Christmas Tree Part 2

Back to the Christmas tree issue. Sorry for the delay.
A week before Christmas I overheard my wife telling son Danny that maybe it would be best to just bring the artificial tree up from the basement. I was excited but knew that if I seemed over-eager to ruin everyone’s Christmas with the $250-plus tree we only used once, I would be sent out to get a real treet. I said nothing.

On Saturday morning I heard her say to Danny: “I’m going to have you guys bring the tree up from the basement and we can decorate it this afternoon.” Again I held back, fearing it might be some kind of trap to get met to try to spoil her Christmas.
Shortly after lunch, I heard her tell Danny: “Whenever you guys bring the tree up we can get started on decorating.”
“I’ll get it right now,” I told her calmly, although I was practically shaking on the inside.

Danny and I carried it up. She immediately pointed out that there was something wrong with the bottom branches and requested a hammer. My heart sank. Knowing that if even one branch was a fraction off she might opt for a real tree, I retrieved the hammer.
“Can I help?,” I asked.
“No, I’ll handle it,” she said.
The next few seconds seemed to linger forever. She banged something near the bottom of the tree real hard and then pulled roughly at the bottom branches. She seemed frustrated, a bad sign. But a few second later she stepped back, looked at the tree and handed me the hammer.
“The top lights aren’t on,” she pointed out.
A quick adjustment and they came on.
“I won’t be able to put my angel up,” she remarked, noting there was no space between the highest branch and the ceiling.
Based on past experiences, I said nothing in response.
She said nothing further and started to decorate.

Have a great Christmas. I hope you get everything you want. I already received my gift.

Should I join?:

A couple of months ago I noticed my wife was spending more time at the computer and assumed she was checking her e-mail more often. A few weeks later we were talking about a gathering of basketball parents. She seemed to know more than I did and that prompted me to ask how.
“I saw it on Facebook,” she said.
She had joined Facebook, making me the only holdout in the family.
I felt a little left out and for a few days was going to join but never did.
Here are some of the reasons. Maybe those of you who have joined can shed some light on whether my concerns are valid.

I don’t want to be contacted all at once by everyone I have known but don’t keep in touch with.

I especially don’t want to be contacted by everyone I went to high school with. Don’t get me wrong. I go to all my reunions and have fond memories of Guilford High. Every five years is enough for me and it keeps it exciting.

I don’t want people I work with to have access to my page and I don’t want them to feel like they should grant me access. We spend enough time together already.

I don’t think I have any cool recent photos of myself to post.

I don’t want to be involved in any silly contest to rack up friends. I could probably have thousands of friends within days.

My sons have already told me they will not be my Facebook friend. I haven’t asked my wife, but I suspect she feels the same way.

I’m selective when it comes to social events and I’m afraid Facebook will lead to all kinds of invitations that I will have to turn down.

I don't get drunk and do a lot of crazy things at parties anymore. Back when I did, we didn't take photos. Even at my craziest, I was fully clothed.






Let me know what you think

What should I do?

Cleaning the basement earlier this month, I noticed the artificial tree in the corner. The only time it moves is when I vacuum around it. We bought it about five years ago after the pine needles from a live tree aggravated my wife so much she decided she preferred a fake one. I was thrilled. Mom and Dad always had live trees, sometimes more than one, but my mother’s mother always had an artificial one and even then I could imagine a Christmas without having to trudge into the woods or to some tree farm to cut and haul out a Christmas tree on a cold December day. My grandmother was very practical, I thought.

Even the $250 plus price tag on the artificial tree didn’t spoil my mood. No more driving to lots and arguing with Mary about her endless search for the perfectly-shaped tree. A half hour later when we got home and put the tree in the front room she always found an imperfection and complained that it was my fault for rushing her and another argument ensued. It cost me more than I expected, but I enjoyed my first Christmas without a real tree and thought my grandmother would be proud.

Shortly after the following Thanksgiving I asked my wife if she wanted the tree brought up from the basement so she could decorate it nice and early. “That’s the advantage of having an artificial one. We can get it up nice and early,” I exclaimed.
To my surprise, she didn’t want it carried up.
“I want a real tree,” she said. “Everyone in your family has a real one. Your parents had two last Christmas.”
So we had had another argument. I was surprised to learn that I had pressured her into buying an artificial tree she never wanted and now I was intent on ruining another Christmas by forcing her to display that terrible fake tree that everyone in my family would make fun of. A couple of weeks later we went to a lot and picked out a live tree. The artificial one stayed in the basement.

“I saw a place in Cheshire that was selling trees for 19 dollars,” Mary told me about three weeks ago. “I just hope I can find it again.”
I didn’t respond.
A week later, Mary and I were riding at night with my oldest son Michael. The two of them were talking about staying within our Christmas budget.
“Why don’t we use the artificial tree this year and save the money for an extra Christmas present?,” I asked. They didn’t respond.

It is 10 days before Christmas and we have no tree up. I’m wondering if I should set a date later this week to get a live tree or just bring the artificial one up from the basement and surprise everyone.

Let me know what you think.

I am a Terrible Father

“Mr. Tomaselli, just between you and I, your son’s actual birthday is March 17,” said the woman from the pediatrician’s office. I put down the phone and slapped myself on the forehead before continuing.

I knew when she asked for Michael and Danny’s birthdays I was going to get one wrong. I said Danny’s was born March 15. Some of you have probably already figured out that there is no way I should ever get Danny’s big day wrong because he was born on St. Patrick’s Day. HE IS NAMED DANNY BECAUSE OF HIS BIRTHDAY. My mother’s mother, whose own mother was named McKeirnan, loved the song Danny Boy and played it each St. Pat’s Day. If Danny was born on March 15 he would have been named Joseph.

Remembering their birth dates and years has become harder and harder. I’m not sure if it has something to do with being a little older than 39 or that as they grow older we don’t make such a big deal about their birthdays. From birth to 5, birthdays were major productions, requiring lots of advance planning and plenty of food and drink for all the relatives and friends on both sides of the family.

From 5 to 10, the parties were held at bowling alleys, laser tag places, all-purpose sports facilities, karate clubs and other venues. It didn’t require much work on our part but we did have to shell out for about a dozen kids to attend and eat.

Starting at 11, the concern became the cost of their birthday requests and convincing them that I could not allow them and their friends to stay up all night during their birthday sleepovers. The sleepovers ended by the time they were 14.

I remember Michael’s birthday last year because he turned 16 and the next day he got his learner’s permit. I don’t remember what we did for Danny’s 14th birthday. I have promised Danny that on the day he turns 21 I will visit the bars with him. I suspect someone named Danny born on St. Patrick’s Day is going to be offered a lot of free drinks by the Irish. Maybe they will also take care of the guy who named him.

Love/Hate relationship

By Friday night, Michael had been telling us for three days about the snow expected to start Saturday and continue into Sunday. Michael, 16, loves snow, not because he likes to ski or snowboard or build snowmen. The only time he goes out is to shovel our walk or work with a neighbor that plows driveways and even then he does so reluctantly.

Michael loves snow because it cancels school and there is always the remote possibility that even a Saturday/Sunday storm could dump enough snow to at least delay the opening of school on Monday. Danny, 14, pretty much feels the same way. One difference is that Danny doesn’t like to use the expected bad weather as an excuse to put off his homework. On Tuesday night at around 8 p.m. he is sitting at the kitchen table doing his Wednesday homework.
“Good boy,” I tell him. “But I don’t think you are going to have school tomorrow.”
“I’m going to have to do it anyway,” he shrugs, continuing with this work.

Their dad hates snow because it makes it harder to get to where I have to go. Unlike school, the newspaper never gets canceled or delayed so for 24 years I’ve driven through all kinds of bad weather to get back and forth to the Record-Journal. Not only do I hate snow, I like to pretend it doesn’t exist. When colleagues start talking about an expected storm or complain about the ride in and the expected ride home, I get annoyed and shut them out. It’s my admittedly selfish way of dealing with something I don’t like but can’t change.

Let me know what you think.

Updates

Updates on issues that have come in past blogs.

Michael got his license this past Saturday. He returned from DMV around 11 a.m. Before I could even congratulate him he asked for my keys so he could drive to his friend Tyler’s house to tell him he had his license. At around 7 p.m. that same night, he drove to the house of another friend who lives about a mile away. My wife and I spent some time that night with friends at a downtown bar/restaurant. I left early, partly to avoid the ear-splitting volume when the band went on and partly to go home to worry and wait for Michael’s safe return. He arrived around 10:30 p.m. I survived.
The next day he took the car to the Wallingford YMCA.
For some reason, I’m really worried about his plan to drive to basketball practice between 6 and 6:30 a.m. this coming Saturday. Lyman Hall is less than a mile from our house, but I worry that he won’t be awake enough to drive himself and also about slick morning roads this time of year.
When I mentioned it to him, he replied: “I think I can handle it.”

Thanks to my wife, I do have a steady supply of walnuts. Although, I need to put them on the shopping list each week or she will not buy them. I know this because one week I forgot to write them down and when I noticed they weren’t in any of the shopping bags, I asked why. She replied: “You didn’t put them on the list.”
While walnuts have to put on the list each week, I notice those really delicious but expensive Friendlies sun-daes are replenished even though they never appear on the list.
Earlier this week, I told a colleague she was buy-ing a cheaper brand of walnuts. I checked when I got home last night. Mary says they are actually a better, more expensive brand of “natural” walnuts. Is there any other kind?

I have resumed bringing my shirts to the dry cleaner each week. I didn’t mind the ironing. I did mind that after all that effort my shirts looked lousy. White Way does a great job and the employees are very nice.

The Benefits of Exercise?

When you play sports and run have you ever experienced chest pains or dizziness?,” the doctor asks my 14 year old son. He is getting his annual physical and the question is routine. Danny answers: No.
The area where my shoulder and arm meet has been hurting all morning and I haven’t thought much of it until the doctor asks the question and then for a brief second I get real nervous. The doctor has moved to swine flu and that calms me down. They physical continues. Danny gets a clean bill of health.

It was worse during my older son’s recent trip to the doctor a few weeks back. His blood pressure is a little high for someone his age so the doctor spent a lot time making sure he wasn’t experiencing any chest pains or fatigue. As he asked my son some follow up questions and discussed how blood moves through the body and heart, the pain in the same area of my chest seemed to get worse. After about 30 seconds, I started to sweat a little. Anxiety set in. Luckily, the doctor started talking about something else and my panic and pain passed.

A couple weeks after my older son’s doctor visit I was sitting at my desk shortly after I arrived at work and was pretty sore in the same area. A few minutes later in a meeting, the soreness returned and for a moment so did the panic. Luckily, the meeting was pretty interesting and my mind drifted away from the pain and back to the subject at hand. I was worried somebody had noticed.

Finishing up my work out on the elliptical machine at the YMCA, I looked at the results. I had gone for 60 minutes, covered 4 miles and burned more than 600 calories. My average heart rate was 146. My peak rate was a little over 170. I smiled. A couple months earlier I had noticed that I had become a little lax about my exercise routine. I was putting in about an hour four or five times a week, but I wasn’t pushing myself. On the elliptical machine I was never going more than three miles and rarely getting my heart rate above 140. My weight lifting routine had shortened. I wasn’t lifting enough weight and was skipping or eliminating some of the more difficult exercises, especially for the shoulders, arm and chest.

The only downside to this new routine is I’m working all my muscles a lot harder and feeling sore. Of course the pain in my legs, stomach or back doesn’t ever trigger panic. But as I describe above, sometimes any soreness or twinge in my chest makes me worry something more dangerous is happening to my 46 year old body. That more exercise sometimes makes me worry or even panic about my immortality seems ironic. For the first time in life, chest pain can cause extreme anxiety. Five years ago a hard workout and some soreness in the chest was just that.

Let me know what you think.

Do I need to lighten up on the lights?

Driving by a house near my street earlier this week, it pleased me to see lights on in nearly every room of the good-size Colonial.
“At least I’m not alone,” I thought.
A few second later my happiness waned. I know the dad and he probably is doing his best to make sure every light in the house is not on at once.

Pulling on to my own street about a week earlier around 8 or 9 p.m., I noticed that there were lights on on all three floors of my split-level house. As always, we had the most lights on in the neighborhood by far. The unusual thing was there was no one home at the time.

My own father was and is a stickler about turning off lights and keeping the thermostat at 62. When I was first married and tried to enforce the same rule, my wife told that my father and I were both nuts and pushed the thermostat up to 70.
My dad’s mom, my grandmother, worried about her utility bills even when she was older and her sons paid the bill. They implored her to turn up the heat during the winter, but when I visited I always found her wrapped in a blanket with the thermostat set around 60 in the dead of winter. Like many children of the Depression, she worried about money even when she didn’t have to.

My wife’s theory on lights is that it costs you more to turn them on and off so our children have gotten used to turning a light on and leaving them on when they leave the room. They have apparently never noticed or don’t care that their father runs around behind them turning off the lights they leave on.

When they have to pay the bills themselves do you think they will follow my example or continue to waste money and harm the planet?

I’d also appreciate any advice on how to convince my family to change their ways.

Let me know what you think.

Master Motivator?

Carrying two white plastic garbage bags (one filled with plastic bottles, the other with aluminum cans) and a paper bag filled with bottles I walk into the redemption area of my supermarket and start loading plastic in a machine. The scratchy, grinding sound of plastic being pulverized reminds me of nails against a chalkboard so I squirm slightly as I send 40 or so bottles to meet their maker. Otherwise, this is the one weekly chore I enjoy most.
I do it willingly, with a smile and without being reminded.
Why?

After loading all the bottles and cans into the machine, I drive to the other end of the parking lot, enter the store and proceed to the customer service desk. Handing Marissa my redemption tickets, I wait with a smile. Marissa is probably the only supermarket employee I remember by name and the reason is connected to the question above. She adds up the tickets on a calculator, opens the register and hands me nearly $5. I promptly place the money in my wallet and drive to get a coffee, using a little less than half. The rest stays in my wallet for some treat later in the week.

As I raise two teen-agers and run a newsroom, finding ways to motivate my sons, the staff and myself has grown into a serious study. Reading and listening to the latest books helps. Trial and error has also yielded results as has updating the lessons my father taught me.
My euphoria when Marissa hands me the money is proof that instant reward is a pretty good motivator. I feel a little guilty about being so happy because I often preach to my sons and others that the key to success is to approach each day asking “What can I contribute?” not “What can I take?” According to that approach, cutting the lawn, vacuuming the pool and raking leaves should be as rewarding as returning bottles and cans.

Let me know what you think.

Am I nuts or what?

“They are too expensive. Eat something else,” Mary tells me as she starts putting away about a dozen bags from the two different stores she shops at each week. She used to shop at three, but changed her routine a month ago. I have to admit, I don’t know why.
Based on her remark about cost, you probably suspect I asked for an expensive steak or perhaps lobster tails. Not quite. Just some shelled Walnuts.

My dependence on Walnuts began about three months ago when she brought home a big bag without me asking for them. Since then, they have become a great way for me to get some quick protein. As soon as I was hooked , however, the issue of cost came up.
“Walnuts cost a lot,” she told me after I remarked how much I liked them.
“Too many nuts aren’t good for you,” she added.
She went on to explain that Walnuts would cost more come November because Walnuts are in high demand around the holidays.
I didn’t say anything, but did notice that on the shelf where the Walnuts once sat was a big package of red licorice (her favorite), about a dozen packs of gum, Devil Dogs and Chips Ahoy cookies. A little to the right was a bowl filled with three different kinds of candy bars. In the pantry where she keeps various crunchy snacks were three bags of potato chips and two bags of tortilla chips. In the fridge I found assorted ice cream, including some individual size sundaes made by Friendly’s that I suspect are pretty expensive.

My wife is a great shopper, but sometimes her priorities seem a little off.
Let me know what you think?

Half a brain ?

“Here you go honey,” the young woman in the drive-thru window says as she hands me my order.
After depriving myself of anything tasty for a week, my stomach steered me to Wendy’s and an order of French Fries on a recent Friday night.
But my good mood was interrupted by this smiling young face handing me fries my nose could detect long before they passed out the window and into my vehicle.
Her mistake ? Calling me “honey.”

I’m not sure what disturbs me more. The fact that she called me “honey” or that it bothers me when a woman half my age calls me "honey." As recently as a few years ago, it wouldn’t have affected me. Suddenly “honey” from someone so much younger seems too informal, fake and almost patronizing. Half my brain tells me to lighten up and roll with it. The other half feels disrespected. The half that is telling me to lighten up is right but I just can’t accept it.

Let me know what you think.

The Great Communicator (2009)

Knowing he was sick and might be sleeping, I turned the door knob to Danny’s room slowly and opened the door a crack to make sure he was OK. He was curled up with his back toward me. I could see his eyes slightly open.
“Dan, are you OK?” I asked.
He doesn’t have the flu but has been battling a sore throat, headache and fatigue on and off for about two weeks. This is the second time he’s missed school.
“My throat is still really sore,” he said, lifting the covers enough to reveal that his fingers were busy texting.
Someone my age or older might think it strange for a sick child to be texting in bed. I didn’t think anything of it. Danny texts constantly, even while he plays pick-up basketball.

He got a new phone recently because his other one broke. My theory is it just wore out from Danny’s thumbs pressing against it. At 14, he is the youngest member of the family. He is also the one who communicates constantly in what is called “real time.” Like many kids his age, Danny doesn’t have an e-mail address. Texting and instant messaging are his preferred forms of communication because they are instant.

I don’t send or receive many texts. Typing with one or two fingers feels too awkward. I’m also not very proficient in the various spelling shortcuts that allow Danny and his friends to use maybe 20 characters whereas I would need 40 or more.
“Dad you need to send shorter texts,” Danny told me about a year ago. He showed me some setting on my cell phone that helps you write shorter texts by anticipating what you are trying to write and inserting the characters it thinks you need.
“Danny, could you shut this thing off for me ?” I asked a day later.

My gut feeling is that soon I will be texting and instant messaging and making use of some other form of real time communication that I can’t even imagine. Danny will probably never have an email-address. When he is my age what kind of new form of communication will his children be using?

Let me know what you think.

Dog Days Ahead ?

On one of the few sunny Saturdays we’ve had recently, I looked out on the side deck and noticed a cat napping on the cushion of an outdoor love seat. It caught my attention because it was large and gray and because I don’t have a cat. The deck is close to the pool and part of a side yard that is fenced off. I couldn’t believe this semi-fat cat jumped the fence or slid underneath it.

“Did you see the cat?,” my wife said excitedly as I spoke to her on the phone a couple of hours later. I had left and she had returned and spotted the cat napping. I could tell by the girlish tone that she liked having a cat on the deck. She had cats for many years in college and before we had children. I think she would like another one. She also has been talking about getting a dog. I never had a dog growing up, but she did.

When she first started talking about getting a dog it bothered me because I don’t want one and I took as a sign that she was already anticipating how empty our nest will be in just a few years. My mom raised four children and never had a dog and then when her youngest moved out she immediately got one. I suspected that after caring for children for close to thirty years she needed something to care for.

I really don’t want a dog today or a few years from now unless someone is home during the day to look after it. I don’t like the idea of leaving a dog alone all day while we are at work. One time when Mary brought up getting a dog I suggested we adopt a child when our sons leave home because children play basketball and baseball and that would give me something to do. She didn’t like the idea.

By the way, I didn’t bother the cat that Saturday or on a couple of other afternoons when it returned. It belongs to one of the neighbors and is very good at catching mice and other critters in my yard. Two weeks ago I was cutting the lawn and it proudly pranced through my backyard holding one of those pesky moles in its mouth. A few minutes later I found a half eaten squirrel. I figure the least I can offer this prolific hunter is a comfortable place to curl up.

Let me know what you think.

Heaven or Hell Part 2

A follow-up on my previous blog. My son continues to be a little tense about my efforts to help him keep up with his school work. He said something to me this weekend that made me think. I was asking him about his progress on some assignments he needed to make up and he again became frustrated.
“Mike, I’m just trying to help,” I explained.
“Dad, do you realize we haven’t talked about anything else this week but my school work,” he responded.
I thought for a minute and realized he had a point.

Let me know what you think.

Heaven or Hell?

On Tuesday, I attended parent-teacher conferences at Lyman Hall High School. Since we now have two sons at Lyman Hall, Mary and I had to split up. I visited Michael’s teachers, Mary met with Danny’s. The teachers were very helpful, providing me with grades up to that point, work that needed to be made up and important upcoming assignments. The conferences lasted about two hours. I spent about another hour talking to Michael and going over my notes. I felt good about the initial talk with my 16-year-old junior and my organized list of items I needed to follow up with him on.

The good feeling ended less than 24 hours later when I called Michael from work to see how he had made out on one of his makeup assignments. About 10 seconds into the conversation, I sensed resistance to my involvement. I calmly told him I intended to help even if he didn’t like it.
“Well then I’m going to make your life hell,” he responded.
Taken as one line it seems very disrespectful. In fairness, I should point out that Michael is really a good kid at home and an even better one in school. In his 11 years, I’ve never had a teacher complain. My own parents could not make the same statement. On Tuesday, one of his teachers told me that I should give myself a pat on the back because, in her opinion, Michael was a great kid and a credit to our parenting.
But after the “I’m going to make your life hell” remark I didn’t feel like giving myself a pat. I also didn’t start screaming. After dealing with teen-agers for three years, I’m used to these moments.

About a month ago we were talking about his driving school classes when he told me: “I hope you and mom feel crappy about wasting your money on driving school.” Apparently, the classes were not living up to his expectations. I think he was really upset because it has cut into his social life. When he first would say these kinds of things, it did make me feel “crappy.” I felt I was making progress in dealing with teens because despite his hope, I did not feel bad at all.

Last night, as I was in the midst of saying good night and telling him to have a good day at school, he launched into a 30-second diatribe on how something his mom and I are doing is ruining his weekend social life. He added that the other kids involved don’t care because they are all losers and don’t have a social life. A cheery way to end the day, I thought as I calmly listened and didn’t say anything until he was done
“Mike. Have a nice day at Lyman Hall.”

Let me know what you think.

Nervous Father

When my 16-year-old son went for his learner’s permit in April, I wasn’t too worried. It would be awhile before he’d be driving on his own. I convinced myself that I’d rather have him driving than a passenger in a vehicle being driven by one of his friends.

The other night my wife was explaining to me that Michael’s seemingly endless stint in driving school was coming to an end and that one of the instructors had told her he expected he would take the test the first week of November.
“I’m getting really nervous about this,” I told her. “I was thinking about it a lot today and I just can’t imagine letting him drive off on his own.”
I went on to explain that I was feeling a little guilty about my apprehension because a friend from the gym has had his second child going through the same process and seems to take it all in stride. A few days after his daughter got her license I ran into him and asked if she had driven on her own.
“Oh yeah,” he replied. “She’s gone solo every day since she passed the test."
He told me he was happy because now that both his children were licensed drivers his days as a taxi service were officially over.
I shook my head, amazed at how calm he was and also feeling a little guilty because suddenly I don’t mind driving Michael around and want to suggest to him that I provide taxi service a little longer.

I keep having the same vision over and over. Michael is driving down our short street by himself and then pulls on Pond Hill Road. I lose sight of him a few seconds later. The next few hours are pure agony as we wait for him to return. I’m assuming the second time he drives away will be a little easier. I wonder if my parents still worry about me when I drive?

Let me know what you think.

Losing It?

I’ve been having trouble with keys lately. About a month ago I lost an important set and spent the next two weeks searching my house, car, office and even garbage. At one point, the lost set was the last thing I thought about before I slept and the first thing I thought about when I awoke. Then one day a co-worker came down to the newsroom after our receptionist had left and asked me where the lost and found is located. I didn’t know where the lost and found was, I told him. He had lost his car keys and was hoping someone turned them in. Before we could finish our conversation, a co-worker from his department came down with his keys. He had dropped them in the trash pail.

The next day I asked our receptionist where the lost and found is located and before I could finish my sentence she pulled my lost set of keys out of her desk. I was thrilled to get them back, but kind of worried that it had never occurred to me to check our lost and found.

Last night I got in my vehicle to go home, pulled my key chain out to start the car and realized the car key was not on the chain because I had gotten my car serviced earlier in the day. I had forgotten to put the key back on my chain and was hoping I had left it somewhere in my desk. I searched the desk, but no luck. I also searched the vehicle, my briefcase and every inch between my vehicle and my office. I checked lost and found and asked the cleaning woman if she had found a key. After about an hour, I called my wife who wondered why I waited so long. She and my son, a new driver, were more than happy to bring me the spare key.

This morning I noticed my key chain, including the spare my wife had brought me the night before, sitting on the kitchen counter. I thought it was strange because I usually leave them with my wallet and phone in another room downstairs. Mary and the kids leave before I get up. They must have used my keys and left them on the counter.

When I arrived at work I was happy to learn someone had found my missing car key in the parking lot and turned it in. I called my wife to tell her the good news.
“Why were my keys on the kitchen counter this morning,?” I asked.
“Danny found them in the front door. You never took them out and they were in there all night,” she replied.

Let me know what you think.

Stop Jaywalking!

I attended a conference in Baltimore about 10 years ago. After checking in at my hotel (located in the harbor area) I decided to take a walk around. Approaching the first crosswalk, I glanced up the street for approaching traffic. Seeing it was clear, I started across. After a few steps I heard a loud whistle and a plea to “Stop Sir.” I turned toward the whistle and realized it was being sounded by a police officer about 100 feet away who wanted me stop because the crosswalk sign, which I hadn’t bothered to check, was telling me not to cross. I returned to the sidewalk and noticed about 20 others waiting for the crosswalk signal to tell them it was OK to cross the street even though there was no approaching traffic. As I continued my walk around the area, I noticed almost everyone was crossing only in designated areas and when the signal said it was OK.

That night I had dinner with a friend who had moved from Meriden to Baltimore several years before. He explained that Baltimore was “civilized” and that only people in the Northeast crossed streets where and when they pleased.

I returned with a new perspective. I noticed how many times pedestrians suddenly crossed in front of my car. I realized just how rude and potentially dangerous it is and vowed to follow crossing signals when I walked.

Last week we ran a story on jaywalking. Over the past 10 years, jaywalking has developed into one of my top pet peeves.
I spend much of my time driving the streets of Meriden and Wallingford and wanted to mention a few of the most dangerous areas.

Wallingford
- Anywhere near the intersection of North Main, South Main and Center streets. The closest calls I’ve had have been at night involving people parking off the eastbound lane of Center Street and crossing to the very popular Michael’s Trattoria restaurant.
- North Main, near the library, is also a hot spot for jaywalking.
- The section of South Colony Road (Route 5) closest to Center Street has also become more of a problem. It starts at the Food Bag and continues up to Center Street. The area around CVS is also a problem.
- A lot of people complain to me about jaywalking by Choate students, I haven’t noticed it. I find that when I’m driving through the campus, the students are pretty faithful about staying in the crosswalks and looking before crossing.
Meriden
- Pedestrians frequently cross near the intersection of State and East Main streets without even looking up for oncoming vehicles. The crosswalk signal there is virtually ignored. Regardless of whether I have a green light or not, I slow at the intersection because you never know when someone will cross.

Let me know what you think.

My Brother Is Getting Old

I was scanning the obits yesterday and noticed a familiar name among the survivors of a woman who died in the town I grew up in – Guilford. I haven’t actually resided in Guilford since I was 18 and only visit about once a month, sometimes less, so often I can’t remember if I went to school with someone or my brother did or if I even knew them at all.
I called my brother, who lives in Guilford.
“Oh my God is he dead?” he asked, also recalling the name. "He's our age."
“No, his mother died,” I said. “I know the name but can’t remember the face. Did I got to school with him or did you?”
My brother, class of 1983, was pretty certain he was in my class - 1981.
“I think he lived around Guilford Lakes. He had blond hair,” he added.
I didn’t remember where he lived but did recall the hair color. I could see the head of blond hair and the outline of his body, but not his face.
Although we are only in our 40s, it seems each year my brother and I have more and more conversations about obituaries, mostly ones on the parents of people we grew up with. We also seem to have more difficulty recalling details about the names we see listed in the death column.
The most frustrating and embarrassing conversations occur when we can’t remember if someone we both knew from 30 or 40 years ago is alive or dead.
“I thought he was dead,” I’ll remark.
“So did I,” my brother chimes in.
“We are too young to be having these kinds of conversations,” I reassure him.

Let me know what you think.

I'm So Predictable !

Elizabeth is right. I opted to drive and passed on the exercise and fresh air. The worst part is the people I was meeting with would have understood if I was 10 minutes late. They had plenty of other agenda items to keep them busy. In previous blogs I’ve asked why many of us feel and act so rushed much of the time. What could be more important than getting a little fresh air and exercise? What is so important that we have to rush all the time?
I think part of the problem is many of us feel obligated to make everything we do SEEM important.

Let me know what you think

Did I Take My Walk?

The so-called small decisions in our day sometimes reveal a lot.
At about 1:57 p.m. on Monday I was so involved in one meeting at the Record-Journal that I had forgotten about my 2 p.m. meeting at a building that is a five or ten minute walk from the R-J.
Earlier in the day I had decided the weather was so nice that I would leave myself time to walk to the meeting. Of course everything I did between 10:30 and 1:57 p.m. ran over so I was left with a choice. Did I call the person the meeting was with and tell him I would be late so I could still get my walk in? Or did I race to the parking lot, jump in my car and make it to the meeting on time?

Let me know what you think?
I’ll give you the answer and an analysis on Tuesday afternoon.

Water Bottle Windfall

It seems a lot of people are unhappy about this new 5 cent deposit on water bottles. Not me.
I’ve been trying for several years now to wean my wife and sons off those individual water bottles in favor of the half gallon water jugs. I think the half gallon is better for the environment and more economical. I do sometimes reach for an individual bottle myself, but mostly pour my water out of the half gallon in the fridge. The rest of the family almost exclusively uses the smaller bottles. As a result, most weeks we put out two recycling containers for the weekly trash pickup.

One of the chores the family has assigned me is returning the bottles and cans that carry a deposit. Every two weeks or so I head to the grocery store and earn about two or three dollars. At first, I resented having to do it. But about nine months ago the family decided I should cut back on my Dunkin Donut purchases. I’m down to one or two cups a week and use the deposit money to buy an extra cup.
If the family continues consuming water bottles at its current rate, I estimate I’ll make about two or three dollars a week, possibly more. I’m wondering if I should let them continue to consume water bottles at their current pace and reap the windfall or try to do the right thing and get them to curb their water bottle habit.

Let me know what you think.

Overworked dryer?

One night last week I was on the ground level of our split level house and heard the usual whirr of the dryer on the basement floor below. It seems the dryer runs constantly. My wife does at least one load a day, more loads most days. Keep in mind this is just for her and our two sons. I do my own laundry, a habit my mother got me into as a teen-ager.
I’ve suggested we hang a clothesline and during the warmer weather dry some of our clothes outdoors. She says it will look trashy and insects will get on the clothes. I don’t know. My mother and grandmother both used clotheslines in the warmer weather.
Call it a premonition, but as I listened to the dryer that day last week I thought: “I bet this dryer doesn’t last much longer.”

Sometime on Saturday, I heard Mary go down to the basement and push the start button on the dryer. There was a low hum, but no whirr. I knew before she told me.
“The dryer isn’t working,” she called out from the basement. Within minutes she was on the computer researching a new dryer. I could have suggested we not rush into anything and consider a repair or at least ask her very handy father to take a look. But I know how important keeping up with the laundry is to her and I didn’t want to interfere. I did point out that this will be our third dryer in 14 years and that dryers in most households probably have a life expectancy of more than four or five years.

On Sunday morning, while the boys and I were still in bed I heard the sound of her van pulling out. She usually doesn’t go out before noon on Sunday, but I knew she was on a mission. She returned around 11:30. As I saw the van pull in I figured there was a 50-50 chance that she has a new dryer in the back for me to unload. Instead, she told me they didn’t have the model she wanted in stock and would have to go to another store location.

By around 4:30 she had purchased the dryer she wanted and decided to have it delivered and the old one taken away. She was disappointed because she would have to wait until Thursday. She had the day off from work on Monday and spent part of it at the Laundromat doing the dirty clothes that had accumulated since Saturday. I gave her a few things to hold me over until Sunday or Monday. The new dryer will arrive on Thursday, but I know she will have it tied up for the first couple of days catching up on all laundry that accumulated between Tuesday and Thursday.

Let me know what you think.

Black Friday

Mary, Danny and I are standing in Target on a recent Friday night. Mary and Danny are looking at belts.
“He needs a belt?” I had asked a moment before. Belts normally last me about three or four years.
“Yes,” she replies curtly. “His belt broke so he doesn’t have one.
As they look at belts, I’m holding a pair of blue sweat pants. I bought a black pair the week before and really liked the way they looked and fit so I wanted a second pair. I wanted a second pair of black sweats but Mary intervened.
“Here is a nice blue pair,” she said, grabbing my size off the rack. “You shouldn’t wear back all the time.”
Rather than fight, I took the pair of blue sweats and then went and picked another pair of black pajama bottoms. She frowned and moved on to helping Danny with a belt.
While they were looking at belts, I kept looking at the blue sweat pants with the gray stripe and tried to imagine what T-shirts would match. I don’t know whether I have trouble matching shirts and pants or whether it is just an irrational fear of being able to match. This is why I prefer black. Most of my T-shirts are gray or have gray in them and gray matches with black. Also, all my shoes and sneakers are black so buying black dress pants and black sweats guarantees that at least my shoes and pants match. Most of my ties also have black in them so each day I am virtually guaranteed that my shoes, pants and ties are a match. All my dress socks are black and the socks I wear when I’m not at work are all gray, so again black is a safe color.
Blue presents problems because there are so many different shades. Mary has noted before that I sometimes wear Navy Blue and Powder Blue or Royal Blue, which apparently is not a match. I sometimes think dark blue is black and that also causes problems, according to her. Gray is a pretty good match with blue, I’ve heard, but I lack confidence in the combination.
I’m also embarrassed to admit that I like black because I feel that it is the most stain-proof color although Mary tells me otherwise. All I know is that when I spill coffee on black pants it is much better than spilling coffee on say a blue or tan pair of pants.
Mary and Danny were trying to decide between two belts.
“You know I think I’m going to put the blue back and get a pair of black ones,” I sheepishly told my wife, hoping she was to busy with the belt purchase to notice or care.
“Do whatever you want,” she said, not looking up from the belt finalists.

What do you think I did? What should I have done?

Let me know what you think.

The Fifth beetle?

I was walking through the newsroom yesterday and noticed a very old photo of John Lennon and Paul McCartney on Entertainment Weekly magazine. At the Meriden mall later in the day, the Beatles seemed to be everywhere. Displays of the Fab Four were prominent at the book store, game store and music store. When I left the mall and returned to my vehicle, I immediately started my latest audio book, “John” by Lennon’s first wife Cynthia. It is a very detailed account of their life from the late 1950s to the late 1960s.

The Beatles version of the video game Rock Band seems to have spurred yet another renaissance for a group that arrived in America less than three months after I was born. Because I was just a baby, I don’t remember the initial Beatlemania. I did, however, become aware of the Beatles at a very young age, around 3, thanks to an uncle who called me “beetle.” I wondered why he was calling me that because they only beetles I knew were bugs and Beetle Bailey, a comic strip my father liked. At some point, I clearly remember asking why my uncle was referring to me as a bug. My grandmother, my uncle’s mother, got one of my recent pictures and then when into my uncle’s room and got a record album. On the cover, were four young men who also didn’t like haircuts. My bangs were down to my eyebrows and my hair covered my ears and collar. My grandmother held my photo next to the album cover and explained my uncle didn’t think I resembled a bug. I reminded him of his favorite band. Later, my mother would say that I hated getting my haircut so much she let it grow. A few years earlier, it wouldn’t have worked. But thanks to the Beatles some kids didn’t have to get haircuts as often.

My mom loved Elvis. She also liked the Beach Boys and the Everly Brothers. Dad liked Johnny Cash. Growing up, I don’t remember much music by the Beatles on our turntable. When I got old enough to make my own music choices, I liked The Doors, Led Zepplin, the Stones and Jimi Hendrix a lot more than the Beatles. I did think John Lennon’s solo work was cool. I thought Paul McCartney was very uncool.

About 10 years ago, my oldest son asked me why my uncle thought I was a bug. I explained it was a reference to an old, but famous rock band. He had no idea who the Beatles were until he was about 13and he downloaded a greatest hits collection on onto his i-Pod.

I started combing my hair back when I was about 12. But as I write this blog, I can easily push my bangs over my eyebrows. My hair covers my ears and is down below my collar. I wrote “haircut” in my datebook two weeks ago and never went. I put it down for Friday and then erased and replaced it with some other task.

Let me know what you think.

Skunk news

I’ve been smelling the unpleasant aroma of skunks a little more often this September. I haven’t actually seen any and it hasn’t been the strong smell of a nearby spraying. It’s more of a steady smell, even during the day. I was talking to my neighbors Ashley and Conner about it. They are around 6 and 3 and also noticed the smell. Their father thinks that because we are smelling skunks during the day there must be a nest nearby. I told Ashley and Conner if I found the nest I would pay them each a quarter to bag the skunks and carry them away. They want a dollar. I agreed.

I’m in the southeastern section of Wallingford. Just wondering if anyone else has noticed more skunk activity this year. If you have a nest that you want to get rid of, I know some kids that are willing.

Let me know what you think.

Kids don't fight as much anymore

As we were driving away from baseball practice the other night my 14-year-old was telling me about two of his teammates who don’t get along. He was afraid they were going to get into a fistfight and that bothered him.
“I don’t know why anyone would want to fight,” Danny said. “I hope I never get into a fight.”
My sons are 16 and 14 and as far as I know they have never had a real fistfight with each other or anyone else. I’ve noticed this lack of fighting before and it reminds me of how much things have changed since I was a kid. My brother and I (just 13 months apart) fought often until we were about 14 and 15. He threw punch at me and hit the wall, breaking his hand and forcing him to miss most of the basketball season. He was an excellent player and loved the game and for the first time I felt really bad about one of our fights. After that, we never fought again. In fact, I don’t think we’ve even had a cross word.
We both fought frequently with other kids in the neighborhood. Our father supported us in most of these bat-tles, teaching us to never back down from a bully or we would be constantly bullied in life. He also made it clear we were not allowed to fight with smaller and younger children unless we were relentlessly provoked. He warned us that the only good fighters were people who fought a lot and that meant sustaining a lot of bloody noses.
We had punching and speed bag in our basement. My brother would pound them both regularly. He was a year younger than me, but could beat up most of my friends and even some kids older than me. I couldn’t beat up a lot of older kids, but had a reputation for not backing down even if it meant getting my nose bloodied.
My brother and I were pretty typical for our neighborhood. A kid got into a fight almost every week it seemed.
I don’t think all our fighting hurt us or accomplished much. Although Dad was right about the importance of standing up to bullies.
It just seems funny that my son can’t imagine himself getting into a fight and by his age I must have been in-volved in dozens.

Let me know what you think?

More shirt news

I’m wearing my son’s old T-shirts. Actually they are not the old, just slightly worn. His mom tells me he wore them a little and then for some reason decided they weren’t cool enough. If you saw Michael, 16, and I standing next to each other you’d find it hard to believe I could be wearing his discarded shirts. He and I are both about 5 feet 8 inches, but that is where the similarities end. Michael has broad shoulders, a thin waist and can’t weigh more than 130 pounds. I look at lot younger than my 39 years, but don’t have great shoulders and weigh considerably more than 130 pounds. His preference for loose fitting T-shirts is my gain and another hit against the economy. I thought I was going to have to buy new T-shirts to wear on weekends and after work. Now I have a closet full.

But it still seems strange wearing his hand me down clothes. Shouldn’t he be wearing my old clothes while I get new ones?
Let me know what you think?

More fast food problems

My wife phoned Friday night while I was still at work.
“How are the kids doing?” I asked.
“Fine, I brought them home Burger King so they are happy.”

She then went on to explain the logic of the purchase by telling me that my 16 and 14 year old had not had fast food in a long time. I mentioned that she came in with a Wendy’s bag on Wednesday night. She countered that the bag only contained French fries and therefore didn’t count. As regular readers know, I object to fast food on health and cost reasons.

On Saturday, Michael and Danny played in a double header that started at 3 p.m. Shortly before 1 p.m. , I fired up the gas grill. They said they each wanted one hamburger. There were also various side dishes available, but they opted for just the hamburger although I think one of them had a few potato chips.

When my wife came home shortly before they left for the game, she told them she would have sandwiches ready between games. I was at the first game, which ended a little earlier than expected, between 4:30 and 5 p.m. My wife never arrived with sandwiches and there wasn’t enough time to run to Subway. Oldest son Michael stepped out of the dugout between games and asked: “Where is our food?”
I explained that his mother was still food shopping and that I didn’t have time to run and get him anything before the second game started.
He remarked “Good planning,” and stomped back to the dugout. He pitched the entire second game and didn’t give up any earned runs so withholding food clearly did not hurt his performance.
After the game they both stopped and talked to my wife for a second and then approached me. I started to compliment Michael on his pitching but was cut off.
“We are going to Taco Bell,” he said.
Danny joined the gathering and as we were walking through the parking lot I asked: “Is anyone riding with me?”
“Not unless you are going for fast food,” Danny replied.
I wasn’t so they jumped in their mother’s van. Michael got food from Taco Bell, Danny from McDonald’s.

This probably sounds like a rehash of my rant against fast food but there is new wrinkle. About a month ago the family made another cost cutting move, scaling back on my dry cleaning. I now spend about an hour a week ironing all my shirts. It’s not the time that bothers me. It’s the fact that White Way Cleaners does such a better job. When I pick up my shirts from White Way, they look crisp. The shirts I iron look soggy.
By the way, the cost of dry cleaning my shirts for the week is less than one meal for both of them at Taco Bell, Burger King or McDonald’s.
Should I suggest that I resume having my shirts dry cleaned and they cut back on fast food. Or am I making too much out of my sons eating fast food on Friday and Saturday.
Let me know what you think?

More on cutting the lawn

Prior to this summer, Steve Angiletti and his son cut my lawn for at least three or four summers. I loved it. They were reliable, reasonable and did a better job in half an hour than I could do in half a day. But as the recession set in at the end of 2008 and everyone looked for ways to cut costs, my family decided that “we” could cut the lawn ourselves. I didn’t like the idea because I knew it was going to take me three times as long to do a worse job than the Angilettis. The thought of driving around my half acre on a fancy new tractor was the only appeal.
By the time we started shopping for mowers in February and March the plan had been scaled back a little more. We would not get a tractor, but instead a self-propelled mower that you walk behind. The family also decided that instead of just letting the grass fall on the lawn, we would get bag attachment for the back of the self propelled mower. As the bag fills, it adds an extra 10 to 20 pounds to the weight of the mower.
When I started in the spring my family thought it was great, but my neighbors were concerned. Almost all of them have tractors and they were worried that I was cutting a good-size lawn with a walking mower. The offers came pouring in. A couple offered to let me borrow their tractor. One offered to cut the lawn for me and another said he could get me a really good deal on a rebuilt tractor. The reaction of one of my neighbors when she drove by as I was mowing summed up neighborhood feeling: “Are you enjoying that?,” she called out.

At first I have to admit I was a little bitter. Especially since the original family plan that “we would cut the lawn” morphed into yours truly cutting the lawn. My wife did do it once and I appreciated it.

By now I’m used to it and “enjoy “it because it allows me to get in about an extra hour’s worth of walking twice a week.

Let me know what you think.

I did something daring.

I did something really daring yesterday and want to know what others think.

Pulling out of my cul-de-sac, I realized I had left my cell phone at home in the charger.
(Isn’t it interesting how quickly I noticed I didn’t have my phone. By comparison, it’s taken me hours to notice I’ve forgotten my wallet. The other day, I was supposed to call my wife in the morning and didn’t remember until she called me at 2 p.m. My wife asked me last spring to put a second coat of stain on the deck and I didn’t remember it until she mentioned it two weeks ago. But this is fodder for another blog).

Back to the cell phone. I’ve forgotten it in the house before and driven miles to retrieve it, but this time I hesitated and thought: “Is this thing that important?”
Instead of turning around, I continued driving. For the first mile I had an urge to return home, after that it was easy.
By the time I got home that evening, I had forgotten I had forgotten my cell phone. I chatted with my wife, did a few chores, changed and got back in my car to head out to the YMCA. I started the car and noticed the empty cell phone holder. This time I decided not to chance it. What if Mary wants me to stop and get a jar of pickles on the way home? (This was her last cell phone request. I hated having to go all the way to the grocery store for some stupid sandwich-size dill pickles that my sons need for their burgers. Another possible blog.)
Anyhow, I ran and got the cell phone out of the charger and went on my way, feeling a little more secure.

Did I do the right thing by leaving my cell phone at home?
Should I have left it again in the evening?
Let me know what you think.

Also please indicate if you are interested in hearing more about other things I forget and/or recent pickle requests.

If you are stressed, read this blog

Sitting in the Wal-Mart parking lot last night with my son, I noticed a woman pushing a carriage returning to her older compact car. When she got within five feet she started talking loudly and waving her arms. Inside the car sat a teen-age boy and a dog. The teen quickly moved out of the driver’s side to help as she continued talking louder, getting more animated. I couldn’t make out every word, but suspect she was at least partly upset about finances because I heard her say “I don’t have the money” twice and “I don’t know what I am going to do.” She pushed the teen away when he tried to help, threw the bags in the back seat and continued ranting. She slammed the door, got in the driver’s side and sped off.
My son called her a freak. Although I didn't agree with how she handled the situation, I felt sorry for her.

If you read this blog regularly, you may remember I listen to a lot of audio books on self-improvement. The current one (I’ll supply the title and author if anyone is interested) emphasizes finding success within and not looking for it in your bank account, job title or other material things. It also makes the point that in difficult times you have to recharge your batteries regularly. Because of the economy, a lot of people are spending more time working and worrying. This is admirable and may seem necessary, but it’s not healthy.

Here is a small piece of advice from the book I’m listening to now. If you dread getting out of bed most days, think of the last time you were really excited to start the day. The time you just couldn’t wait to get up and get at it. Think of what you did that particular day and then plan a similar day. This is not going to permanently solve difficult financial or personal problems. But it will bring you some relief. From that relief, may spring a different approach to each day. Solutions don’t come through constant worrying. They come from inner peace.

Let me know what you think.

More Pool Stories

Speaking of pools (also the subject of my last blog), I’ve noticed an increase in critters in my in-ground pool this year. It started in early June when I walked out on the deck around 8 a.m. and noticed a sudden ripple in the water. I thought it was just a combination of the wind and a leaf that had fallen in. When I moved closer to give the pool a morning skim, I noticed a live frog floating in the shallow end. When it spied me, it dove to the depths of the deep end. The next time it came up, I scooped it with the skimmer and deposited it outside the pool fence.
That evening I found what I believe to be the same frog floating around. This time I released it farther from the pool.
As June progressed, more and more beetles showed up, especially after dark. After skimming a bunch off the top of the water, I would find plenty more in the skimmer basket. The frogs also returned periodically.
Somewhere around the end of the month, I was startled to find a live mole on the top step leading into the pool. He was about three-quarters submerged. I heard that one of my neighbors had recently treated his lawn for a serious mole infestation and I suspect the poor creature had surfaced and headed toward the pool to escape all the gas and chemicals being poured underground. I gently lifted the mole and placed him on the concrete. He scampered into a nearby crevice between the concrete and the fence and I never saw him again although his fellow moles, also fleeing the adjacent yard, wreaked havoc on sections of my previously mole-free lawn. They didn’t stay long, however, because I treat regularly for grubs.
About four hours after I found the mole, I was giving the pool a mid-day skim and smelled something rotten. I looked in the crevice between the concrete and the fence and found a large, mangled, dead bird. A few days later, my son found a dead mouse in the pool. Actually, my wife discovered it and told my son about it and he removed it.
In early July, I was headed to give the pool night skim and when I stepped within a foot of the edge I heard a noise and then a plop. When I looked down I realized I had frightened a very large frog sitting near the edge of the pool. He was able to avoid me longer than his smaller friends, but eventually I scooped him and dropped him outside the pool area. The next night the large frog was back. This time I dropped it over the six-foot high fence that runs the length of much of my yard, making him the neighbors’ problem. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but at this point there were more reptiles using the pool than humans and I was growing a little frustrated.
A couple of days later, I found a bunch of baby frogs in the pool and another in the skimmer basket. One was dead. The rest were scooped up and left far away from the pool.
As I mentioned in my previous blog, this is only my second summer with the pool. Last year, no frogs, moles, mice, birds and just a few beetles. I suspect last year’s hot, dry weather kept the critter population down. My wife grew up with an in-ground pool surrounded by woods. She says they found frogs in the skimmer basket almost daily. I grew up with an above ground pool so critters in the water were not an issue. My property is not bordered by woods, although about 50 feet from my property line is a creek that runs along a small wooded area next to I-91. I suspect it is the source of my frog problem.

Let me know what you think, especially if you have a pool.

Everybody In the Pool!

My wife called a little after 4:30 p.m. to tell me that Danny had more friends than she could count splashing around our in-ground pool.
“There has to be about seven boys and two girls. I wanted to call. I knew you’d be happy.”
“You made my day,” I told her.
I had the pool installed at the end of the 2007 swim season, so last year was really our first year. The weather was hot and there were a steady stream of kids using the pool from Memorial Day to Labor Day.
This year the weather was cool and rainy. The pool was empty all of May and much of June and July. Of course, the pool still needs daily skimming and other primping along with weekly vacuuming and chemical check. There’s also a fair amount of lawn and other work.
I learned this summer that the only thing worse than doing all the pool chores myself was doing all the pool chores and not having anyone actually using the pool. It got me down. I also thought about the payments I was making on a pool that wasn’t getting much use.
Monday was a big day. Before Danny’s friends’ arrived, Michael and a couple of his friends had been swimming.
I’m actually excited to go home tonight and do my chores. It will probably require some extra skimming and I’ll need to set the filter on “super chlorinate.” It’s the special setting required after you have a bunch of people in the pool. Last year I used it several times a week, this year only a couple of times all season. As I walk around the pool in the warm night air, I can imagine all those teen-agers laughing, splashing around, drinking all my soda and not leaving me any hamburgers or hot dogs. I’m sure I’ll find a stray potato chip or two. That’s OK. I’m glad they are enjoying it.

Let me know what you think.

Did I Do the Right Thing?

I apologize for neglecting my blog. I was on vacation earlier this month and spent most of this week catching up on other things here at work. I’ll restart with one of my favorite subjects: “Did I do the right thing?”

I pulled into the drive thru at one of several Dunkin Donuts that I frequent on a recent night and ordered a large regular coffee. As I started toward the window, I reached down into the console for the small wallet I carry my debit card in and noticed it wasn’t there. Stopping about half way to the window, I reached into my pockets and then checked to make sure the wallet hadn’t slipped between the console and the seat or onto the floor. It took another few seconds to realize I also had no cash and way less than a dollar in change. Feeling embarrassed that I couldn’t pay for the coffee I ordered, I briefly considered pulling away but realized that would be rude to the teen-ager who had just taken my order. So I drove up, rolled down my window and sheepishly admitted that I left my debit card at home. It was kind of rolling stop because I wanted to pull away quickly. Before I could rush off he said: “No problem. Take the coffee anyway.”
I was surprised because in world of franchises and big box stores, employees and customers don’t often get to know each other. Giving away something for free is usually done by an employee who recognizes a regular customer. Even though I go to Dunkin Donuts three or four times a week, I visit different outlets at different times and can’t say I’ve gotten to know any of the staff.
I don’t like to accept things I can’t pay for, but he had a big smile on his face and it seemed he really wanted me to take the coffee so I figured I’d compromise. “I live a couple of miles from here so I’ll come back and pay.”
He replied: “You don’t need to. Just enjoy your coffee and have a nice night.”
I took the coffee, thanked him and didn’t return.

It seems like a small thing, but my gut tells me I should have returned to pay or the next time I go to that branch offer to pay.
Did I do the right thing in accepting the freebie?

Let me know what you think.

Teens Out Too Much?

Since school ended, we’ve been allowing our sons, 16 and 14, to go out nearly every night. They either go to the movies, a friend’s house, supervised party, etc. Nothing out of line so far. My 14-year-old’s curfew is 10:30 or 11, p.m., my older son gets to stay out to 11:30, occasionally midnight.

I understand they are teens and it is summer, but having them out almost every night is starting to wear on me a little. Even though we make sure we know where they are going, I worry. Driving them around, especially on weeknights when my wife and I have to go to work, can be a little burdensome. I also have to admit my feelings are slightly hurt that they never want to stay home with mom and dad.

We have a pool so they do spend a lot of time around the house during the day, swimming with friends. They each have baseball or basketball games (sometimes both) most nights. After their games, they head out.

Let me know what you think.

Dumping my Dictionary?

For about 20 years I’ve been telling students, budding journalists and new reporters: “I am a great speller...with a dictionary.”
It’s a phrase I started using to reassure average students that not getting an “A” in spelling didn’t disqualify them from becoming a journalist and to remind to new reporters to look up a word if they are unsure of a spelling or meaning.

As spell check became common and the internet put a virtual library on each computer, I sensed fewer and fewer folks admired my loyalty to the dictionary. Who needs to take the time to open up a book when you have a computer that can do the work for you? Despite all the technological advances, when I wrote or edited and was unsure of a spelling I looked it up in the dictionary on my desk.

Until last week. I was editing and needed to check a spelling and opted for Google over Webster’s. A few minutes later I needed to check a meaning, again I went to Google. I have to admit it was faster than opening my dictionary.

I’m feeling a little guilty about abandoning my dictionary and wondering how many people still use one.
Telling students “I’m a great speller...with Google” just doesn’t have the same ring.

Let me know what you think.

Sidewalk Decorum

Heading out for a walk, I get halfway down the driveway and realize I’ve forgotten my hat. I ponder walking without one and then decide to head back in and get my favorite black baseball cap with the orange Monster (beverage) logo. It is my favorite because it is fitted and comfortable and my favorite color. One unexpected benefit is that when I wear it someone under 18 usually notices, thinks it is cool, and proceeds to tell me about some web site where I can get other Monster wear.

But I digress. Since it is close to 9 p.m., I’m not grabbing the hat to look cool because in the dark no one is going to be able to see the logo. I am putting it on because on these evening strolls I often encounter low branches and overgrown bushes and am afraid that if I don’t wear a hat some tick or other bug may leap from the branch or bush and onto my scalp.

You learn a lot about sidewalk maintenance when you walk outside, as I do during the summer. The majority of homeowners keep their walks clear of low branches, bushes and other debris. Many go above and beyond, edging the grass and sweeping them regularly so that dirt and leaves don’t accumulate. I would estimate that around 20 percent don’t bother to trim low branches or overgrown hedges. Others allow dirt and other debris to accumulate. I recently passed a walk where the owner left dirt piles on their walk. Apparently they were doing yard work and decided the walk was the best place to pile the dirt.

I suspect that some of the people that don’t maintain their walks are resentful for having to spend time on something that they have little use for and mainly benefits school children and other pedestrians passing by. But in a society where obesity is rampant we should be doing everything we can to encourage walking. I can attest that clear sidewalks make regular exercise more pleasant.

I want to thank all the homeowners in the southeast section of Wallingford that keep their walks clear and encourage the town planning department to keep requiring builders to put in sidewalks. For those who haven’t checked their walks in a while, take a look and consider cutting any overgrown bushes and low-hanging branches.
If you have an older neighbor and notice some trimming that needs to be done on their property, offer to help.

Let me know what you think.

A fast food story

“Are you sure you want to order two number nines Mike?,” I ask my 16 year old as I drive up to place an order at the new Taco Bell/KFC in North Haven.
“Yeah, that is what I always get,” he replies.
I’m not a big fan of fast food for health and cost reasons but offered to bring him Wednesday night because I sensed he was feeling kind of down about his play in a baseball game earlier that evening. During the ride back from Guilford he didn’t say anything about the two balls that he had gotten his glove on and missed, but his silence said a lot.
I order the two number nines and three other tacos things. He tells me again that it is his usual order and despite the sound it will only set me back around $7 or $8. I shrug and think to myself that he is going away for a week Thursday morning and I’ll be saving lots of money while he is gone.
The queasy feeling I have about the order is confirmed seconds later when the price comes up on the display screen. It reads $12.39.
“Twelve dollars,” I exclaim turning towards him.
I can tell by the uneasy look on his face that he knows he has made a mistake. I complain to him as we start driving up to the pick up window and when I turn to look at him again his face is red and he is clenching his fist. I’m sorry I complained because Michael is usually reserved and when he does get upset it is often volcanic. He starts pounding the arm rest and exclaims: “I screwed up the order just like I screwed up those two fly balls. I hate it when I don’t catch fly balls.”
I don’t deal well with outbursts and am at a loss as to what to say. I’ve also learned that nothing I say is going to make him feel any better about not playing well. I mumble something like “don’t worrying about it” and pick up the order. We don’t talk much on the short drive home.

Ten minutes after the outburst he is at the kitchen table smiling as he devours Taco Bell and talks with his mother and his brother who are eating the McDonald’s food they picked up on the way home from Danny’s baseball game.

In case you are wondering, I didn’t get anything from Taco Bell or McDonald’s, other than the extra large Pepsi that came with the second number nine. Good thing. I didn’t ask for the total of the McDonald’s order, but I suspect fast food for three set me back between $20 and $25 dollars.


A quick update on some recent blog topics:

I did get my haircut. My barber, Gerardo, does a great job, but I like my hair long.

I still have not opened two new pair of sneakers my wife bought two months ago. The rip in my current sneakers that caused me to ask for the new ones hasn’t gotten any worse so I think it will be a couple more months before I open the new ones.

I have not joined Facebook, although I have had a lot of people urge me to join since I blogged about it.

My wife cuts the lawn

Arriving home for a short break Monday afternoon, I was in a good mood. My sons, who were out, had been home most of the day and being the eternal optimist I thought I might find the house, yard and pool in good shape.
Instead I found dirty cups and dishes in the sink, a full garbage pail, lots of leaves that needed to be skimmed off the pool and some very high grass in the front yard.
When it comes to chores, my 14 and 16 year old are not great self starters.
I did the dishes, took out the garbage and skimmed the pool. I don’t mind doing the work usually, but needed to get back to the R-J so I felt a little stressed. I also worry that my sons don’t learn anything if I do things for them.
On the other hand, I didn’t want my wife coming in to a mess.

My wife arrived home, just as I was leaving. I said hello, but in retrospect I wasn’t very talkative except to tell her about all the leaves in the pool.

About an hour later she called me at work and said she was going to cut the lawn. (The boys were still out with their grandparents). Since we bought the new push mower (you don’t really push it, it’s self-propelled) I’m the only one who has used it so I told her where the gas is and how to empty the clippings out of the bag attachment. I appreciated the initiative, but was worried she might not do the lawn like I do it.

Arriving home around 8:30 p.m., it was nice to see the lawn freshly cut. My wife’s rows were a lot straighter than mine. She did an excellent job getting all the clippings off the lawn in the bag.

The point of this story could be that my sons need to help out more with chores.
But when I saw the lawn cut, I forgot about what my sons hadn’t done and was very appreciative of my wife helping out on a day when I felt a little overwhelmed.

Let me know what you think.

Never mind Facebook, what about my hair?

Yesterday I blogged about whether I should joing Facebook. Right after I viewed the daily video I do for MyRecordJournal.com. I have to admit, I haven't looked at the video in a few weeks. Shame on me.
Anyhow, when I tuned in I couldn't believe how long my hair is !
Or maybe I'm overreacting. I have an excellent barber, but have never liked getting my hair cut. I actually prefer going to the dentist. The sound and feel of metal scissors cutting hair grates on me like fingernails on a blackboard.

Luckily, my barber and his sons are great conversationalists and distract me enough to get through it.

My wife says she likes my hair long. Others have commented it looks unprofessional. Take a look at my daily vidoe and let me know if you think I should cut my hair. I'm thinking of going on Monday.

Should I join Facebook?

When I visited a class at Moran Middle School in Wallingford earlier this month, a student asked “Has Facebook changed the way you report the news?”
I responded that it has but admitted I couldn’t explain the specifics because I do not have a Facebook page and have never responded to a Facebook "friend request." Most of the students looked surprised. I told them that I should probably start a page so that I can better understand Facebook’s influence on news reporting. Almost three weeks later, I still haven't joined.

Yesterday, another one of those Facebook e-mails appeared in my inbox. It reminded me that seven people recently invited me to be their “friend.” I remember each of the individual friend requests. I considered responding, but never did. I've known a couple of the people for a long time but don’t run into them that often. I wonder if they keep track of the people who don’t want to be their friends?

I hate to blame everything on teen-agers but my sons soured me on Facebook a couple of years ago. Michael had just joined and I asked if he was going to friend request me. He told me it wasn’t cool for teens to friend request people my age, especially their own father. I told him I wasn’t like other people my age and was “cool” enough to be his Facebook friend. He wasn’t swayed.
A few months later I was talking to another parent we know from baseball and basketball teams. He told me that he and Michael were Facebook friends.
“Mike if I’m not cool enough to be your Facebrook friend why did you respond to Mr. Bradley’s friend request?,” I asked.
“Mr. Bradley is cool,” he said dryly, not realizing or caring about the wound he had inflicted. Believing your son thinks all 40-somethings are not cool is one thing, finding out that he considers some cooler than you is worse.

At first Facebook seemed to be for the younger set. Over the past couple of years I’ve noticed it has become popular with all ages. I’d be curious to hear from other people who don’t have a Facebook page about why they’ve avoided joining and others who have joined about the advantages. Let me know what you think.

R-J news report Thursday, June 18

Report from the R-J newsroom on Thursday, June 18

Platt and Maloney High Schools hold graduation ceremonies tonight. Look for a full page of graduation coverage, including plenty of photographs in Friday’s Record-Journal.

As of 10:20 a.m., Maloney and Platt officials had not decided whether to hold the ceremony indoors or outdoors. Check out our website, MyRecordJournal.com for the status of the graduation ceremonies.

Federal agents and local police are involved in a warrant sweep in the area today, looking for people wanted on criminal charges. Look for the full story in tomorrow’s Record-Journal.

Also in Meriden, the union representing employees who work at Falcon Field during games and events is expected to vote today on whether to protest the use of volunteers to do work at the field.

In Wallingford, we will be following up on last night’s big announcement by Town Council Chairman Mike Brodinsky that he will not seek another term.

In Southington, look for a story on a well-known drive-in restaurant with a new owner.

In sports we will be taking a look at how rain has effected Wallingford’s Wint Filipek tennis tournament


Upcoming in the Record-Journal

In Sunday’s Record-Journal look for a story on dads deployed overseas on Father’s Day.

On MyRecordJournal.com
I just watched the video interview of Lyman Hall valedictorian Jacqueline Pitcher. I like her thoughts on the importance of balance in life. Check it out when you have a chance.

Tonight look for hundreds of photos out of the Maloney and Platt High School graduation ceremonies.

R-J newsroom report for Wednesday, June 17

R-J newsroom report for Wednesday, June 17

Wilcox Technical School in Meriden will hold its graduation ceremony tonight. Look for a full page of graduation coverage, including plenty of photographs in Thursday’s Record-Journal.

Also in tomorrow’s Record-Journal, look for the latest news on Wallingford Democrats seeking a spot on the ballot this November. We will be at tonight’s meeting of the Democratic Town Committee and let you know the latest.

In Southington, a long-awaited plan to sell advertising at the high school athletic field appears to be finalized.

In Sports, we have continuing coverage of Meriden’s Little League championship – the City Series.


Upcoming in the Record-Journal

In Saturday and Sunday’s Record-Journal look for coverage of Meriden’s Black Expo celebration.


On MyRecordJournal.comIn our forum section, check out a discussion about shopping locally.

Check out our latest valedictorian video. If features Justin Solomon of Southington.

Tonight look for plenty of photos of the Wilcox graduation on MyRecordJournal.

I still can't figure out what happened

On Sunday night around 9:20 p.m. I asked my 16-year-old if he wanted to head out to Pat Wall field to catch the end of a Twilight League baseball game. We usually don’t go out that late on a school night, but he had mentioned to me the previous week that he has trouble falling asleep Sunday night (he sleeps late most Sunday mornings) so I figured a baseball game might help. I even offered to let him drive before he asked.
At the game, we ran into some old Little League friends. A couple of Michael’s high school coaches play on one of the teams. He enjoyed seeing them hit and field. The game ended about 20 minutes after we arrived. We were having such a good time, I suggested a short ride. We eventually stopped at Dunkin Donuts so I could get a cup of coffee.

Somewhere in the drive-thru line it happened.

Michael suddenly became angry about not being able to get his license in August because of some problems with his grades. I swear I didn’t even mention his grades or his license. He was so upset it was hard to figure out what prompted the outburst. Eventually I realized it was some conversation he had with my wife a day or two before. I suggested he calm down and said I would talk to mom about it the next day. When he parked the car in our driveway, he was still mad. Despite my warning, he went into the house and immediately continued the fight with my wife, who was having none of it. She was mad. They both went to bed mad at each other.

I was left awake and confused. Less than a half hour earlier I was having a great night, thinking teen-agers really aren’t as bad as I sometimes make them seem in this blog.

Let me know what you think.

Peace man

My 16-year-old came home with his high school yearbook last night. A peace sign was prominent on the cover.
It didn’t surprise me. Throughout Michael’s sophomore year at Lyman Hall High School, I’ve been peppered with questions about hippies, The Doors, Vietnam, JFK, Malcom X, long hair and Woodstock. His iPod library has plenty of rap, but is about 30 or 40 percent Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, Black Sabbath, Jefferson Airplane, The Rolling Stones and other 1960s bands.
Born in 1963, I didn’t experience the '60s the way older baby boomers did. But when I was in high school in the late '70s and early '80s, many aspects of '60s culture remained.
The '60s had its dark side. Illicit drugs became more main stream. Self-indulgence and casual sex became an accepted part of the culture. Cynicism and conspiracy theories became cool.

As a parent, I admit that this fascination with the '60s sometimes amuses me and sometimes worries me.
Is this latest '60s revival a good thing for teens? Let me know what you think?

R-J newsroom Friday, June 12

Report from the R-J newsroom on Friday, June 12

The Southington Relay for Life kicks off tonight, look for full coverage in Saturday’s Record-Journal.

Also in tomorrow’s paper, we’ve received word that a Wallingford business, Davidson Foods, which employs about 50 people, will be moving out of town.

Earlier this week the idea of offering a tax break for people who buy a new fuel-efficient car was being discussed in Congress. We will talk to local residents about the possible incentive.

Saturday is knitting in public day. We’ll have a story on local knitters who will be participating.

In Sports, the Southington volleyball team plays in the state championship tonight. Look for the story and photos in the sports section of Saturday’s Record-Journal.

Upcoming in the Record-Journal

In Sunday’s Record-Journal look for a story on some recent campaign ads that Sen. Chris Dodd has been running on TV.

In Monday’s Record-Journal look for coverage of an interfaith service at a Meriden mosque.


On MyRecordJournal.com

Check out our latest headlines. You’ll learn about a Southington police officer who was suspended after being charged with drunk driving. Also, learn about a house fire in Meriden this morning.

I just watched the video of Maloney High School Valedictorian Noreen Sit. Very interesting, especially if you like songs about calculus.

In our forum section, active discussion on Wallingford media personality John Sullivan, who announced this week that is officially seeking his party’s nomination to run for Town Council. One of our forum participants even takes a swipe at yours truly. Check it out on MyRecordJournal.

A sad sneaker story

A follow up to yesterday’s blog. My wife wanted me to write about my new sneakers and I opted to publicly confess that I re-use Dunkin Donut cups.

Walking around my neighborhood last night, I sensed something damp and gritty rubbing against my socks. The problem was a tear in my sneakers that I discovered about two months ago. It had finally ripped all the way through and sand was working its way in as I walked.

When I first noticed the tear I was sitting in the bleachers with my wife and about a dozen other parents watching my son play baseball. I loudly pointed out the rip and asked my wife if I now “qualified” for a new pair. I admit it was rude and an attempt to embarrass her but it is part of this phase I’m going through. I feel like most of the money we earn gets spent on my sons. In my mind, my wife spends most of the rest on herself and very little seems to trickle down to yours truly. As I see it, my sons seem to get new $100 sneakers regularly while I’m still wearing two-year-old Reeboks that cost me less than $40.
When we got home my wife told me I was out of line and got busy trying to find me new sneakers online. When that failed, she headed out to run some errands and returned with two new pair of Reeboks. I like to buy two pair at a time, one for show and one for chores and exercise. I tried them on, put them back in the box and placed them in the back room, vowing to wear them the next day.

Here is where the story gets strange. Two months later they remain in the box. I have this thing about parting with sneakers, clothing and other items. My wife buys replacements, but then I just can’t seem to actually use them. My home laptop sat in its box for about a year. I insisted I needed a new DVD player three years ago and only took it out of the box several months ago. (I still regret getting rid of the old one. In my mind it worked better.) I just started using a new radio I received for Christmas. There is a coffee maker sitting in my basement that I received for Christmas about five years ago.
I realize I need to replace things that are old and worn and not working properly, but I feel a strange attachment to objects like sneakers, DVD players and computers. Parting with them feels like parting with someone I’ve known for a long time and grown used to.

Since my wife considers herself an expert shopper, this strange habit is an insult to her purchasing prowess. She thinks she bought me some great sneakers at a great price after I complained publicly. Seeing them unopened two months later is annoying at best.

I think feeling the sand on my socks made me realize that my sneakers have given all they can give. I’ll keep you posted. Let me know what you think.

From the R-J newsroom, Tuesday June 9

From the R-J newsroom, Tuesday, June 9

A kindergarten addition at Hanover School and boiler replacement at City Hall are among the items the Meriden City Council is expected to discuss tonight as part of more than $14 million in proposed projects that would require borrowing. Look for the story in Wednesday’s Record-Journal.

Also in Wednesday’s newspaper, we will let you know why the flag of France is being displayed in downtown Wallingford.

As part of our continuing profiles of local valedictorians, look for the story on Sheehan’s top student.

By the way, I just watched the video interview with Platt’s valedictorian on MyRecordJournal.com Videographer Ben Smithwick and reporter Andrew Perlot did a great job. Check it out.

In sports, Southington and Cheshire boys volleyball teams square off in state tournament semi-final action tonight. That game is at Shelton High school starting at 7 p.m. Look for full coverage in the sports section of Wednesday’s Record-Journal.

Upcoming in the Record-Journal

Lots of weekend events in our area. We will be covering the Southington Relay for Life event and the Brian D. McCarthy Scholarship basketball tournament in Wallingford. Look for stories and photos in weekend editions of the Record-Journal.

On MyRecordJournal.com

Find out about an accident on 691 West that slowed traffic this morning. Check out all the latest headlines.

Don’t forget to vote in our online poll on internet use at public libraries.

Check out my latest written blog on re-using Dunkin donut coffee cups.

Is this story too embarassing?

“Did you tell John Sullivan about your two new pairs of sneakers,” Mary asks as I return from the Sunday night internet radio show that I do with John, one of Wallingford’s best-known media personalities.
For some reason, I’m not really sure exactly, she wants me to tell him the story about my new sneakers. I think it is because she thinks John will hear the story and tell me how strange I am. She enjoys that.
“I didn’ tell him, but I think I’m going to blog about it,” I said.
She smiles at the thought of me blogging about the two new pairs of sneakers that I have yet to wear two months after she bought them because she always hopeful that revealing my foibles will make the public turn on me.
“But first I’m going to blog about re-using Dunkin Donuts cups,” I add.
Her smile fades.
“I wouldn’t blog about that,” said said.
“Why not?”
“Too embarrassing,” she replies.
“Well then maybe you will get your wish and when they read about it they will finally realize just how difficult you have it.”

I drink about three cups of coffee each morning. The first two I have at home. The third I usually start at home and finish on the ride or after I get to work. For a while I was using one of those re-usable thermos type cups for the third cup. It gave the coffee a “plastic” taste and I had trouble sipping it out of the spill proof opening without spilling on my shirt or tie. I had Mary buy me some generic paper cups with lids. That was kind of expensive and not very environmentally friendly. A few months ago I couldn’t find my thermos cup and we were out of generic plastic cups. I noticed a Dunkin Donuts Styrofoam cup in the car from the night before. I washed it out, poured the coffee in and was on my way to work.
As I drove and sipped, I noticed no spilling. The coffee stayed plenty warm and somehow drinking out of the Dunkin Donuts cup made my brand taste better.
Since then I’ve been saving the medium coffee cups I purchase from Dunkin Donuts every few days and using them to transport my coffee when I leave home. If you look in our kitchen cabinets, you will usually find one or two washed Dunkin Donut cups and lids. When I get a new one, I throw an old one out.

Let me know if you think if I should have listened to my wife and not shared this. Also, would you have preferred to hear the story about the two new pairs of sneakers that I have yet to open?

Record-Journal newsroom Monday June 8

Record-Journal newsroom report, Monday, June 8

In Tuesday’s Record-Journal look for a story on the Wallingford Board of Education’s final budget for the upcoming fiscal year. The board needs to close a $2.5 million gap. We will let you know how they do it.

Also in tomorrow’s paper, look for a story on a Wallingford poodle that was actually bitten by a deer. Experts say it is unusual but not unheard of and offer some advice on how to protect small pets from wild animals.

St. Bridget’s parochial school in Cheshire has been closed since the end of last week, we’ll let you know what is going on.

In Sports, the Southington girls softball team plays in the Class LL semi-finals against top-ranked Masuk of Monroe. Look for the game story and photos in Tuesday’s Record-Journal sports section.

Upcoming in the Record-Journal

New medical office building is opening in Wallingford. Look for the story in an upcoming edition of the Record-Journal.

On MyRecordJournal.com

Very active forum the negotiations between the Meriden Board of Education and its teacher’s union. Check it out.

Take a look at the Spotted photo gallery on the Cheshire Relay for Life event.

Don’t forget to vote in our online poll on internet use at the Wallingord public library.

Record-Journal newsroom Friday, June 5

Stories we are working on the Record-Journal newsroom on Friday, June 5

In Saturday's Record-Journal, look for a story on a new proposal on how to handle ethics complaints in Wallingford. There has been a lot of controversy over the past year on some of the decisions the board has made and sparring over its makeup. We’ll let you know about the latest plan.

Also in Wallingford we will have feature story in tomorrow’s newspaper on “bad tie day” at Town Hall.

Meriden will have a new court focusing on legal matters involving children.

In business, we will let you know about expanded hours for an agency that helps people find jobs.

In sports, we’ve already received word that today’s state tournament quarterfinal softball matchup between Lyman Hall and Waterford has been postponed. There may be other postponements. Look for an updated schedule in Saturday’s Record-Journal sports section.

Upcoming in the Record-Journal

In Sunday’s Record-Journal, look for a story on first-term Wallingford Republican councilor John Letourneau’s battle to secure his party’s endorsement.

On MyRecordJournal.com

Very active forum on last night’s decision by the Meriden Board of Education to move forward with a plan to layoff teachers.

The Cheshire Relay for Life event kicks off tonight. We will have a spotted photographer at the event. Look for pics on MyRecordJournal later tonight.

News report on Thursday, June 4

Some of the stories the R-J newsroom is pursuing on Thursday, June 4.

Meriden Board of Education meets tonight and will once again discuss its final budget for the upcoming fiscal year, most importantly what will be cut. School sports, special academic programs and staff are apparently still on the chopping block. The board may or may not reach final decisions tonight. Look for the story in Friday’s Record-Journal.

Also in Friday’s newspaper, a story on the annual meeting of the Quinnipiac Chamber of Commerce, which includes Wallingford.

We will also let you know about a soap box derby winner in Wallingford.

In Southington, students are headed over to New Britain Superior Court to participate in a mock trial.

In sports, Southington High School, Cheshire, Lyman Hall and Maloney softball teams all play in state tournament quarter finals this afternoon. Look for the stories in tomorrow’s Record-Journal sports section.

Upcoming in the Record-Journal

The Cheshire Relay for Life event starts Friday night. Look for coverage in Saturday’s Record-Journal.

On MyRecordJournal.com

Check out the video on the holocaust survivor that spoke to Southington students yesterday.

Vote in our online poll on political messages and Memorial Day parades?

Later today look for a story on a Meriden boxing club that is running a program at the city’s housing projects.

Sleep disorder

Up until a few years ago my bedtime routine was probably neurotic, but amazingly consistent. I’d read or watch TV until I was feeling slightly sleepy. I could always sense when I was about a half hour away from dozing off. When my internal clock alerted me, I would start my pre-bedtime routine. First came hygiene, I’ll skip the details but among other things I couldn’t sleep unless every tooth was thoroughly scrubbed flossed and rinsed. When the weather was above freezing, I would always step outside to check the neighborhood. Not sure why exactly, but I liked knowing that everything was OK. After that I moved to making sure every window and door was locked. Not out of fear, but out of habit. Then came any remaining dishes or food that needed to be thrown out or put away. Finally, there was making sure every light or other appliance that needed to be turned off was off and the ones that needed to be one were on. I always checked on the boys and would even make sure my wife hadn’t left her reading glasses on or her book on the bed. The whole thing took about 30 minutes. Then I hit the bed, falling asleep within five minutes.

The first time I fell asleep sitting in my recliner watching TV I was amazed. It was probably the first time in my life I had fallen asleep sitting up. I thought it was just a fluke and didn’t worry. The night before that night was probably the last night that I didn’t fall asleep in my recliner. I doze off around 1 a.m. and usually wake between 2 and 4 a.m. Sometimes I’m wide awake and continue watching TV or reading and then usually fall asleep again in the recliner. Between the recliner and the bedroom I try to do old my pre-bed routine but many nights it is all I can do to get myself up two flights of stairs to the bedroom. I usually do the important stuff but groggy it is no fun. Sometimes I wake up hungry and snack.

I’ve tried a lot of things without much success. If I go to bed too early I lay there for hours and end up getting up and then have trouble falling asleep altogether. My wife gets up a lot earlier and therefore goes to bed earlier. I don’t want to read or watch TV in the bedroom because I’ll disturb her, although she says it won’t. I tried caffeine, late-night showers, no food, more food, exercise, walks, talk radio, iPod, etc. Nothing seems to restore my ability to know when I’m going to nod off.

I used to worry that my old routine was obsessive compulsive. Now I long for it. Any suggestions?