A fundamental element of a vibrant community is the symbiotic relationship between businesses and residents working together for all concerned. In New Hyde Park, long standing and well established ties have created an atmosphere of mutual respect, understanding, and common purpose.
That scourge of the printed word, H.L. Menken, once remarked that William Jennings Bryant was the only man he knew that could strut while sitting down. Of course Menken never knew Anthony Weiner, which is too bad because the world would have been much the richer in savoring that scornful wit that Menken was so famous for ladling out in generous portions.
They charge and scatter and leap
across the open field,
knowing how much life is to come
in its moment.
We inherit what they inherit.
How hard we have striven, all of us,
in our solidarity. The spectators shout
and cheer and clap them on—not to some
political spin, for which no one cares.
In full blossom.
Light fills the air with its song,
whether we hear its notes or not.
And we learn its scent
by memory, rustling
the green leaves and the petals
that flutter and fall like snow,
ever so lightly to the ground.
A penny for your thoughts may be an overpriced commodity if the latest trend about human intelligence is any indication. The most recent study of this controversial and flammable issue shows the human intelligence quotient has declined alarmingly since the Victorian age. In fact, 14 intelligence studies undertaken over a 120 year period that gauged a participant’s visual reaction times --- meaning how long it took them to press a button in response to seeing a stimulus --- all showed intelligence declining in the modern world.
It would have been nice to see on Secretariat’s 40th anniversary of winning the Triple Crown that another horse would have captured that ever elusive achievement. It’s been 35 long years since another horse has won such glory. With three Triple Crown winners in the 1970s, it appeared that accomplishing such a feat might even become routine. Like a cadre of Voltaire’s Candides, we had become demented optimists.
History should have precluded such a roseate worldview. It would not have behooved the sport to have Triple Crown winners being as common as the rain. Expectations should not be as certain as the changing of seasons, for history is replete with examples in discouraging such a sanguine outlook. Reality has a rather obnoxious habit of intruding upon cheerfulness and it’s important we keep our fondest hopes in proper perspective. The record book shows that 25 years separated Citation’s and Secretariat’s Triple Crown victories. The three winners of the Triple Crown in the decade of the 1970s would have been seen as aberrational if not for the rose-colored glasses plastered against our faces.
There is not enough time to list all
The generous sacrifices made on our behalf.
I am startled awake by the thought—
we must find our civic sight or be lost.
When I became a new dad many years ago, I asked a friend whom I admired how to be a good father. Without missing a beat, he responded simply, “Love their mother.”
As husband to a mom of four and son to a mom of five, I live (you can already guess) in a mom-centric zone, and over time that lesson has become abundantly clear to me. So I thought I’d take a break this week from the usual legislative topics and instead reflect upon the powerful love we celebrate in the middle of May each year.
It was an appalling moment in American diplomatic history, indelibly searing the psyche of the civilized world. I can still see the bloody images of Ambassador Christopher Stevens being dragged through the streets by an angry mob. Such atrocities are not supposed to happen to Ambassadors who represent the genteel and sophisticated world of international diplomacy.
The seniors of the Herricks Leisure Club welcomed spring after an active, and sometimes arduous, winter.
The new year started with a flea market and a presentation of Pinocchio by the drama students of the Center Street Schoolin January.
In February, the club celebrated Valentine’s Day with a dais decorated by Helene Picchiello, and apple turnovers donated by Martha Harris.
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