There's a neat restaurant about 3 miles from where I live. It's the Huddle House, and anyone driving anywhere in the south has seen one. There's Waffle House too, a rivalry like McDonald's vs. Burger King.
This Huddle House is clean, and since the town is small everyone knows everyone. I'm a stranger but won't be for long. They already recognize me, after having eaten there only three times.
The place is full of characters. This morning the short order cook stood in front of the griddle, order tickets fluttering above the in the air conditioning (yes we still need it), steaming plates lined up in front of her, hand on hip, other hand flipping hash browns (the shredded kind) and singing along to Shania Twain on the radio.
The District Manager came in, and the two got to talking. It's Halloween today, and around here that's a big deal. The cook noticed the Manager wore orange socks with pumpkins, and he said, "Oh yes, I have over 200 holiday socks. All kinds. A special three drawer chest to put them in. I love holiday socks." After a second he said, "I love the holidays. At Christmas, I put up 10,000 lights. My electric bill goes from $140 to about $400."
"So you really get into the spirit of it," said the cook.
"Oh, yes! Halloween is my second favorite holiday!"
"What's the first?"
"Christmas. And third is Easter."
An interesting holiday sandwich.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
The Incredible Vanishing Conflict of Interest
Donnie Carroll, I blogged earlier, is behind the petition to overturn the council decision regarding dispatch. Being an executive director Southern Maine Emergency Medical Services, his participation in the petition process would likely be seen as a conflict of interest, I had said.Here are additional developments.
So Mr. Carroll knows that his involvement with the emergency dispatching services petition overturning a unanimous council vote would be a conflict of interest. He admits to making a phone call to town office inquiring about it.
OK, Let's back up a few days, now. For the background, the truth and the heart of the matter.
Mr. Carroll had actually sent a note to town office written and signed in his own hand, received by Town Manager, forever making him the initiator of this petition process.
Then Councilor Skip Crane spoke with County. Uh-oh.
After the confab with County, Mr. Carroll suddenly decided that his father should pick up the petitions. Mr. Carroll Senior was a Gray ambulance driver. Donnie's stance now is, 'Who, me? Oh, goodness no, I am not involved. Otherwise, it'd be a conflict of interest, you know.'
So the 'Let's Protect Carroll Family's Dispatch Jobs' petition process stinks already. If we are being kind, we can say Donnie forgot about the note he wrote. In his own hand. With a pen.
Otherwise, the straight face test says: Donnie Carroll started this thing with a conflict of interest, continued it with a lie, and perpetuated the process with eager petitioners bent on protecting his personal turf to the detriment of 7,200 taxpayers. Oh, yes, Mr. Carroll's brother is also with Gray Fire-Rescue. Me-smells a wee bit o'blarney. Or maybe a pile of it.
Roadkill
I spent a magical morning on Sunday driving around and snapping photographs. It’s so heartbreakingly beautiful around here, I just cannot feast my eyes enough.
It’s rural, and that means lots of animals. On my outing, I saw baby sheep, cows, deer, geese, fighting cocks tethered in their mini-quonset huts, goats, turkey vultures, hawks, an eagle, and horses. It’s glorious to see so much life, during the day.
At night, it’s a different story. A friend of mine, Gray farmer Dick Wood, made me laugh with this phrase: “The city folks come here to be among the farms and say ‘isn’t it pretty.’ But as soon as I come around with the perfume wagon, they start to squawk.”
The perfume wagon, colorfully, is manure, and is a natural part of rural living. The animals used for agriculture stay within their pens and on their ranches, but the wild animals don’t. Sometimes the two worlds collide. When that happens, you’ve got roadkill.
Driving along, I see the results of plenty of tragic accidents between cars and animals. The worst, of course, are the doggies and kitties that didn’t make it. I resolved that when I drive home from my friends’ house at night, I would not take the back roads, and stick to the highway, where there is more traffic and less, slightly less, chance of running into or over something live.
Because man, it’s dark. There are no towns between my friends and my apartment. There are no streetlights. There is no ambient light from anywhere, except the stars. While the main roads are well-maintained, the back roads have no stripes or fog lines to guide a driver.
Well, inevitably, last night it happened. I was tootling along at a cautious night time 40 miles an hour when a possum shot out from the left side of the road. I didn’t know they scoot along so fast! And I was the only car on the gol’darn road. I jammed on my brakes, but it was too late. I ran it over.
This was the first thing I ever ran over, and I hated that ‘THUNK’ sound. While I was relieved it wasn’t a cat or a dog, it still meant hurting a living thing and that hurt my heart. Getting used to it won’t be easy. But the reality is, being in a rural area means the clean and the messy, the nice and the smelly, the births and the deaths.
In other words, in all its sorrow and glory, life.
It’s rural, and that means lots of animals. On my outing, I saw baby sheep, cows, deer, geese, fighting cocks tethered in their mini-quonset huts, goats, turkey vultures, hawks, an eagle, and horses. It’s glorious to see so much life, during the day.
At night, it’s a different story. A friend of mine, Gray farmer Dick Wood, made me laugh with this phrase: “The city folks come here to be among the farms and say ‘isn’t it pretty.’ But as soon as I come around with the perfume wagon, they start to squawk.”
The perfume wagon, colorfully, is manure, and is a natural part of rural living. The animals used for agriculture stay within their pens and on their ranches, but the wild animals don’t. Sometimes the two worlds collide. When that happens, you’ve got roadkill.
Driving along, I see the results of plenty of tragic accidents between cars and animals. The worst, of course, are the doggies and kitties that didn’t make it. I resolved that when I drive home from my friends’ house at night, I would not take the back roads, and stick to the highway, where there is more traffic and less, slightly less, chance of running into or over something live.
Because man, it’s dark. There are no towns between my friends and my apartment. There are no streetlights. There is no ambient light from anywhere, except the stars. While the main roads are well-maintained, the back roads have no stripes or fog lines to guide a driver.
Well, inevitably, last night it happened. I was tootling along at a cautious night time 40 miles an hour when a possum shot out from the left side of the road. I didn’t know they scoot along so fast! And I was the only car on the gol’darn road. I jammed on my brakes, but it was too late. I ran it over.
This was the first thing I ever ran over, and I hated that ‘THUNK’ sound. While I was relieved it wasn’t a cat or a dog, it still meant hurting a living thing and that hurt my heart. Getting used to it won’t be easy. But the reality is, being in a rural area means the clean and the messy, the nice and the smelly, the births and the deaths.
In other words, in all its sorrow and glory, life.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Split personality town
Saturday I went to the library just before 10 a.m. opening. The lights were off and there was no one around. As I waited in the car, I saw another woman waiting in her car two parking spots over. "Good, so I'm not the only one," I thought. The technology librarian arrived and I thought that any second the library would open for the day. It was just 10 a.m. The other woman got out and talked with the technology librarian. Not going in. Waited more. Not going in. What's up? I thought.
A small Honda zoomed up and a woman got out and opened the library doors. The other car-waiting woman laughed as I came in, she said, "It's the case of the lost keys!" Oh, so that was it. They didn't have the keys. The woman pointed to the Head Librarian, who it turns out was the one who had zoomed up. She said, "I wish I had a camera!" The Librarian was in PJ's, robe, and slippers. The be-robed librarian was the only one who had the keys, and when she heard the library had not opened on time and no one else had the keys, jumped in her and zoomed over, not stopping to dress but her only thought was to serve the patrons.
Cut to the afternoon, beading bracelets at a jewelry shop with two friends and the proprietor of the store. We were talking about the place down the road called "Snug Harbor" which features a gate, a Confederate flag, and two military trucks painted in camo parked out front. "Sure, he's a survivalist," the jewelry proprietor said. "He visited this store when I first opened up and told me about his AK 47s. He said if I stepped one toe on his property he'd shoot me."
We gasped and laughed and said 'Well I guess we won't be turning around in his driveway.' The jewelry lady said, "He strings razor wire across his driveway every night."
From the Librarian in PJs to the Razor Wire Survivalist...this town has it all.
A small Honda zoomed up and a woman got out and opened the library doors. The other car-waiting woman laughed as I came in, she said, "It's the case of the lost keys!" Oh, so that was it. They didn't have the keys. The woman pointed to the Head Librarian, who it turns out was the one who had zoomed up. She said, "I wish I had a camera!" The Librarian was in PJ's, robe, and slippers. The be-robed librarian was the only one who had the keys, and when she heard the library had not opened on time and no one else had the keys, jumped in her and zoomed over, not stopping to dress but her only thought was to serve the patrons.
Cut to the afternoon, beading bracelets at a jewelry shop with two friends and the proprietor of the store. We were talking about the place down the road called "Snug Harbor" which features a gate, a Confederate flag, and two military trucks painted in camo parked out front. "Sure, he's a survivalist," the jewelry proprietor said. "He visited this store when I first opened up and told me about his AK 47s. He said if I stepped one toe on his property he'd shoot me."
We gasped and laughed and said 'Well I guess we won't be turning around in his driveway.' The jewelry lady said, "He strings razor wire across his driveway every night."
From the Librarian in PJs to the Razor Wire Survivalist...this town has it all.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Oxymoronlist
Someone commented in a previous post that a neat site is www.oxymoronlist.com. It's a list of phrases that hang two words together that mean the opposite, you know, like jumbo shrimp. It's neat to read through them all, some I had not thought of as being oxymorons. Like 'bad health.' Good one!Here's the pony at my apartment saying hello this morning, which dawned cool and windy. The leaves change, but do not get as vibrant. It's still gorgeous, though.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Donnie Carroll of Emergency Services is behind the petition
Donnie Carroll has taken out a petition to veto Council's decision to contract with the Cumberland County Regional Communications Center. If they get the required number of valid signatures, the Order to combine dispatch with County is suspended until the next municipal election in June.
Mr. Carroll is Executive Director of Southern Maine Emergency Medical Services(EMS). One can say either he is intensely interested in the issues around emergency management because he is a samaritan...or he has a vested interest for himself and/or his friends.
Do you think they will get 750 signatures?
Mr. Carroll is Executive Director of Southern Maine Emergency Medical Services(EMS). One can say either he is intensely interested in the issues around emergency management because he is a samaritan...or he has a vested interest for himself and/or his friends.
Do you think they will get 750 signatures?
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Politics of the angry disaffected
The Dispatch and recall people who were so incensed at the unanimous vote of the council switching dispatch from Gray to County, are talking about taking out a petition. According to the charter, the only official petitions one can take out are for a recall (been there done that) petition to enact an ordinance (which does not apply in this case) or to overturn action of council (bingo!)
It appears that there is a petition to overturn the council vote to outsource dispatch to Cumberland County. Petitioners need approx. 750 signatures then the council decision will be held until a vote in the next municipal election.
The Gray Town Charter Article IX describes the process. The charter is available online at www.graymaine.org click on 'town council' then on 'town charter'.
The politics of the politically disaffected angry recall folk are destructive. They are fight-a-holics in the extreme. (I cannot claim that apt turn of phrase. It is the anonymous person on the new Gray Maine blog that used to be run by Tinman.) I would much rather see citizens working with, or persuading respectfully, than railing against. Don't they ever get tired of fighting?
It appears that there is a petition to overturn the council vote to outsource dispatch to Cumberland County. Petitioners need approx. 750 signatures then the council decision will be held until a vote in the next municipal election.
The Gray Town Charter Article IX describes the process. The charter is available online at www.graymaine.org click on 'town council' then on 'town charter'.
The politics of the politically disaffected angry recall folk are destructive. They are fight-a-holics in the extreme. (I cannot claim that apt turn of phrase. It is the anonymous person on the new Gray Maine blog that used to be run by Tinman.) I would much rather see citizens working with, or persuading respectfully, than railing against. Don't they ever get tired of fighting?
How to succeed in influencing opinion leaders
Like from people who can't take no for an answer and spend their time with pointless recalls, angry audience rhetoric, hate blogs, and ineffective persuasion.
How refreshing it'd be to have a group of people who though they were dissatisfied with an outcome worked respectfully and positively toward their desired outcome. A fine example of citizen intervention was the Rt. 100 rezone group, who worked tirelessly for two years and never raised their voice, never started a recall, never tore down-- but instead worked within, and eventually prevailed. I so respect that kind of citizen engagement with government.
Because the hate-posse is so negative and therefore has been unsuccessful to date, and since they have ignored the positive methods and subsequent success of the Rt. 100 folks, and since they have such heartburn over the Council's County Dispatch vote, here are some helpful tips for advocating for your position with elected leaders. It comes from a website discussing youth health. Some tips I deleted in the interest of space, and I put the tips I think need the most attention on top. "Be professional, Tell the truth, and Do not create enemies." Good advice!
Chapter 6. The Art of Persuasion: Getting the Support of Opinion Leaders and Policy Makers. General Tips for Advocacy
Be professional. Be professional in both dress and manner. Avoid criticizing other leaders, public figures, or organizations.
Tell the truth. There is no faster way to lose credibility than to give false or misleading information to an opinion leader.
Do not create enemies. It is easy to get emotional over strongly felt issues. Be sure to leave the relationship with the opinion leader on good terms to permit working with him or her again. Do not argue heatedly, and never threaten a leader. Even if he or she opposes this issue, the opinion leader could be a strong supporter on another!
Be focused.
Be prepared.
Make a specific request.
Follow up.
Target efforts.
Be gracious and respectful.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Dad approves
My father flew down to take a look at my new apartment and to have me show him around my new life. We spent a nice day driving in the sunshine. I took him through the town I do laundry and banking and library internetting, to my home town where the only restaurant was closed but a 6 year old girl in a baker's apron waved hello from behind the glass door. So we ate at the Chevron station Subway instead. We drove over roads that wound between prosperous farms with shiny silos to 'highways' that had only one or two cars on them. He was thrilled to buy gas for $1.99 a gallon, and impressed with the State park complete with bridle trails and covered bridge only a few miles from my place.
I gave him a tour of my apartment and when he saw the lump under the covers on my bed, I said, "That's my cat." He was astounded that a cat would get under the covers and sleep there all day. "Isn't she breathing her own carbon dioxide?" he asked. Yes, and for the life of me I don't know why Abby doesn't asphyxiate.
So, dad approves! Tonight we're going out to eat at a nice Italian restaurant in the city with a couple of friends. Best of all, late in the day we finally figured out how the car's GPS works. 'Approaching exit, turn right' the well modulated female voice says. We both laughed at the amazing-ness of how the car knew where we were, and a little unnerved when it stopped letting me program it once the car was underway ("Driver may not program while car is in motion, press enter to have passenger continue...") Scary. I programmed the GPS for the airport so he should be all set for tomorrow's early morning departure for the big airport.
Onward, spaghetti with carbonara sauce awaits!
I gave him a tour of my apartment and when he saw the lump under the covers on my bed, I said, "That's my cat." He was astounded that a cat would get under the covers and sleep there all day. "Isn't she breathing her own carbon dioxide?" he asked. Yes, and for the life of me I don't know why Abby doesn't asphyxiate.
So, dad approves! Tonight we're going out to eat at a nice Italian restaurant in the city with a couple of friends. Best of all, late in the day we finally figured out how the car's GPS works. 'Approaching exit, turn right' the well modulated female voice says. We both laughed at the amazing-ness of how the car knew where we were, and a little unnerved when it stopped letting me program it once the car was underway ("Driver may not program while car is in motion, press enter to have passenger continue...") Scary. I programmed the GPS for the airport so he should be all set for tomorrow's early morning departure for the big airport.
Onward, spaghetti with carbonara sauce awaits!
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