You know Old Man Winter has overstayed his welcome when even a middle school student will say he doesn’t want any more snow days.
We love the sugar-frosted dusting of a first snow in the treetops along Tulip Avenue, but after that first dusting, it tends to get dirty and dangerous. Ice that glitters in the branches or along telephone lines starts melt, breaking off branches and denting cars parked in the street below. Did we mention cars? Winter driving is all problems. At times Floral Park feels like an episode of Ice Road Truckers. The potholes—plenty deep and getting deeper—make every drive an “off-road” experience. Salt and sand eat away chassis. Both black and white ice send us skidding. And they all conspire to send us to the mechanic to spend money. Did we mention money? We just got our bills from National Grid and fuel oil suppliers. Harumph. And we just hate being cold all the time.
Enough is enough. Let us hope that the latest snowstorm is the last and that Malverne Mel and Holstville Hal, Long Island’s bellwether groundhogs, were right: Spring is coming early this year.
I’m lucky to live only blocks away from an unspoiled piece of nature, where a pond-side bench lets me sit and enjoy a big cup of coffee and a plastic-tipped cigar.
From this vantage point, my mind wanders freely. I often reminisce of my childhood, where in every season and at every age I spent time here.
I guess I rained on the parade and I have to admit, it felt pretty good.
I’m talking about New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio’s ill-conceived plan to raise taxes to purportedly pay for universal pre-k in New York City public schools. On its surface, it’s a noble idea and one that would eventually bridge gaps of inequality for future New Yorkers. Honestly, who wouldn’t be in favor of improving the education system? I guess that’s why the mayor made it one of his core campaign promises even though he knew full well that enacting it was totally out of his control. What he continuously failed to point out is that responsibility for making such an aggressive plan actually work falls squarely on the shoulders of state legislators and Governor Cuomo in Albany. And it’s no secret that together, we’ve spent the last four years fervently trying to lower taxes—not raise them.
Nassau County is vigorously promoting its new smart phone app that allows citizens to report potholes, but when we got the announcement last week our reaction was “Seriously? You need an app for that?” After all, it’s not as if the potholes are hiding. Many of them reappear, year after year, in predictable spots, well-traveled stretches where major roads intersect. Tulip Ave. and east down Jericho Tpke., offers a stupendous moonscape. You can see it has been repeatedly patched.
Plus, old technologies—a phone call—do the job just as well. But the app announcement came with a pledge to fix potholes within 24 hours of notification. That made us pay attention, though we were skeptical. Thus, we were surprised when some obvious potholes (like that moonscape at Jericho) got fixed quickly. We never see the repair crews at work, but they are getting the job done—and there’s no app for that. Let’s give thanks for the road crews that are smoothing our winter-savaged roads.
- Christy Hinko
This month, love is in the air. If you have young children, you feel the love – in drawings, paintings, sketches, short stories, sculptures, cards, poems, hand prints, foot prints. The list goes on and on. As parents, we are flooded with their love. Sometimes the love is directed by a teacher. Sometimes it is an inspired, unique creation of the child’s own imagination. We tape it to the wall, tack it to the fridge, pin it to the cork board but over time we are overwhelmed with the sheer volume of memorabilia and how to preserve it.
My clients who face this challenge are usually in one of two phases:
Last spring my wife and I stopped in Princeton, NJ and had breakfast at a busy coffee shop. The owner, a friendly chap, stopped at our table and began to chat with us. I remarked that business was brisk and he informed me that he and his partner have two other coffee/breakfast establishments that were just as busy.
It seemed a good time to pop the question. What possible impact did he think the ObamaCare employer mandate, which requires businesses with 50 or more full-time employees, to offer insurance to pay a $2,000 penalty each worker beyond 30 employees would have on his business? Rolling his eyes and shaking his head he told me it was definitely going to adversely affect how many people he will employ since labor mandates raise hiring costs.
Reading John Owens’ column on the Long Island Rail Road (“Cheaper Railroad Fares: That’s The Ticket”), it occurred to me that congestion pricing in general, for peak and non-peak, may make sense. Trains in the middle of the night may be much cheaper than, say, a 9 a.m. weekday train that may be running almost to capacity. Monthly ticket holders, I guess, get to travel whenever.
I found it disconcerting that an article titled “Concussions: Stop The Invisible Injury,” which talked about “concussion prevention,” “fostering an atmosphere of safety first,” “the athlete’s health is first priority,” “protecting an athlete’s future,” “the lifelong impact this injury can have on an athlete,” and “parents can reinforce a safe sports environment by not promoting or encouraging moves that might compromise an athlete’s safety,” never once suggested the advisability of simply not allowing one’s young child to endanger his growing brain by playing (tackle!) football, playing other helmet-required sports like hockey, becoming a boxer or playing a brain-rattling (from “heading” the ball) sport like soccer.
The article began with several false premises and assumptions. One is that “a concussion can occur in any sport,” as if it’s as common in basketball as in football. It also said that “a concussion...can occur in both contact and non-contact sports,” as if the incidences are equal in frequency or severity. I daresay concussions are nowhere near as common in baseball as in football. There’s a good reason that some sports require helmets be worn to protect one’s head and the brain inside the skull.
When I tell young people that I remember the British Invasion, you would think by their astonished expression that I was talking about the War of 1812. Was it really that long ago when the Beatles hit these shores with the force of a Category 5 Hurricane? Well, think of it this way: Fifty years before 1964, the Guns of August exploded over the continent of Europe igniting the First World War. So 50 years back is certainly a significant passage of time.
I was only six years old when my mother and sister excitedly opened up the newspaper on the kitchen table to read the latest about the Beatles’ arrival. I had never heard of them and innocently asked who or what were the Beatles? They’re a singing group, my mother replied, and they have long hair. That they were another singing group had no interest for me, but a man having long hair was a novelty and piqued my interest. This was before Haight-Ashbury, the Age of Aquarius and the counter-culture revolution. Despite their locks, quite conservative in retrospect, they were, at least in their earlier incarnation, well attired, well groomed, well-spoken and essentially non-libidinous.
No doubt you’ve seen the full page ads that Target recently placed in major newspapers around the nation. The massive retailer was apologizing to the 110 million customers who likely had their credit information stolen in one of the largest security breaches in retail history. If you shopped at Target before Christmas (unnamed members of my family practically lived there) then you may have been affected. By Target’s own admission, the hackers may have stolen credit and debit information from 40 million shoppers and personal data from another 70 million. Under pressure from the U.S. Attorney General’s office, they’re even offering a year of free credit monitoring to all of their customers in the hopes of mitigating the situation. Yet none of that, however well-intentioned, will fix the damage now.
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