With the stock market meltdown this autumn caused in no small part by greed and overregulation, we see a new paradigm emerging in the consumer ranks... non-consumerism. Rather, could people be saving money? Shocking, I know.
The financial "tsunami" hitting our shores came from an abundance of cheap money: low, low interest rates that encourage spending, not saving. Mortgages, car loans, durable goods, could be had at low or zero percent interest rates (not the mortgages) for anyone with a sliver of credit. Mortgages in particular were marketed and sold to anyone, regardless of the health of their pocketbook or future earnings valuations. Pretty soon everyone slept on a bed, in a home, built with debt.
The government began forcing financial institutions to lend money to credit risky individuals in the seventies under the Carter Administration. Under the Clinton administration those laws grew more teeth courtesy of Janet Reno, by threatening to investigate lenders that did not report enough loans to people in certain classes, demographics, or geographies. By forcing "diversity" lending, the government created a false market, fictional lending. Oh the lending was happening alright, but was based on a footing of sand.
Then comes the greed aspect. CEOs and others beholden to boards of directors and stockholders, having billions of dollars in virtually worthless assets, mortgages that once the rates adjust will become impossible for many people to pay back, found a way to make a buck. Repackaging the mortgages and selling derivatives on how they will do. Basically, betting on which groups will be able to pay those loans back, and trying to pass off the bad paper before too many go bust.
But it didn't work. Over-regulation, by creating that false market, did the inverse of what was intended... it allowed home ownership among persons with lower household incomes but then cruelly steals it away with adjusting interest rates when those payments well exceed incomes.
Many of those borrowers were sold their mortgages easily, without enough, and in some cases any vetting of financial data. Then people consolidated their debt by borrowing against the equity in their homes. Pretty soon homes were overvalued. Then those subprime loans began adjusting and WHAM, foreclosures. Foreclosures affect everyone, because when your neighbor has to short sell his house, the value drops, dragging your house value down with it. Empty houses dimish a neighborhood, bringing down property values. Eventually, all those equate into less money into the tax base and less money for schools, public safety, and other municipal cost centers. And once a few people start losing jobs, the dominoes really start to fall.
And Americans had their own greed too... thirst for a new car every few years, flat screen televisions, newest computers, Blackberries, designer handbags, boots, clothing, power tools, cell phones, video games, etc etc etc.
Americans haven't saved any money in the last ten to thirty years. Really, much longer than that. Our current account deficit is at an all time high and will continue to grow, leaving America more and more in debt to China. Now that alone should be classified a national security threat. We do not make all our own automobiles anymore, our own televisions, our own anything, except perhaps food. And why?
Part of the problem are labor unions that look at their employers almost voraciously, preferring to eat an organization alive by adding obscenely to overhead costs while ignoring the big picture. Why have cheap healthcare and big raises, when it means layoffs or possibly closing a facility? There was a time and a place for unions, still is in some cases, but too many use their power abusively and ultimately contribute to the demise of a company, or even an industry. The high cost of labor in the US has entirely undermined the manufacturing might of this country, putting so much in jeopardy, that today nearly every company left in America is looking for a handout. What happened to asking for a 'hand-up?'
During World War II, with so many men at war, women ran the military-industrial complex. Women were on the front lines of building atomic weapons. Families sacrificed, kids collected aluminum foil, women went without pantyhose, for such materials were needed in construction in order to help our boys fighting enemies abroad.
What have Americans been asked to do to help this war? Spend.
Spend your money, buy a tv, here's a stimulous check - go ahead, spend it all in one place. No one has had to sacrifice anything, few have become directly involved in the war effort, with the exception of those families with soldiers serving abroad. There is no connection between the American people and the effort to win the war in Iraq. There is no sense of common purpose, no sense of strength, no sense of doing the right thing, even if it is hard.
So, to American I propose, it is time to simplify. its time to stop chasing the Joneses, time to stop coveting our neighbor's property (like his BMW or his flat screen tv), and start living simply. As the Shaker song says:
Tis a Gift to be Simple
Tis a Gift to be Free
Tis a Gift to Come Down
Where you ought to be
And when you find yourself in a place just right
It will be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained
To bow and to bend we shan't be ashamed
To turn, turn will be our delight
Till by turning, turning we come round right.
I want a flat screen tv too. But I also want my kids to stop watching television and play with their toys more, run outside, and read. Should I buy that tv or pitch the old one I have with the green blotch on the left side of the screen?
The more things we own, the more things own us. Its true. That snowmobile, boat, rv, motorcycle, you-name-it purchased to make life easier, make it more relaxing, just adds stress. Stress to make payments, stress to maintain the machine, stress to store it, start it, use it enough to make it worthwhile. Pretty soon you're spending weekens in the fall putting away the boat, rv, jetski, instead of spending that time with your family or actually relaxing.
I think simplifying is the way to go. My house has minute closets, and by minute I mean microscopic. My daughter's bedroom doesn't even have a closet. I can't own too many clothes, because I just don't have enough room for them. Forces me to only own a few pair of jeans, and replace them when they are worn out. I own a few nice sweaters, jackets, dresses, and about 6 pairs of shoes, almost enough to get me by.
Finding the right balance is hard between all the committments we have in our day to day lives. So we have to reprioritize. Is it better to give our kids everytoy, game, machine or gadget when those things will ultimately take time away from our family? Every year we take our children to the toy store to go Christmas shopping for needy children. The money spent on those children is not spent on my kids, and they know it. But they get such a kick out of doing something good and thinking about someone else. Isn't it simpler to help another than to find more time to maintain the crap you bought for yourself?
So, while I say all this, I will also add that my iPod is charging. Yes, I have one, I love it. But its also simplified my life. No more CDs falling all over the car when I turn. I can take my music everywhere, and clear out some clutter in the process. So, I'm not saying deprive yourself of something useful and possibly transformative, but choose wisely. Make decisions deliberately, live deliberately, and simplify.
This is obviously too long a blog entry and really, too late at night to be writing it. more on simplification in the future. Join the movement, and simplify!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Friday, March 07, 2008
Profiting from Five Year olds?
Having attended School Committee and Selectmen meetings in recent weeks listening to the recommendations of the Financial Plan Task Force I must express some amazement at how enthusiastic and robust the town’s support for athletics remains. With a recommendation from the FPTF to consider self-funding high school athletics, coaches, parents and even a student or two spoke out against such an abomination.
Too bad these folks were so quiet when the School Committee and School Department were forced to cut teachers, library aides, textbooks, maintenance budgets, and so much more over the last six years. Where were so many of these residents when education was being cut in town?
The town is facing a major budget deficit for FY2009 alone, $5.3 million. The town will not receive any one- time monies from a middle school reimbursement, no teacher salary deferrals on the horizon, no discernable way to magically forge a balanced budget. There are two ways to close that gap. Either raise taxes or cut spending. Or both.
Looking at the budget, I had some questions about the logic and philosophy employed and I asked Scott Consaul and Mike Sitar about their positions, particularly their stands to preserve athletics in the high school . We recently learned that the town pays $475,000 for high school athletics. In order to self-fund athletics, some athletes would face exorbitant fees. Hockey players would have to pay $1300, and still buy much of their own equipment. As it stands, students pay a $100 athletics/activity fee per sport or co-curricular activity such as Drama or National Honor Society.
So, if we only charge $100 per sport, how do we justify charging $4000 for full day kindergarten?
I asked Consaul this question because I really thought I was missing something. I was told that full day kindergarten is a service the school department identified that parents want. True and they have made that service available only to those parents that can afford it. One argument I’ve heard is that many parents that opt for the full day option have paid between $10,000 to $15,000 for daycare up until kindergarten, so the $4000 option is a significant savings. Consaul even told me that the program is self- funding. Well, ok.
If it’s acceptable to make full day kindergarten self-funding at $4000 a pop, how can we only charge $100 per sport? Turning the school department’s argument on its head, most athletes playing varsity or junior varsity sports have been playing that sport for years. In many cases, parents are already paying hundreds or thousands of dollars for their children to play through the town or in club leagues. So, by the School Committee’s own reasoning, $1300 for hockey would still be a bargain.
In response, Consaul told me that he sees athletics as part of the high school curriculum.
But participation in athletics is not a requirement for graduation, so its really not part of the curriculum, despite the obvious benefits athletics provides.
“For many students, athletics is a cost effective way to keep them engaged in school, to keep them out of trouble,” said Consaul.
Half a million dollar cost effective? I’m not so sure I buy that explanation.
But what he said next is absolutely right.
“Whether athletics, music, art, extra-curricular or co-curricular activities, all make a well-rounded student. If we try to make any of the programs self-funding our students would suffer as a result.”
Apparently, self-funded full day kindergarten is acceptable suffering. Those parents that cannot afford it will find that their children are behind in first grade. Full day kindergarten is not half a day of curriculum and half a day of babysitting. It’s twice the amount of time to cover the same amount of material.
I’ve talked to kindergarten teachers in town and third grade teachers, whose current students were the experimental crop of kindergarteners that lost their mid-day bus to save half a million dollars. I’ve had teachers volunteer to me that the choppy kindergarten program is having lasting effects on our kids. To protest that full day kindergarten provides no advantage over two and a half days a week negates the entire purpose of offering full day kindergarten. It MUST have an advantage. Why else would parents pay $4000 for it?
I asked Mike Sitar, a vocal and strong proponent of athletics, how he responds to parents concerned that the schools have effectively cut reading drastically at the elementary level while only charging $100 athletic/activity fee.
The schools have cut reading specialists that aid struggling readers in early grades. The schools have cut librarians and library aides so much that kids take out library books once or twice a month. There are no spelling programs in the elementary schools anymore either; instead, teachers make their own word lists. The entire reading program at the elementary level is so old it’s out of print, though funding is in the new budget to buy a new series. And now the School Department wants to hire MCAS support positions to replace laid off reading specialists? That does not make sense to me. If we teach our children to read well, for meaning and with accuracy, won’t the MCAS abilities come on their own? Perhaps not, but no amount of MCAS support will teach a struggling reader how to read.
Sitar told me that he believes the town must provide an overall education for a child, of which athletics is a part. He did acknowledge there are some problems with the system.
I understand Sitar’s point, but I don’t accept it. Yes Tewksbury must provide a well rounded education and yes, athletics is a big part of that, but the first thing we must do is ensure that academics at all levels of education are sound, that we are not neglecting the needs of our youngest in order for older students to act in plays, throw footballs, and design yearbooks.
When I went to school all our activities were paid for by the town. I started numerous organizations at my large high school, some which flourish today. Athletics were something entire towns rallied around, especially high school basketball tournaments. In fact, we were not allowed to raise money outside school.
But times are different now. Costs have risen exponentially. Tewksbury needs answers.
Sitar also expressed a need to keep athletics in order to prevent more students from leaving the schools. Good students, he said. I’ve heard this argument before too. We have to keep athletics in order to keep kids in town, and particularly to lower our increasing obligation to the Shawsheen Tech. But we still have athletics and we are already losing students to the Tech and private schools. So, students aren’t leaving because we have athletics. Students are leaving because they do not feel they can get the academics and programs they need here in town.
If we make athletics and activities self-funding, will applications increase to the tech? Probably, but I do not see anything to stem the already increasing tide of students wanting out. If we work to improve our academic offerings, a rich selection of courses, more Advanced Placement courses, and even a few technical courses, we might be surprised at the results.
I amnot advocating the entire self-funding of athletics and activities but I do question where our priorities are as a town. We must be responsible stewards of the revenue we have to spend and the way in which we need to spend it. I cannot see how, failing an override, the school department can justify keeping athletics so inexpensive when we’re charging so much for kindergarten and cutting so much from elementary education.
I propose that the schools partially fund athletics and activities based on a sliding scale. Create two or three tiers of activities, the most expensive, like hockey or band in a higher bracket than soccer and National Honor Society. Instead of $1300 in self funding, a family could pay $650. A lower bracket might charge $100. Families may also be able to create a mix of activities for one higher fee, such as $1500 for unlimited activities, paid monthly. These numbers are simply placeholders, but in this way we can still offer athletics and activities, still at a reduced rate compared to town and club requirements for some sports, without further damaging academic programs.
The School Committee has a tough task ahead of them and I don’t envy them their decisions. We all must speak up about what we want our town and schools to look like. We all need to engage in the process with these departments because we are not out of the woods yet.
Too bad these folks were so quiet when the School Committee and School Department were forced to cut teachers, library aides, textbooks, maintenance budgets, and so much more over the last six years. Where were so many of these residents when education was being cut in town?
The town is facing a major budget deficit for FY2009 alone, $5.3 million. The town will not receive any one- time monies from a middle school reimbursement, no teacher salary deferrals on the horizon, no discernable way to magically forge a balanced budget. There are two ways to close that gap. Either raise taxes or cut spending. Or both.
Looking at the budget, I had some questions about the logic and philosophy employed and I asked Scott Consaul and Mike Sitar about their positions, particularly their stands to preserve athletics in the high school . We recently learned that the town pays $475,000 for high school athletics. In order to self-fund athletics, some athletes would face exorbitant fees. Hockey players would have to pay $1300, and still buy much of their own equipment. As it stands, students pay a $100 athletics/activity fee per sport or co-curricular activity such as Drama or National Honor Society.
So, if we only charge $100 per sport, how do we justify charging $4000 for full day kindergarten?
I asked Consaul this question because I really thought I was missing something. I was told that full day kindergarten is a service the school department identified that parents want. True and they have made that service available only to those parents that can afford it. One argument I’ve heard is that many parents that opt for the full day option have paid between $10,000 to $15,000 for daycare up until kindergarten, so the $4000 option is a significant savings. Consaul even told me that the program is self- funding. Well, ok.
If it’s acceptable to make full day kindergarten self-funding at $4000 a pop, how can we only charge $100 per sport? Turning the school department’s argument on its head, most athletes playing varsity or junior varsity sports have been playing that sport for years. In many cases, parents are already paying hundreds or thousands of dollars for their children to play through the town or in club leagues. So, by the School Committee’s own reasoning, $1300 for hockey would still be a bargain.
In response, Consaul told me that he sees athletics as part of the high school curriculum.
But participation in athletics is not a requirement for graduation, so its really not part of the curriculum, despite the obvious benefits athletics provides.
“For many students, athletics is a cost effective way to keep them engaged in school, to keep them out of trouble,” said Consaul.
Half a million dollar cost effective? I’m not so sure I buy that explanation.
But what he said next is absolutely right.
“Whether athletics, music, art, extra-curricular or co-curricular activities, all make a well-rounded student. If we try to make any of the programs self-funding our students would suffer as a result.”
Apparently, self-funded full day kindergarten is acceptable suffering. Those parents that cannot afford it will find that their children are behind in first grade. Full day kindergarten is not half a day of curriculum and half a day of babysitting. It’s twice the amount of time to cover the same amount of material.
I’ve talked to kindergarten teachers in town and third grade teachers, whose current students were the experimental crop of kindergarteners that lost their mid-day bus to save half a million dollars. I’ve had teachers volunteer to me that the choppy kindergarten program is having lasting effects on our kids. To protest that full day kindergarten provides no advantage over two and a half days a week negates the entire purpose of offering full day kindergarten. It MUST have an advantage. Why else would parents pay $4000 for it?
I asked Mike Sitar, a vocal and strong proponent of athletics, how he responds to parents concerned that the schools have effectively cut reading drastically at the elementary level while only charging $100 athletic/activity fee.
The schools have cut reading specialists that aid struggling readers in early grades. The schools have cut librarians and library aides so much that kids take out library books once or twice a month. There are no spelling programs in the elementary schools anymore either; instead, teachers make their own word lists. The entire reading program at the elementary level is so old it’s out of print, though funding is in the new budget to buy a new series. And now the School Department wants to hire MCAS support positions to replace laid off reading specialists? That does not make sense to me. If we teach our children to read well, for meaning and with accuracy, won’t the MCAS abilities come on their own? Perhaps not, but no amount of MCAS support will teach a struggling reader how to read.
Sitar told me that he believes the town must provide an overall education for a child, of which athletics is a part. He did acknowledge there are some problems with the system.
I understand Sitar’s point, but I don’t accept it. Yes Tewksbury must provide a well rounded education and yes, athletics is a big part of that, but the first thing we must do is ensure that academics at all levels of education are sound, that we are not neglecting the needs of our youngest in order for older students to act in plays, throw footballs, and design yearbooks.
When I went to school all our activities were paid for by the town. I started numerous organizations at my large high school, some which flourish today. Athletics were something entire towns rallied around, especially high school basketball tournaments. In fact, we were not allowed to raise money outside school.
But times are different now. Costs have risen exponentially. Tewksbury needs answers.
Sitar also expressed a need to keep athletics in order to prevent more students from leaving the schools. Good students, he said. I’ve heard this argument before too. We have to keep athletics in order to keep kids in town, and particularly to lower our increasing obligation to the Shawsheen Tech. But we still have athletics and we are already losing students to the Tech and private schools. So, students aren’t leaving because we have athletics. Students are leaving because they do not feel they can get the academics and programs they need here in town.
If we make athletics and activities self-funding, will applications increase to the tech? Probably, but I do not see anything to stem the already increasing tide of students wanting out. If we work to improve our academic offerings, a rich selection of courses, more Advanced Placement courses, and even a few technical courses, we might be surprised at the results.
I amnot advocating the entire self-funding of athletics and activities but I do question where our priorities are as a town. We must be responsible stewards of the revenue we have to spend and the way in which we need to spend it. I cannot see how, failing an override, the school department can justify keeping athletics so inexpensive when we’re charging so much for kindergarten and cutting so much from elementary education.
I propose that the schools partially fund athletics and activities based on a sliding scale. Create two or three tiers of activities, the most expensive, like hockey or band in a higher bracket than soccer and National Honor Society. Instead of $1300 in self funding, a family could pay $650. A lower bracket might charge $100. Families may also be able to create a mix of activities for one higher fee, such as $1500 for unlimited activities, paid monthly. These numbers are simply placeholders, but in this way we can still offer athletics and activities, still at a reduced rate compared to town and club requirements for some sports, without further damaging academic programs.
The School Committee has a tough task ahead of them and I don’t envy them their decisions. We all must speak up about what we want our town and schools to look like. We all need to engage in the process with these departments because we are not out of the woods yet.
Monday, February 25, 2008
The Do-Nothing Congress or Roger Clemens' butt
Appeared in print February 20, 2008
Sometimes you have to wonder how the hell Congress spends its time and our money. Last week, Congress dispelled all mystery with a spectacular display of Congressional irresponsibility by arguing the finer points of Roger Clemens’ tush.
The hearing was a pitiful display of misplaced power, an example of a Congress run amok. Massachusetts even had a representative on the subcommittee hosting the hearing, Rep. Stephen Lynch. He spent his five minutes talking exclusively about Clemens’s buttocks. In particular, an abscess Clemens allegedly developed after McNamee improperly injected a steroid intramuscularly. I have to wonder how much time the honorable Representative spent on that stirring line of questioning.
On and on about Roger Clemens’ butt. Wednesday’s Congressional circus/witch hunt was more for congressional representatives to showboat than about trying to determine who was lying: Clemens, with his bleeding caboose and lack of memory, or McNamee with his changing memory and slimy ways.
At the end of the day, McNamee turned out to be a dweeb, made something by the caliber of men he served rather than honoring the tradition of his former career as a police officer. He was a pusher, a supplier, a purveyor of drugs that gave his clients the all-important edge, at the cost of his soul or at least his mail order Ph.D.
Clemens, for his portion of the dog and pony show, looked like a moron. He, and anyone who did not advise him to avoid a Congressional hearing at all costs, did a great disservice by appearing on Capitol Hill. He looked like a doof, saying McNamee and his good friend Andy Pettitte, “misremembered” their conversations. His dear friends “misheard” his comments during the period in question. In fact, Clemens’ really brought back a sort of Clintonian nausea stopping short of defining the meaning of ‘is.’
And then there is Arlen Specter, the senior senator from Pennsylvania, making a mad grab for power by trying to bring down the almighty Patriots. He wants to investigate the NFL investigation into the Patriots taping scandal.
Congress needs to solve real problems instead of going after these made-up ones. We are at war, the economy is sinking into a recession, a presidential election looms and looky here, we’re stuck with the Do-Nothing-Congress. Wasn’t this Congress elected with a mandate to get out of the war in Iraq? Wasn’t this Congress going to finally start funding education? Aren’t we all supposed to be better off now?
Tell that to those facing foreclosure, those who lost their homes, seniors with property taxes outpacing cost of living increases in their social security, parents that fight tooth and nail to obtain an education for a disabled child. The Democrats rule the legislature, so why can’t they get anything done?
This presidential election, on the Democrat side, is all about CHANGE. Change for what, of what? Change back to the “blame other people” politics of the Clintons? Or Barack Obama, a freshman Senator, spending more time on the campaign trail than voting on the floor. I wonder how the residents of the great state of Illinois feel about their AWOL representation. According to CNN, Obama has made less than a quarter of Senate votes. How can you change anything if you do not vote?
And therein lays the rub. Obama may not be voting, but voters are turning out in record numbers. In Tewksbury and Wilmington nearly 50 percent of voters showed up for the primary election, an enormously impressive number, particularly in light of recent years.
Anyone that has followed this column for the last couple of years knows how I loathe the apathetic voter. The demands on our time in this hectic world pull our collective attention away from the spending practices of school departments, the financial position of the town, and crumbling infrastructure. We are all content to leave it up to Superintendents, Assessors, Selectmen, and so on to watch over the business that so intricately affects our children, wallets, and property values, so we can practice our baser voyeurism following the Britneys, the Lindsays, and the other train wrecks of America’s youth. Or Roger Clemens’ bloody derriere.
We need to demand some accountability. Let us start with our Federal delegation. Other than the recently elected Representative Tsongas, who just visited the district two weeks ago in her Congress on your Corner program, I think some of these folks could stand to hear from you. Below find the district phone numbers for our elected officials. Give them a jingle and tell their staff what you really think. They pay attention, especially if enough people hold their feet to the fire.
Senator Edward Kennedy: (617) 565-3170;
Senator John Kerry: (617) 565-8519
Representative John Tierney: (978) 469-1942
Representative Niki Tsongas: (978) 459-0101
The White House Comment Line: (202)-456-1111
Sometimes you have to wonder how the hell Congress spends its time and our money. Last week, Congress dispelled all mystery with a spectacular display of Congressional irresponsibility by arguing the finer points of Roger Clemens’ tush.
The hearing was a pitiful display of misplaced power, an example of a Congress run amok. Massachusetts even had a representative on the subcommittee hosting the hearing, Rep. Stephen Lynch. He spent his five minutes talking exclusively about Clemens’s buttocks. In particular, an abscess Clemens allegedly developed after McNamee improperly injected a steroid intramuscularly. I have to wonder how much time the honorable Representative spent on that stirring line of questioning.
On and on about Roger Clemens’ butt. Wednesday’s Congressional circus/witch hunt was more for congressional representatives to showboat than about trying to determine who was lying: Clemens, with his bleeding caboose and lack of memory, or McNamee with his changing memory and slimy ways.
At the end of the day, McNamee turned out to be a dweeb, made something by the caliber of men he served rather than honoring the tradition of his former career as a police officer. He was a pusher, a supplier, a purveyor of drugs that gave his clients the all-important edge, at the cost of his soul or at least his mail order Ph.D.
Clemens, for his portion of the dog and pony show, looked like a moron. He, and anyone who did not advise him to avoid a Congressional hearing at all costs, did a great disservice by appearing on Capitol Hill. He looked like a doof, saying McNamee and his good friend Andy Pettitte, “misremembered” their conversations. His dear friends “misheard” his comments during the period in question. In fact, Clemens’ really brought back a sort of Clintonian nausea stopping short of defining the meaning of ‘is.’
And then there is Arlen Specter, the senior senator from Pennsylvania, making a mad grab for power by trying to bring down the almighty Patriots. He wants to investigate the NFL investigation into the Patriots taping scandal.
Congress needs to solve real problems instead of going after these made-up ones. We are at war, the economy is sinking into a recession, a presidential election looms and looky here, we’re stuck with the Do-Nothing-Congress. Wasn’t this Congress elected with a mandate to get out of the war in Iraq? Wasn’t this Congress going to finally start funding education? Aren’t we all supposed to be better off now?
Tell that to those facing foreclosure, those who lost their homes, seniors with property taxes outpacing cost of living increases in their social security, parents that fight tooth and nail to obtain an education for a disabled child. The Democrats rule the legislature, so why can’t they get anything done?
This presidential election, on the Democrat side, is all about CHANGE. Change for what, of what? Change back to the “blame other people” politics of the Clintons? Or Barack Obama, a freshman Senator, spending more time on the campaign trail than voting on the floor. I wonder how the residents of the great state of Illinois feel about their AWOL representation. According to CNN, Obama has made less than a quarter of Senate votes. How can you change anything if you do not vote?
And therein lays the rub. Obama may not be voting, but voters are turning out in record numbers. In Tewksbury and Wilmington nearly 50 percent of voters showed up for the primary election, an enormously impressive number, particularly in light of recent years.
Anyone that has followed this column for the last couple of years knows how I loathe the apathetic voter. The demands on our time in this hectic world pull our collective attention away from the spending practices of school departments, the financial position of the town, and crumbling infrastructure. We are all content to leave it up to Superintendents, Assessors, Selectmen, and so on to watch over the business that so intricately affects our children, wallets, and property values, so we can practice our baser voyeurism following the Britneys, the Lindsays, and the other train wrecks of America’s youth. Or Roger Clemens’ bloody derriere.
We need to demand some accountability. Let us start with our Federal delegation. Other than the recently elected Representative Tsongas, who just visited the district two weeks ago in her Congress on your Corner program, I think some of these folks could stand to hear from you. Below find the district phone numbers for our elected officials. Give them a jingle and tell their staff what you really think. They pay attention, especially if enough people hold their feet to the fire.
Senator Edward Kennedy: (617) 565-3170;
Senator John Kerry: (617) 565-8519
Representative John Tierney: (978) 469-1942
Representative Niki Tsongas: (978) 459-0101
The White House Comment Line: (202)-456-1111
Sunday, December 23, 2007
How to Hunt Trees or A Guide for the New England Parent Bent on Self-Immolation.
Appeared in print December 2007.
Round about this time of year every Tom, Dick and Harry are peddling Christmas trees, many imported from the evil north, I mean, Canada. There are tree lots all over town and in many garden centers. Churches, scouts, and other youth organizations hope to capitalize on the general insanity that blows stronger than the jet stream in these parts every December.
As parents, or just fans of all things Christmas, it is incumbent upon us to find the perfect tree to adorn with what I like to call, ‘ornamentia.’ Ornamentia includes the usual complement of glittery balls, doo-dads celebrating all the firsts (baby’s first Christmas, first Christmas in our new home, first Christmas without a mortgage payment, first Christmas on solid food, etc), and ribbons, garland, and various pre-school bean and lace treasures picked up along the way.
In my house we bore the kids silly reminiscing on every darn ornament we pull out. My aunts gave us all the ornamentia we needed to decorate our first Christmas tree as a married couple. I think we still have every single ornament too. Of course, our collection has grown to an obscene size and I’m fairly certain I’ve got enough to decorate twelve trees. Each ornament has a memory attached. When I’m very old and quite demented probably my only lucid moments will come when my kids drag out these ornaments. In other words, ornamentia leads to dementia.
Nevertheless, this is a guide so first things first.
The absolute first thing one must do before embarking on a tree-hunting journey, whether to a home improvement store or 30 degree woods armed with a saw and some rope, is sit down with the spouse/children/dog and decide: Real Tree or Plastic Fake.
If you have in your household an allergy sufferer, well then, ok, Plastic Fake tree makes a certain amount of sense. However, to balance your plastic-yness, you must nicely adorn a real tree planted in the yard somewhere. It’s a moral imperative, so get on it.
On the other hand, if your family chooses a real tree you are in for a treat, or a special kind of torture. Really, it could go either way.
The second thing to do is decide where in your house the tree shall go. You must decide this BEFORE buying the tree; otherwise, you’ll end up in the garage with a circular saw, a hacked up tree trunk, and quite possibly bleeding profusely in a desperate attempt to cut down the MUCH TOO LARGE tree you picked out. But, we’re getting ahead our ourselves.
In our house, deciding where the tree should go generally involves moving all the furniture in the living room to accommodate the greatest amount of festive holiday visitors without sacrificing space or tables to put drinks on. The night before we go tree shopping the family is up late, digging under couches, reattaching wires to the entertainment center, and generally causing my husband great consternation. Then we bring up the boxes of ornamentia, stockings, and a veritable plethora of Christmas decorating crap.
Next morning, the family must tackle the third item on the list: Searching out the venue. This is a very important step. We used to be tree lot people, and tree lots serve a critical niche in the tree-buying world. We always found a nice, full tree of reasonable height and girth. It was wrapped, plopped on the car and away we went. Still, it required minutes of consideration and a good look at all the options before we go back to our first choice.
However, a certain member of our family likes the tree up for his birthday, which, being just a few days after Epiphany, isn’t so unreasonable. Unfortunately, tree lot trees just won’t last that long. They die well before January 6 and the weight of the ornaments distorts the poor thing so badly it resembles a turkey neck. It’s not good.
A few years back we decided to find a tree farm and go cut a fresh one. These trees tend to last longer for us and require less botox to maintain their youthful good looks. We put on warm coats, gloves, hats, scarves and boots and load our ropes and blankets into the car and drive the most direct route to the tree farm that passes a drive-through coffee shop where we can buy hot chocolate. We sip our too hot cocoa and listen to Dominic the Italian Christmas Donkey or anything by Ella Fitzgerald during the drive.
Once at the tree farm you must learn the rules of the place. Ask the attendant and if he tells you something you don’t like, slip him a hefty tip. He’s stuck out there in the freezing weather handing out saws to idiots like me, so chances are he’ll be likely to help you later on in this saga if you need it.
This year, we went to one of the distant fields of this farm for our tree. We like a sturdy Frasier Fir and we found them. We walked up and down row after row. Each exclaiming he’d found THE TREE before discovering brown needles, a embarrassing bare spot on one side, or too short. We did this for an hour, maybe more, as my watch froze. Finally, we decided on a short, round number, which was actually the third tree we looked at 45 minutes earlier. Never mind the frostbite dear.
My husband gets down to cut the trunk with a handsaw (no chainsaws here for we hardy New Englanders), which takes all of seven minutes plus swearing.
We drag the poor tree through the lot, back to the car, and over the hill and through the woods, and well you get the point. Back at the house, we’re now in a mad dash to get the tree into some water and a bucket outside does the trick. If you wait too long to get the trunk in water after its cut, you’ll have to cut it again which sort of defeats the purpose.
After we get it inside, and fair warning, don’t freshen the paint around your door jambs until after Christmas, my husband manages the lights. This is perhaps the most important job he does all year long and he takes it very seriously. He begins by wrapping the trunk in lights and then proceeds to add many hundreds of lights to the tree. While he’s wrestling with mini-lights I prepare festive snacks for our tree trimming delight and the children chase the dog with the antler headband. Once done we put an obnoxious train under the tree. It looks good, feels traditional in the right sorts of ways, and is incredibly loud; a useful feature when someone keeps you talking on the phone too long.
Ah, the special torture of finding and decorating the Christmas tree. I used to detest the job as a kid, but now, I’m rather fond of the custom. May your Christmas be delightful, rich in joy, and as peaceful as you can get without having to administer medication.
Round about this time of year every Tom, Dick and Harry are peddling Christmas trees, many imported from the evil north, I mean, Canada. There are tree lots all over town and in many garden centers. Churches, scouts, and other youth organizations hope to capitalize on the general insanity that blows stronger than the jet stream in these parts every December.
As parents, or just fans of all things Christmas, it is incumbent upon us to find the perfect tree to adorn with what I like to call, ‘ornamentia.’ Ornamentia includes the usual complement of glittery balls, doo-dads celebrating all the firsts (baby’s first Christmas, first Christmas in our new home, first Christmas without a mortgage payment, first Christmas on solid food, etc), and ribbons, garland, and various pre-school bean and lace treasures picked up along the way.
In my house we bore the kids silly reminiscing on every darn ornament we pull out. My aunts gave us all the ornamentia we needed to decorate our first Christmas tree as a married couple. I think we still have every single ornament too. Of course, our collection has grown to an obscene size and I’m fairly certain I’ve got enough to decorate twelve trees. Each ornament has a memory attached. When I’m very old and quite demented probably my only lucid moments will come when my kids drag out these ornaments. In other words, ornamentia leads to dementia.
Nevertheless, this is a guide so first things first.
The absolute first thing one must do before embarking on a tree-hunting journey, whether to a home improvement store or 30 degree woods armed with a saw and some rope, is sit down with the spouse/children/dog and decide: Real Tree or Plastic Fake.
If you have in your household an allergy sufferer, well then, ok, Plastic Fake tree makes a certain amount of sense. However, to balance your plastic-yness, you must nicely adorn a real tree planted in the yard somewhere. It’s a moral imperative, so get on it.
On the other hand, if your family chooses a real tree you are in for a treat, or a special kind of torture. Really, it could go either way.
The second thing to do is decide where in your house the tree shall go. You must decide this BEFORE buying the tree; otherwise, you’ll end up in the garage with a circular saw, a hacked up tree trunk, and quite possibly bleeding profusely in a desperate attempt to cut down the MUCH TOO LARGE tree you picked out. But, we’re getting ahead our ourselves.
In our house, deciding where the tree should go generally involves moving all the furniture in the living room to accommodate the greatest amount of festive holiday visitors without sacrificing space or tables to put drinks on. The night before we go tree shopping the family is up late, digging under couches, reattaching wires to the entertainment center, and generally causing my husband great consternation. Then we bring up the boxes of ornamentia, stockings, and a veritable plethora of Christmas decorating crap.
Next morning, the family must tackle the third item on the list: Searching out the venue. This is a very important step. We used to be tree lot people, and tree lots serve a critical niche in the tree-buying world. We always found a nice, full tree of reasonable height and girth. It was wrapped, plopped on the car and away we went. Still, it required minutes of consideration and a good look at all the options before we go back to our first choice.
However, a certain member of our family likes the tree up for his birthday, which, being just a few days after Epiphany, isn’t so unreasonable. Unfortunately, tree lot trees just won’t last that long. They die well before January 6 and the weight of the ornaments distorts the poor thing so badly it resembles a turkey neck. It’s not good.
A few years back we decided to find a tree farm and go cut a fresh one. These trees tend to last longer for us and require less botox to maintain their youthful good looks. We put on warm coats, gloves, hats, scarves and boots and load our ropes and blankets into the car and drive the most direct route to the tree farm that passes a drive-through coffee shop where we can buy hot chocolate. We sip our too hot cocoa and listen to Dominic the Italian Christmas Donkey or anything by Ella Fitzgerald during the drive.
Once at the tree farm you must learn the rules of the place. Ask the attendant and if he tells you something you don’t like, slip him a hefty tip. He’s stuck out there in the freezing weather handing out saws to idiots like me, so chances are he’ll be likely to help you later on in this saga if you need it.
This year, we went to one of the distant fields of this farm for our tree. We like a sturdy Frasier Fir and we found them. We walked up and down row after row. Each exclaiming he’d found THE TREE before discovering brown needles, a embarrassing bare spot on one side, or too short. We did this for an hour, maybe more, as my watch froze. Finally, we decided on a short, round number, which was actually the third tree we looked at 45 minutes earlier. Never mind the frostbite dear.
My husband gets down to cut the trunk with a handsaw (no chainsaws here for we hardy New Englanders), which takes all of seven minutes plus swearing.
We drag the poor tree through the lot, back to the car, and over the hill and through the woods, and well you get the point. Back at the house, we’re now in a mad dash to get the tree into some water and a bucket outside does the trick. If you wait too long to get the trunk in water after its cut, you’ll have to cut it again which sort of defeats the purpose.
After we get it inside, and fair warning, don’t freshen the paint around your door jambs until after Christmas, my husband manages the lights. This is perhaps the most important job he does all year long and he takes it very seriously. He begins by wrapping the trunk in lights and then proceeds to add many hundreds of lights to the tree. While he’s wrestling with mini-lights I prepare festive snacks for our tree trimming delight and the children chase the dog with the antler headband. Once done we put an obnoxious train under the tree. It looks good, feels traditional in the right sorts of ways, and is incredibly loud; a useful feature when someone keeps you talking on the phone too long.
Ah, the special torture of finding and decorating the Christmas tree. I used to detest the job as a kid, but now, I’m rather fond of the custom. May your Christmas be delightful, rich in joy, and as peaceful as you can get without having to administer medication.
Pull My Finger Santa
We have a Pull-My-Finger Santa. I don’t know exactly who purchased this charming treat of Christmas Cheer, though I’m sure someone had a few too many eggnogs when designing Jolly Old St. Flatulence. It may have been a Yankee Swap gift that went horribly wrong. All I know is, I have not changed the battery in three years and remarkably, that Duracell is going STRONG. My kids pull that finger four-hundred times a day from now to Christmas.
We’ve tried losing this Santa, but he keeps turning up. Last year it was my daughter’s turn to squirrel him away under her bed, in a dark corner with discarded toys probably covered in lead paint from China. She found him again, triumphantly mind you, two days ago.
There is something sacrilegious about maligning Santa’s image with a Fart-o-Claus, but at least he is amusing. What are not amusing are recent news reports attacking Christmas once again. Shopping Mall Santa’s in Australia can no longer say “Ho Ho Ho” because it might offend women?!
I’m offended someone would even think so.
Once we enter the world of extreme political correctness, Orwellian Thinkspeak takes over our lives. Well, maybe not our lives, but certainly the brains of some otherwise fine folk. Take for instance the recent cancellation of a Winchester seventh grade field trip to see Miracle on 34th Street because some parents complained about the nature of the play. In particular, Santa Claus.
Winchester fell into the rabbit hole; at least, the principal of McCall middle school did. Students and parents are disappointed because the complaints of a few turned out to affect so many. What happened to permission slips? When did field trip permission become a zero- sum game?
Heck, we haven’t even celebrated Thanksgiving yet. This brings me to another round of revisionist history: Thanksgiving as a day of mourning in America, to Native Americans. Yes, Native Americans were shoved off their land and treated horribly by settlers. But the holiday is about the results of peace and cooperation between the pilgrims and the Native Americans. Why not celebrate that, try to recapture that, not only between the cultures but also in our everyday lives. Thanksgiving is more than just a chance to slave over a hot stove for two days. It is more than turkey and cranberry sauce and football.
At low moments in our lives, finding something to be thankful for is tough work. When a spouse loses a job and a family worries about making a mortgage or rent payment or putting food on the table, it is hard to be thankful. When a loved on is terribly injured or seriously ill, the fear becomes all-consuming. When someone dies, the grief can torture us into despair.
Finding something to be thankful for in those moments is not easy. Families in our community suffer today with budget busting bills, children battling cancer and other major health issues, and older residents choosing between heat and medication.
The day-to-day mundane plod can leave me frustrated with the state of my kitchen sink, annoyed by bills, or irritated by dirt tracked across a clean floor. The doodles of a four year old on freshly painted walls, the pile of laundry that faces me daily hardly seeming to diminish. However, my worries are nothing when compared to the magnitude of another.
In a rare moment of clarity, I am thankful for my sink full of dishes, because I have a family to feed. I am thankful for the dirt on my floor, the bedoodled wall, the never-ending laundry, because they represent my children who, if I’m fortunate, will someday grow up and move somewhere close by.
As a sidebar, I am thankful for my neighbors that keep their lawns meticulous, because they encourage me to do better. I am thankful for those neighbors whose yards need some work too, because they make mine look good. Well, better.
To those who find it hard to celebrate this Thanksgiving know that there are many in our communities that care about you. I talk to them. Try to take a little time this week to count your blessings, big and small. You may be surprised at how many you can count.
I plan to use the same rationale with my family when I burn the turkey. Count the blessings of your brother, your sister, your home, your family, your dog, your cat, your unburned mashed potatoes, your apple pie…
Here’s to a happy, top-button-open-on-the-pants sort of Thanksgiving.
We’ve tried losing this Santa, but he keeps turning up. Last year it was my daughter’s turn to squirrel him away under her bed, in a dark corner with discarded toys probably covered in lead paint from China. She found him again, triumphantly mind you, two days ago.
There is something sacrilegious about maligning Santa’s image with a Fart-o-Claus, but at least he is amusing. What are not amusing are recent news reports attacking Christmas once again. Shopping Mall Santa’s in Australia can no longer say “Ho Ho Ho” because it might offend women?!
I’m offended someone would even think so.
Once we enter the world of extreme political correctness, Orwellian Thinkspeak takes over our lives. Well, maybe not our lives, but certainly the brains of some otherwise fine folk. Take for instance the recent cancellation of a Winchester seventh grade field trip to see Miracle on 34th Street because some parents complained about the nature of the play. In particular, Santa Claus.
Winchester fell into the rabbit hole; at least, the principal of McCall middle school did. Students and parents are disappointed because the complaints of a few turned out to affect so many. What happened to permission slips? When did field trip permission become a zero- sum game?
Heck, we haven’t even celebrated Thanksgiving yet. This brings me to another round of revisionist history: Thanksgiving as a day of mourning in America, to Native Americans. Yes, Native Americans were shoved off their land and treated horribly by settlers. But the holiday is about the results of peace and cooperation between the pilgrims and the Native Americans. Why not celebrate that, try to recapture that, not only between the cultures but also in our everyday lives. Thanksgiving is more than just a chance to slave over a hot stove for two days. It is more than turkey and cranberry sauce and football.
At low moments in our lives, finding something to be thankful for is tough work. When a spouse loses a job and a family worries about making a mortgage or rent payment or putting food on the table, it is hard to be thankful. When a loved on is terribly injured or seriously ill, the fear becomes all-consuming. When someone dies, the grief can torture us into despair.
Finding something to be thankful for in those moments is not easy. Families in our community suffer today with budget busting bills, children battling cancer and other major health issues, and older residents choosing between heat and medication.
The day-to-day mundane plod can leave me frustrated with the state of my kitchen sink, annoyed by bills, or irritated by dirt tracked across a clean floor. The doodles of a four year old on freshly painted walls, the pile of laundry that faces me daily hardly seeming to diminish. However, my worries are nothing when compared to the magnitude of another.
In a rare moment of clarity, I am thankful for my sink full of dishes, because I have a family to feed. I am thankful for the dirt on my floor, the bedoodled wall, the never-ending laundry, because they represent my children who, if I’m fortunate, will someday grow up and move somewhere close by.
As a sidebar, I am thankful for my neighbors that keep their lawns meticulous, because they encourage me to do better. I am thankful for those neighbors whose yards need some work too, because they make mine look good. Well, better.
To those who find it hard to celebrate this Thanksgiving know that there are many in our communities that care about you. I talk to them. Try to take a little time this week to count your blessings, big and small. You may be surprised at how many you can count.
I plan to use the same rationale with my family when I burn the turkey. Count the blessings of your brother, your sister, your home, your family, your dog, your cat, your unburned mashed potatoes, your apple pie…
Here’s to a happy, top-button-open-on-the-pants sort of Thanksgiving.
The Engineer Animal
By virtue of the kinds of stories I write for the Crier I often find myself talking to engineers. A veritable multitude of engineers. This is just fine, because I’m married to an engineer, my father-in-law is an engineer, nearly every male in that family is an engineer, and I can see the engineer mind in my son.
So, I ‘get’ engineers.
And there are two subgroups of the engineer animal.
One group takes the view that any imperfection in a design could cost people their lives. A poorly designed bridge will collapse. Imperfect applications of materials can cause concrete panels in tunnels ceilings to fall. A road built fast and loose will eventually sink, causing damage to automobiles and expensive repair. These engineers, like my husband and most of the engineers I talk to, are unique creatures. For example, it took my husband many months to build-in bookshelves, not because the project was hard but because the walls in our old house list way off center. When he was done with the shelves, however, the walls looked straight.
The desire to achieve perfection can be maddening. One engineer I know attempted to replace a simple valve in his shower and ended up ripping up the entire bath, putting up new everything and retiling. His wife may have wanted to commit seppuku, but that bath is beautiful.
Yes, these engineers fold their socks in a particular way, turn out the contents of their pockets in a meticulous fashion every day, and spend a tremendous amount of time planning any little project. If the design is not right, they reason, the execution will fail.
The second group of engineers includes the software wunderkinds of the world. They work fast and churn out product quickly, getting it to consumers sooner rather than later, then offering patches to correct problems. Their aim is less the design than the functionality. As long as it works, it does not necessarily matter how the programmer got there. And problems that appear down the road may be remedied, relatively inexpensively. Getting it right the first time, perfection, can mean missing the market, losing out to a competitor, or shortchanging customers.
Both kinds of engineers have their rightful place in the technological world today. But, when one crosses to the other side, woeful things can happen. Generally, when a design perfectionist engineer ends up at an internet start-up, the engineer leaves because he is burnt out or because the company finds him too slow. On the other hand, when the functionality oriented engineer ends up writing code for a military application, well, sometimes people die. As an engineer, it is important to know into which basket you fall.
I’ve tested my theory lately with engineers and so far, its resonating with every one, from the civil engineer that designed the new photo simulations for the Verizon Wireless cell phone towers at the South Fire Station (and my husband checked his proportions), to former DPW Director Toma Duhani, to even my father-in-law.
Likewise, remember this analogy when looking down the road at the upcoming budgeting process facing the Town of Tewksbury or even the design of the Lowell Junction Interchange. Careful planning and thoughtful design must punctuate the process for both undertakings.
Tewksbury’s budget task force, meeting often these days, will present its recommendations to the town in January. Then come the weeks of wrangling with numbers with the Board of Selectmen looking to implement efficiencies the task force recommends and the salesmanship of a probable override request, and perhaps even more fees. The only real question that remains is the bottom line figure. How much will it cost and how much can we save?
Simultaneously, the Lowell Junction Interchange collaboration moves forward. Environmental impact reports will come. Some sort of agreement between the towns on the shape of the interchange will emerge. Companies like Simon and RJ Kelly will push forward with their visions of mixed-use developments for their parcels of land. Resident must chime in here as well. Too often, a collective solipsism appears as apathy and ends up with folks missing the boat on opportunity.
Therefore, Tewksbury and Wilmington, start hitting those meetings. Listen to the developers, become part of the process, and heck, speak up about the changes you want to see. Change is on the horizon.
And to those readers in Tewksbury, begin by voting on Tuesday for Selectman. Three men have poured their time, energy, and money into this race. The decision may not be an easy one though I have tried to show their priorities and differences in the article this week. I’ve talked to them all and they are knowledgeable men in our community. I won’t make a recommendation, each voter must decide for him or herself. The most important part is showing up.
So, I ‘get’ engineers.
And there are two subgroups of the engineer animal.
One group takes the view that any imperfection in a design could cost people their lives. A poorly designed bridge will collapse. Imperfect applications of materials can cause concrete panels in tunnels ceilings to fall. A road built fast and loose will eventually sink, causing damage to automobiles and expensive repair. These engineers, like my husband and most of the engineers I talk to, are unique creatures. For example, it took my husband many months to build-in bookshelves, not because the project was hard but because the walls in our old house list way off center. When he was done with the shelves, however, the walls looked straight.
The desire to achieve perfection can be maddening. One engineer I know attempted to replace a simple valve in his shower and ended up ripping up the entire bath, putting up new everything and retiling. His wife may have wanted to commit seppuku, but that bath is beautiful.
Yes, these engineers fold their socks in a particular way, turn out the contents of their pockets in a meticulous fashion every day, and spend a tremendous amount of time planning any little project. If the design is not right, they reason, the execution will fail.
The second group of engineers includes the software wunderkinds of the world. They work fast and churn out product quickly, getting it to consumers sooner rather than later, then offering patches to correct problems. Their aim is less the design than the functionality. As long as it works, it does not necessarily matter how the programmer got there. And problems that appear down the road may be remedied, relatively inexpensively. Getting it right the first time, perfection, can mean missing the market, losing out to a competitor, or shortchanging customers.
Both kinds of engineers have their rightful place in the technological world today. But, when one crosses to the other side, woeful things can happen. Generally, when a design perfectionist engineer ends up at an internet start-up, the engineer leaves because he is burnt out or because the company finds him too slow. On the other hand, when the functionality oriented engineer ends up writing code for a military application, well, sometimes people die. As an engineer, it is important to know into which basket you fall.
I’ve tested my theory lately with engineers and so far, its resonating with every one, from the civil engineer that designed the new photo simulations for the Verizon Wireless cell phone towers at the South Fire Station (and my husband checked his proportions), to former DPW Director Toma Duhani, to even my father-in-law.
Likewise, remember this analogy when looking down the road at the upcoming budgeting process facing the Town of Tewksbury or even the design of the Lowell Junction Interchange. Careful planning and thoughtful design must punctuate the process for both undertakings.
Tewksbury’s budget task force, meeting often these days, will present its recommendations to the town in January. Then come the weeks of wrangling with numbers with the Board of Selectmen looking to implement efficiencies the task force recommends and the salesmanship of a probable override request, and perhaps even more fees. The only real question that remains is the bottom line figure. How much will it cost and how much can we save?
Simultaneously, the Lowell Junction Interchange collaboration moves forward. Environmental impact reports will come. Some sort of agreement between the towns on the shape of the interchange will emerge. Companies like Simon and RJ Kelly will push forward with their visions of mixed-use developments for their parcels of land. Resident must chime in here as well. Too often, a collective solipsism appears as apathy and ends up with folks missing the boat on opportunity.
Therefore, Tewksbury and Wilmington, start hitting those meetings. Listen to the developers, become part of the process, and heck, speak up about the changes you want to see. Change is on the horizon.
And to those readers in Tewksbury, begin by voting on Tuesday for Selectman. Three men have poured their time, energy, and money into this race. The decision may not be an easy one though I have tried to show their priorities and differences in the article this week. I’ve talked to them all and they are knowledgeable men in our community. I won’t make a recommendation, each voter must decide for him or herself. The most important part is showing up.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
International Talk Like A Pirate Day!
This Column first appeared in print September 19, 2007.
By Iron Jenny Rackham
With the beginning of autumn, we all start looking toward the familial bliss of upcoming holidays. Children scattered through the neighborhood dressed like freaks and begging for candy to rot their teeth. Or the homey image of a family Thanksgiving where your sister’s kids are writing on your freshly painted walls and your father-in-law is sitting with his pants unzipped, yelling obscenities at the football game. And, could there be any more heartwarming an image than six women related only by marriage trying to feed an army of men and children Christmas dinner before the present opening highs wear off?
This is why God gave us liquor stores.
Therefore, in deference to the fear and loathing that may be coming over you just now along with hives, I submit that there is a new holiday just waiting for your attention, and yes, devotion. Hallmark has yet to get its ferocious claws into this holiday and I’ve only seen it celebrated at the local library, though I knew about it before that. That’s right, you guessed it.
September 19th is International Talk like a Pirate Day!
Avast me Hearties and ahoy! The time has come to let down ye hair, drink rum, search for gleaming booty, walk with a swagger and quote pirate movies all day. ARRGGH!
To celebrate properly, one must first devise an appropriate pirate name. There are myriad pirate name generators on the Web. I am not making this up. Just do a Google search and pick one you like. I prefer the sort that is a bit of a personality test and generates a mishmash of a name derived from real pirates. Who doesn’t want to be a scurvy hound for one day?
As you can see in the byline, I am Iron Jenny Rackham, which is ludicrously accurate in a violent and Maggie Thatcher sort of way.
Next, preview your pirate holiday with a viewing of some sort of Pirate movie. Princess Bride, with the Dread Pirate Roberts, or any of the Pirates of the Caribbean will do the trick.
Next, lay out your pirate outfit for the next day. There are several ways to go. The simple yet chic look Cary Elwes sported in Princess Bride, all sleek black and with a blindfold.
Alternatively, one might try more a velvet coat, puffy sleeved, dandy sort such as Captain Hook of Disney animated fame. Of course, there is always Smee for a fashion mentor.
I hear Johnny Depp channeled Keith Richards for his interpretation of Captain Jack Sparrow; keep that in mind before you get behind the wheel though.
No pirate holiday is complete without a large, carnivorous, rum centered meal. It is a holiday, so one should feast as if your ship just attacked a British Man-O-War and landed enough Gold to feed the crew for a year. The alternative turns toward weevil infested hardtack, and that is no fun for anyone.
Tewksbury Public Library is offering pirate stories and crafts for kids on the 19th, which I highly recommend, for kids. For adults, remember to watch out for scallywags ready to ruin a perfectly good, non-commercialized holiday. Celebrate it now and keep it close to your heart as the rest of the season’s holidays come ever closer. Remember, that pirate costume could even be recycled into a Santa suit for someone special, haul that puppy out on Christmas day and see what comes of it.
Yo Ho Ho!
By Iron Jenny Rackham
With the beginning of autumn, we all start looking toward the familial bliss of upcoming holidays. Children scattered through the neighborhood dressed like freaks and begging for candy to rot their teeth. Or the homey image of a family Thanksgiving where your sister’s kids are writing on your freshly painted walls and your father-in-law is sitting with his pants unzipped, yelling obscenities at the football game. And, could there be any more heartwarming an image than six women related only by marriage trying to feed an army of men and children Christmas dinner before the present opening highs wear off?
This is why God gave us liquor stores.
Therefore, in deference to the fear and loathing that may be coming over you just now along with hives, I submit that there is a new holiday just waiting for your attention, and yes, devotion. Hallmark has yet to get its ferocious claws into this holiday and I’ve only seen it celebrated at the local library, though I knew about it before that. That’s right, you guessed it.
September 19th is International Talk like a Pirate Day!
Avast me Hearties and ahoy! The time has come to let down ye hair, drink rum, search for gleaming booty, walk with a swagger and quote pirate movies all day. ARRGGH!
To celebrate properly, one must first devise an appropriate pirate name. There are myriad pirate name generators on the Web. I am not making this up. Just do a Google search and pick one you like. I prefer the sort that is a bit of a personality test and generates a mishmash of a name derived from real pirates. Who doesn’t want to be a scurvy hound for one day?
As you can see in the byline, I am Iron Jenny Rackham, which is ludicrously accurate in a violent and Maggie Thatcher sort of way.
Next, preview your pirate holiday with a viewing of some sort of Pirate movie. Princess Bride, with the Dread Pirate Roberts, or any of the Pirates of the Caribbean will do the trick.
Next, lay out your pirate outfit for the next day. There are several ways to go. The simple yet chic look Cary Elwes sported in Princess Bride, all sleek black and with a blindfold.
Alternatively, one might try more a velvet coat, puffy sleeved, dandy sort such as Captain Hook of Disney animated fame. Of course, there is always Smee for a fashion mentor.
I hear Johnny Depp channeled Keith Richards for his interpretation of Captain Jack Sparrow; keep that in mind before you get behind the wheel though.
No pirate holiday is complete without a large, carnivorous, rum centered meal. It is a holiday, so one should feast as if your ship just attacked a British Man-O-War and landed enough Gold to feed the crew for a year. The alternative turns toward weevil infested hardtack, and that is no fun for anyone.
Tewksbury Public Library is offering pirate stories and crafts for kids on the 19th, which I highly recommend, for kids. For adults, remember to watch out for scallywags ready to ruin a perfectly good, non-commercialized holiday. Celebrate it now and keep it close to your heart as the rest of the season’s holidays come ever closer. Remember, that pirate costume could even be recycled into a Santa suit for someone special, haul that puppy out on Christmas day and see what comes of it.
Yo Ho Ho!
Monday, September 10, 2007
Dead Trees, Puppy Killers, and Freshly Sharpened Pencils
This Column appeared in print on August 29, 2007.
This week I had something particularly brilliant to say about a dead tree in my front yard, some sort of metaphor about weeding out a garden that I cannot seem to reconstruct.
Then I thought I’d write about NFL Quarterback and general low-life Michael Vick, who seemed more afraid of losing his job than the apparent loss of his soul. Except, oh Goody, Vick found Jesus just in the nick of time for his widely televised and totally insincere apology for his “immature acts.” An immature act is giving your best bud a “cosmic wedgie,” man, not torturing and killing animals. For those who think that after he “serves his time” Vick should be allowed to play football and not be deprived of his livelihood, I submit that Vick is not going to be deprived of making a living, just not through the NFL. And if the NFL hires him back, then that organization is the bigger fool by far.
Then I went to “Back to School” night and you know, the Crier is published on the first day of school.
The summer fairly flew for my family and no, this is not an essay on what our family did this summer, but rather a call for all things great about fall and school and darn it, pencils.
I remember with nostalgia the night-before-school jitters. Packing and unpacking my school bag. Picking out my outfit, which was always too warm because the first day of school is usually hot and I wanted to wear my new “school clothes.” I am convinced that the first day of school is hot just to torture the kids into thinking of swimming and the teachers into thinking of the beach.
I liked to gather my new pencils together and sharpen them in preparation for the big day. I wanted a healthy supply ready when the work began. When my mother brought home an electric pencil sharpener it was better than Atari 2600. I would ratchet through a pack of Ticonderogas in twenty minutes, savoring the sweet smell of shaved cedar and the throaty hum of that sharpener.
So I bought my kids one of these sharpeners, now with batteries. It doesn’t have quite the same purr sort of like the difference between a 1963 Corvette and a 1980 Honda Civic. Still and all, the fascination is there. The kids whip through a pack of double A’s in no time and I’m stuck going back to Staples to stock up on more pencils. Hmmm.
When I met my husband he was a mechanical pencil devotee. This was partly due to the fact that as an engineering student, he spent hours and hours doing homework in pencil. It was also due in part to his penchant for writing left handed, which caused pens to smear and make an awful mess. In my desk to this day I have mechanical pencil refills from our college days. I’m not sure he knows.
As much as I loved school I really hated riding the bus. In elementary school my town saved money by cutting bus routes. We kids sat THREE to a seat, in assigned seats, forced by our fascist driver. SO there I was, a little third grader squashed between two fifth graders, when the kid in the middle seat behind me thought it would be funny to reach under my seat and wrench my shoes off.
Every day for what seemed like months but was probably more like two weeks, this girl would wrestle off my shoes while the bus driver screamed at the kids and I kicked at her futilely. I’d have to fight not to get caught up in the swell getting off the bus in order to stay behind and figure out where she stashed them. More than once I got off the bus and walked through snow barefoot to the office before the matter was finally settled. And who did it? My parents? The Principal? Nope, it was another, older girl who rode my bus. She overheard me talking to the principal and offered to “make it go away.” And I didn’t even have to pay her.
The next year I got a new bus driver, because my parents decided it was time for Catholic School (we weren’t Catholic, but my parents knew a good thing when they saw it). That driver used to ask me if I thought my mom would like to date him. Are you kidding, buddy? I didn’t know if I ought to be happy for my mother or horrified. He didn’t last, but he also didn’t assign seats.
So, gentle reader, if you have a child that saw the inside of a classroom today and is still excited about going again tomorrow, bravo. When I taught Chemistry to third graders as part of a program in high school I always marveled at the unbridled enthusiasm for learning… hands raised, interest etched on little faces, and lots of questions. As we get older that enthusiasm loses out to wit, sarcasm, disinterest and disregard. I wanted to know, talking to older kids, where did all the questions go? As students of life, and payers of taxes, questions become the name of game. Once we stop asking questions, as a society, our apathy becomes a vacuum filled by problems and we can hardly find our way out.
So, tie your kids’ shoes tightly lest they lose them, sharpen the pencils, watch the weather report before picking out your outfit, and keep asking questions. Sometimes its amazing what you can learn.
This week I had something particularly brilliant to say about a dead tree in my front yard, some sort of metaphor about weeding out a garden that I cannot seem to reconstruct.
Then I thought I’d write about NFL Quarterback and general low-life Michael Vick, who seemed more afraid of losing his job than the apparent loss of his soul. Except, oh Goody, Vick found Jesus just in the nick of time for his widely televised and totally insincere apology for his “immature acts.” An immature act is giving your best bud a “cosmic wedgie,” man, not torturing and killing animals. For those who think that after he “serves his time” Vick should be allowed to play football and not be deprived of his livelihood, I submit that Vick is not going to be deprived of making a living, just not through the NFL. And if the NFL hires him back, then that organization is the bigger fool by far.
Then I went to “Back to School” night and you know, the Crier is published on the first day of school.
The summer fairly flew for my family and no, this is not an essay on what our family did this summer, but rather a call for all things great about fall and school and darn it, pencils.
I remember with nostalgia the night-before-school jitters. Packing and unpacking my school bag. Picking out my outfit, which was always too warm because the first day of school is usually hot and I wanted to wear my new “school clothes.” I am convinced that the first day of school is hot just to torture the kids into thinking of swimming and the teachers into thinking of the beach.
I liked to gather my new pencils together and sharpen them in preparation for the big day. I wanted a healthy supply ready when the work began. When my mother brought home an electric pencil sharpener it was better than Atari 2600. I would ratchet through a pack of Ticonderogas in twenty minutes, savoring the sweet smell of shaved cedar and the throaty hum of that sharpener.
So I bought my kids one of these sharpeners, now with batteries. It doesn’t have quite the same purr sort of like the difference between a 1963 Corvette and a 1980 Honda Civic. Still and all, the fascination is there. The kids whip through a pack of double A’s in no time and I’m stuck going back to Staples to stock up on more pencils. Hmmm.
When I met my husband he was a mechanical pencil devotee. This was partly due to the fact that as an engineering student, he spent hours and hours doing homework in pencil. It was also due in part to his penchant for writing left handed, which caused pens to smear and make an awful mess. In my desk to this day I have mechanical pencil refills from our college days. I’m not sure he knows.
As much as I loved school I really hated riding the bus. In elementary school my town saved money by cutting bus routes. We kids sat THREE to a seat, in assigned seats, forced by our fascist driver. SO there I was, a little third grader squashed between two fifth graders, when the kid in the middle seat behind me thought it would be funny to reach under my seat and wrench my shoes off.
Every day for what seemed like months but was probably more like two weeks, this girl would wrestle off my shoes while the bus driver screamed at the kids and I kicked at her futilely. I’d have to fight not to get caught up in the swell getting off the bus in order to stay behind and figure out where she stashed them. More than once I got off the bus and walked through snow barefoot to the office before the matter was finally settled. And who did it? My parents? The Principal? Nope, it was another, older girl who rode my bus. She overheard me talking to the principal and offered to “make it go away.” And I didn’t even have to pay her.
The next year I got a new bus driver, because my parents decided it was time for Catholic School (we weren’t Catholic, but my parents knew a good thing when they saw it). That driver used to ask me if I thought my mom would like to date him. Are you kidding, buddy? I didn’t know if I ought to be happy for my mother or horrified. He didn’t last, but he also didn’t assign seats.
So, gentle reader, if you have a child that saw the inside of a classroom today and is still excited about going again tomorrow, bravo. When I taught Chemistry to third graders as part of a program in high school I always marveled at the unbridled enthusiasm for learning… hands raised, interest etched on little faces, and lots of questions. As we get older that enthusiasm loses out to wit, sarcasm, disinterest and disregard. I wanted to know, talking to older kids, where did all the questions go? As students of life, and payers of taxes, questions become the name of game. Once we stop asking questions, as a society, our apathy becomes a vacuum filled by problems and we can hardly find our way out.
So, tie your kids’ shoes tightly lest they lose them, sharpen the pencils, watch the weather report before picking out your outfit, and keep asking questions. Sometimes its amazing what you can learn.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
The Deval Patrick Memorial Trash Fee
This column first appeared in print July 26, 2007
I have a new alarm clock. A very thoughtful and conscientious Hairy Woodpecker drums loudly on the fascia board outside my bedroom every morning at 4:23. I have yet to work out a thorough threat response plan but being up so early in the morning, I have more time to think about Governor Patrick’s veto of Tewksbury’s Home Rule Petition. Yes, I actually wake up with the budget on my mind; it’s about as annoying as a woodpecker.
In Patrick’s veto message, he cited his pending Municipal Partnership Act as a way that communities struggling with structural deficits may overcome galloping costs; his threat response plan, if you will. When I wrote an article on the veto last week, I asked Patrick’s staff if he was actually just trying to push through his legislation. His staff said no.
Patrick’s administration refused the home rule petition because it does not want other towns to pursue teacher salary deferrals. Dubbing salary deferrals bad fiscal policy, the Patrick administration believes fees are the wave of the future for municipal revenue generation. Tewksbury’s new Duval Patrick Memorial Trash Fee (thanks Jerry) represents a “long term” solution, according to the Governor. Fees are just another way to sock it to townspeople without allowing residents to deduct the fees from income taxes.
The salary deferral may have been less-than-desirable fiscal policy, but Tewksbury voters and town officials agreed upon it. The deferral would not have cost the state any money nor would it have deprived teachers of their pay. More importantly, it would have bought the town another year to find the solutions needed.
Of the $26.8 billion budget, the governor vetoed a puny 0.2 percent of it, or $41.4 million. No, Patrick was not terribly interested in cutting the budget and ultimately taxes for Massachusetts residents. He just wants to look like he cut the budget. The legislature plans an override of his vetoes, and at the end of the day, his cuts will remain irrelevant. Indeed, Tewksbury may yet get its salary deferral if Representative Miceli can pull an override rabbit out of his hat.
So what is Deval’s plan? He does plan to close “corporate tax loopholes,” which will bring more revenue to the state. The Municipal Partnership Act may also send revenue back to the state for “redistribution,” which is another way of saying “socialism.” With programs like paid volunteerism, I am not entirely sure we can trust him to spend the money on issues important to Tewksbury, like education.
Patrick’s Municipal Partnership Act would allow towns to raise meal and hotel taxes. For Tewksbury, that is a mixed blessing. We have several hotels largely used by business travelers, and therefore not paid mostly by town residents. However, a meals tax would burden local restaurants and residents would pick up the tab. The meals tax, for Tewksbury, amounts to just another tax increase except residents cannot deduct it on their state income taxes. Thereby Patrick “gives” towns another revenue generator while keeping state revenues rolling in. Who pays? You and me.
There’s a better way. Towns need help attracting businesses and encouraging businesses. The state needs to help towns grow. Patrick is investing in biotech and Tewksbury ought to jump on that bandwagon. This town hosts several major corporations. Everyone knows that Market Basket headquarters in Tewksbury. So is Raytheon’s Integrated Defense Systems, which generated $4.2 billion in 2006 and employs more than 13,500. Across the street from Raytheon is Avid’s headquarters. Avid’s technology, digital media creation tools used in film, video, audio, games and broadcasts, has won two Emmy’s, a Grammy, and two Oscars. In 2006 Avid earned more than $900 million in revenue.
Other major companies headquartered in Tewksbury include IP telephony company BlueNote Networks, online content, application and transaction provider Mirror Image Internet, CPA firm Moody, Famiglietti & Andronico which was recently named one of the 50 Best Small and Medium Companies to Work for in America, and another new technology company, Starent Networks, which IPO’d in June.
Retail space languishes along Main Street while high technology companies flourish in the office parks. Tewksbury needs to court high tech companies, bring in entrepreneurs and encourage them to develop here, pay their property taxes here, and attract smart employees that want to settle their families here. Corporations and their office headquarters require less drag on town services than retail businesses or malls.
As a community, Tewksbury has much to offer industry and individuals. With the new Lodge at Ames Pond development, attractive apartments will be ready for young engineers, scientists, and technology professionals. Families enjoy fantastic community sports programs, great schools with excellent teachers, and compared to most towns around here, very few fees. We have a new library, police station, and fire station.
Yes, there is work to do in Tewksbury, but it takes time. Too much emphasis and hope was placed on building a mall that has not, and may never, come through. I called Simon Malls last week and the company is still reviewing acquisitions from Mills, reluctant to breathe a word about possible development in town.
Tewksbury needs time to bring in high technology. The Avids and Starents and Raytheons are jewels in Tewksbury’s crown and important references for other companies shopping for a new spot to settle down.
We need time to turn the ship around. As a town, we need to ante up our share which likely means a trash fee this year and possibly a Proposition 2 ½ override next. Tewksbury needs to roll out the red carpet, welcome high technology companies, and make them partners in our community. Raytheon is already there with many donations to and volunteer opportunities (unpaid, I might add) in our schools. But while we work on that side of growth, we must maintain our services. In fact, we really need to grow those as well after years of budget cuts.
The Financial Plan Task Force is meeting August 6 at 7PM in the Library Community Room. Task force members are asking the public to come and talk about solutions for Tewksbury. Now is the time for residents to get involved and evolve answers. Don’t wait for next spring to roll around to get involved. Go to this meeting and say something about what matters to you. The task force cannot hear you if you don’t speak up.
Perhaps Patrick will someday come to Tewksbury. I hope he comes when Tewksbury has turned itself around and when he tries to take credit for it, for saving us from our salary deferral and ourselves, I want to be there. I want to show him that Tewksbury found a better way than the popular and prolific fees seen in the toniest towns across Massachusetts. I believe Tewksbury can still be the kind of town that does much for its residents without nickel and dime-ing everyone to death or foreclosure.
But it’s up to us to prove him wrong.
I have a new alarm clock. A very thoughtful and conscientious Hairy Woodpecker drums loudly on the fascia board outside my bedroom every morning at 4:23. I have yet to work out a thorough threat response plan but being up so early in the morning, I have more time to think about Governor Patrick’s veto of Tewksbury’s Home Rule Petition. Yes, I actually wake up with the budget on my mind; it’s about as annoying as a woodpecker.
In Patrick’s veto message, he cited his pending Municipal Partnership Act as a way that communities struggling with structural deficits may overcome galloping costs; his threat response plan, if you will. When I wrote an article on the veto last week, I asked Patrick’s staff if he was actually just trying to push through his legislation. His staff said no.
Patrick’s administration refused the home rule petition because it does not want other towns to pursue teacher salary deferrals. Dubbing salary deferrals bad fiscal policy, the Patrick administration believes fees are the wave of the future for municipal revenue generation. Tewksbury’s new Duval Patrick Memorial Trash Fee (thanks Jerry) represents a “long term” solution, according to the Governor. Fees are just another way to sock it to townspeople without allowing residents to deduct the fees from income taxes.
The salary deferral may have been less-than-desirable fiscal policy, but Tewksbury voters and town officials agreed upon it. The deferral would not have cost the state any money nor would it have deprived teachers of their pay. More importantly, it would have bought the town another year to find the solutions needed.
Of the $26.8 billion budget, the governor vetoed a puny 0.2 percent of it, or $41.4 million. No, Patrick was not terribly interested in cutting the budget and ultimately taxes for Massachusetts residents. He just wants to look like he cut the budget. The legislature plans an override of his vetoes, and at the end of the day, his cuts will remain irrelevant. Indeed, Tewksbury may yet get its salary deferral if Representative Miceli can pull an override rabbit out of his hat.
So what is Deval’s plan? He does plan to close “corporate tax loopholes,” which will bring more revenue to the state. The Municipal Partnership Act may also send revenue back to the state for “redistribution,” which is another way of saying “socialism.” With programs like paid volunteerism, I am not entirely sure we can trust him to spend the money on issues important to Tewksbury, like education.
Patrick’s Municipal Partnership Act would allow towns to raise meal and hotel taxes. For Tewksbury, that is a mixed blessing. We have several hotels largely used by business travelers, and therefore not paid mostly by town residents. However, a meals tax would burden local restaurants and residents would pick up the tab. The meals tax, for Tewksbury, amounts to just another tax increase except residents cannot deduct it on their state income taxes. Thereby Patrick “gives” towns another revenue generator while keeping state revenues rolling in. Who pays? You and me.
There’s a better way. Towns need help attracting businesses and encouraging businesses. The state needs to help towns grow. Patrick is investing in biotech and Tewksbury ought to jump on that bandwagon. This town hosts several major corporations. Everyone knows that Market Basket headquarters in Tewksbury. So is Raytheon’s Integrated Defense Systems, which generated $4.2 billion in 2006 and employs more than 13,500. Across the street from Raytheon is Avid’s headquarters. Avid’s technology, digital media creation tools used in film, video, audio, games and broadcasts, has won two Emmy’s, a Grammy, and two Oscars. In 2006 Avid earned more than $900 million in revenue.
Other major companies headquartered in Tewksbury include IP telephony company BlueNote Networks, online content, application and transaction provider Mirror Image Internet, CPA firm Moody, Famiglietti & Andronico which was recently named one of the 50 Best Small and Medium Companies to Work for in America, and another new technology company, Starent Networks, which IPO’d in June.
Retail space languishes along Main Street while high technology companies flourish in the office parks. Tewksbury needs to court high tech companies, bring in entrepreneurs and encourage them to develop here, pay their property taxes here, and attract smart employees that want to settle their families here. Corporations and their office headquarters require less drag on town services than retail businesses or malls.
As a community, Tewksbury has much to offer industry and individuals. With the new Lodge at Ames Pond development, attractive apartments will be ready for young engineers, scientists, and technology professionals. Families enjoy fantastic community sports programs, great schools with excellent teachers, and compared to most towns around here, very few fees. We have a new library, police station, and fire station.
Yes, there is work to do in Tewksbury, but it takes time. Too much emphasis and hope was placed on building a mall that has not, and may never, come through. I called Simon Malls last week and the company is still reviewing acquisitions from Mills, reluctant to breathe a word about possible development in town.
Tewksbury needs time to bring in high technology. The Avids and Starents and Raytheons are jewels in Tewksbury’s crown and important references for other companies shopping for a new spot to settle down.
We need time to turn the ship around. As a town, we need to ante up our share which likely means a trash fee this year and possibly a Proposition 2 ½ override next. Tewksbury needs to roll out the red carpet, welcome high technology companies, and make them partners in our community. Raytheon is already there with many donations to and volunteer opportunities (unpaid, I might add) in our schools. But while we work on that side of growth, we must maintain our services. In fact, we really need to grow those as well after years of budget cuts.
The Financial Plan Task Force is meeting August 6 at 7PM in the Library Community Room. Task force members are asking the public to come and talk about solutions for Tewksbury. Now is the time for residents to get involved and evolve answers. Don’t wait for next spring to roll around to get involved. Go to this meeting and say something about what matters to you. The task force cannot hear you if you don’t speak up.
Perhaps Patrick will someday come to Tewksbury. I hope he comes when Tewksbury has turned itself around and when he tries to take credit for it, for saving us from our salary deferral and ourselves, I want to be there. I want to show him that Tewksbury found a better way than the popular and prolific fees seen in the toniest towns across Massachusetts. I believe Tewksbury can still be the kind of town that does much for its residents without nickel and dime-ing everyone to death or foreclosure.
But it’s up to us to prove him wrong.
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