Like a lot of Wallingford residents I am anxiously awaiting Mayor Bill Dickinson’s budget proposal because it will tell me a lot about the kind of tax increase to expect. Dickinson is scheduled to release his spending plan late Wednesday afternoon.
I’m hoping he limits any proposed increase to two percent or less. I’m a little worried though. He complained when the council cut his budget last year and he hasn’t exactly been talking tough about holding the line on expenses in the upcoming budget. Hopefully he will surprise me and put forth a budget that holds the line on spending. That would mean reducing the number of school and town hall employees. No one, including yours truly, likes the idea of laying off workers. But with job cuts nearing record levels in the private sector it will be impossible to generate enough tax revenue to afford the town and school employees we have this year. Hopefully, some or all of the reduction can be done through normal attrition. If the mayor and school board had been working on contracting jobs last year this year’s cuts wouldn’t have to be as drastic.
If the Republican mayor puts forward a spending plan that calls for more than a two percent increase and the same number of school and town hall workers, he may play right into the hands of his Democratic challenger in this year’s election.
With 13 terms under his belt, Dickinson has built up a lot of good will. But voters are in an ornery mood this year, spurred on by forced cuts in their own household budgets, and may be looking to exact retribution on any politician who doesn’t work hard enough to cut spending.
Let me know what you think.
Look for full coverage of the mayor’s budget in Thursday’s Record-journal.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Dining out too much?
In a recent blog I wrote that my wife has been cooking more. Her efforts continue. This Sunday she made tomato sauce, a batch of macaroni and beef, a whole chicken, pork chops and fried dough. We ate some of the food yesterday. The rest is tucked away in the fridge for dinners throughout the week.
Despite her efforts, my sons, especially my oldest, still manage to eat out at least three times a week. Eating out has been a running battle for several years, pitting me against two teen-age sons and my wife, who mostly sides with them on this issue. My concern is the cost and the health effects of eating out. This past week, Michael, 15, dined at Burger King on Monday. On Friday, his mom took him out to Chili’s and on Saturday he went to Archie Moore’s with his grandparents. Mary points out Michael had plenty of home-cooked meals in between, but added that she wouldn’t have taken him out Friday if she knew he was eating out Saturday.
I still think eating out three nights a week is not a good idea. I’d be interested in hearing from others on the amount of meals their teens eat out and any suggestions on how to curb a teen’s appetite for fast food.
Despite her efforts, my sons, especially my oldest, still manage to eat out at least three times a week. Eating out has been a running battle for several years, pitting me against two teen-age sons and my wife, who mostly sides with them on this issue. My concern is the cost and the health effects of eating out. This past week, Michael, 15, dined at Burger King on Monday. On Friday, his mom took him out to Chili’s and on Saturday he went to Archie Moore’s with his grandparents. Mary points out Michael had plenty of home-cooked meals in between, but added that she wouldn’t have taken him out Friday if she knew he was eating out Saturday.
I still think eating out three nights a week is not a good idea. I’d be interested in hearing from others on the amount of meals their teens eat out and any suggestions on how to curb a teen’s appetite for fast food.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Forget me not
“Can you give me a price for a tune up on a 2006 Toyota…uh, uh…SUV,” I asked the service department employee on the other end of the phone. I didn’t like the price but was even more frustrated that I couldn’t remember the model of the vehicle I’ve been driving for three years. After hanging up the phone, I relaxed and thought for a second. “Highlander,” I said with relief.
When you approach 40 one of the scariest things is that you become forgetful. About five years ago, a gentleman I’ve known for 20 years walked up to me in a restaurant and said hello. I couldn’t remember his name. Worse, I was sitting with someone and the polite thing would have been to introduce him. How could I introduce someone whose name I couldn’t recall? How could I ask someone I’ve known for 20 years their name? I stumbled through a brief exchange that didn’t go so well. I was embarrassed at first and then scared that I was exhibiting early signs of dementia. A month later an older colleague was in my office. We were talking and suddenly he couldn’t remember the name of someone he had known for 40 years. He was momentarily frustrated and then shrugged it off with a smile. I told him about my restaurant experience. He explained it was very normal.
About a year ago I was at a school event when my oldest son’s favorite teacher came up to say hello. I shook his hand and stammered “Mr………….”
I blanked.
“I’m sorry. I can’t remember your name,” I admitted.
The teacher, in his 30s, looked surprised, reminded me of his name and asked about my son. The conversation went better than the one in the restaurant but I knew he was surprised and probably disappointed.
“Dad. I can’t believe you couldn’t remember Mr. Gilbert’s name,” Michael yells out as I come through the front door after work. Michael had visited Mr. Gilbert at his old middle school that afternoon. The two of them had a good laugh about my memory lapse.
I laughed at the thought of them laughing.
A month ago I was climbing the stairs at Dag Hammarskjold middle school. My youngest son is a student there. He has a different set of teachers. “Give me the names of Danny's teachers again,” I said to my wife. She went over them slowly.
Reaching the third floor, I entered the corridor and saw a familiar face with a big smile.
I pointed at him and shouted “Mr Gilbert!”
“You remembered!” he shot back.
After a brief conversation, I was off to see Danny’s teachers.
“What a great guy Mr. Gilbert is,” I told Mary. “I can see why Michael likes him. He has a strange sense of humor.
“I can’t wait until he gets a little older and forgets my name.”
(Editor's note: I told Online Editor Dan Champagne at 3 p.m. that I had a new blog written and would post it shortly. I forgot and didn't post it until after 5 p.m.)
When you approach 40 one of the scariest things is that you become forgetful. About five years ago, a gentleman I’ve known for 20 years walked up to me in a restaurant and said hello. I couldn’t remember his name. Worse, I was sitting with someone and the polite thing would have been to introduce him. How could I introduce someone whose name I couldn’t recall? How could I ask someone I’ve known for 20 years their name? I stumbled through a brief exchange that didn’t go so well. I was embarrassed at first and then scared that I was exhibiting early signs of dementia. A month later an older colleague was in my office. We were talking and suddenly he couldn’t remember the name of someone he had known for 40 years. He was momentarily frustrated and then shrugged it off with a smile. I told him about my restaurant experience. He explained it was very normal.
About a year ago I was at a school event when my oldest son’s favorite teacher came up to say hello. I shook his hand and stammered “Mr………….”
I blanked.
“I’m sorry. I can’t remember your name,” I admitted.
The teacher, in his 30s, looked surprised, reminded me of his name and asked about my son. The conversation went better than the one in the restaurant but I knew he was surprised and probably disappointed.
“Dad. I can’t believe you couldn’t remember Mr. Gilbert’s name,” Michael yells out as I come through the front door after work. Michael had visited Mr. Gilbert at his old middle school that afternoon. The two of them had a good laugh about my memory lapse.
I laughed at the thought of them laughing.
A month ago I was climbing the stairs at Dag Hammarskjold middle school. My youngest son is a student there. He has a different set of teachers. “Give me the names of Danny's teachers again,” I said to my wife. She went over them slowly.
Reaching the third floor, I entered the corridor and saw a familiar face with a big smile.
I pointed at him and shouted “Mr Gilbert!”
“You remembered!” he shot back.
After a brief conversation, I was off to see Danny’s teachers.
“What a great guy Mr. Gilbert is,” I told Mary. “I can see why Michael likes him. He has a strange sense of humor.
“I can’t wait until he gets a little older and forgets my name.”
(Editor's note: I told Online Editor Dan Champagne at 3 p.m. that I had a new blog written and would post it shortly. I forgot and didn't post it until after 5 p.m.)
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
A Mom's life
“The vegetables came a little mushy. I hope they are OK?” my wife says as I pack my lunch for work the next day. She fried enough mixed vegetables Sunday to last a week. For my Tuesday lunch, I packed them along with a chicken cutlet. After eating them, I phoned her to let her know they tasted excellent.
On Sunday, she also made tomato sauce and pasta and packed the extra in the fridge for lunches. I had ziti for lunch today. Monday night she made my sons a steak, French Fries and broccoli. In between, she whipped up an Oreo pie. I’ve already eaten more than half and will probably finish it tonight unless someone beats me to it.
I appreciate when my wife cooks because she is so busy with her job and other household chores.
My teen-age sons are a different story. Mary has been cooking more than usual lately and I think it was prompted by an exchange about a month ago. It was one of those typical Saturdays for her. She was cleaning, shopping and driving kids around, getting some help from me and none from my sons. Sometime around 6 or 7 p.m. my oldest complained that there was nothing to eat. Michael’s problem is that he does not like things warmed up in the microwave or oven and views all the ready-to-eat food in the refrigerator and freezer as unacceptable. I felt sorry for my wife. Kids are kids but she had been doing chores all day and hearing her 15-year-old announce she had failed in the meal department must have been discouraging. She spent most of the next day cooking.
This weekend she made two trips to the local deli/produce store because they didn’t have everything my sons wanted on the first trip. After the second visit Danny, who has no problem warming up prepared food, announced that she forgot his “favorite” cold cuts.
“Danny stop complaining. Your mother shopped all weekend,” I said before she could answer. She chimed in that when she had bought the particular item the week before he had ignored it and she ended up tossing it. Being a teenager, he continued to argue. A minute later she was upstairs upset and Danny, 14, was downstairs seemingly unaffected.
This weekend I spent a lot of time outdoors throwing around a baseball with my sons as they prepared for school tryouts. It’s a lot of fun helping them with sports and they appreciate it.
Moms have it a lot tougher. While Dad is out playing ball and getting credit, they are doing more important things.
On Sunday, she also made tomato sauce and pasta and packed the extra in the fridge for lunches. I had ziti for lunch today. Monday night she made my sons a steak, French Fries and broccoli. In between, she whipped up an Oreo pie. I’ve already eaten more than half and will probably finish it tonight unless someone beats me to it.
I appreciate when my wife cooks because she is so busy with her job and other household chores.
My teen-age sons are a different story. Mary has been cooking more than usual lately and I think it was prompted by an exchange about a month ago. It was one of those typical Saturdays for her. She was cleaning, shopping and driving kids around, getting some help from me and none from my sons. Sometime around 6 or 7 p.m. my oldest complained that there was nothing to eat. Michael’s problem is that he does not like things warmed up in the microwave or oven and views all the ready-to-eat food in the refrigerator and freezer as unacceptable. I felt sorry for my wife. Kids are kids but she had been doing chores all day and hearing her 15-year-old announce she had failed in the meal department must have been discouraging. She spent most of the next day cooking.
This weekend she made two trips to the local deli/produce store because they didn’t have everything my sons wanted on the first trip. After the second visit Danny, who has no problem warming up prepared food, announced that she forgot his “favorite” cold cuts.
“Danny stop complaining. Your mother shopped all weekend,” I said before she could answer. She chimed in that when she had bought the particular item the week before he had ignored it and she ended up tossing it. Being a teenager, he continued to argue. A minute later she was upstairs upset and Danny, 14, was downstairs seemingly unaffected.
This weekend I spent a lot of time outdoors throwing around a baseball with my sons as they prepared for school tryouts. It’s a lot of fun helping them with sports and they appreciate it.
Moms have it a lot tougher. While Dad is out playing ball and getting credit, they are doing more important things.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Not a child any more
“Dad, do you have five dollars?,” Michael, 15, asks as we drive home Wednesday night.
“What do you need it for ?.”
“The NCAA pool,” he responds.
“I thought I already gave you $5 for the pool.”
“This is a second one I’m in.”
This is the first time Michael has played the NCCA basketball pool. In fact, he’s been talking about the pool and the upper classmen who are running it all week.
When he first mentioned it, I felt a parental obligation to warn him about gambling. I didn’t because it would have made him feel like a child a month before he turns 16. I’m trying hard not to make him feel like a child even though I wish he was one. I don’t tell him what to do as much and allow him to make mistakes that I probably could have and would have prevented a year ago. He’ll be driving soon and has already started riding with some of his teammates and friends. He will be getting a steady job soon and maybe even a steady girlfriend. That would be OK with me, but his mom is worried that some pretty, skinny teen-age girl in tight pants and a low-cut top is going to break his heart. “Don’t their mothers check to see what they are wearing before they leave the house,” she says as we drive by a gaggle of girls Michael’s age. I tell her not to worry because boys take after their fathers.
I have new appreciation for anyone who has survived teen-agers. Letting them go is a lot harder than reining them in. Watching them make mistakes is more painful than spending every waking moment making sure they are never in a position to screw up.
I reach down to the console and hand him my wallet, knowing that I have $7.
“Mike, I need $5 to enter the pool at work,” I said, wanting to see what he would do.
He took the $5 and didn’t ask how I would pay for my office pool.
That’s OK. Parts of me was hoping some teacher would catch him turning in his sheet and give him a week’s worth of detentions.
“What do you need it for ?.”
“The NCAA pool,” he responds.
“I thought I already gave you $5 for the pool.”
“This is a second one I’m in.”
This is the first time Michael has played the NCCA basketball pool. In fact, he’s been talking about the pool and the upper classmen who are running it all week.
When he first mentioned it, I felt a parental obligation to warn him about gambling. I didn’t because it would have made him feel like a child a month before he turns 16. I’m trying hard not to make him feel like a child even though I wish he was one. I don’t tell him what to do as much and allow him to make mistakes that I probably could have and would have prevented a year ago. He’ll be driving soon and has already started riding with some of his teammates and friends. He will be getting a steady job soon and maybe even a steady girlfriend. That would be OK with me, but his mom is worried that some pretty, skinny teen-age girl in tight pants and a low-cut top is going to break his heart. “Don’t their mothers check to see what they are wearing before they leave the house,” she says as we drive by a gaggle of girls Michael’s age. I tell her not to worry because boys take after their fathers.
I have new appreciation for anyone who has survived teen-agers. Letting them go is a lot harder than reining them in. Watching them make mistakes is more painful than spending every waking moment making sure they are never in a position to screw up.
I reach down to the console and hand him my wallet, knowing that I have $7.
“Mike, I need $5 to enter the pool at work,” I said, wanting to see what he would do.
He took the $5 and didn’t ask how I would pay for my office pool.
That’s OK. Parts of me was hoping some teacher would catch him turning in his sheet and give him a week’s worth of detentions.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Congratulations Lyman Hall !
Congratulations to the Lyman Hall boys basketball team for advancing to the semi-finals of the Class L basketball tournament for the second year. Coach Mike Conner’s team is again playing their best basketball at the most important time of the year. Good luck Trojans on Wednesday night against Torrington. That game starts at 7 p.m. at the New Haven Athletic Center. I’ll be there.
The Lyman Hall hockey team also made it to the semi-finals of their tournament, losing Wednesday night to Cheshire. Despite the loss, the LH hockey team’s 17-6 record was an amazing turn around. In the previous two seasons the team won a grand total of 7 games. Coach Tim Belcher should get serious consideration for Coach of the Year.
Best of luck to the Cheshire Rams in the state championship game Friday night against Enfield. That game starts at 7:30 p.m. at Ingalls Rink in New Haven.
Staff photographer Dave Zajac, at both games, also had a tremendous night. I just viewed Dave’s photos of the games on MyRecordJournal. Check them out when you have a chance. He really captures the emotion of both contests.
The Lyman Hall hockey team also made it to the semi-finals of their tournament, losing Wednesday night to Cheshire. Despite the loss, the LH hockey team’s 17-6 record was an amazing turn around. In the previous two seasons the team won a grand total of 7 games. Coach Tim Belcher should get serious consideration for Coach of the Year.
Best of luck to the Cheshire Rams in the state championship game Friday night against Enfield. That game starts at 7:30 p.m. at Ingalls Rink in New Haven.
Staff photographer Dave Zajac, at both games, also had a tremendous night. I just viewed Dave’s photos of the games on MyRecordJournal. Check them out when you have a chance. He really captures the emotion of both contests.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Did I make Him Walk? (conclusion)
Sorry for the delay. I know you have been waiting for me to finish the story from my previous blog.
Just to summarize. I was upset with son Danny calling and asking me to drive back downtown because 10 minutes earlier when I was downtown he told me he didn’t need a ride. It is not the first time Danny, 13, has done this.
“Walk?,” Danny said.
“Yes Danny walk. I’m just sitting down to eat.” I replied.
My wife who was not aware of the entire situation overheard my end of the conversation and offered to go get him. That made me feel guilty because after cleaning, shopping, cooking, driving these kids to school every morning and driving them around on the weekends, she was willing to help more. I was afraid that if I didn’t get Danny, she might. My intent was to teach Danny a lesson, not to give her more to do. Another layer to parenting is getting both parents on the same page before you deal with the child. I should have hung up and explained the situation to her. As usual, I compromised. My older son would call it giving in again to the child I favor.
“Dan. I have to go back out in about half an hour or so. I can pick you up then. If you want to get home sooner, you’ll have to walk.”
Danny said he would wait.
A minute later the phone rang. My wife answered. It was Danny. I was hoping he had decided to walk.
“Danny asked if you could give his friend a ride home,” she said.
My wife and I had a conference with Danny’s teachers this week. They had lots of nice things to say about his work and conduct, adding that they wish he would stay in their class and not move on to Lyman Hall next year. They tell me he has a great sense of humor and they will miss his funny stories about his life, including his family. I think I know where he gets some of his material.
Just to summarize. I was upset with son Danny calling and asking me to drive back downtown because 10 minutes earlier when I was downtown he told me he didn’t need a ride. It is not the first time Danny, 13, has done this.
“Walk?,” Danny said.
“Yes Danny walk. I’m just sitting down to eat.” I replied.
My wife who was not aware of the entire situation overheard my end of the conversation and offered to go get him. That made me feel guilty because after cleaning, shopping, cooking, driving these kids to school every morning and driving them around on the weekends, she was willing to help more. I was afraid that if I didn’t get Danny, she might. My intent was to teach Danny a lesson, not to give her more to do. Another layer to parenting is getting both parents on the same page before you deal with the child. I should have hung up and explained the situation to her. As usual, I compromised. My older son would call it giving in again to the child I favor.
“Dan. I have to go back out in about half an hour or so. I can pick you up then. If you want to get home sooner, you’ll have to walk.”
Danny said he would wait.
A minute later the phone rang. My wife answered. It was Danny. I was hoping he had decided to walk.
“Danny asked if you could give his friend a ride home,” she said.
My wife and I had a conference with Danny’s teachers this week. They had lots of nice things to say about his work and conduct, adding that they wish he would stay in their class and not move on to Lyman Hall next year. They tell me he has a great sense of humor and they will miss his funny stories about his life, including his family. I think I know where he gets some of his material.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Did I make him walk home?
Walking out of the Wallingford YMCA Sunday, I spied that my 13-year-old was playing basketball with friends on the court at the east end of Doolittle Park, about 100 yards away. Since it was 5 p.m. and the first day of daylight-saving time, I was pretty sure he wanted to stay but decided to check. Instead of driving over, I called his cell phone.
“Dan I’m leaving the Y do you want a ride home?” I asked, hearing dribbling in the background.
“No. I’m going to stay for a while,” he said.
“You’re sure?”
“Yep,” he replied.
Driving away I had a funny feeling. Danny has this habit of saying he doesn’t want a ride and then calling the house for one 10 minutes later. The first time I thought it was a joke.
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “I just left the Y ten minutes ago. Why did you say you didn’t want a ride?”
The second time I remarked to my wife that I had lost faith in a school system that awarded Danny all A’s and B’s. Danny’s older brother, Michael, thought it was hilarious. He thinks I’m harder on him and that these incidents are proof Danny is spoiled.
Somewhere between the second and third time, my wife raised the idea that Danny is not stupid and instead well aware of how unreasonable his request is. In other words, he is doing it to be annoying.
I stuck up for Danny, proving Michael’s point.
“You don’t how to handle him,” Michael, 15, interjected.
At about 5:15 p.m. this past Sunday, I was sitting down to my first real meal of the day – a nice fresh chicken cutlet and pasta. The phone rang. I saw it was Danny.
“I don’t believe it,” I said to my wife as I moved toward the phone. “It’s Danny. He can’t want a ride.”
“Dad, can you come get me?” he asked with no hesitation.
“Danny I just asked you if you wanted ride. Now walk home.”
Doolittle Park is about two miles from our house.
“Walk?’ he said.
I’ll finish the story in an upcoming blog. Let me know what you think I did and offer suggestions on how to stop teen-agers from believing their parents have nothing else to do but drive them around.
“Dan I’m leaving the Y do you want a ride home?” I asked, hearing dribbling in the background.
“No. I’m going to stay for a while,” he said.
“You’re sure?”
“Yep,” he replied.
Driving away I had a funny feeling. Danny has this habit of saying he doesn’t want a ride and then calling the house for one 10 minutes later. The first time I thought it was a joke.
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “I just left the Y ten minutes ago. Why did you say you didn’t want a ride?”
The second time I remarked to my wife that I had lost faith in a school system that awarded Danny all A’s and B’s. Danny’s older brother, Michael, thought it was hilarious. He thinks I’m harder on him and that these incidents are proof Danny is spoiled.
Somewhere between the second and third time, my wife raised the idea that Danny is not stupid and instead well aware of how unreasonable his request is. In other words, he is doing it to be annoying.
I stuck up for Danny, proving Michael’s point.
“You don’t how to handle him,” Michael, 15, interjected.
At about 5:15 p.m. this past Sunday, I was sitting down to my first real meal of the day – a nice fresh chicken cutlet and pasta. The phone rang. I saw it was Danny.
“I don’t believe it,” I said to my wife as I moved toward the phone. “It’s Danny. He can’t want a ride.”
“Dad, can you come get me?” he asked with no hesitation.
“Danny I just asked you if you wanted ride. Now walk home.”
Doolittle Park is about two miles from our house.
“Walk?’ he said.
I’ll finish the story in an upcoming blog. Let me know what you think I did and offer suggestions on how to stop teen-agers from believing their parents have nothing else to do but drive them around.
Friday, March 6, 2009
2 minutes 11 seconds
Something happened yesterday that made me think about how much things have changed in my 40-plus years. A little before noon, my third cup of coffee was getting a little cold so I walked about 50 feet to the nearest microwave to warm it. As I approached, my mood soured because I could hear the hum and knew the microwave was in use. Arriving, I saw that my co-worker’s soup was going to take another 2 minutes and 11 seconds. I turned around, stopped by the online department to tell the intern I was ready to tape my daily video and returned to my desk. Feeling hungry, I popped open a small container of applesauce and decided I also had time to call my wife and confirm a pickup time before the intern Katie arrived to shoot Tomorrow’s News Today. Katie walked in as I was trying to scoop applesauce into my mouth and talk to my wife at the same time. Awkwardly, I told her to come on in and started telling my wife I would be picking up son Danny at around 3 p.m. After missing my mouth and spilling applesauce on my shirt, I put it down, told my wife good-bye and apologized to Katie for not being ready for the video. In the end, my coffee was still cold, I was still hungry, my wife was still confused about pickup plans and I suspect Katie is wondering why I have the big office.
It occurred to me that the whole mess could have been avoided if I had just waited 2 minutes and 11 seconds. When I was growing up, it seemed no one measured time by minutes and seconds. Now every tick of the clock is a chance to multi-task. In the end, all my rushing accomplished nothing worthwhile.
Any comments or suggestions?
It occurred to me that the whole mess could have been avoided if I had just waited 2 minutes and 11 seconds. When I was growing up, it seemed no one measured time by minutes and seconds. Now every tick of the clock is a chance to multi-task. In the end, all my rushing accomplished nothing worthwhile.
Any comments or suggestions?
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Least favorite Wallingford intersections
I wasn’t surprised to learn that the intersection of Route 5, Toelles Road and the Wharton Brook Connector to exit 13 of I-91 is considered the most dangerous in town (page one, Saturday, Feb. 28). The connector itself is also a little hairy, especially if you enter it from the left hand exit from I-91 north. I avoid doing that even though it is the exit closet to my home, opting instead for exit 12 and then driving a couple of miles north on Route 5.
The story got me to thinking about some of my least favorite intersections in Wallingford. Here is a list of my top 5, in no particular order. Let me know if you agree or have others.
1 The four way stop sign at the intersection of Ward Street and South Elm. Another one I avoid at all costs, often driving a mile out of my way to get to places like the YMCA.
2 Any left hand turn off of Route 68 between I-91 and North Main Street Extension. The speed of the oncoming vehicles actually shakes my stopped SUV.
3 Speaking of Route 68, I hate the left hand turn lane at Route 68 and Leigus Road. It seems like the longest left hand turn light in town. Late at night, when 68 is a ghost town, I’m actually tempted to turn when the light is red.
4 Any intersection on the Choate campus. Townies can’t stand waiting for Choate kids to cross. I didn’t arrive in Wallingford until I was 23 so until recently I was Choate’s biggest defender. But that new crosswalk about halfway between Center and Christian streets is too much. Why not just make it a private road for Choate?
5 The intersection of Dudley Avenue and Route 5. Poor sight lines pulling on and off of Dudley make going to the dump and recyclable center a nightmare.
The story got me to thinking about some of my least favorite intersections in Wallingford. Here is a list of my top 5, in no particular order. Let me know if you agree or have others.
1 The four way stop sign at the intersection of Ward Street and South Elm. Another one I avoid at all costs, often driving a mile out of my way to get to places like the YMCA.
2 Any left hand turn off of Route 68 between I-91 and North Main Street Extension. The speed of the oncoming vehicles actually shakes my stopped SUV.
3 Speaking of Route 68, I hate the left hand turn lane at Route 68 and Leigus Road. It seems like the longest left hand turn light in town. Late at night, when 68 is a ghost town, I’m actually tempted to turn when the light is red.
4 Any intersection on the Choate campus. Townies can’t stand waiting for Choate kids to cross. I didn’t arrive in Wallingford until I was 23 so until recently I was Choate’s biggest defender. But that new crosswalk about halfway between Center and Christian streets is too much. Why not just make it a private road for Choate?
5 The intersection of Dudley Avenue and Route 5. Poor sight lines pulling on and off of Dudley make going to the dump and recyclable center a nightmare.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Lyman Hall Sheehan Photo Gallery
Don’t forget to check out the photo gallery from Saturday’s Sheehan-Lyman Hall boys basketball game on MyRecordJournal. Staff photographer Rob Beecher did an excellent job capturing the third meeting between the two rivals, loading a whopping 98 photos on the web site. If you were not at the game, you can follow the ebbs and flows through Rob’s photography. If you were in attendance, you can actually get a better view of some action with the help of Rob’s zoom lens. Just go to MyRecordJournal and click on photos and then newspaper photos to access the gallery.
Here are 100 pictures from the game taken by Record-Journal photographer Rob Beecher
Here are 100 pictures from the game taken by Record-Journal photographer Rob Beecher
Monday, March 2, 2009
Congratulations Sheehan Titans!
Sorry for the delay. I had some technical difficulties trying to blog from home.
Congratulations to Coach Joe Gaetano and the Sheehan Titans. Beating Lyman Hall for a third time in one season is no small accomplishment. These rivalry games are difficult enough to win once. I root for Lyman Hall, but Sheehan is my second favorite team. I know Justin Kuntz’s dad (Tom) and John Papale’s father (Mike). I am very happy for both. I’ve also had the chance to talk to Joe Gaetano a few times this year and found him to be class act. His son (Phil) is also a great player. I’ll be pulling for Sheehan against Hamden Tuesday night and in the Class M state tournament.
What about my favorite basketball team, the Lyman Hall Trojans? I think they still have a chance to make a run in the Class L state tournament. They need to put this latest loss behind them and put their mind on the tournament. Coach Mike Conner is a master motivator. If anyone can get the team turned around, it is last year’s high school Coach of the Year. Go LH!
Here are 100 pictures from the game taken by Record-Journal photographer Rob Beecher
Congratulations to Coach Joe Gaetano and the Sheehan Titans. Beating Lyman Hall for a third time in one season is no small accomplishment. These rivalry games are difficult enough to win once. I root for Lyman Hall, but Sheehan is my second favorite team. I know Justin Kuntz’s dad (Tom) and John Papale’s father (Mike). I am very happy for both. I’ve also had the chance to talk to Joe Gaetano a few times this year and found him to be class act. His son (Phil) is also a great player. I’ll be pulling for Sheehan against Hamden Tuesday night and in the Class M state tournament.
What about my favorite basketball team, the Lyman Hall Trojans? I think they still have a chance to make a run in the Class L state tournament. They need to put this latest loss behind them and put their mind on the tournament. Coach Mike Conner is a master motivator. If anyone can get the team turned around, it is last year’s high school Coach of the Year. Go LH!
Here are 100 pictures from the game taken by Record-Journal photographer Rob Beecher
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