos

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Our Staycation - my Courant article

I know I just blasted the Hartford Courant on this blog not too long ago, but, still, it's the highest circulating, and, sadly, the best newspaper around here.

Anyway, editors there published a piece of mine this morning. It's about a recent daytrip we took - designed to not spend money by staying in the state.

But, in the end, we could have gone to the beach in Rhode Island for less!

Enjoy,

http://www.courant.com/news/opinion/hc-plcpolochanin0810.artaug10,0,2617088.story

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Best Movies

I am not a movie buff. I tend to watch the same ones over and over again. So this list may be a little askew, but that's okay.

Here is my top 10 list of all-time best movies. Don't laugh. I'm not even sure I know 10 movies.


10. Stand By Me

9. My Life

8. The American President

7. Leaving Las Vegas

6. Ferris Bueller's Day Off

5. National Lampoon's Vacation (the first one)

4. Stripes

3. Back to School

2. The Fugitive

1. What About Bob?


Almost made the list: Revenge of the Nerds, WarGames, Fatal Attraction. Halloween (the first one), Grease, First Blood, Rocky IV, Mr. Mom)

Monday, July 21, 2008

Suburbia

Many moons ago, and by this I mean 11 or 12 years ago (I'm pretty sure 11), as a reporter I covered an author at Roger Williams University who spoke about the death of suburbia. The title of James Howard Kunstler's speech was something like, "Will Suburbia Survive?" and it was an enjoyable hour listening to this guy go off against strip malls, poor land use, and typical suburban development.

I recently read a piece by Kunstler (tough name to keep writing) that ran in the Washington Post and noticed that he was also on the Colbert Report on Comedy Central. The interview wasn't too exciting, but the Post piece was really good.

If you're interested about how the oil industry and numerous errors in suburban development will affect the future - or what Kunstler believes, anyway - check out this link:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/05/23/AR2008052302456.html

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Old Scout

I'm usually very predictable when I go onto my computer, and so the list of websites under my address bar often stays the same week to week, even year to year. There's the New York Times website, my fantasy baseball site, my work email, NPR, this blog, my credit card, bank, and others.

One site that went to the wayside recently was Garrison Keillor's "Old Scout" site, which is compilation of his personal essays. Keillor, the host of "A Prairie Home Companion" on NPR, writes about one a week. His prose is smooth; he can turn a phrase, as they say. He writes a lot about being a Democrat, his daughter, the simple pleasures of life, like, for instance, watching a Little League game and talking to a dad in the stands. Keillor has that gift of knowing how to grab at a reader, or, in the case of his radio show, the listener.

Check out his site, and tell me what you think. The archives are down and to the right.

http://origin-prairiehome.publicradio.org/features/deskofgk/2005/old_scout/

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

So long, G20

Tonight, some guy and his wife took off down the driveway with the G20. After 10 years, the G20 is gone.



The car, which was 13 years old, had its share of issues during the time I had owned it. Even though it rode well and still looked good, you couldn't turn on the air conditioning and try accelerating up hills. The car - a 4-cylinder - just couldn't get out of its own way. The muffler has been presenting problems for at least a year - it falls off its supports and bounces around on the chassis when you hit a bad bump.




I remember a ride home from Tanglewood after it had rained. This was the first I knew of an electrical problem with the car. Somehow wires got wet, or moist, under the hood and the car drove erratically from the grassy, muddy parking lot, down the Mass Pike, 91 and finally, home. It buckled, and dashboard lights flashed, threatening to stall during the 90 minute trek home.




But despite these problems, the car was a joy to drive. It had a good stock sound system. The driving position was excellent. And it handled well.




I fell into a deal for another car, a 2000 Acura TL, that I could not pass up. Thus, the Infiniti needed to be sold. We listed the car on Craigslist for 4 days, and the first person who came to look at the car bought it.




I tend to get all nostalgic about things like this. When we sold our Wethersfield home, I was briefly kind of sad. We only owned it for a year and a half. But we lived there. In a sense, I lived in the G20. Cups, tennis rackets, balls, food wrappers, loose change, caseless CDs, gum - it was all in there. I think cars are an extension of one's personality, and the G20 was for me.




It took me a day and a half to clean the car. The trunk needed to be vacummed three times because the bucket of sand the I spread on the driveway in the winter tipped over and dumped its contents into the spare tire wheel well. But I cleaned up the leather seats, Armor-alled the dashboard and the doors and center console, vacummed the interior, and it looked pretty good. Except for a few tears in the leather seats, the car was cleaned up nice.




It was bittersweet washing the G20 for the last time yesterday, starting it for the last time tonight, taking it for its final ride on Route 2 yesterday, but it's time had come. When it rolled down the driveway tonight, with its familiar hum and assortment of rattles, I watched the new owner apply the brake lights as she turned past the hemlocks and pull up the hill toward Route 2.
I hope she didn't use the air conditioner.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Celtics vs. Lakers

The last time I cared very much about NBA hoops was the late 80s. These were the twilight years of Celtics greats Bird, McHale, and Parish - The Big Three - when they were showing their age. After dominating the early and mid 80s, the Boston Celtics were tiring. Bird was seen lying on his stomach during timeouts or rests because of his ailing back. Other guys were getting beat down the court. It was sad seeing this happen, but we had terrific prospects. Len Bias, from the University of Maryland, and, years later, Reggie Lewis, out of Northeastern. Bias never ended up putting on a Celtics jersey for a true game; he died of a cocaine overdose before his rookie year. And Lewis, an All-Star, died in 1993 after only playing a few seasons, of a heart ailment.

So it has been a tough time being a Celtics fans these last 15 or so years, especially if you grew up with the Celts winning their division and sometimes the NBA Championship. It is probably a bit like it is being a Yankees fan right now, after witnessing celebrations in the mid to late 90s.

But this season, the Celtics went out and bought - and traded for - some serious talent. They got Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen. C0mbined with Paul Pierce, the expectations were high all season.

After an excellent regular season, the Celtics got past the Cavaliers and Pistons and ended up, just like in the 80s, playing the Lakers for the title.

It was the first NBA series I watched - actually carved time out of my schedule for - since, well, Jordan played. The NBA hasn't been too exciting for awhile.

The personalities were not the same as the 80s. It wasn't Bird vs. Magic. Kareem wasn't hitting hook shots. Byron Scott was not a three-point threat. Danny Ainge was still there, this time as Celtics president/GM, not as Boston's point guard. Former Celtics point guard Dennis Johnson has passed away.

But it was good basketball. And there was tension between the teams. There was trash talking. There were outstanding players on either side. The Celts were stacked. The Lakers have Kobe Bryant, who had a weaker supporting cast.

Boston prevailed 4-2, winning at home, in the BankNorth Garden - the building has gone from Boston Garden to FleetCenter to BankNorth Garden since the Celtics last won a championship. A lot has changed since 1986. Sports buildings are usually named for company sponsors. Even the lowly Hartford Civic Center is now the XL Center. Basketball is not played the same. It is less a team sport, and more a show of individuals' skills. We went from a generally successful Republican president (Reagan) to an awful one (Bush II).

But it was nice to see, in 2008, an oldtime rivalry rekindled. Celtics vs. Lakers. NBA championship basketball in June right up I-95. The players aren't the same. That time is gone. But the series touched off an energy and some healthy nostalgia to remind us that professional basketball can be exciting and worth spending three hours watching, rooting for the team you used to as a kid.

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Tim Russert

The news that Tim Russert, NBC's extraordinary newsman and political commentator, died yesterday, is still radiating through my house, as my wife and I - both avid Russert fans - sit on our couch in disbelief. We can't seem to stop watching the replays of NBC's special tributes, commentary on MSNBC, and reruns of old programs and interviews Russert had done.

This is the kind of news you don't expect to hear. The guy was 58. He is on TV all the time, seemingly daily in this, an election year, and he has looked healthy. Russert had a professional and personal energy that not only made him interesting to watch and easy to understand, but it allowed millions of viewers think he was their friend. Think of how much the casual watcher might know about Tim Russert - that he was from Buffalo, his dad was a garbageman, his son recently graduated from Boston College. Russert moderated Sunday morning's "Meet the Press", the longtime political program, and he was the NBC Washington Bureau Chief, but he seemed to so down-to-earth that, he was more like a friendly next-door neighbor, or the favorite uncle.

Russert passed away yeterday afternoon at his desk while writing for this Sunday's program. He died of a sudden heart attack. He had just returned from Italy, where he vacationed with his wife and son. He flew back before they did. What a horrible flight back to United States for them.

I remember, as many viewers do, when he broke out a dry erase white board during the 2000 election between Bush and Gore, trying to point out to people how many electoral votes were needed for each candidate to win. His early morning analysis of major political events put otherwise complicated or boring news into simple, understandable and entertaining terms.

NBC has lost a great journalist, and Americans have lost a dedicated and warm personality. Hearing anecdotes from his colleagues about how special he was has been moving, particularly Campbell Brown's story of when she gave birth to a son and Russert sent a note to the little boy saying how lucky he was to have such wonderful parents and to seek him out for an internship when he was old enough. He celebrated people's triumphs and shared in their grief. There just aren't a lot of people like that around.

A loss so many. His impact was profound. One commentator said journalism will not see another Tim Russert because of the time that Russert grew up, the 1950s, in a blue-collar city and neighborhood, with parents who instilled values. That commentator was right. It is even more a shame that Russert died on the eve of Father's Day weekend, during an election year that cries out for expert commentary and analysis. Russert's pastor said he "went home to God."
Russert, a devout Catholic, is, as colleague Matt Lauer said, writing on his white board right now, lining up interviews with notables in his new dimension.

Russert's passing leaves a gaping hole for NBC, on Sunday mornings, and in many households across America. Tuning into Nightly News, or the Today Show, or to a political debate, many of which he hosted, will not be the same.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Women singers

It occurred to me that, generally, I don't listen to women singers very much. This realization came when I shuffled my mp3 player and hit about two female musicians. This is unintentional. But I think there are more men music artists than female artists, no?

Anyway, there are some females who I can stand performing. Some, I actually like.

Top 10.

1. Norah Jones
2. Sheryl Crow
3. Dido
4. Carole King
5. Bonnie Raitt
6. Alicia Keys
7. ABBA (half-girl)
8. Faith Hill
9. Anita Baker
10. Natalie Merchant/10,000 Maniacs

As for female singers I REALLY dislike.

1. Madonna
2. Cyndi Lauper
3. Britney Spears
4. Melissa Etheridge
5. Alanis Morrisette
6. The Wilson Sisters (Is that their name?)
7. Heart
8. Stevie Nicks
9. Any American Idol woman singer
10. Michael Jackson

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Cancelling the Courant

The big news here, if you can call it big news, is that we've cancelled the Hartford Courant, the self-proclaimed oldest continously published newspaper in America, blah, blah, blah...

This was a significant move, I felt, especially since I was a journalism major, interned there three times, freelanced for them from 1999 to 2005, and was/am a journalist.

I guess I can boil it down to this: The paper stopped being relevant to me. This is common for papers, now. Newspapers are an old technology, and, besides, who has time to read them every day?

But it's beyond that, and this is why we cancelled our subscription. The Courant's writing is not remarkable. The story choice on prominent pages is uninteresting. Breaking news coverage is weak. The Sports section is decent, I have to say. (More sports stories should hit Page One, especially here in CT) The paper has sizable resources and should cover local, Connecticut and regional news better. Page One is often formulaic, and very predictable. The paper takes few risks. It is rare that I've seen a provocative human interest or investigative story on the front page. I am sick of reading about politicians in our state legislature being mired in stupid squabbles. It really doesn't matter to me.

The paper needs to focus on statewide, regional and national trends. Once in a while, reporter Rinker Buck, definitely the paper's best reporter, writes good pieces. But he writes infrequently. There is no one else on Broad Street whose writing is memorable. The columnists stink, which is unfortunate. This goes for the oped columnists, the CT Page columnists, and the alleged humor columnist. The paper is, generally, a bore. The most interesting feature for me in the last year or so has been the real estate ads on Sunday. This is a sad statement.

So where will I get my news? From the Internet - not the Courant's site, which is horrendous (way too cluttered and too tiny of a font), but from boston.com, nytimes.com and npr. I watch TV at night for local stuff. I don't think that I will miss the Courant, only the act of walking to the curb to get a paper on weekends.

The Courant, and other papers, need to drastically change their products, before they disappear sooner than expected. I am less interested in what's happening day to day in a community, and the mundane meetings editors make reporters attend, but I am interested in perspective pieces that are more in depth. The Courant hardly ever does that. And if it's done, the writing quality is poor. I rarely make it past the jump of the Page One or Connecticut page articles.

My former journalism professors, I'm sure, would frown. They might say that I'm not being informed. They may question my loyalty. It's not that I'm losing my faith in journalism -- it's here to stay -- but the mission of a lot of newspapers, especially the Courant, has to change from doing what they've always done, covering what they always have and presenting it in the same way, to examining weekly newsmagazines, such as TIME and Newsweek, and perhaps producing a smaller, shorter daily paper that is more relevant and interesting to its readership. If this does not happen, once-powerful, financially steady papers like the Courant will continue to lose its readers, its advertisers and credibility for the communities they're supposed to cover.

Monday, May 5, 2008

Good reading

I thought this op-ed, by the New York Times' Thomas Friedman, was pretty inspirational.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/04/opinion/04friedman.html?em&ex=1210132800&en=86fe06a3444ab3f2&ei=5070

Saturday, April 19, 2008

New favorite beer


Yesterday, we made a family trip to Rhode Island. We biked a little (had to stop when son, Ethan, 3, kept elbowing Alison, 7 months, in our new bike trailer until she couldn't take it), went to Narragansett Beach, where everyone enjoyed themselves, and then headed to the Mews Tavern. Even though the girl who brought our food out dropped my son's pizza and half of my calzone on the floor and on Alison's stroller, we still had a good time. Main reason: I found a new favorite beer.

Flying Dog Doggy Style Pale Ale

It is described this way on the menu:

"Brilliant amber in color and dry hopped with buckets full of Cascades for an unrivaled hop flavor and aroma... this is a true representation of an American-style pale ale, using the finest ingredients. Flying Dog classic pale ale is a multi-award winning product, and is consistently ranked as one of the best pale ales in the U.S. This is what craft beer is all about."

The stuff is very good. As many know, I love Sam Adams, because it is consistently good and has good flavor. But Flying Dog is more complex, more flavorful. I don't know if I can afford to make it my regular beer - it only comes in 6-packs - but it will definitely have a place reserved in the beer drawer in my fridge.


Sad note: While driving through Wickford yesterday, we noticed that Wickford Gourmet, an EXCELLENT little place to grab a sandwich, chowder and chocolate chip cookie or brownie (in fact, its brownie was featured on Rachel Ray's show) has closed. The reason seems to be a mystery, as the Providence Journal could not get ahold of the new owner. The place had a great back porch which sometimes had entertainment, they had a huge case of cheeses and olives, tasty baked goods, and other cool foods. It was a great place to relax and have a beer and tuna melt. I'm pissed. Hopefully, someone will reopen the place and continue making the same high quality food. The place is a landmark. It needs to be saved.

Friday, April 18, 2008

Reflections of Keeping Old T-shirts

Going to shake things up here a bit, and switch genres... My wife's comment about needing new clothes today made me think of this piece, which was written last year and is one poem in a collection I have tentatively titled Beer at the Ballpark (and Other Poems for Guys). I think it has potential to actually sell - at least that's what some people in my writer's group said - if I could manufacture the energy to write more of them. (Right now, I have about 15.)

My wife said she needed some new tshirts - that last year, she threw out a lot of her old ones. It's not that the old ones didn't fit anyone, they were just old, she said. I believe she called them "ratty" and "yellowing."

It takes a lot for me to throw out an old shirt, especially if at one time it had significant value. I wore a tshirt today, for instance, that has at least three small holes in it. It is probably 10 years old. I am not ready to retire it.

I happen to like gray t-shirts. I may have 15 of them. This is a poem about a hypothetical situation in which a woman starts questioning whether a guy's shirt should be trashed.


“His Gray T-Shirt”

Don’t tell a guy that his favorite
gray t-shirt is getting old and has holes
and should be the rag he uses
to check the oil in his car with because he’s
not stupid, he knows this already,
and is seeking therapy about this one
thing right now. Some shrink is making
$80 an hour just listening to the stories
associated with this shirt – how,
for instance, the Red Sox won their
first World Series in 86 years while he wore it
and other sports superstitions –
and counseling the guy to cope with the fact that
the shirt has no collar, and that dime-
sized holes are becoming quarter-sized holes,
and no sober man wants to show off his nipples.

The man is keeping the shirt because he needs to.

If you want to know how to truly help him, you say
nothing, and just permit the ghastly sight until the shirt
disintegrates in the washing machine, which it will, or
suspiciously becomes lost after months of searching,
which you will help him do. He will recover
after a Ceremony of Loss and a new
gray t-shirt to break in.

Numerous times, you will want to express your
disapproval about it and the others
like it. But the trick is to be passive,
accept his attire, because it’s your guy’s
connection to his past, and if there’s one thing
you shouldn’t do, it’s damage that. There’s a larger
purpose for old, torn tshirts than you can realize - even he
doesn’t completely understand it, so don’t
engage him in a conversation about it.
You wouldn’t want him questioning you
about your purses, now,
would you?

Sunday, March 30, 2008

The allegedly useful Mosquito Magnet

Today was an unofficial spring cleaning day around here. It was sunny, for one, and the temperature was almost 50. When you're stuck inside for four months, a day like today seems like summer.

Some raking got done. We put out the new patio set.

And then my wife said something that I have long feared. "We need to take out the Mosquito Magnet."

The first thing I should say about the mosquito magnet, which allegedly baits mosquitos and disintegrates them into a fine dust, is that it is not a "we" thing. It's a "me" thing. It is one of the responsibilities I have inherited, because I know how to operate it. My wife loves the thing, and she claims that it rids our yard of mosquitos, but she does not know how to turn the machine on, or attach the propane tank to the hose, where to put the smelly, poisonous bait (WARNING: IF YOU TOUCH THIS WITH YOUR BARE HANDS, YOU WILL DIE.) or any of the few things you need to know how to do to get the thing to work.

I'm sure every spouse out there has acquired some responsibility that they wouldn't have chosen to take on themselves. But because the other person finds value in it, we must continue, year after year after year. The only solace is finding something for your spouse to do that you don't want to do.

This describes what has happened with the mosquito magnet.

The machine is powered by electricity, so you need to run an extension cord from your nearest outlet to a inconspicous place in your yard. I do that.

It runs out of propane about once a month, so I'll be going to ACE Hardware soon to start that tradition. You have to buy overpriced bait at Home Depot a few times a summer.

Maintenance gets pricey. Last year, I ran over the cord with the lawn mower even though I tried to bury the wire. A replacement cost $40, and so we were without the MM for a month or so. To be honest, I didn't see the mosquitos come back.

Caring for this thing makes me want to screen in the entire backyard. It's not necessarily that it takes that much time - the biggest thing is moving it when I mow the grass - it's that it's not my thing. I didn't choose it. I didn't want it. And now I'm taking care of it - like the dog my dad didn't want when I was a kid that he ended up walking every morning for 13 years.

I am NOT bringing out the machine when I see my first mosquito. I will wait until I see a considerable group of them. I may even wait until I find the mosquitos' carefully written plans to take over my backyard, at which time I will know that there is a sincere attempt on the part of these bugs to start bothering us. When this conspiracy is revealed, I might just try to reason with them, sit them down, offer them some drinks, and talk about this rationally, rather than lug out the big machine. We might try a little bargaining - like they can bite certain people who visit us, but not the family that lives here.

I don't know if it's realistic, anyway, to eliminate mosquitos from the yard, in the first place. I think if they want to come here, they will, regardless of how much propane, poison and extension cords are hooked up to my machine.

To help persuade my wife of my ideas, I need to make up some theory, or say I read something online about mosquito behavior. I can say something like mosquitos are like hornets, wasps and bees - you don't want to provoke them - which is what the mosquito magnet does. They'll just bite you harder. They'll go after our kids. They'll steal our cable.

I just need a good citation.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

The "Disappearing Field Trip"

It ain't the New York Times, but this piece about the demise of school field trips was published today in Education Week, the newspaper of record in the education world. Perhaps you've never heard of it.

Enjoy,

http://www.edweek.org/ew/articles/2008/03/26/29polochanin.h27.html

Sunday, February 24, 2008

To save the birch or the cable wire?

This piece was shopped around to a few places, and was ultimately rejected - by NPR as a commentary, The New York Times, Boston Globe. It followed a recent storm that dropped heavy snow - the kind that clogs the snowblower - across Connecticut, but, per usual, especially heavy here, in my driveway.


As anyone experienced in snow removal can attest, it’s important to prioritize the cleanup process before beginning it. Clearing off the deck first, for instance, is usually a poor plan. Focusing on the front walk leading to the driveway, meanwhile, is smart, since it’s the pathway with the greatest foot traffic.

However, when I stepped outside after a significant snow storm, one that dropped eight inches of some of the heaviest snow in recent memory, I wrestled with a different scenario.

Which was I going to save first: the prized white birch in my front yard, or the wire providing us cable, Internet and phone service? Both were clearly suffering under the weight of snow.

The 50-foot-tall birch resembled a still frame of a snow-covered tree in a hurricane. An Ansel Adams photograph it was not. Branches were cracked, some had fallen. The top of the frail tree drooped hopelessly over the driveway.

The cable wire, which runs about 100 feet from a pole on the other side of our street to our house, sagged beneath the row of hemlocks it passes under, like a giant jump rope. In some places, it was only a few feet off the ground; it’s supposed to be 12 to 15 feet high.

The dilemma struck me almost instantly. Should I save nature or technology? The dichotomy could not be more obvious.

Before I could get to either one, I needed to make a path down the front steps. My son, who is two-and-a-half, helped. But even he struggled with his little red snow shovel. He soon lost interest in moving the snow. Instead, he lay on the driveway making snow angels.

I decided I would see what I could do with the tree first, since it’s the centerpiece of the front yard and we still had cable. Yes, a bit of guilt hit me, too. The environment is not exactly for-profit, while my combined phone, cable and Internet bill is nearly $200 a month.

I grabbed two rakes from the garage. With my son beside me, I tapped the bottom branches of the birch. Snow showered down onto our heads and jackets. The tree bounced back up with life. I was pleased. I continued to hit its lower branches, and a few more broke. I organized them in a small pile on the snowy driveway.

Once the tree looked like it wouldn’t be a total loss, I walked over to the cable wire. I followed it toward the road, tapping the hemlock branches above it. The wire popped up a little, rising as high as the net on a basketball rim. When I finished, the cable didn’t appear in jeopardy.

The birch, though, still needed attention. Since there was no easy way to reach the top branches, I tore off the tiny twigs of an already fallen limb, about 8 feet long, and used it like a spear, throwing it, javelin-style, at the treetop. My plan worked.

Later, while unclogging slush from my snow blower, I pondered my earlier dilemma. Had the tree succumbed to the weight of snow, it would have left a gaping hole in my front yard. If the downed cable wire had disrupted our cable, phone, or Internet, we would have gotten it fixed and spent the day reading a book or trying a new recipe instead of sitting in front of a computer or TV screen.

In the end, I was happy to have saved both. More so with the birch tree, though, to be honest. I hope it recovers fully. I will be grateful this year to see its leaves bud come spring

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Only One Way to Go at Stew Leonard's

Stew Leonard's, the Fairfield County-based amusement park of supermarkets, is a funny place.

You go there with the understanding that this is not your typical grocery store. It features large displays of singing barnyard animals, mooing cows, and hanging monkeys. I believe there is a parrot, or a cockatoo, or a toucan, as well. These are all amusing, for adults and children alike. The store also has many very good free sample stations. Yesterday, I sampled some Cabot cheese, chicken sausage (awesome), pan seared green beans with onions, olive oil and garlic (which we are having for dinner tonight). There is usually free ice cream (sherbet yesterday), milk (strawberry and chocolate), OJ (which people form a line for), pomegranate juice (awesome) and sometimes steak or deli meat.

It reminds me a little of a market in Florida called Publix.

But Stew Leonard's has figured out the psychology of a shopper. They know your shopping behavior far better than you know them. Not only are there fresh fruits on tables the second you walk into the store. Not only are there free samples of up to three soups. Not only is there music and eye catching displays.

You can only go in one direction at Stew Leonard's. There is one aisle.

Unless you have been there before and know about the two or three shortcuts, you must follow the maze from the beginning of the store until the end. The shoppers go, then, in one direction. On a Saturday, when you forgot to get an onion and need to travel in the opposite direction, this is a bad thing.

My wife, having gone to college and lived for a few years after college in Fairfield County, loves the place. She, admittedly, is sucked into the sights and sounds of the place. She has convinced me to go, now three times, and I have to say, the place is fun. The food is great. The fruits and vegetables are high quality.

But the experience, when you are done, is exhausting. Because of the one-way route, you cannot travel at your own pace very easily. Your time in the store is determined by lots of other people. It's sort of like driving in New York City. There is no time to stop and look at things. You have to move, or the people around you will thrash you. At Stew Leonard's, a similar thing happens. You feel like you're "going slow" if you stop and actually look at what you are buying. There are people maneuvering carriages around you, invading your space. You end up buying much more than you need just to keep moving. It's a supermarket traffic jam.

We spent $88 yesterday and we were supposed to only go there to buy fruit.

This is impossible. You cannot go to Stew Leonard's to buy one thing. If someone can, there is something wrong with them. They have too much self-control. Also, if you spend $100, you get a free ice cream. The last time we went, my wife threw in batteries - which cost like $7 - at the register in order to get the ice cream, which is soft serve and comes in a variety of flavors. This is how Stew Leonard's brainwashes their customers. They plant an ice cream stand right next to the exit. You can pay $1.50 for an ice cream or if you spend $100, you get a free one.

So, and this would qualify to be an only-in-Connecticut thing, you see people walking out to their cars in the middle of January, when it is 25 degrees, eating ice cream.

This is ludicrous, but so is Stew Leonard's, and you have to know this going in. You have to know that you will be entertained there. You will sample good food. You will buy more than you need. If you go on a Saturday, you will endure a little stress - in the parking lot, in the check-out line, in the one-way aisles.

You will literally "stew" while you are there.

But, if only for the experience, I recommend going once, just to see the place. Eat as much as you can. Especially the meatballs. You MUST try the meatballs. The samples have little pretzels sticking out of them, like tooth picks.

IN fact, I might eat them just for the pretzels.

They figure me out, too.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Winding Brook Road Massacre

Don't be afraid, it's just the movie I starred in with my friends back in the old neighborhood. Can you guess which one I am?

http://gallery.mac.com/stevefranco1#100069

(Special thanks to my buddy Steve who made this Emmy-worthy performance available.)

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Why Can't I Turn Off Rocky IV?

Rocky IV, the motion picture in which the Italian Stallion faces off against Drago in Russia after Drago beat the living crap - literally - out of Apollo Creed, has been on TV a lot lately.

So, of course, because the TV writers' strike has left little for me to watch, I have been watching it. It is on again tonight, in fact. I can hear it in the other room.

Rocky IV is one of those movies, like Dangerfield's "Back to School", Chase's "National Lampoon's Vacation", and Murray's "Stripes" and "What About Bob?", that I can't just pass by when flipping channels on the remote control. I have to stop for a while, perhaps get something to eat and a blanket, sink into the couch a bit, and wait for a certain part. Sometimes, It might be Rocky training in the barn, or when he's doing crunches hanging from his ankles, or when he takes off in the snow from the Russian bodyguards. Their car, as a result, gets stuck in a snowbank. The best is the end, certainly, when Rocky takes Drago's best punches and then urges Drago to hit him harder. "C'mon," Rocky says. "Fight."

And later, after he knocks out Drago in the final round, Rocky grabs the microphone, the American flag draped around his shoulders, and says something to the effect that, "I saw a lot of changin' here tonight...and if I can change... and you can change... then we all can change!"

Then Rocky tells his son, who's watching from his living room with his friends and robot in the United States, to go to bed.

It's not that great a movie. But the first time I saw it, in 1985, I was 12, a very formative time. Much of 1985 remains a fond memory. Quick Google search shows that Cheers, Knight Rider, St. Elsewhere, Who's the Boss?, the Cosby Show, and Webster were all popular that year. On the radio, we heard LL Cool J's "Radio", aha's "Take on Me," Phil Collins's "Don't Lose My Number", and a song I could never get out in one breath but I used to try, "Everybody Wants to Rule The World," by Tears for Fears.

Clearly, it was a great year.

So, for some reason, Stallone resonated with the 12-year-old boy. A number of us in the old neighborhood watched it again and again and again, as if something different might happen each time we saw it.

Today, I happened to be reading some columns by author Joe Quennan, who is a cultural magazine critic for Esquire, Salon.com, New York Times Magazine, and he mentioned how lousy an actor Stallone was. Here is an excerpt of an interview he did with salon.com.

Q: What do you consider to have been the lowest point of our culture?
A:Whatever you thought about how things were going to turn out in the '60s, nothing could have prepared us for Stallone. I really hated it when Stallone was a big star. I thought those movies were evil. I thought the Rocky movies were racist. I don't think he has any talent.
A stupid man, making one stupid violent movie after another.
I feel that movies don't have to reflect reality, but they have to connect to reality in some way. So, if you make five movies about some short white guy from Philly who beats up a lot of black guys, what does that tell you about reality? I haven't seen any white guys winning any heavyweight championships in a long, long time.

Ouch. Kind of makes me feel a little stupid for liking Rocky IV so much.

But not enough to stop watching it when it's on again.

Monday, January 7, 2008

Orthodontist observations

In a few weeks, I will visit the orthodontist, the theme park of American medicine.

I have fun when I go there, and I generally hate doctors, preferring to let most illnesses "run their course." My orthodontist recently moved to a very posh office, complete with a huge plasma TV bolted into the wall in the waiting room, four little kiosk video games for the kids who make up most of the clientele, and a Tassimo coffee/tea maker for the moms that have to wait. There are raffles on the counter near the reception desk to win iPods and tickets to Six Flags amusement park. Last time, I guessed how many M & Ms were in a glass snowman. (285) Alongside the chairs where kids get braces, more virtual reality video games await.

At this office, you don't give your name to the receptionist, like at every other doctor's appointment. You walk over to a computer and type in your last name, and hit "enter" to announce you've arrived.

This was all pretty new to me last year when I decided that I wanted to straighten out my teeth and invest more than $4,000 for a plastic retainer called Invisalign. You're supposed to wear these all day except for eating, and after about a year (for me) your teeth realign. I am proof that the technology works, even though I don't follow the rules. (I usually just wear the retainers at night.)

At the orthodontist, the staff treats its patients extraordinarily kindly, a shocking thing to experience at a doctor's office. It could be that they're used to seeing kids all the time and maybe have an improved bedside manner. Or maybe I get special treatment because I'm one of the only adult patients they see all day, and we can talk about something other than the teachers who I have this year.

Being a patient at this practice comes with its share of surprises, too. A few months ago, for example, I received an invitation in the mail. When I opened the envelope, a card read, "Let's Go to The Movies!" My orthodontist rented out a movie theater to see the latest Harry Potter film. I didn't go, but I'm looking forward to the next invitation - hopefully for something a little more grown-up, like tickets to see a UConn basketball game.

It should be pointed out that my insurance does not cover orthodontic work - nor do most kids' parents insurance, I presume. So, at $3,000 to $4,000 per patient, my doctor can afford the latest technology, plasma TVs, more office staff than she might need, and little headsets on the secretaries like Bobby Brown wore in his "My Prerogative" video. Okay, that's showing my age.

Regardless of the glitz - actually because of it -I'm looking forward to my next appointment. I like being greeted by the friendly office staff. And the results of the last raffle might be in. Who knows? I just might be going to Six Flags for free!

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

My vacation

No one needs a vacation more than the person who just had one.” - Unknown

Well, my 11-day vacation is about to expire, so, as is the case with every vacation I will now complain about having to return to work, contemplate changing careers because I'm in a bad mood, and assess whether I did what I said I was going to do over vacation.

On Day 2 or 3 of my vacations, I usually make a list - on paper or in my head - of what I'd like to accomplish during my time off. I guess it seems like the productive thing to do. This vacation was no different, except my wife also gave me a list of things she wanted me to do. This was fine, I thought, as many of these overlapped.

My list looked something like this.

1. Clean out/reorganize the basement (This has been on my list since we moved into this house 4 1/2 years ago)

2. Get new eyeglasses (I have not renewed my prescription nor seen my optometrist in about 4 years)

3. Seal basement window so mice can't get in (This also has been on my list for a while, and, out of pure laziness, I haven't done it)

4. Return bottles that take up half the garage

5. Read

6. Write (Not for this blog)

7. Correct papers

8. Exercise more than once


Usually, I don't accomplish much on my list. I tend to get sidetracked and distracted and I'm a master of avoiding things that aren't pleasurable.

While I did amply procrastinate, I did do a lot on my list. I will address them here.

I will skip number one, for now.

I got new glasses. Instead of going to my regular optometrist, who is in Bristol - too far away - I went to Sam's Club. (see earlier post about my thoughts about this place) I got an appointment in two days, the optometrist was good enough, and I figure I saved at least $100 to $200. I don't like supporting WalMart (which owns Sam's Club), but I got an appointment quickly, and they had the best frames I could find.

I did not seal the basement window. Rather, I set up 7 mouse traps - four in the basement, three in the attic. I thought this would help control our rodent problem. Except the mice are smart enough to eat the peanut butter I spread without disengaging the metal bar that's supposed to kill them. So now I have to get better traps. I can't say I didn't at least try on this one.

I did return a garageful of bottles - to a redemption center in Manchester. I usually go to Stop and Shop, where it takes two hours from start to finish. But I learned that this place, affiliated with the state, also takes bottles and cans in bulk. When I arrived there - the place is a pit - I was happy to see there were no machines I could jam. The only problem is that you have to organize the beer by brand. This took awhile, even though I drink mostly Sam Adams. ( I even separated Coors Light, which my BROTHER IN LAW drinks.) In the end, I got $21, enough to buy only one case of beer. I am starting to think it is not worth redeeming bottles, but instead to recycle them. Plus, traveling with almost 500 bottles in my car made me feel like a serious alcoholic.

I read a little. I just started a book Complications, by Atul Gawande, a surgeon at Brigham and Women's Hospital and a Harvard Medical School professor. His book is about the realities of being a surgeon. He talks of medicine as an imprecise science, full of a lot of guesswork. The book reads well. It should; he's also a contributor to the New Yorker.

I need to correct more papers tonight. I have 10 left, and I figure I need about 45 minutes to an hour.

I ran on the treadmill twice, so that qualifies as meeting that exercise goal, barely.

As for cleaning the basement, you would guess correctly if you said I didn't clean it. (Hey, I wanted to have something on my list for my next vacation!)

For some insights about my tendency to procrastinate, read this column in the Boston Globe from a few years ago:

http://www.boston.com/jobs/globe/view_cube/archive/091805.shtml
(Need to scroll down on the webpage to see.)