10. I didn’t know that this year we’ll get another month of usable sunshine. Did you? Selectman Joe Gill brought up the change in Daylight Savings time this year during a meeting, and I have to say, I was rather surprised. If you or someone you love is a real techie then you probably already know all about the change. But if not you should know that this year we’ll all be Springing Ahead March 11th rather than April 1. That’s right, as part of yet another federal program aimed at saving energy (which, I’m all for) we’ll be mucking with our inner clocks nearly a month early this year. Personally, I’m not sure whether be delighted or annoyed. Maybe it will snow.
9. Speaking of snow, where is it? If I wanted a snow-free winter I’d live in Malibu, California. Oh, wait; they’ve already had more snow this year than Boston. I want snow days, hot cocoa, sledding, maybe a nip of frostbite. Come ON, its winter. I don’t want to even speak of that groundhog; I have nothing nice to say.
8. Pet Peeve; the vernacular, only found in spoken English “a whole nother,” as in, “Melba, I got a whole nother idea about that home based worm farm.” Would someone, please, tell me what in the world is a ‘nother.’ Yes, I recognize that what some people are trying to say is ‘another whole’, which is also useless. Just say “another.” It works nicely all by itself.
7. After the election I made a few predictions about who would run for President in 2008. I’d just like to take a moment to gloat: Hillary is in the race “and in it to win.” So, that means she won’t settle for a Veep nomination. Ok. Obama is also running. He may be an inexperienced first term senator, but he’s in it. McCain is running, Romney is running, and just this week former New York City Mayor Rudy Giuliani threw his hat into the ring. He’s “in it to win” too. This is going to be a fun Presidential race leading up to the primaries.
6. At a recent presentation to the Home for Little Wanderers in Boston, a consulting firm used my blog as an example site for a business practice change. I know this because a friend of mine who works in development for The Home sat in on the meeting. When she asked why they used my little blog out of the thousands out there in the ether, she was told that I am a, wait for it, “Sphere of Influence.” So, you read it here first. Apparently the consulting firm wasn’t aware that most weeks I have 3 visitors that stay an average of 3 seconds. But, if you want to visit a real, sort of, sphere of influence, check out my blog at jaynespeak.blogspot.com.
5. Governor Patrick finally decided not to cut the tolls on the Mass Pike. Anyone shocked? No? Of course not.
4. Like the Presidential race for 2008, Tewksbury’s Selectmen race for 2007 looks just as jam packed, although there are two seats. With one incumbent and so far, four other hopefuls, I hope we’ll see a friendly, but informative debate. I nominate myself and the other members of the Tewksbury Press Club to moderate the debate, held of course, at the Tewksbury Country Club (we’ll settle for the gym at TMHS though) and to be broadcast on the cable/FiOS access channels. Residents can send in questions beforehand, call them in live during the debate, or even attend the debate. I’ve spoken to all the candidates and they are all savvy to town politics, know the issues, and have an alarming capacity for quotability. Bring on the Policy, the Lincoln-Douglas, let’s have a debate!
3. Not to beat a frozen horse, but if it is going to be this cold, I think we ought to have a little bit of snow; perhaps just enough to cover the remnants of leaves I did not finish raking in the fall. Although, truly, it really is not cold unless your nose freezes together when you breathe.
2. At the Board of Selectmen meeting on Tuesday night, in rather frigid cold air, I met some teachers standing outside, demonstrating, and making sure that people know they’re there. I’ve seen a lot of these teachers, at lots of meetings. I haven’t seen any other members of unions in town demonstrating anywhere. The fact that these folks are out in the cold trying to prove a point, that they mean business, probably ought to signal a wider message for the town at large. The budgetary rope, if you will, only stretches so far and this time, the ends aren’t meeting. I hope contract mediation works and pronto because the gulf between teachers, the school committee, parents, and taxpayers is yawning wider as we exceed 100 days without a contract.
1. What could be the most absurd snippet from planet earth? Well, surely there’s plenty of choice. We could go for the Lovesick Astronaut in Adult Diapers story, everyone loves a romance. Or perhaps the Lite Bright Cartoon Network “performance Art” marketing stunt, which probably did more for that silly program than all the Lite Brights in all those other cities put together. One thing is for sure, we are rarely cursed with boring news these days.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Good Samaritans, Cell Phones, and a blown tire
A few years ago, on a spontaneous trip to Williams Sonoma to purchase special cutters for a recipe I wanted to try, the tire blew out on my minivan on the highway. I had my four year old son and infant daughter asleep in the backseat, no cell phone, and no real expectation of fixing the thing alone. I didn’t have flares, reflectors, or any idea of how the hell I was going to get out of this one.
Before I go further, and in the interest of fairness, I should state that my husband and I built our marriage on a sort of bad Carma/Karma. Not to be punny, we just had a lot of automotive bad luck. In one case our only car, a midsize Mazda sedan, caught fire on Route 128. The electrical system caught fire and melted a crater the size of a basketball in the dashboard. My husband, again without a cell phone, called the fire department on the phone of a fellow commuter that kindly stopped (probably had some laughs over it too, and who can blame him?). Because the interior of the car was on fire the engines drive by a couple of times before stopping, and then didn’t believe that the car was actually on fire (the heavy layer of soot on the windows looked a lot like tinted glass) until one fire fighter opened the door to a thick waft of acrid smoke.
Another car, a hand-me-down through 4 generations, was so old that we had to repair it just to get it to pass inspection. Brake lights refused to stay fixed, the air conditioning gave up the ghost, the radio was kaput, the gas gauge stubbornly stuck at empty despite a filled tank, and a few rusted holes in the bodywork big enough for a raccoon to crawl through.
Once, the heating system in our minivan let go on a trip home from Maine in February. That was special, because in order to run heat in the back seats the system required running the fan in the front as well. So while my husband and I froze to our seats, our kids slept soundly in back for the remaining three hours. I couldn’t feel my feet for three days.
So, there I was, a silly twit without phone or clue, stuck in the breakdown lane of 128 with my wounded van, woefully distant from my destination. I didn’t know whether to wake the kids and go far away from the side of the road and risk being covered (literally) in ticks (which, I’m sorry to say has happened before) or keep them strapped in the van, a veritable target for bad drivers. I stayed put and waited for someone driving by to call the police and report that some idiot woman in her gold mom-mobile had a smoking tire and was stuck in transportation limbo. While waiting, quite a few cars and a couple of semi’s drifted into the break-down lane, as if my mini-van had a sort of gravitational pull on the cars driving by.
Eventually a state trooper on his way home stopped and saved my bacon. He called me a tow, positioned his car to protect mine, and informed me that the thing to do in such an incident is get away from the car because too many people stopped in breakdown lanes have been killed by morons that crash into them.
Once my vehicle was hauled onto the flatbed of the tow I was stymied as to how to best strap my children into the petite cab of the truck. I needed three seatbelts, and one was already being used by the driver.
Suddenly, out of the midst of the clamor and confusion, an angel in blue jeans arrived on the scene, complete with non-wounded minivan and a few car seats of her own. Apparently she drove by, saw my disabled car and me holding the infant carrier with my 10 week old baby inside. Knowing that any mother would be worried about how to safely manage the tow, she kindly stopped to offer us a ride to anywhere we needed to go.
Though she’s from Wilmington, she happened to be in Burlington that late afternoon with enough free time to ferry a stranger and her children to a car repair shop. Sent by God, right place at the right time, call it what you want. Regrettably, I don’t remember her name, but I do remember her car seats and how my little baby looked so small in one, her Kate Spade handbag that I admired, and her curly brunette hair. At one point I was reduced to gushing my thanks but she put me at ease, saying she was doing her good deed and that she was “only getting into heaven on the family plan.”
Her act of kindness has etched a place within my cynical soul and I know with certainty that there are genuinely good people, caring people in our midst.
I don’t know how to thank her, so I hope this column is enough until I meet her again. If you know her or think you might, send her my email address, I’d love to give her proper thanks.
And yes, I did get a cell phone. But just this week, I washed it.
Before I go further, and in the interest of fairness, I should state that my husband and I built our marriage on a sort of bad Carma/Karma. Not to be punny, we just had a lot of automotive bad luck. In one case our only car, a midsize Mazda sedan, caught fire on Route 128. The electrical system caught fire and melted a crater the size of a basketball in the dashboard. My husband, again without a cell phone, called the fire department on the phone of a fellow commuter that kindly stopped (probably had some laughs over it too, and who can blame him?). Because the interior of the car was on fire the engines drive by a couple of times before stopping, and then didn’t believe that the car was actually on fire (the heavy layer of soot on the windows looked a lot like tinted glass) until one fire fighter opened the door to a thick waft of acrid smoke.
Another car, a hand-me-down through 4 generations, was so old that we had to repair it just to get it to pass inspection. Brake lights refused to stay fixed, the air conditioning gave up the ghost, the radio was kaput, the gas gauge stubbornly stuck at empty despite a filled tank, and a few rusted holes in the bodywork big enough for a raccoon to crawl through.
Once, the heating system in our minivan let go on a trip home from Maine in February. That was special, because in order to run heat in the back seats the system required running the fan in the front as well. So while my husband and I froze to our seats, our kids slept soundly in back for the remaining three hours. I couldn’t feel my feet for three days.
So, there I was, a silly twit without phone or clue, stuck in the breakdown lane of 128 with my wounded van, woefully distant from my destination. I didn’t know whether to wake the kids and go far away from the side of the road and risk being covered (literally) in ticks (which, I’m sorry to say has happened before) or keep them strapped in the van, a veritable target for bad drivers. I stayed put and waited for someone driving by to call the police and report that some idiot woman in her gold mom-mobile had a smoking tire and was stuck in transportation limbo. While waiting, quite a few cars and a couple of semi’s drifted into the break-down lane, as if my mini-van had a sort of gravitational pull on the cars driving by.
Eventually a state trooper on his way home stopped and saved my bacon. He called me a tow, positioned his car to protect mine, and informed me that the thing to do in such an incident is get away from the car because too many people stopped in breakdown lanes have been killed by morons that crash into them.
Once my vehicle was hauled onto the flatbed of the tow I was stymied as to how to best strap my children into the petite cab of the truck. I needed three seatbelts, and one was already being used by the driver.
Suddenly, out of the midst of the clamor and confusion, an angel in blue jeans arrived on the scene, complete with non-wounded minivan and a few car seats of her own. Apparently she drove by, saw my disabled car and me holding the infant carrier with my 10 week old baby inside. Knowing that any mother would be worried about how to safely manage the tow, she kindly stopped to offer us a ride to anywhere we needed to go.
Though she’s from Wilmington, she happened to be in Burlington that late afternoon with enough free time to ferry a stranger and her children to a car repair shop. Sent by God, right place at the right time, call it what you want. Regrettably, I don’t remember her name, but I do remember her car seats and how my little baby looked so small in one, her Kate Spade handbag that I admired, and her curly brunette hair. At one point I was reduced to gushing my thanks but she put me at ease, saying she was doing her good deed and that she was “only getting into heaven on the family plan.”
Her act of kindness has etched a place within my cynical soul and I know with certainty that there are genuinely good people, caring people in our midst.
I don’t know how to thank her, so I hope this column is enough until I meet her again. If you know her or think you might, send her my email address, I’d love to give her proper thanks.
And yes, I did get a cell phone. But just this week, I washed it.
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