Mayberry, the chief and going home

By Doug Page | Thu, December 4, 2008, 08:00 AM

Ansonia isn’t Mayberry. And Larry Hoffman was never Sheriff Andy Taylor.

Still, the fictional Mayberry of 1960s television fame and Ansonia are about the same population (1,800) and have the same number of stoplights (one).

The fictional Sheriff Andy was a smiling, wise, warm-hearted ah-shucks sort of fellow.

Hoffman was smiling, wise and warm-hearted, according to his fellow Ansonians. One of God’s true gentlemen.

Sheriff Andy served Mayberry for eight seasons.

Hoffman served Ansonia for more than 20 years as a police officer and chief.

Continue reading...

Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment More: Random musings

The rest is gravy

By Doug Page | Wed, December 3, 2008, 02:49 PM

The house was infused with the aroma of poultry seasoning, cooking turkey, baked yeast rolls, and the promise of pumpkin pie.

You got an extra point if there is a fire on the hearth.

Bliss, there is no other word for it.

A day for giving thanks. The roof over our head. Clothes on our back. Beans on the table. The family healthy.

Everything else is gravy.

Continue reading...

Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment More: Random musings

An interesting weekend

By Doug Page | Mon, October 27, 2008, 03:50 PM

The third weekend of October was interesting well beyond the gridiron.

By tradition, it is the national Children’s Sabbath, an event endorsed by Christian, Jewish and Muslim religious leaders. The service is a chance to celebrate the accomplishments of children. It is also a chance to talk about the problems facing the most powerless among us.

The same weekend, a group called The Judeo-Christian View claimed to have distributed copies of the DVD “Obsession: Radical Islam’s War Against the West” to 325,000 pastors, priests and rabbis across the country. No imams, though.

The Judeo-Christian View says it is a “periodical for clerical leaders”. The multimedia journal is upset with one of the presidential candidate’s stand on abortion, same-sex marriages and, I’m sure, plenty else.

Appears to me it’s an interesting case of inclusion versus exclusion.

Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment More: Random musings

Council to interview candidates

By Doug Page | Mon, September 29, 2008, 05:16 PM

ENGLEWOOD — The City Council will meet on Tuesday, Sept. 30, to interview three candidates for a vacant council seat.

Those applying for the position are:

• Teresa Guerra

• Karen Strider-Iiames, a member of the city’s Planning Commission

• Marlyn Flee, former longtime Harrison Twp. administrator and also a member of the Englewood Planning Commission.

The death of Mayor Mike Bowers created the vacancy. The successor will be chosen by a majority vote of the council in open session and will serve out the unexpired term of former Vice Mayor Patricia Burnside. She assumed the Bower’s job after his death.

According to the meeting’s agenda, the council plans to meet in executive session with each candidate for 15 minutes, following a rollcall vote to go into executive session.

The council has not set a timetable for filling the vacancy.

Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment More: Englewood

The passing of a noble hound

By Doug Page | Wed, September 24, 2008, 01:29 PM

I am not one to ascribe human behavior or emotions to animals, particularly dogs. They are wired in a different manner. Their eyes see a world different than ours. Their sense of smell and hearing are more refined. They process the world in a way we can only imagine.

That we would project our thoughts and emotions onto them is proof enough of the difference between out species. A dog’s world revolves around am I hungry, thirsty, warm, cold, loved?

But if you seek unconditional love, get a dog.

The house was silent this morning.

There was no clicking of nails on the hardwood floor. No galumphing down the stairs as the sun rises. No hissing of cats, awakened in such a rude manner by inquiring cold, wet nose. No muted wake-up yelps.

No prancing and bowing as the coffee brewed. No annoying metallic scraping of teeth on stainless steel as breakfast was inhaled.

There was silence and a hole in our souls.

The wife did not have her 70-pound shadow — he liked his handouts, and she was a sucker. There was no greyhound dance when the grumpy teenager came down the stairs heading off to school. And as I started my day at the kitchen table, my co-author and sometimes editor was not at his usual place on the rug.

How can a graceful, sleek animal look so doofus, napping on his back with four legs in the air?

The cancer came swiftly. The vet found the mass in his massive chest at noon yesterday. Chemo and surgery were nonstarters. Nature would take him when it was time. There was nothing anyone could do. It was my call when to end it.

I called the wife at work. Explained it all. Hung up and cried in a corner. It wasn’t as if — God, please, no — I was losing a child or my wife. I thought myself inured to death, violent or otherwise.

He was a good and faithful friend. We had rescued him — or he us — after much pleading by the then 9-year-old Siberian princess. She wanted a puppy. She got a 2-year-old retired racer. She was not pleased. First, he was not a licker. Second, he wasn’t cute. Third, he was bigger than she.

But he was gentler, quieter and faithful. The wife started leaving a Milk Bone in the mailbox so when the daughter got off the school bus, she’d enter the house with a treat in hand.

Soon he had us trained. Come in the door, and you’d better have a Milk Bone.

Our faithfulness to our new routine was repaid a thousand-fold. We could put the daughter on on end of the lead and the dog on the other. We knew both would return safely. Once on their daily “walk”, surprised by the sudden appearance of a stranger, he jumped between the daughter and the stranger, baring his impressive teeth.

“I wasn’t scared at all,” she said. “He was there.”

Though his muzzled grayed and his step slowed, every time a new swain passed over the threshold to call on the now-teenage daughter he galumphed down the stairs and take his stand between the daughter and the boy. Some made it no farther than the foyer before fleeing. Until he was sure of their intentions, they would come no farther. The ones the daughter liked were warned ahead of time to bring a treat.

At 5:58 p.m. yesterday, while I was arguing with a wrong-headed colleague, the wife called. She was cradling a convulsing dog. The vet was on his way. The dog would not go gentle into that good night.

I called Son No. 2 who rushed to our house, left the colleague to his own devices and sped home.

I was not in time, nor was the daughter. The vet knew what needing doing. He eased our friend’s journey into the dying of the light.

So tonight, the figurative drinks are on me. Hoist a cold one for Ty, the Wonder Dog, a good and faithful friend, the noblest of hounds.

Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment More: Random musings