Your Stories from The People's Press Early June 2011 Issue

The Early June 2011 issue of The People’s Press in searchable text format.



Your Stories Early June 2011


To read The People’s Press in Image Form, Downloadable PDF form and interact go to www.peoplespressnews.com  


The deadline for our Mid-June 2011 issue of The People’s Press is June 15th. Email your stories, photos, news and events to andy@peoplespressnews.com. Don’t forget Father’s Day Photo Wishes & Stories!






Our Wings


A poem for Bria, missing you always Sister!


By Kayley Vitale






I hear you say You wish


That I was there With you






What you just may not realize though


Is that I wish that too.






Just because you do Not see me


Does not mean That I am gone






For I Am just above you, dear


Your faith must Remain strong.






Every time you cry,


I am up here Crying too






And all the times You want to hug me


I want to just grab you.






You are not in pain alone


Nor have I been freed from mine,






But until we meet again, my dear


You will have to Wait in line.






So when all those Ill emotions


Come to bother you






Just remember That I said


There is only one thing We can do,






We lift our heads, And fight the war


For, giving up Won’t solve things






And tell ourselves That one day, soon


We both will have our wings.










Dear Housewives – Connecticut’s Know It All Gals


Dear Readers, Do you have a question regarding family life, budgeting, customer service issues, DVD or book reviews, or home organization? We will give you our candid advice from a family perspective. Contact The Peoples Press by e-mail at andy@peoplespressnews.com or call 203-235-9333 with your confidential question and we will answer it in the next issue.


Sincerely, June and Flora






Dear Housewives,


I have a dilemma. I was out with my friend and our children. They are both five years old


and sit in booster seats. My friend had to leave and asked if I would take her daughter home with


me. I agreed. After she left, I realized that I had only one booster seat. My husband was furious when I told him that I put our guest in the seat and buckled our daughter with the lap belt. Was I in the wrong? He said to write to Dear Housewives to get a straight answer.


Signed, Whom do you boost?






JUNE: I really don't see why your husband was furious. Tell him to calm down. Everyone was seat belted which is the most important thing. I have had guests in my car and although my child usually stays in his booster, I do always offer mine up. Only once did someone take me up on it but her girl was smaller than my boy so it was fine. It really is a decision between the two parents. You should always ask and be prepared to give yours up. Chances are all will be fine, drive carefully.


FLORA: Well mom, I would have boosted the guest as well. I assume you could not contact the other mom to have her return with a booster seat. This is a tricky situation and thankfully you all arrived at your destination safely. Just to think, kids would be piled in a station-wagon, unbuckled and I was in a cardboard box on the floor of my parent’s car...










Flooding Of Lake Champlain


Over 500 homes & camps are lost among other important places in VT. Dairy farmers are selling their herds because they can’t plant corn for the cows & can’t afford the expensive feed. Do you realize what this means? Milk cheese & all dairy will be affected. Many dairy farmers left New England & traveled up North to raise cattle & dairy. Now again they have been hit with a far worse problem. We don’t hear about this here, why? This is as tragic as the Mississippi & yet no news. Go on the Burlington Free Press for pictures.


Sincerely, Carole Golitko














I Am My Own Inspiration


By Alyssa Pallotti


Marist College


As a college student, when someone tells you to write from the heart, there is no denying that the initial reaction is typically shock and confusion. We have become so used to writing in a specific formula and catering to specific professors’ requests over the past two years that we cannot even begin to remember when we were last told to just say how we feel in whatever manner we see fit. It is both liberating and shackling. On one hand, I am ready to spout off every thought I have ever had. On the other, I am panicking and unable to just write freely because I am so tied down by collegiate conventions. As corny as this may be, I may as well give it the old college try. There are so many things and people that I care deeply about, but there are three specific things that I can say matter most.


First off, though many may argue that hobbies are things just to pass the time, when you have devoted approximately sixteen years to one thing, there is no denying its influence. This hobby, for me, is dancing. I have grown up dancing my entire life in studios, competitively, and now in my college dance ensemble as both a performer and choreographer. I don’t need to run to my friends, sulk in my room, or explode all over my Twitter and Facebook when I am upset. Instead, I dance. The second my feet touch that wooden floor and the music comes on, I am struck with a unique calm that allows me to forget about my troubles and simply move to the beat. It brings me joy but is an outlet that diminishes my negative emotions, keeping me balanced. I would not be myself without the freeing feeling dancing brings. It is a part of me.


Establishing myself in the academic world, and hopefully, one day, the professional world also matters to me deeply. I have always been committed to schoolwork and excelling to the best of my ability. This has become a part of my identity. Though academics may not be for everyone, I believe every single person should embrace their talents and abilities and not be afraid to excel in whatever field they please. I devote time to my studies as often as possible and hope to utilize this dedication in my future field of Public Relations and Journalism once I graduate. Never be afraid to look like a nerd. Trust me. It will benefit you in the future.


Trying to find oneself as a twenty year old female is never easy on one’s confidence. However, to me, a high self esteem is one of the most attractive qualities a woman can have, especially at this age. There is no reason to ever feel ugly, overweight, too tall, too short, or pick apart one’s flaws in general. Waking up in the morning, putting on an outfit I love, wearing makeup simply because I feel like it, and smiling honestly is all I need to do to feel special. I don’t need anyone’s approval on my appearance or my personality. If I am doing what I enjoy, that is all that matters. I’m not denying I have flaws. Everyone does, and though I am fully aware of mine, what’s more important is getting up every day, forgetting about what I can’t change about myself, and emphasizing what I love. I wish every female, and every male for that matter, could feel the same. Dancing, commitment to a better future and confidence are three things that will always be of monumental importance to me.


It is interesting to think about who has influenced my beliefs and writing. Many teachers and professors throughout the years have guided me to find my true inner voice, and my parents have always been supportive, but when I dig deep down, a lot of my passions and ideas come from within myself. I do defy many stereotypes of the twenty-something female college student, and I have done it all for myself. I do not party, drink, or smoke. I find myself staying in on weekends because I just do not fit into that lifestyle, and I am perfectly okay with that. My independence started at a young age. My mom told me that on my first day of preschool, while the other kids were crying and clinging to their parents, I walked away without even a goodbye to her and started playing by myself. I have always just had faith in myself and wish to hold onto that philosophy for the rest of my life.


It may sound selfish, but I commit myself to what I love, such as dancing, building up my confidence, and putting my all into my schoolwork, to benefit myself in the future. I do not dance for anyone. I disregard negative remarks from others. I do not study hard because my parents pressure me to. I do it because I want to. Yes, I write according to the conventions that my college requests when in an academic setting, but when I write on my own time, I am doing it because I want to get my thoughts on paper. I could credit person after person for how I have come to be, or mention everyone who has even just helped me along the way. Ultimately, however I have become who I am today and developed my inner self and voice through soaking in what I find to be positive and utilizing those ideas on a day to day basis. People can be inspiring, but truly, what will lead you to your greatest realizations is you.










WATSON’S FRIENDS HELP YOU AND SOCIAL SECURITY


By Paul Gilfillan


Social Security Manager, Meriden CT


In February 2011, Jeopardy broadcast its first competition that pit man against machine. Watson, an artificial intelligence computer system developed by IBM, competed against the show’s two most successful champions: Ken Jennings (longest winning streak) and Brad Rutter (biggest money winner). Watson won, with the help of a four-terabyte memory that included 200 million pages of encyclopedias — including the full text of Wikipedia.


We at Social Security have known for some time that computers can help people. As a result, we developed and now have some of the best online services in the world. Time and time again, Social Security’s online services are at the top of customer satisfaction surveys.


So here’s a Jeopardy answer of our own: “You can conduct these online services at www.socialsecurity.gov.” What is the question?


What is “get an instant, personalized estimate of future benefits with the Retirement Estimator at www.socialsecurity.gov/estimator”?


What is “apply for Social Security retirement, spouse’s, Medicare, or disability benefits at www.socialsecurity.gov/applyonline”?


What is “apply for Extra Help with Medicare prescription drug costs at www.socialsecurity.gov/prescriptionhelp”?


What is “request a replacement Medicare card at www.socialsecurity.gov/pgm/links_medicare.htm”?


All of the above are acceptable answers.


Computers are capable of making our lives much easier. In fact, you might say that using our online services makes doing business with Social Security … elementary, dear Watson.


See for yourself at www.socialsecurity.gov.














Freedom Isn’t Free


You Hear It


You Believe It


What Does It Mean?






Newscasts


Grainy videos and photos


Lands so foreign to our everyday


That’s what most of us live






Foxholes & “enemies”


Bullets, IEDs, & and bomb strapped children


This is what they see






Battle Plans


Loneliness among thousands


Missed Loved Ones


The destruction


Fallen ones next to them


This is what they live – For Us






Flag covered


Grieving family


Taps & 21 gun salutes


This is what they leave – For Us


All for you and I






Freedom isn’t free, my friends


It’s awash in confusion and sacrifices


In lost lives and long absences


In secrecy and brave faces


In blood and in heroism






No, freedom isn’t free……


~Kristen Ellis














Noah’s Wife’s Story


by Dorothy Gonick


Let me tell you my story of long ago and far away. Of how it was to live with Noah as he readied the Ark and of our days while living in it.


We were many years old when God spoke to my husband, Noah, of a flood that was coming which would cleanse the world of its evil people. He told Noah to build an ark and fill it with a pair of each animal and He would save our family to begin the world afresh. This was an awesome responsibility. The people in the village thought we were crazy and laughed at us, but didn’t listen to Noah as he tried to tell them of God’s displeasure with them. It was sad that no others joined us.


Noah and our three sons began following the plans God had given him. Our son’s wives and I became busy planning for the long time we would be sheltered in the ark. The three of us made large pottery jugs to store foodstuffs and we wove baskets of reeds for storing the nuts and fruits we gathered, and the seeds from the melons we ate. We dried ripened fruits; especially dates and figs from our palm and fig trees, and gathered cereal grains from the fields. Our sons were gathered lots of hay and stored it in the lower level of the ark as well as in each stall. Leafy branches and grains for the animals were gathered. and stored safely. The middle floor was fashioned with stalls for the animals and a comfortable living space for each family was made on the upper floor. We looked forward to this unusual adventure, wondering how difficult it would be living above all those animals.


Finally, animal sounds replaced the hammering and sawing noises as many kinds of animals began coming into the ark and were led to their stalls. I was surprised at how easily they settled in and became quiet. My fears of living with wild animal left me as God’s presence hovered over all and we felt secure and at peace.


Suddenly, loud thundering startled us and heard heavy pounding on the ark’s roof as water poured from the sky. We rushed inside and secured the doorway from the drenching deluge of water. Darkness enveloped us. The animals thought it was nighttime and with a few murmurings quieted in their stalls; some entered their hibernative state. Heavy rain set in and we sorely missed the daylight as we moved around in the murky grayness for forty long days until the rains finally lessened, allowing more light to enter the ark. It became easier to feed and care for the animals.


We had planned our watches and our routine began easily. I realized that I didn’t know much about animals and had to be careful sometimes. I tried petting some of the small timid ones and found that rabbit’s fur is fine, but not the porcupines! It hurts! The birds would fly near and greet us with their songs. Soon we were imitating them and formed a chorus—have you ever whistled with a bird? It certainly added a cheery note to the ark and gave us a happy feeling.


Always, each day with Noah, we praised and thanked God for our many blessings. Each evening when all was settled for the night, we gathered to listen as Noah told stories of bygone days. These were stories of the generations since Adam and Eve, because we knew it was important for us to remember our ancestry and God’s word. Then we listened to stories of our day with the animals. Once Shem told the story of the camel nipping at his robe and ripping it, so I was glad I’d brought my sewing box on the ark for all the mending needed. Ham told of how the giraffes would sneak extra hay from the storage bins above their pen which was a constant temptation. As an unexpected treat, Japheth would bring the rabbits and other small creatures to the dung heap for them to munch on newly sprouted grass that had taken root there. Each animal endeared itself to us for its special characteristics and we marveled at the wide variety of creatures God created. We were thankful that we’d stored plenty of food for all the animals and for us, for according to the daily marks we made, it took 377 days for the water to subside from the mountains and the land.


We danced and sang for joy as we saw the dove return that Noah had released. It returned with an olive branch, so we knew the land was dry and productive and we could finally leave the ark. What an amazing sight to watch all the animals run, jump and hop as they went down the ramp and felt solid ground beneath their feet. We were awed by the beautiful arc of colors God placed in the sky with His promise that He would never again destroy the earth with a flood.


We continued living in the ark as we looked for home sites and rejoiced when each couple prepared their home and hearth. Noah and I began to anticipate the pleasure of babies to embrace and the joy of watching God’s new family grow and worship as He desired with peace and love over all.


Each time I see a rainbow, I smile as I remember those months we spent floating in our ark, now grateful to be worshipping God on this fresh-washed Earth.






JONAH ANDREW LOEB OF WALLINGFORD AMONG HAVERFORD COLLEGE'S 2011 Haverford College is pleased to announce the graduation of Jonah Andrew Loeb, son of Lisa and David Loeb of Wallingford, Conn., and a graduate of The Kingswood-Oxford School. One of 299 members of Haverford’s Class of 2011, Loeb received a bachelor’s degree in English during commencement ceremonies in Haverford, Pa., on Sunday, May 15.


The title of Loeb’s Senior Thesis, which is the capstone of the Haverford academic experience, is “The Last Pages Are for You”: Language, Literacy, and Layers of Textuality in the works of J.R.R. Tolkien.


While studying at Haverford, Loeb was involved in a variety of campus activities. As a senior, Loeb captained the Men’s Club soccer team. He also was a member of the Haverford College Humtones, an A cappella group on campus, and the drummer for the Haverford band the Original Mavericks.


For a recap of Haverford’s 2011 Commencement ceremony go to: http://news.haverford.edu/blogs/haverblog/2011/05/15/commencement-2011-2/


ABOUT Haverford College: http://www.haverford.edu/abouthaverford/






Connecticut Outdoors


Written By: Paul Narducci


I started my show in 1994 and continue to grow each and every year. Through out the many years of filming are biggest complaint is we do not do any saltwater fishing. Although this is going to change for this year we have done a little in the past.


This year we will make every one happy as we plan on doing some filming show casing the wonderful fishing we have in the Long Island Sound. We plan on fishing for stripers and bluefish. This year I was able to add a new sponsor to our show which is Canyon Reels. These reels are fantastic and are made of true strength and quality. I really can’t wait to match them up with a St Croix Rod and let the madness begin. Did somebody say Stripers!


When I first met the owner of Canyon Reels I was impressed right away and new that this was going to be a good fit for our show. We spent time talking about his reels, fishing, life and the importance of fishing and getting kids involved in a sport we both love. If you get a chance log onto www.canyonreels.com and check out their line of reels as well as their newest reel the HS - 18.


Did somebody say Stripers! Another company we added this year is Cabin Creek Bait Co. This company in the tournament scene is probably the biggest little secret among tournament fisherman. They have a lure that we have used for years and have never been able to show until this year. Frank loves these lures and has won us a lot of money using them.


Certain lures we call confidence baits and this is truly one of these for Frank. This is a great little company that has produced one of the biggest secrets in Connecticut. If you promise to tell everyone I will tell you the lure and the color we use.


As you know by watching our show we like to tell you where to go and what to use so why change things now. We use a soft plastic lure that comes in two pieces and is called a salty spider grub. We use there jig heads in a1/8 oz size that match these lures perfectly. Our favorite color is number 59. All though we use several colors our go to is the one mentioned. Franks biggest fish on this color was a smallmouth bass on the CT River weighing over 5lbs.


We also recommend using Megastrike Gel on these as well. If you have a chance checkout their great website at www.cabincreekco.com . You may also want to check out their 4 inch grubs as well as their tubes. Just remember don’t tell anyone I told you the tournament guys will be upset. SSSSHHHHHHH!!!!!! When on the website you can find these under small cabin creek salty spider parts. Another company we added this year is called Waveaway. This product is unbelievable and really makes a difference on my Hummingbird screens. This is a new product to the market and is a small company on its way up. Some depth finders can cost in the thousands and this product makes you screens spot free and brand new. When you invest this type of money you want the very best .


I would highly recommend this product and for the price you can’t go wrong. If you would like more info go to www.waveaway.com for more information.


This month’s fishing report is filled with a lot of action coming from the Ct River. There are incredible stripers being caught on the river and largemouth are spawning as I write this article. In our marina Joe has caught some huge largemouth ranging from 2 to 4 pounds. We have been catching them on spider grubs as well as baby spinner baits. It’s time to get out and enjoy the fishing and be sure to take your family with you and make memories of a lifetime.


As always the team from Connecticut Outdoors wishes everyone the best of luck and good fishing!!!


We Love you Dad.














Life along the Q River… An Update from the Quinnipiac River Watershed Association


Butterfly and Bee Garden Celebrates First Anniversary


By JoAnne Grabinski


What a difference a year makes. The QRWA’s Butterfly & Bee Garden celebrated its first birthday on May 22. This time last year we had a small collection of donated and purchased plants and eagerly planted them, waiting to see what would happen.


And what a year it was. Several Certified Master Gardeners who worked on the project commented that the garden looked like it had been established for three years instead of its very first season. They gave several reasons: we planted in compost, plants were already established and not from seed, and probably the most important factor was we had excellent weather for growing. If you recall, this time last year was quite warm and it stayed that way for most of the summer. Many of us were busy watering the plants day and night to ensure that they got established and stayed well hydrated.


We had tremendous support from the community and throughout the growing season and beyond we kept adding to the garden experience. This year continues that wonderful support with several new additions in place and in the works.


For example, the YMCA Cub Scouts Pack 22 donated three bat houses to the garden area. They houses are in place and we hope to encourage these mammals to set up residence by Hanover Pond to minimize the mosquitoes in the area. Bats have and continue to have their share of difficulties lately with the advent of ‘White Nose Syndrome” http://www.ct.gov/dep/cwp/view.asp?Q=459000&A=3847


Justin Pelletier of St. Mary’s Boy Scout Troop 28 of Meriden is making the Butterfly & Bee Garden the recipient of his Eagle Scout project. He is raising funds for not one, but two benches to add to the garden so more people can sit and enjoy the beautiful views. We already have a spot picked out and are anxiously awaiting the delivery to add them to our garden.


Many thanks to the Meriden Intermediate Club and the Meriden Rotary Club for generous financial donations toward an all-purpose shed. With the advent of the building renovations, all the garden equipment needed to be relocated, so a shed was planned for the equipment as well as winter storage of the benches, birdbaths and rain barrels. After talking with other QRWA board members we decided to make the shed larger to include river cleanup supplies and equipment. The result is a 12 foot x12 foot shed to accommodate all our needs. We look to start construction as soon as possible.


The planting of annuals in the garden will take place in early June. After waiting to see the perennials return and many annuals that left seeds to germinate, we now know where the empty spaces are. They will be filled with a variety of annuals that are both host and larva plants for butterflies and bees.


We are honored to include Four O’clock flowers in the Butterfly & Bee Garden as a participant in Michaela’s Garden Project, a fundraiser for the Petit Family Foundation. We purchase the seeds, grow the plants, harvest the seeds and return them back to the foundation for future sales. http://petitfamilyfoundation.org


We will be planting sunflowers as a participant of the Great American Sunflower project. Lemon Queen sunflower seeds will be planted and nurtured in the garden. In July we will actively count the number of bees we see on the sunflowers during a specified timeframe. The information will be sent to the scientists who can track the status of bees and their current conditions relating to their health and pollination of plants. http://www.greatsunflower.org/


And finally we plan to participate in the Great American Butterfly Count around the Fourth of July. http://www.naba.org/butter_counts.html Volunteers will be needed to keep track of the various butterflies they’ve seen in a specific period of time.


Plans are in the works to host a “Midsummer Celebration on Sunday, July 24 from 12 noon to five pm. We have a variety of events planned for the day including presenting Yankee Gas Services with a special plaque, speakers talking about butterflies, bees and insects, garden tours by certified master gardeners and so much more. Please visit the QRWA website, www.qrwa.org for updated details.


It goes without saying that this has been a labor of love form the beginning. The communities have been wonderful in providing many of the needed items for the garden as well as their generous financial support. We hope you will stop by the QRWA Butterfly & Bee Garden to enjoy what you have created.


Upcoming QRWA Events:


Sunday, July 24, from 12 – 5 pm. Join us for a day of celebration and learning.


To learn more about the QRWA and to confirm information, dates and times for upcoming events, please visit our website at: www.qrwa.org.


QRWA provides water activities, events in education, outreach, advocacy, scientific monitoring, conservation, restoration, recreation and public access to the watershed area. The Quinnipiac River Watershed Association (QRWA) is a not-for-profit 501c3 organization whose mission is to restore the Quinnipiac for the health and enjoyment of all citizens and communities along its reach and to educate all students, families, individuals, businesses and governments to be informed stewards of the river.


Thank you for your support and remember your donations are tax deductible.










Home Country


By Slim Randles


Delbert McLain dropped in at the Mule Barn truck stop yesterday for a quick cup. He was wearing his usual suit and tie, despite the heat. Usually Delbert does his coffee drinking and socializing out at the country club where the business guys go. We’ve been there, and the chairs don’t fit as well.


For the past 10 years now, Delbert has run the local Chamber of Commerce. We all have to admit he was a good choice. His job is to promote our town and the surrounding area, which he does by prowling through the town – his ample belly flying under a full spinnaker - looking for out-of-state plates on the cars during tourist season, and then convincing the visitors they should 1. live here forever, 2. hire locals to build them a huge house, and 3. to start a business that will hire as many of us as they can stand.


According to Delbert, several things are certain about our little valley here: it is the only place in the world that will grow, our water is so good we don’t need dentists except during our tourist season, the deer in the surrounding hills are easy to hunt and are the size of horses, the fish in Lewis Creek are so big children are afraid to swim there and our average life expectancy is right around 104.


“Boys,” Delbert said with his constant grin, “it’s looking like a good summer. I can’t tell all the details now, but it looks like we may be getting three factories and you know how many houses they’ll have to build out on the flats to hold all the employees.”


“Delbert,” said Doc, “you know they shouldn’t build out on the flats. That thing floods out about every six years.”


Delbert saddened there for just a minute as he stirred his coffee, then the sales gleam relit the surface of his face.


“That’s it!” he yelled. “We can call it ‘seasonal waterfront!’”


Brought to you by Slim’s new book “A Cowboy’s Guide to Growing Up Right.” Learn more at http://www.nmsantos.com/Slim/Slim.html.










LIONS and TIGERS and TEENS


No More Lazy Days of Summer


Picture this: Your teen is sprawled out on the couch with a bag of Doritos in hand and the TV channel set to MTV. What’s wrong with this picture? Do you envision yourself being frustrated by your teen’s laziness all summer long? Relaxation after a stressful and frenzied school year is probably much needed; but, after a few days of rest, your teen should start thinking about taking advantage of his free time and expanding his horizons.


Jobs are scarce these days, and many internship opportunities are filled in late winter. However, it’s not too late for your teen to plan a constructive summer.


Do “Something”


When teenagers use their free time to expand their knowledge base by volunteering, working or taking classes, college admissions officers and future employers take notice.


Carole Jabbawy, Ed.D., founder and director of Internship Connection in Newton, MA, says, “An internship or volunteer experience is the first step to building a resume. Teens gain career exposure which will be very helpful in sorting out a college major.” Teens that plan to seek employment right after high school will also reap benefits from field experience including:


Resume building


Exploration of interests


Making “connections” in a specific industry


Setting oneself apart from the crowd


Last Minute Opportunities


Teens should seek assistance from their school’s guidance office. Small businesses, hospitals, churches, and nursing homes are always looking for extra help and usually welcome teen applicants. For last minute opportunities, it’s best to canvas your neighborhood and ask about positions in person.


Jabbawy says, “While June may be too late for some internships, non-profits are still quite busy in June and July. Late spring is a busy time for fundraising events and extra hands are always welcome.”


Finding a paying job for the summer at this late date might be difficult; however, motivated teens can still find openings. Full-time employees often have summer vacation plans, so part-time positions become available. “Business owners tell me that they don’t have enough time in the day to keep up with social networking,” Jabbawy explains. “They would love a teen to work on a project promoting their business through Facebook, blogging or Twitter.”


Summer classes are great for teens who want to improve their academic resume. Jim Sirianni, Ph.D., assistant dean and director of Summer College at Stanford University, explains, “Very often universities will allow prospective students to enroll in summer courses right up until the first day of class. Students should check with multiple institutions in their area to see when summer classes begin, as some start weeks later than others. Large institutions tend to have a summer session office that oversees summer course offerings while the registrar’s office is a good starting point for inquiries at smaller colleges.”


Many colleges offer competitive scholars programs, academic camps or traditional classes that high school students can take in the summer. It’s imperative that students check to see if there is an age minimum, a required placement test, or documents their high school needs to submit before applying.


Volunteer!


Volunteers are rarely turned away especially in a down economy. Plus, teens can feel good about making a difference. Carole Jabbawy agrees. “It’s wonderfully satisfying to volunteer for an organization that you care about.”


Teens should search for positions that will help guide them toward their long-term goals. For example, aspiring veterinarians should find a position at an animal shelter rather than a restaurant. Jabbawy advises, “An internship or volunteer experience begins the process of creating a professional network and can lead to a paid position in the future.”


Encourage your teen to ask questions and learn as much as they can while volunteering. Be sure your teen understands that showing up on time and being dependable is important even though she is not getting paid.


Places to look for volunteer opportunities:


Hospitals and medical clinics


Homeless shelters


Libraries


Animal shelters


Youth centers/camps


Entrepreneurship


It’s never too late to start your own business! Possible entrepreneurial ventures include lawn mowing, house painting, caring for pets while people are on vacation, fixing neighbors’ computers, or cooking for the elderly. Teens can distribute fliers around their neighborhoods to get the word out.


Still stumped for ideas? Try these websites:


www.dosomething.org


www.volunteermatch.org


TIPS AND TALES


"Animal shelters need loving hands and warm laps." Melbra King


“Most churches run summer programs for kids. Our church has a vacation bible school and we’re always looking for teen members to help, even if it’s last minute.” Beth Ackerman


Want to share your ideas? Coming in September:


Your teen didn’t make varsity – alternatives to keep him playing? Please send your full name, address, and brief comments to: myrnahaskell@gmail.com Or visit: www.myrnahaskell.com


Author Bio: Myrna Beth Haskell is a feature writer and columnist specializing in parenting issues and child and adolescent development. She is the mother of two teenagers.










Dorothy Gonick – A Special Get Well Wish


By Priscilla Reynolds


Dorothy Gonick is a loyal contributor to the PEOPLE' S PRESS. Her stories and illustrations are published in every issue. She lived in Wallingford for many years, taught in grammar school (Highland School) and attended Yalesville United Methodist Church. She used her talents in sewing and writing to support the church. About four years ago after her husband died she moved to Massachusetts to live with her daughter, Diane and family. She continues to support the PEOPLE' S PRESS and the YUMC. Recently she sent several Lenten Booklets entitled THOUGHTFUL REFLECTIONS FROM THE WORLD AROUND US to the church, in which she has written uplifting thoiughts, verses from the Bible and has sketched illustrations on 24 pages.


Dot never sent her monthly article to THE PEOPLE' S PRESS for this last issue; (the editor used one from a past issue). She was hospitalized with pneumonia and spent several days in ICU in Massachusetts General Hospital. Her friends in Hinsdale, MA and in CT are very happy to hear that she's home now recovering. She has given permission for publishing any of her THOUGHTFUL REFLECTIONS. Here are two of them without her lovely illustrations:


SPRING BULBS


Lord, the leaves of spring bulbs break through the cold, hard earth that has held them through the long winter of dormancy.


May we have the courage to break through any hardness of heart, any discouragement, or any cause for discomfort of soul? With your help may we rise to new life and growth to bloom with fragrance and beauty as the spring bulbs do?


He restores my soul. Psalm 32:3


SUNFLOWER


As the sunflower turns its face to follow the sun, may we keep our eyes on Your Son as our source of life.


Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path. Psalm 119:105


THANK YOU, DOROTHY! RECOVER QUICKLY! RISE TO NEW LIFE!


To My Dad - Joseph P. Gabriele






It's been 30 years since we've been together,


-Since I've hugged you and told you how much I love you


-Since I've told you how blessed I am to have you for my DAD






It's been 30 years since we've laughed together,


-Since we've spoken on the telephone


-Since we've watched a baseball game together






It's been 30 years since you've seen your children and grandchildren


-And you have never met your youngest grandson


-And you have never met your nine great-grandchildren






It's been 30 years since we've spent a Father's Day together


-Since you have passed away...and I still love you


-Still feel blessed, still miss the laughter and the wonderful times we spent together






I miss you so much DAD, on this Father's Day and Always...






Linda Gabriele Aguiar


Bathroom Ordeal


I would like to share the story of my very first raccoon rescue. Many times we had taken in babies in assisting our shelter but this was my first call to actually capture one. All I had was a phone number to call. I finally got a hold of the people and was told that the coon was at a county park about an hour away. It was a park ranger that I was speaking with and he was telling of a vicious coon that was in a bathroom. I really had no idea what I was going to do but was determined to help. Ohhh, the thoughts that raced through my mind as I got into my SUV and headed for the park. I had a pair of welder's gloves, a pet carrier, and a towel (marshmallows and dog food too, lol).


Yep, I felt ready,,,but as I drew nearer to the park the realization occurred to me that my simple tools for caging this so called wild animal might not be enough. I finally pulled up to the front gate where I was met by about twenty people. Over half of the park was shut down because of this monster that was being a holy terror and holding the bathrooms hostage. I was led to the bathroom and by now there had to be forty people gathered to watch as this crazy animal person dared to go where no man had gone before,,,yep, the ladies’ room.


By now I was just a tad worried about my next steps. Do women have the same things in their bathrooms as us men I wondered? What had I gotten myself into with the stories I was hearing behind me about this raccoon? No matter what, in seconds I would find out. The park ranger wished me luck (last rights) and I cautiously eased my way through the doorway. The door closed behind me with an echo that I'll never forget.


I could hear the little fella around the corner snarling. I was determined and had decided that if there was bloodshed, then so be it. I was telling myself that I could take a bite and the claws would not deter me from getting this critter to a safer location.


A deep breath and I moved around the corner to finally meet eyes with the animal that had all but closed an entire park down. Then something came over me that was uncontrollable. I burst out laughing and I'm sure that the masses outside of the bathrooms could hear me. I took my gloves off and sat on the floor next to this holy terror. I pulled a small blankie from my carrier and replaced it with my gloves and towel and shut the carrier door. Then,,,,I reached out and picked up the snarling little bundle of fur and held him in my arms. He was just a baby,,,,,,, not even old enough to be eating solid foods yet,,, lol.


After a minute or so he finally settled into my arms and his brave capturer (yeah right) opened the door once again to the outside world. I never showed his body from under the blankie for others to see as I made my way to my vehicle. At the last moment when the forest ranger offered his thanks for me coming out I did give a glimpse of the little fella resting in my arms as I was about to pull away. I think I may have left him with a story to tell, lol.


Yes, this little one made its way back to where God intended,,,and left me with an experience I'll never forget,,,but not before I got lots of snuggies!!!


Unkie Milt










Why I got Jazz in my Life


By Irene Cowern


I was trained in Classical piano for 10 years. That gave me an appreciation for music — all kinds of music. Growing up my friends and I used to love going to dances and dancing the polka music and jitter bug. On bus trips we would sing the old time songs.


After I married, I had the opportunity to visit New Orleans, a laid back city with music coming out of every pore, and I was smitten. We stayed on Bourbon Street and when we stepped out onto the balcony we could hear music coming from the streets, the restaurants and bars, all hours of the day. New Orleans eats, thinks and dreams jazz. We checked out the Preservation Hall Jazz and you could feel the spirit of the music just as they were playing it. Some of the classics gave me the same feeling, but this was different — it was fun, toe tapping music, or you would sway in rhythm to the blues.


Then back in Connecticut about 25 years ago our good friends, Charlie and Darlene Gunn asked us to join them to go to a Traditional Jazz Festival at the Essex Railroad station. This was 3 days of New Orleans style jazz, Our Kind of Music, loved it, and even though we had to walk over planks from one venue to another because of the heavy rains all afternoon, it was great. The spirit of the music was catching and you couldn’t help enjoying it all.


A few years later Charlie had asked my husband if he’d volunteer to help out setting up the stages, dance floors and chairs for the Festival, then taking it all down afterward. By this time The Great Connecticut Traditional Jazz Festival had moved to the Sunrise Resort in Moodus. It’s a lot of work to be on the “Dirt Team”, especially on those hot, humid days in July, setting up even in the rain. Later they had help from Paulette Griffin and her Department of Corrections volunteer groups. But the comradery of the volunteers and experiencing a good time that was had by all who attended — and in those days there were as many as 8,000 attendees — was worth it.


Now we were staying right on the grounds all 3 days, “camping” in Sunrise Resort’s cabins and old style motel. The friendship and good times continued throughout even as we helped take down the chairs and staging at the end of the Festival. I remember when Louis Mazetier, the pianist from the Parish Washboard (a trad jazz band that came to America from France), continued playing all the while the stage was being taken down and the piano moved to the ground, where he continued playing. That was the kind of spirit that infused the audiences too. These musicians absolutely LOVED their music. Then there were the barbecues with Igor Glenn and his Jazz Cowboys from Arizona who had played with the New Christy Minstrels and had us singing along. There were bands from Australia, Germany as well as New Orleans, dance lessons for the 2-step, charleston and swing dance exhibitions, and there were parasol ladies parading New Orleans style through the tents. It was all good, clean fun!


As I became an “official Volunteer” at the Festival I became more intrigued with the creativity of the musicians who play jazz. Classical music is beautiful, but it is usually played just as it was written. These jazz musicians play from the soul, whatever inspires them to play “around” a tune. This is what I was hearing in New Orleans — jazz played from the soul. It always amazes me how they can improvise as they go and how they blend in when they jam with another group. What talent!


Why do I love this jazz? It’s creative, toe-tapping music, a lot of fun and easy to “get into the spirit” of it. Kids love it, there’s dancing, and with a Festival, there’s a variety of bands to listen to — a bargain when you think of paying all outdoors for a 2 hour concert, compared with hearing 8 to 15 bands playing simultaneously in several venues for many more than 2 hours.


Finally, it’s America’s original music — jazz — and it all started in New Orleans, moved up the river to St. Louis and Chicago and spread out all over the nation. We need to keep it alive.


With that in mind, there’s a Jazz and Blues Extravaganza coming up on Saturday, July 30 at the Four Points Sheraton Hotel in Meriden. This year it’s a one day event rather than 3 days because of difficulty in getting sponsors and less than expected income from attendance at the Festival last year. With success this year for the one day event, the all-volunteer committee hopes to bring back a 3-day festival with 15 bands from throughout the USA for 2012 and years to follow. For a slight change this year there will be 4 traditional jazz bands and 4 blues bands. Blues have always been a part of the Trad Jazz repertoire but this year blues bands popular in the Hartford blues clubs will be joining the Festival.


I’m looking forward to parading with The Galvanized Jazz Band with Jane Campedelli, The Heartbeat Jazz Band with Skip Hughes, the Midiri brothers from New Jersey with their vibraphone and their on-stage antics, and the talented musicians of the Festival All Stars with Scott Philbrick starting at 3pm until 9pm in the tent. The Blues bands will start playing in the main ballroom of the hotel from 5pm to 11pm and they include Basically Blues, Bluzberry Pi, Pete Scheips Band, and Eran Troy Danner Band.


The tickets are only $30 before July 25 for 8 hours of music and $35 at the door, $6 for kids 7 to 17 and less than 7 years old are free. There’s a swimming pool in the hotel, plenty of seating and food and drinks available from the hotel. And for those wanting to stay overnight the hotel is offering a special “Jazz Rate”. There’s dancing, parading, free parking, golf carts to transport those needing it, and wheelchair accessibility — but most of all, plenty of good music and fun. For tickets and details call 1-800-HOT-EVENt or 1-800-368-3836. You can also check the website at www.greatctjazz.org as well as Facebook and videos on YouTube.


I hope to see many old friends and meet many Blues enthusiasts from the Connecticut Blues Society. This is the 25th year of The Great Connecticut Traditional Jazz Festival and many of the originators are expected to be there, including David Greenberg, the Founder of this Festival as well as Joel Schiavone of Your Father’s Mustache, celebrating their 50th reunion this year (at Carnegie Hall no less) and Banjo Hall of Fame fame.














The Door


By People’s Press Columnist Sara E. Booker


One day we discovered a door that we never knew existed. My friends Chris, Dawn, Jack and I gathered around, curious about what a twist of the knob would reveal. Jack nudged Chris out of the way and gave the knob a turn.


“You’ve got absolutely no manners. No class,” Chris snapped at Jack, catching the door knob before the door pushed open. “It’s me and my Ma’s house. The least you could do is let me be in charge of the big reveal.”


Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Excuse me. It’s a room full of junk in your house. You’re hyping it up like it’s Al Capone’s vault or something. And we all know what happened there.”


“I’m not hyping it. How would you feel if you lived in a house your whole life and just found out that there’s a room that hasn’t been opened since before you were born?”Chris asked. He pushed the door open and we let out a collective gasp. It was his mother’s old bedroom. Inside was furniture that appeared to be from the 1960s and 1970s, dust, and cobwebs. There were hundreds of vinyl albums. Jack and Dawn made a beeline for the record collection.


“Check this out,” said Jack blowing dust off a record album and passing Cream’s Disraeli Gears to Dawn. “This is from back when people bought record albums…just as much for the artwork on the cover as for the music inside.”


“I love it,” said Dawn staring at the colorful imagery. “My father had that album.” She then pulled the record out of its jacket and put on We’re Going Wrong. “This song’s my favorite on this album.”


“Hot track,” said Jack imitating Ginger Baker’s intricate percussion work with air drumsticks.


Chris pulled the door knob and slammed the door shut abruptly. “What’s wrong?” I asked him.


“This makes me sad,” he answered. “This is my Ma’s stuff from when she was still alive. Do you know what I mean Renee?”


I knew exactly what he meant. Chris’s mother was still alive but she hadn’t truly lived in many, many years. “Yeah, I understand,” I said, looking down at the floor.


Apparently the woman who now spent her days sitting on a recliner flipping through the channels with lack luster enthusiasm had once lived in the tangible world. Now the only world she seemed to care about was pixilated. “I can’t believe it!” Chris exclaimed. “Ma once had a life!”


The door to this room had been hidden behind a gigantic book case which contained books that only Chris ever read. Chris’s mother was paying us to clean out this old room. “My Ma’s too depressed to clean it herself,” Chris explained to Dawn, Jack and I. “The room brings back bad memories.”


I fixated on a picture of Chris’s mother which appeared to have been taken when she was either in her teens or twenties. She was stunning, and smiling with as much vitality as a girl from a magazine ad but without the contrivance. Inspired by her youthful vintage zest, I took the picture to the mirror and tried to make my hairstyle look a little more retro, like hers. These friends and I were so close that we could be idiosyncratic and indulge our artistic whims without having to feel self conscious or silly.


“French Vogue, early seventies,” said Dawn, nodding at my impromptu hairstyle.


“I wish”, I said. “Look at Chris’s mom back in the day,” I said holding up the picture.


“Wow!” said Jack. “Chris, your Ma was a heartbreaker.”


“I wish I looked like that,” said Dawn.


“Well now she’s heartbroken,” said Chris, in a broken voice. “So what difference did it make?”


I opened up the door a crack and peered at the present day version of my fashion inspiration in disbelief. This could not be the same person. It was spooky. Sure people age physically, but some remain young at heart, joyful and full of life. Chris’s mother appeared to have aged emotionally more than any other way. She had as much joie de vie as a throw pillow.


At this very moment, like almost every other moment I ever saw her, she was watching the television. The Showcase Showdown on the Price is Right to be exact. If a contestant could win a vacation or a car by bidding correctly on their showcase she could get a vicarious thrill. The old picture of her told us that there was a time when she still dreamed that things could be possible for herself, not just for her fictional television friends or for game show contestants. The expression she wore in the old photo made her appear like she was heading straight into the horizon, not straight into a commercial break.


The newly discovered room also contained games like Connect Four and Operation, a sewing machine, a closet full of decades old clothes like bell bottoms and paisley printed sundresses, clogs and sandals and a big white canopy bed.


“Why did your Mom lock all this stuff up?” I asked. “Why and when did she become so depressed? She looks like she could have had the world on a silver platter back in the day.”


“Renee, you know my Ma never talks about the past. How would I know why she’s depressed? Remember that time when I tried to get her to talk about her good old days? She just said, ‘The good old days weren’t always so good’ and walked away.”


“Well, doesn’t she ever need to vent about the things that bother her?” Dawn asked.


“Apparently she did at one time,” said Jack, picking up a diary from off of a desk.


“Give me that,” said Chris.


“You can’t read her diary,” I insisted.


“Renee…do you think it’s better that I never understand my own mother?” Chris asked. “I’m eighteen years old and I’ve been asking her about why she’s so sad my whole life and she won’t answer me. It’s time I take matters into my own hands.” He grabbed the diary from Jack. He flipped to the beginning of the book. “I want to know what happened in my mother’s life that sucked the life out of her.”


The diary was as thick as a tome. Chris sat at the desk chair and read. Dawn was sitting by the record player listening to a song from the fifties, Little Star by The Elegants, while Jack and I were lying on our stomachs on the floor like kids playing a game of Connect Four.


Jack and I talked in hushed voices so Chris could concentrate on his reading. We talked about how we definitely were not the most efficient workers in the world. We hadn’t lifted a finger since we got in the room. Partly because we were lazy and partly because we didn’t even know where to begin. This job seemed overwhelming. The objective was to find things in this room to sell. To pawn shops and consignment shops. The electricity would be shut off if we failed to sell anything. If that happened there would be no pixilated televised world to distract Chris’s mother from her misery. We couldn’t let her distraction, her only comfort be taken from her, could we? But everything was covered in dust. And how were Dawn, Jack and I supposed to know what from this era was of value? Dawn and I were both eighteen and Jack was nineteen. And of course if we didn’t sell anything we would not get paid for this job.


“We’re going to need your Ma to come in here,” said Jack to Chris as his black Connect Four checker slid down to block my column of red ones. “She’s gonna have to play foreman. We have no idea how to do this job. How are we supposed to know which of these things is worth any money? This stuff is like twice as old as we are.”


“I told you she doesn’t want anything to do with this room. Brings back bad memories,” said Chris.


“Well, I don’t mean to be Mr. Insensitive but there comes a time when people need to stop running from things and face their fears,” Jack said sternly.


“You are insensitive,” said Chris. “She’s my mother. Leave her alone.”


“Well, at least I’m not the one reading her diary without her permission,” said Jack. “You’ve got to talk to her. You’ve got to force her to face this. You’re enabling her self destruction if you don’t. I think you agree with me that a few decades is enough time for one to be living in gloom. If you really care about your Ma you’ll give her some tough love.”


“I agree,” I said. “Maybe your Ma needs an intervention. For her own good. Has she ever even been to see a counselor?”


“Stop it!” Chris yelled. “I’ve been trying to get her to snap out of this since the day I was born. She’s been depressed so long that it’s a way of life. I don’t know how to make her happy. You guys just don’t understand!” He walked across the narrow path of the room, running his hands through his hair, exasperated. He then began pacing back and forth. “And I guess I don’t understand either.” He sat back down by the diary and picked it up again. “She’s not willing to talk. But I’m determined to understand. I’m gonna read this diary, right or wrong.”


This time he flipped to the back of the diary. He told us that the last part of the diary revealed that his mother had tried to publish the very diary Chris was now reading as a memoir . It was rejected many times until she finally just gave up. “It’s my life they’re rejecting”, she wrote. “They’re saying that my life is not worthy of being published. Or maybe it’s just unprintable.”


According to the last few entries of the diary she started to feel guilty, inadequate, uninteresting and ashamed of herself. She took it as a rejection of not only her life but of her soul. And so she had decided to lock up everything from that past life away, because it was not worthy of public consumption, she thought. The furniture, the albums, the books, the curtains. Even the photographs of the “old her”. It was all seen as “the life that wasn’t worth reading about”. She had associated her entire past with the pain of rejection.


“I’m not going to read any further,” said Chris. “Not without her permission.” He put the diary down. “I’m not sure if she could handle that I read about ‘the life that wasn’t worth reading about’”.


“Well then tell us what of this junk we should sell,” said Jack. Jack was never the king of tact.


“It’s not junk,” I said.


“How am I supposed to know?” asked Chris. “I’m not an appraiser or an auctioneer guy or whatever you call it.”


“Well what are we supposed to do…guess? Or just stare at each other’s shoes all day? I’m not about to waste energy carrying junk to the pawn shop only to have it rejected. Go ask your Ma or I quit.”


“I told you she doesn’t want to come in here. Hence, the reason we four clowns are doing the job.”


“This is ridiculous. If you don’t talk to her I will,” said Jack.


“Alright fine,” Chris blurted. “I’ll go talk to her. Man, you guys are a pain. Especially you Jack.”


“We just want to do the job right,” said Jack. “No offense Chris but you don’t exactly make a great foreman. Your workers were totally slacking, sitting here playing Connect Four and you didn’t even notice. If the electricity gets turned off in this house your Ma will have no TV, we’ll have no music to listen to when we hang out, you’ll have to do your homework by candlelight and the four of us won’t be able to play with your Playstation. For who knows how long.”


“Whatever, I wasn’t even trying to be a foreman,” Chris said, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you guys try a little initiative?”


“We just want to help your mother,” Dawn said. “Maybe a visit to the past will do her good. If you don’t face your fears they grow and grow in your imagination. And your Ma probably has a great imagination judging by the contents of this room.” She nodded at the art work in the corner Chris’s mother had done which reminded me of the impressionist painters of the nineteenth century.


“I’m sure her fears have taken on a nightmarish life of their own,” I said. “It’s time for a guided tour of reality, which is not as scary as the one she’s probably created in her mind.”


“Ugg!” Chris exclaimed. “You guys drive me mad! What- do you guys think you are unlicensed psychologists or something? You are three of the nuttiest people I know. Like you guys have any right to talk about my Ma. If I wasn’t so lazy I’d send you guys home and do this project myself!” He threw his hands up in defeat and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.


“It’s because we care,” I yelled behind him.


We played a game of Operation while we waited. I was trying to drown out the sound of Chris and his mother’s muffled argument by being a clumsy doctor on my cartoon patient and purposely causing the game to buzz with my graceless surgery.


“Stop losing on purpose,” said Jack. “I can’t derive any self esteem from winning if you are throwing the game.”


“I don’t want to hear Chris and his mother quarrel,” I said. “It’s none of our business. Dawn, crank up the tunes.” Dawn nodded and turned the volume up on Runaway by Del Shannon.


“Only a proud slacker like you would be able to derive self esteem from winning a game of Operation, Jack,” said Dawn. “Wasn’t the game designed for six year olds?” She and I laughed.


“Hey, I keep my standards for success and satisfaction low,” said Jack. “That way I’ll never end up like Chris’s mother.”


“What do you mean?” I asked.


“Sounds like she dreamed too big. She believed in the impossible…that she could get a book published, and then sunk into a depression when her ship didn’t come in. I’m not expecting a ship to come in. I’ll settle for a dingy.”


“You’re the most cynical guy I know,” I said. “So what are you saying, you’re never going to try to chase a dream?”


“I’m not cynical, I’m a realist. Of course I’ll chase a dream. My dream is to chill on a hammock in the sun while drinking a brew.”


“Oh please,” said Dawn.


“Hey, why do you think so many people have midlife crises? Because our culture makes us believe that we’re all gonna grow up to be stars. That’s the exception, not the rule. This ain’t the ‘Land of Opportunity’. It’s the ‘Land of Who You Know’. You gotta have connections or money to make it big. I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth and I don’t hobnob at country clubs. Like John Fogerty sang, I ain’t no fortunate son. But that’s okay. I’ll use my looks, charm and talent to thrill the locals.” Dawn burst out laughing.


“Gosh, Jack I think you are already a star in your own mind,” I said, rolling my eyes.


“I for one don’t need to be famous,” Jack continued. “I bet famous people can’t even go to an amusement park without being stalked for autographs. And you can’t wear your shades and go incognito because they’ll fly off your face on the roller coaster when you’re dropping down the hill. And then people will recognize you and charge for you as soon as the ride dumps you off and they’ll be screaming louder than they were screaming on the roller coaster. And then you’ll have a big old head ache. And you’ll have to run away from the crowd. And then your feet will hurt. And I certainly don’t need paparazzi hanging from the trees in my front yard.”


Dawn and I laughed. “You sound like you put a lot of thought into this.” said Dawn.


“Yeah, right after the record company rejected my demo tape,” said Jack.


“Ahh…another wounded artistic ego,” I said. “How many times did you send your demo tape out?”


“Once. And then I came to my senses. A true artist is never appreciated in his own time, so why should I bother trying to be successful- in the traditional sense of the word- anymore? I’ll just keep the faith that future generations will find and enjoy my work. That’s good enough for me. Success to me is sanity. I’m not taking chances with mine by setting myself up for anymore failure. If just one person listens to my music and enjoys it then it was all worthwhile.”


“Well, what about money? You don’t want money? You want to work in that factory for the rest of your life? Don’t you hate your boss?”


“Who doesn’t hate their boss? I don’t need any more money than what I get at my job. I don’t need to be rich. Money will buy you stuff that you’ll be bored with in about twenty four hours. As soon as that new car smell is gone, you take your luxury wheels for granted. Do you ever get excited about owning a new shirt the third time you put it on? And if I had money I’d constantly have relatives and friends nagging me for loans, or big breaks or whatever they think they can get from me. Who needs that? Not me. That’s why I brag about how cheap I am. Because I’m proud that I’m not playing the game.”


“I wonder if when you are twenty years older you’ll still agree with this sentiment,” I said. “If you can get bored with a new shirt in three days then imagine how bored you’ll be at your factory in twenty years?”


“I’m not saying that I’ll never try to do anything else. I’m just setting the bar really low for myself in life…as a lovable, hapless loafer. Therefore if I ever accomplish anything good in my life it will be savored as truly good and not just something that was expected. Wanting to be successful is so cliché.” Jack was great at sucking all hope for the future out of the room while making you feel better about your present at the same time.


“Well maybe Chris’s mother didn’t care about fame or money but just wanted to create art.”


“It’s already created. It’s sitting right here in this book,” said Jack. “So there goes that theory. Who says writing has to be published to be art?”


A half an hour later Chris’s mother entered the room. She looked around and became animated for the first time since I had met her. She gave us a guided tour of her relics and thumbed through the record albums. She played the song I’m in You by Peter Frampton. “I haven’t heard this song in years! Takes me back. I think I have another stack of albums in my closet. I’ll be right back.”


She was more beautiful now than she was in the old photo. All lit up with a natural glow. “What happened?” I asked Chris. “I thought you said that this stuff would bring back bad memories?”


“I told her I wanted to read her diary, as payment for the job. She couldn’t believe that somebody actually wanted to read it. She never looked so happy. And you’ll never guess this… I hope you guys don’t mind, but Ma no longer wants to sell this stuff.”


“Thank God!” Jack exclaimed. “I was so not in the mood to do this job! Now excuse me but I’m gonna go make a dream come true and chill in my hammock. See you guys later.” He walked outside the door frame, paused and then turned around. “By the way Chris, that was some genius psychotherapy you did on your unwitting patient today.” Chris laughed.


“Jack, next time I see you, you better come with your demo tape in hand. I want to hear your music,” said Dawn.


“If I can find it,” he said trying to fight a grin.


“I got to warn you though. I might end up screaming and chasing you down the street,” Dawn laughed.


“That may prove to be interesting. I can handle one fan.” He smiled at her and left.


“I wasn’t trying to do psychotherapy on my Ma,” said Chris. “I genuinely want to read the diary.”


“Well this is an awesome turn of events. But what about the electricity?” I asked.


“Ma and I talked about that too. We’re just going to have to wait until the next check comes in. Until then we’ll just have to live like it’s the 1700s. We got a gas stove and heat. Ma doesn’t care about the television at all right now anyway.”


Chris spent the rest of the afternoon and evening reading his mother’s diary. Dawn and I stayed to play records and play Connect Four. Around ten o’clock that evening the electricity went out.


Chris brought us in a flashlight and went back out. Dawn and I picked up the record albums and put them back in the album covers. We gathered the red and black checkers and put them back in the Connect Four box. We exited the room. Chris and his mother were sitting side by side at the kitchen table by candlelight. Chris was doing his homework and his mother was writing.


















In the Shade of the Old Oak Tree


Sweat, and lots of it was oozing from my pores. It was hot enough to fry an egg in the palm of my hand. There seems to always be things needing attention and on this day I was replacing a few rotted posts for an elderly neighbor. I had been at it for a couple of hours under the hot sun maybe pushing myself a bit too much. It was definitely time for a break. At the back of the house I found a plastic cup and headed for the water spigot. My cup now full to the rim it was time to find a shady spot to cool off for a spell. I reckon it was a hundred yards or so away that I noticed a solitary oak tree just out on the edge of the corn fields. That, I decided, would be my spot to find comfort. By the time I reached the tree I was feeling just a might woozy and glad to finally plant my butt in amongst some roots at its base. Slowly I eased my head back into the firm bark of the tree and closed my eyes.


Moments later my eyes opened, staring up into the many branches and leaves. A slight glimpse of sunlight glittering through was now welcomed as I was enjoying the magnificence of a tree that had obviously been around for many generations. It was strong but even this fine oak was showing signs of the ages. My eyes slowly drifted back down to earth as I reached for a cool sip of my water. Then I began to twittle. Twittle, a strange word I reckon that means you get just a tad busy doing nothing at all and in this case my I found my fingers rummaging through a pile of leaves. Even my mouth twittles on occasion and this held true as I placed a stick of straw into my teeth and held it there. As my hands continued I noticed a slightly larger pile of leaves and ran my fingers underneath feeling a slightly cooler temperature. My fingers then found what I thought was just a small stick but upon further twittling realized that it was a small oak, only protruding a few inches from the soil. It had been bent over and had been starving for fresh air and sunshine. Gently I pulled the leaves back and restored this little one to its natural position. The soil was dry and it had been quite some time since we had received any much needed rain. I crawled just a few feet away and grasped my cup of water. I knew this little oak could use it as much as I had only moments earlier. The soil actually made faint crackling sounds as the moisture was absorbed. As I poured what I knew would be the gift of life a warm feeling came over me. Then once again I drifted myself back into my own comfort leaning against the strength of the large oak. I would close my eyes for a moment or so.


Then, like a strong jolt of an earthquake I was startled. I had only fallen a mere two inches from a root but darned if it didn't smart a bit on my rear end. I had been jolted by the voice of a stranger. Never had I felt this much from a kind greeting such as "Howdy". He gave a slight chuckle as I tried now to wriggle my way into a sitting position amongst the roots of the tree. Upon finally gaining my composure I gave him a reply of "Howdy, back atcha". This response in these parts is kinda customary just meaning that we both recognize each other's presence in a kindly fashion.


My eyes were still getting focused from my snooze as I looked up at him. He was tall in stature and maybe just a bit on the thin side. The clothes he wore were a bit raggedy to look at but not too bad for someone who might have limited means. Besides, ain't nothing wrong with a hard working gent having a few holes ifn's they are all in appropriate places. I could tell he had some age behind him even through the thick beard of grey that he wore. What I saw next was his shoes which seemed a bit odd. The shoes were in good enough shape but they were mismatched. One shoe was showing its natural light grey coloring while the other was a solid pitch black and riding much higher up his leg. In a much softer voice now than the one that had awakened me he asked politely "Have you got a cool drink for a stranger?" Instinctively I reached for my cup of water but before I could turn completely I remembered that I had drank about half and poured the rest on the little oak tree. My hand continued towards the cup and my eyes finally caught up. To my astonishment this same cup, that I'm sure was empty moments before, was now slightly more than half full. I only paused for a second or two, figuring that the heat of the day had somehow played a trick on me, and handed the gentleman my cup of water. In a few short gulps his thirst was quenched and a response of being much obliged was given. He then asked if he could have a seat at the tree to rest his tired old feet. I let him know quickly that he was more than welcome to join me. As he sat down I looked towards the gate at the front of the yard that I was still planning on tending to. I thought to myself that I would get to it soon enough. It was still time to sit for a short spell. As I eased my way to my comfy root to sit something caught my attention. Dang if I didn't almost sit down on a beautiful green grasshopper. With cupped hands I reached out and gently gathered it into my hands. The words came out of my mouth to the little grasshopper in my own apologies of disturbing him as I placed it on a lower branch of the tree. Such a wonderful little creature and they always make me take the special time to watch and appreciate.


A moment later I turned back towards the stranger and sat down. There was a strange look on his face now as he looked me in the eyes. I had seen that look before and half expected the question that was coming. He glanced towards the little oak and then nodded with a slight rising of his brow in the direction of the grasshopper and the question came. "Are you one of them animal nature nuts?" My normal response to such a thing would be very short but something startling happened before I could begin my reply. The last ten years of my life flashed before me freezing my mouth even from twittling. I was remembering every creature, from the largest to the smallest that had entered into my life. Vivid images came to me of when I had nourished plants and relived my anger of watching some of our breathtaking surroundings destroyed for development. So many little ones have entered my life. The flashback that I was encountering was intense and very difficult to handle. It only lasted for a brief moment but left me drained.


My head once again found the comfort of the proud tree that was supporting me. In a soft voice I gave the gentleman my reply. "Yes Sir, some might would classify me as one of those animal nature nuts that you hear about." Still drained from my flashback I reached for my cup of water to cleanse a dry throat and drank. After only a sip, water embarrassingly came spitting from my mouth. I apologized to the stranger for my behavior but I knew, I just knew that this cup had been emptied moments earlier. Gotta be the heat and that weird flashback thing that just happened was all that I could figure. My eyes once again turned to the stranger and I saw those same questioning eyes. "What makes you into such a person, this animal and nature lover that you have become" he asked. My reply to this would not come easy. It's that same question that I have asked my own self for years. Some answers are so difficult to put into words and this has always been most difficult. I'm not sure why but I felt a comfort sitting with this stranger. He reminded me of my father who passed on only a few years back. It was something in his eyes that made me decide to come up with an answer to his question. I stated to him that it might take a while with my explanation of why my feelings are so strong. I asked if he had time to listen. Seemingly in the voice of a father to a son he said "Son, I have all the time in the world to spend with you". His eyes changed now and the look told me that he was ready to listen and intent on hearing the answer. With a deep exhale I searched for the words.


It was ten years ago that my own story began. Although I had a fondness for some animals by no sense of the word could I have been called an animal or nature lover. Sure, I had pets in my life at times but they were easy to care for. We bonded just as any other people who would own pets would do. I gave to them at my convenience and enjoyed having them. I also grieved with any loss of a pet that I "owned". Any animal other than a pet had little purpose for me to care deeply about. I was busy, wrapped up in my own world. I enjoyed many pleasures in life, most being selfish and materialistic but I was content, or so I fooled myself into believing. I had no idea that there was another side of life or the deep emotions that could come with it. I do feel that I was a giving person but sometimes I wonder if even in those times that it was done at my own convenience. I enjoyed attention such as when showing off a new car or a new boat or anything that would draw special attention. In a way, that's what may have brought me into the wonderful world that I now live in. A new pet, something exotic, something unique would be really exciting and different. A little skunk entered my life.


This is when my eyes looked up at the stranger. The mention of having a skunk as a pet usually catches folks off guard which is continued by a crazed look on their faces. What I had said to him had no effect, only a slight lean forward to listen further so I continued. My first thoughts were how cool it was to have such a different type of animal for a pet. But, nobody told me beforehand just how different it could be. The little skunk was downright cute! His antics were totally different than anything I could have ever imagined. I showed him off every chance I got to everyone, so proud to have something so different. But through all of this I was learning about a different type of care that I must give. The little skunk was not as easy to care for as a dog or a cat. It required special diets. Preparing its meal wasn't as easy as sitting down a bowl of cat food or dog food. I quickly learned too about the attention my little skunk required. This was no animal that liked to be left alone and it would require much time to mold its personality. I too, was realizing that this was a different type of animal that what I had been accustomed to and plenty of patience was required. This would require sacrifices like I had never before given to anyone or anything else in my life. These things I gave and I noticed with each little bit I could sense a closeness forming between us. There was a training happening and not only was the skunk being trained but I was being trained as well. I look back on this now and know how love is formed. Each day I learned more about giving and learned that by doing so another can give back freely in return. We all long for that feeling of loving warmth and acceptance. It's an unconditional love that can more easily be found in animals. Animals live their lives striving for warmth and security and we as humans are the same way.


The truest feelings of love had crept up on me and this was realized a short time later. At this point a tear came to my eyes in remembering my little skunk. There was a time in my life that my tears were hidden but I had grown to be proud of them, never again feeling a need to hold them back. I was reliving the most difficult day of my life. A hand from the stranger found my shoulder which brought me great comfort. Somehow he knew the tremendous amount of sorrow that I felt and live with each day. With his hand still resting upon my shoulder I continued. My life had been changed by, of all things, a little skunk. Through this little one I had learned the value of life and how precious each breath we take can be. Love is a teaching experience that I feel every day. Through many years now, I’ve learned it from other animals, large and small, each being unique in its own special ways. I've nurtured through injury and sickness and I've felt unsurpassable joy in releasing many others back to where God intended. Each of these little ones have left an impression in my life, a warmth that is indescribable.


My head now once again leaned back and found the strength of the great oak tree that held me secure and my eyes closed only for a brief second. I had found in myself the meaning of love. The words that I speak could never describe the emotions in my heart. I opened my eyes and glanced over to the young sapling of the oak tree and thought of the wee little grasshopper. All aspects of nature have given meaning to my life. My eyes then turned towards the stranger, the one who had been so intent on listening. In complete silence he had left me. My eyes searched the yard and even out into the corn fields but he was not to be seen. I had enjoyed my chat with him, although I was the one who seemed to have done most of the talking. He had left me without so much as a simple goodbye. One last swallow of water I thought and I would head back to my task at the gate. I reached down amongst the roots to retrieve the cup and was flabbergasted. Sitting with a balance that only a little one such as this could muster, a chittery little fella rested on the brim of the cup. It was a grey squirrel taking one drink after another.


By now seeing this cup each time filled slightly over halfway with water, I was not surprised. I would think heavily about it later for sure. After a moment or so the little squirrel seemed to have his fill, turned his back to me, and after a few twitches of the tail he scurried up the oak tree. I would remember this little one throughout my entire life for he had a distinct feature about him. His front paw held a marking that brought those tiny little bumps to my skin, something unique that will always have a special place in my memories. One little black paw riding high on a leg. I lost sight of the little fella high up in the leaves but it wasn't due to a lack of trying to keep up with him.


Howdy! I danged near jumped from my skin as I heard the voice behind me. It was my neighbor and although pleased to hear his voice it was getting a bit late in the day and I knew his gate still needed attention. "Thank you, thank you, thank you" rang out in his voice. He hurriedly pulled me by the arm and we headed towards his gate. Just before I could spit out my apologies for being so lax I saw it. To my knees I went staring in disbelief. My neighbor swung the gate open and closed it back and forth, over and over again. A fresh coat of grey paint covered its exterior along with, you guessed it, one lone picket on the end painted black. "How can I ever repay you for such kindness" he asked me. Under normal circumstances my reply would have been nothing, nothing at all, but I gave thought for a quick second or two. I did have one thing that I desired.


On the mantle above my fireplace rests something of a reminder of a day that I'll never forget. To some it may look out of place, just a dirty old cup, but to me it's a symbol of all of the wonderful things in our world to appreciate. There's a love surrounding that cup, one that I can never quite find the right words in describing.


To this day, my cup is always slightly more than half full. It's been I reckon about twenty years since that day under the oak and I still stroll past from time to time especially in those hot days of summer. The mighty oak tree is still lending its shade to those who would venture underneath. A somewhat younger tree rests too, seemingly cradled in its branches, and there's an old tire hanging from a rope beneath it. I kinda reckon we've got some new neighbors with kids. And danged if I don't see an old gate needing just a wee bit of attention.


Unkie Milt






2011 is the Year of the Turtle


Life along the Q River… An Update from the Quinnipiac River Watershed Association


By JoAnne Grabinski


Turtles are in trouble. The International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) categorizes that 47% of all living turtle species as threatened. That’s why the Connecticut Department of Environmental Protection (DEP) is working in conjunction with Partners in Amphibian and Reptile Conservation (PARC) who has proclaimed 2011 as the “Year of the Turtle”.


Humans cause the largest harm to turtle populations, but we have the power to make positive changes toward turtle survival. The largest threats to turtle populations include: habitat loss and degradation; overharvest of wild turtles for food, traditional medicines, and pets; mortality from roads, agricultural machinery, fishing bycatch, and predators; exotic invasive species and diseases; loss of unique genetic make-up due to hybridization; and climate change.


Currently, 328 species of turtles are known worldwide -- 57 (20% of the world's turtle species) are found in the United States and Canada. The United States has more native turtle species than any other country; and it is a turtle biodiversity hotspot. Connecticut is host to twelve turtle species including 4 sea turtles. Seven of these turtles are currently on the state's List of Endangered, Threatened and Special Concern Species.


Careful stewardship and conservation action can successfully slow or reduce the declining trend of turtles. Because turtles can respond well to population management and conservation, it is not too late to preserve our turtle heritage. Three basic approaches for species conservation include: 1) protecting rare species and their habitats; 2) managing common turtle species and their habitats so that they remain common; and 3) managing crisis situations, such as species in peril from acute hazards, such as oil spills.


Turtles (which include tortoises) occur in fresh water, salt water, and on land. Their shells make them some of the most distinctive animals on Earth. Turtles are typically slow creatures. This isn’t limited to their speed; they also grow slowly. It may take 10-15 years before individuals of some species can reproduce. A thriving turtle population relies on turtles surviving many years, if not decades. But if a population loses adults and begins to decline, a slow recovery can be expected. Because of these “slow” characteristics, the primary threats to turtles are intensified.


The QRWA has an ongoing Turtle Crossing Project spearheaded by board member Deb Mason. She and her volunteers actively assist turtles in crossing the road during their mating season of May and June, which can be a time of high mortality for these one-of-a-kind creatures. Deb also works with local authorities and experts in the rehabilitation of turtles and releases them in their native habitats. If you want to help Deb in the 19 towns of the watershed with Eastern Box and Wood turtles, please contact her at 203-494-7610 or 203-237-2237 or turtlecrossingproject@yahoo.com. Deb is actively investigating how the QRWA can partner with local agencies to aid in the efforts of these turtles.


To learn more about turtles during the “Year of the Turtle” is to subscribe to the DEP’s Connecticut Wildlife magazine (www.ct.gov/dep/wildlifemagazine). You also can visit PARC’s web site at www.yearoftheturtle.org, as well as the Year of the Turtle page on the DEP’s web site (www.ct.gov/dep/yearofturtle). And don’t forget to check out your most local resource, www.qrwa.org.


QRWA provides water activities, events in education, outreach, advocacy, scientific monitoring, conservation, restoration, recreation and public access to the watershed area. To learn more about the QRWA and to confirm information, dates and times for upcoming events, please visit our website at: www.qrwa.org.


The Quinnipiac River Watershed Association (QRWA) is a not-for-profit 501c3 organization whose mission is to restore the Quinnipiac for the health and enjoyment of all citizens and communities along its reach and to educate all students, families, individuals, businesses and governments to be informed stewards of the river. Thank you for your support and remember your donations are tax deductable.

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