Being from a small “city” there has never been a time in my life that I have gone to The big apple and not been impressed. I generally try to see things that I did not see on a previous trip and so far it has not been a difficult task.

It seems the more I go to New York City the more I can not get enough of it. The people, the smell, the endless brownstones and sky scrapers, I just take it in and wish like always that I would some day get the chance to experience more

Growing up in a small rural area I believe the aspects of living in the fast paced city have always intrigued me. However, given the chance to pack my bags and move there is more than likely the wrong idea for me. Visiting as often as I can though, is right up me alley!

Whenever I get the chance to take the four hour ride down state I jump on it even if it means I will only be in the city a few hours. I got given that chance this week when I was asked to accompany spectators from the New Berlin area to Carnegie Hall to see the honors chorus perform. The road to fame was paved with road blocks for these kids while trying to raise $32,000 to have the opportunity to perform on stage at Carnegie Hall. Since September students, parents, teachers and entire communities from various areas have pitched in to make the trip a success. And a success it surly was. Just to see the kids faces light up when they came onto the stage and looked out to see the hall packed made the trip worthwhile for all in attendance.

Many of these children in my own opinion may never experience what they did throughout the past week while touring the big apple. To me, the experience alone was worth the hard work and devotion each of these students put into their fundraising efforts.

As for me any time I get the chance to get within 20 miles of the city I jump on it. The lights, the chaos, times square, rockerfeller center and everything in between is sheer please as far as I am concerned. I too had never been to Carnegie before and the experience was incredible. The hall is magnificent and the architecture throughout the building was outstanding.

I always find it funny that while I only live four measly hours from Manhattan when I go there it is like stepping into a different world. I also find it funny that the people that live there are also only four hours away and yet if they were to come here and look around it may be like playing a role on an episode of the twilight zone, one cow and they’ll be high tailing it back to the subway before anyone gets the chance to tell them what a cow actually is. (Just kidding)

Well anyway, I enjoyed my trip although it was a little quick. The performance was great and as always just the experience I walked away with was well worth it.

Great job Unadilla Valley singers for making your way to the big city!

I almost got killed the other day.

That means it must be garage sale season again.

People don’t realize the impact off-loading their junk can have on a neighborhood. It’s like in 1980 when Fidel Castro unleashed thousands of Cuban prisoners and mental patients onto the U.S. after he opened-up Mariel Bay, so “political refugees” could live their dreams in America. He basically dropped a bomb on us.

Same goes for any garage (i.e. basement, bedroom, living room, bathroom) sale.

It’s Saturday. It’s sunny. It’s quiet. It’s wonderful.

A far of voice then whispers to your neighbor, “If you build it (a tent covering four folding tables filled with 25 years worth of stuff you no longer care about), they will come.”

KA-BOOM!

Mayhem ensues.

People for forty square miles turn into flesh-eating zombies – and they show-up in droves.

Nearby lawns turn into outposts and access roads for the eager hordes. Cars get jacked sideways in the street because – even though there aren’t any legitimate parking spots left – they don’t care, “there might be a velvet Elvis chess set in there.”

Clusters of automatons walk down the middle of the street adoring their “Easy Rider” lunchboxes, oblivious and unyielding to oncoming traffic. Then, once they get into their cars to leave, they’ll pull out blindly into the road, cutting-off passing motorists and cyclists, nearly causing horrible accidents, all while clutching their “new” 4×16 Indian dream catcher and shouting “Veni, vidi, vici!”

Meanwhile, you become a prisoner in your own home. You can’t drive – the streets are blocked. You can’t walk – you may get trampled and robbed. You can’t call for help – a sale goer has commandeered your telephone (right after commandeering your bathroom) to call and confer with their significant other to find out if $10 bucks for a ripped “slip n’ slide” is a good deal.

What a nightmare.

When the dust finally settles, it looks like your neighborhood caught on fire and someone put it out with an ax.

Whatever happened to the Salvation Army? Whatever happened to the side of the road? Whatever happened to sending enormous goodwill packages to unsuspecting pen pals?

Be a good neighbor and don’t have garage sales. Build a high fence around your property and pile everything in the backyard.

This week I wrote a story on Otselic Valley’s Third Annual Autism Awareness Walk. After the story ran in the paper, which only went out a few hours ago, I have received several e-mails from concerned individuals regarding what causes autism.

For years, scientists and doctors have been trying to discover the cause of autism, with little success. Many swear it is genetic, while others blame environmental factors (i.e. vaccines that contain mercury), and some claim it is a combination of the two, with environmental factors causing hundreds of genes to mutate and affect the way the mind operates.

I don’t know what the answer is, but I’m certain that more attention needs to be given to this growing problem. As was stated in today’s article, statistics show that in the United States, 1 out of every 150 children will be diagnosed with Autism. Autism is more prevalent in boys than girls, and 1 out of every 94 boys will be diagnosed with the disorder.

While there are services in place for children with this disorder, today, someone pointed out that services for adults with autism are severely lacking, and as more and more children reach adulthood, the country may encounter a real problem. The number of children diagnosed with autism is increasing and we need to determine what is causing it and what can be done to stop it.

Being a math wizz I would have to admit is not my forte, to say the least. math concepts and I tend to disagree 99.9% of the time. When I look at math my brain literally shuts off and the only thing ringing in my head is AHHHHHHH! In school I was one of the children who secretly put my hands in my desk so I could count using my fingers and when it came time to go to the chalkboard I would willingly and proudly state I had no clue what I was doing and take looking like a fool rather than prove to class and to myself that my math skills were well below par. Knowing this as I headed to college with the idea that something in the arts would do me justice and that way also minimal math would be required. Less than two years later I graduated with my journalism degree and had a fine listing of science classes completed so I would never have to step foot into a mathematics classroom.

Well.. all this is fine and well until I am faced with the challenge of reporting on school budgets. Sounds simple right, WRONG try navigating through budget reporting, state aid, numerous regulations, tax levy ect ect when all you really have in your head is yourself screaming AHHHHHHHH! (See that my brain really does shut itself down for a mandatory reboot when it is faced with the simplest of math problems.)

I wonder if it is that people who write oftentimes can not do math? Give me a topic, any topic and I am sure I can write a 20 page paper in a short amount of time, now give me the simplest math problem and I will get back to you in approximately 3 months with the incorrect answer.

So being the education reporter has turned out to be a little challenging for me this month due to the fact that I have to keep hitting the start button to my brain every time I hear the word expenditure or revenue.. Not to mention the state mandations two schools in the county are facing that has thrown another curve ball at me. By the way I am no good at baseball either so curve balls, also not my cup of tea.

I did get one sign of good new along the way though and that was when someone told me it may take me a couple more years to fully understand the budget process. (well of course this made me feel better about doing the budget articles now!) But for now I can rest easy and use that as my handicap when my previous handicap saying “I’m a journalist I don’t do math”gets old.

My mom pointed out Tuesday that April, particularly this week in April, has historically seen its share of horrific events.

Monday’s massacre at Virginia Tech being the most recent.

In years past my family would have been in Myrtle Beach this week – where 75 percent of Norwich is currently – and heard the awful news. But being by the beach with a heavy heart is a place we’ve been before.

Three events standout more than others.

April 19, 1995 – Oklahoma City bombing, 168 killed, 800 injured.
April 14, 1997 – Norwich High School student Jesse Scott dies in car accident.
April 20, 1999 – Columbine High School Shooting, 12 students and one teacher killed.

There’s no reason all these events occurred in April.

There’s no reason why they happened at all.

They just did.

Regardless, April will always mark a tough month. It’ll remind me of sad times I saw as a teenager, and now again as an adult.

All of us, like Cho Seung-Hui, could impose our will on others if we ever felt the need. And rather than blame the school or security, I can’t help but be angry with the shooter more than anything. Whether he was disturbed, scared, or whatever – his real problem was that he was selfish.

Other infamous happenings in April:

April 14, 1865 – Abraham Lincoln assassinated.
April 18, 1906 – San Francisco earthquake and fire - killed 3,000 over 4 days.
April 15, 1912 – Titanic sinks, killing 1,500.
April 4, 1968 – Dr. Martin Luther King assassinated.

Maybe it was a dream. I’m not really sure, but I thought we had temperatures that were close to 70 degrees just a couple of weeks ago. I vaguely remember getting out my bike and watching my husband struggle to change the inner-tube in my bike tire. But that couldn’t have possibly happened since the temperatures are now back to the mid-20’s and a snow storm just dropped nearly a foot of snow on us.

I’m trying to look at the up-side of having a massive, winter storm in the middle of April, but to the best of my knowledge, there aren’t any. It’s cold and wet and icky at a time of year when it should be mildly warm and sunny outside.

This late season snow storm stinks, but instead of just complaining about the weather, I’m going to address all the stupid things people do in the nasty weather that really irk me.

1. Driving a white car in a white out with no head lights on. This is just stupid, but for some reason I see people doing it all of the time. (Hey, white car, you blend in with the snow, and no one can see you. Turn on your stinking lights.)
2. Walking down the middle of the road or stopping a vehicle in the middle of the road, even when you know there is no possible way anyone will be able to avoid hitting you if they come up behind you. It sounds obvious, but I think most of us don’t want to get into an accident, so please don’t do this.
3. Waiting until a State of Emergency is declared and then deciding it’s time to do all of your shopping for the month, visit all of your closest relatives and do anything else that you’ve been putting off until the last minute. Usually city and county officials have a reason for issuing a State of Emergency, namely, they don’t think the roads are safe for travel. So, if you have the option, stay home. If you’re anything like me, you don’t get to do that nearly enough anyway.

Avoid the snow and stay warm until this nasty bit of weather passes. Maybe next week we can go back to the 70 degree weather. I think I liked that a little better.

Inspired by Chris Hansen’s “To Catch a Predator,” we at The Evening Sun set up our own little sting operation to nail some would-be wheel-o-philes trolling for carts via the net.

After only a few seconds in a “man-cart” internet chatroom, our decoy “wheel4u” snared “cartbreaker113,” a willing and able violator:

wheel4u: “Hey, the store attendant is busy cleaning up a mess in isle 8 – how about you come over and fill me up with a few cases of Old Milwaukee and push me around a little.”
Cartbreaker: “Really?”
wheel4u: “Oh yeah.”
Cartbreaker: “I was hoping you’d say that. I want to snatch you off the lot and leave you on a street corner like the dirty cart you are.”
wheel4u: “Sounds like a party. TTYL.”

With an air of confidence, Cartbreaker strolled over to the northwest corner of a local parking lot where he thought he’d be meeting a frisky young shopping carriage – oops.
“Hey, I’m Cartbreaker, are you wheel4u?”
“There’s my knight in shining armor. Just give me one minute to grease-up my wheels so I’m not all squeaky.”
That’s when we stepped in…
“Hello sir, how are you?”
“Good, I guess.”
“Do you mind if I ask what you’re doing here with this cart?”
“Nothing, I just came over to meet it, maybe put it back in the rack over there.”
“You came all the way over here to put the cart away?”
“Yeah.”
“If I’m not mistaken, in an internet conversation 25 minutes ago didn’t you say ‘I want to snatch you off the lot and leave you on a street corner like the dirty cart you are.’?
“I was just talking.”
“Well you better talk some more and explain yourself.”
“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I did this. I always just thought about stealing a shopping cart, I never really planned on doing it. My urges just took over.”
“Urges? Sounded like more than urges to me.”
“Oh God – my family…What’s going to happen to me.”
“You’re in luck. Even though it’s despicable, there are no laws against what you planned to do. In fact, its widely accepted behavior.”
“Thank God. Hey, is that cart greased-up yet?”

There is not a memory from my childhood where you are not present…
There is not a scar from my childhood clumsiness that you did not fix…
There is not enough time to tell you what you have meant to me, since even before I can remember…
A helping hand, a friendly smile and that fatherly look in your eye that I remember so perfectly clear.

Dear Dave,
From the smell of your barbecue on a hot summer day to the way you made everything seem okay….Your helpfulness, your wisdom and heart are what shall be remembered most. I think back to a day when you were not around to simply say hello or to make all the children behave and I can honestly say there was not such a day. “Doctor Dave” we used to say because you were the one to come to the rescue. A leader of many and a savor to most, your kindness touched us all and played a part in who we all became.

My first memory pertains to a fall I endured when I was two. I think about that day and I see you, I was sitting on your kitchen table and you were holding a towel or something to my face and your calm words still ring loud today. From the time I was two till now, I remember you running down the street when one of us would fall off a bike or slip while playing on the pavement. From the bloody knees to the broken elbows, it was you that made it better and reassured us we would be ok.

You had a lot of love to give and everyone that knew you could feel it, from your children to your grandchildren anyone who came into your life was welcomed with open arms. From the old time remedies to the deep meaningful voice in which you spoke I am grateful I had you as a mentor, as a friend and as a leader. Whether you realized it or not, I looked up to you and you truly were my unsung hero. You will be remembered for all you did and for the man you were but most of all for the love you shared and the warmth you spread. Thank you Dave for everything you gave me, you lit the path for so many and were the linchpin to many others. Thank you for always making everything ok and coming to my rescue. Merrill Street would have been a lot different without you there and many lives wouldn’t have been touched without you there to guide them along the way. Thank you for all you did. In memory of David L. Jennings February 23, 1943- April 8, 2007.

Move over Ozzy Osbourne, it looks like there’s a new Prince of Darkness in the music industry, or should I say a really really old one.

Music enthusiasts, like me, have been buzzing since The Rolling Stones most drugged-out  member admitted in an interview earlier this week that he had snorted his father. For those of you who are confused, let me clarify this a little. When asked about the craziest thing he had ever done, Keith Richards told a reporter that he had  mixed his father’s ashes with some cocaine and snorted him. Suddenly biting the head off of a bat seems as tame as playing patty-cake.

I know rock stars are known for their crazy, drug induced antics, but I think when you’re at the point where you’re willing to snort the charred remains of your family members, things have gone just a little too far. They say all publicity is good publicity, but I’m going to have to disagree.

Richards, and of course his publicist, have sense changed their minds about this story, saying that it was all just a big joke, but I’m not so sure I believe that. A story that crazy almost has to be true, and if it was a joke, I fail to see the comedic merit.

As a fan of the Stones, (and I am, despite the horror of last year’s Superbowl half time show) the only thing this story did for me was to give me the heebie-jeebies. Everyday Keith looks more and more like the crypt keeper, and after hearing this little story, I’m starting to think he might act like him too.