My favorite shows are the ones in venues that are tiny. They’re most likely either really hard to find, or I’m just a really poor navigator. I know the latter is the truth.
I got my car at 16, and that’s the time I realized that not much beats a road trip to a show with a group of friends. Well, quite honestly, I have no problem flyin’ solo.
Since probably 14 or 15 I’ve been into independent, socially conscious hip hop (Aesop Rock, Atmosphere, Immortal Technique, Eyedea & Abilities, Brother Ali, Sage Francis, Mac Lethal … I could continue, but won’t), reggae, and slam poetry. Funk, jazz fusion, blues, folk … all of that fun stuff too. You can keep your rock, country and pop, I don’t need any of that.
Sage Francis show in Philly? I’m there. Soja in Allentown? You betcha. Mac Lethal in Buffalo? Of course.
When I was 17 my friends and I decided to drive to Tennessee to go to Bonnaroo, a music festival with some 90,000 people.
That was a fun adventure. Planned for it for months. But not really. I mean, we bought our tickets months ahead of time, and I saved as much money as I could. But I packed my things the day we drove off.
I went to Bonnaroo again the following year. More adventures, more memories, more music. It was a good time.
There were a couple folks I met that remain – in my experience – the kindest humans I’ve encountered in my 25 years. 110 degrees in the middle of a field in Tennessee: Barely any shade, no shower for days, and I had the pleasure of randomly meeting strangers who I still think of all these years later.
To the man over 60 in the big floppy half-deflated inner tube hat: I hope you’re still around, loving life. Thank you for being the epitome of a kind human.
At any rate, Bonnaroo was fun for a 17-year-old Ashley.
I still prefer tiny venues where you can still feel the vibe from the show the night before. The place that just reeks of live music.
My friends and I would realize that someone we listened to had a show in, say, Philly, in a month or two – and within an hour our tickets would be purchased and we’d have our “plan.”
That is, get in the car that day, make sure we have gas to get there and back, and (personally) enough money in my pocket to give to a homeless individual if s/he asked. (On the sixth grade safety patrol trip we were told not to give money to people on the street. I have ever since. It’s my money, I’ll do with it what I wish).
I’ve been to hip hop shows in basements of buildings in cities I’d never been to before. It’s taken me forever to get out of Boston at 3 a.m. following a show because I am horrible with directions. Coming back from a show in Buffalo once, I still swear we were mere inches from smoking a deer on the thruway (I wasn’t driving that time … If I were, I’m sure we would have hit it. I’m notorious for that).
Each show brings me something to look forward to. A reason to continue to be happy when I have days that bum me out.
“Ugh, today really was not so awesome. Oh! Only three weeks until the Soja show, I’m good.”
It’s similar to how I feel when I plan a trip to New Hampshire. Knowing there are escapes that will refresh my soul keep me going.
Life wouldn’t be all that fun if all I ever did was work. I need those fantastic adventures to be able to tell little tikes later on.
Anyway, I’m not entirely sure why I’m blogging about this. It’s just a stream-of-consciousness ramble.
Oh, that’s right … I was thinking about upcoming plans and got excited.
I’ll be spending a full week camping in the White Mountains in New Hampshire in June. It’s the first time I’ll be taking a vacation. It’ll be my second trip to the Porcupine Freedom Festival. Last year, I could only go for the weekend, this year I’ll be there the entire week.
I also just learned (and by ‘just’ I mean … 20 minutes ago), that Michael Franti, Soja, and Trevor Hall will be playing in New Hampshire in July. I’ll purchase my ticket as soon as they go on sale next week. I’ve seen them all before, but it’s been too long. And better yet, they’re playing in one of the most beautiful areas of the lakes region in NH. A region I’ve only seen when the leaves were bright orange, so I’m excited to see it in the summertime.
Ahh… live music. New Hampshire. Escape.
And on that note, it’s back to work.
Ashley's Reporter Blog
My favorite shows are the ones in venues that are tiny. They’re most likely either really hard to find, or I’m just a really poor navigator. I know the latter is the truth.
In July I traded in my car. I got it from my father when I turned 16, and named it Saucey. It was a 2005 Chevy Cobalt. The first song I listened to in that car was G. Love and Special Sauce’s “Baby’s Got Sauce,” and therefore Saucey was the only appropriate name for him.
Yes, “him.” I name just about every object I cross paths with. Everything is given a male’s name, because I’ve always thought they were better options. Felix, Saucey, Victor, Toby … all these are names of things I own or am in contact with often.
“Hey, Shawn … did anyone water and rotate Victor today?” I named former Sports Editor Pat Newell’s 30-year-old tangerine tree Victor. And no, I don’t think he has been watered and rotated yet today.
At any rate, Saucey took me on thousand of adventures. He was a solid little car. His time with me was up, and I cried when I traded him in and purchased a 2013 Subaru.
I thought I’d never see my faithful pal ever again.
I’m happy to report that is not the case, and Saucey is alive and well, as of last Saturday.
Shawn sent me a photo months ago of a blue Chevy Cobalt parked in the lot of a Norwich business and asked if it might be Saucey. It most certainly was. The broken antenna and the little spot of blue paint near the back left bumper where it was supposed to be black was a give-away.
That antenna got bent when I was living in Buffalo going to school for psychology. There was a snow storm in early October that dropped more than two feet of snow, and bent the antenna. That must have been 2006; I never got it fixed. I just periodically would have to “push and turn” and it’d go back to its original position, and it’d stay that way until I drove faster than 50 mph, in which case I’d have to fix it again.
It also poked many people in the eye. Those people need better observation skills when walking through parking lots.
Shawn said the antenna remains bent and that is how he identifies it as Saucey.
I’ve replaced Saucey with a car I call ‘Schino. He’s “deep cherry red” and the first song I listened to in that vehicle was an Aesop Rock tune that references maraschino cherries at one point.
‘Schino was just a baby when I bought him, and he just broke 10,000 miles. I did some math the other day, and realized that nearly 7,000 of those miles were built up traveling to, from, or within New Hampshire. That made me a very happy camper. I’m looking forward to thousands more journeys with my new pal.
Anyway, this blog is pretty much about nothing. I name things, including my cars, and I’m happy to know that Saucey is still around town.
To whomever acquired Saucey: Thanks for keepin’ him going. I hope he’s treating you as well as he treated me.
It’s been ten days since my last blog. Ten busy, busy days. Jam packed full of work, more work, and a couple days of escape. Regardless, no complaints here. Well, I suppose a few – but those are minute and will come later.
• Our new sports writer has been solo for a full week now, and tomorrow will begin week two. He’s adjusting to the way the newsroom operates, and is a welcomed addition to the team.
• The editorial staff has been sick lately, and thankfully I haven’t caught their illness. [Knock on wood]. Shawn cured his illness with NyQuil, and Matt opted for Claritin. I just keep my office door closed just and yell out to them.
• I spent last weekend in New Hampshire, my favorite place to clear my head. Two of my favorite stress relievers: A visit to The Granite State and painting my nails. I returned to New York with a clear head and refreshed spirit, only to have a ridiculously busy work week.
• I attended a court proceeding one day this week that absolutely disturbed me. Without divulging any details, I will say that I lost track of how many times my eyes became watery. Some people choose to do some disgusting things. I’ll leave it at that.
• I had interviews with various folks this week, and have a number of non-time sensitive stories in the works. Those are the ones easiest for me to cover, as editor. Stories with subject matter that can be published at any time provide me the ability to get to it as time permits, and my time is limited. I’ll be spending today writing four or five of the stories on my back-burner. As long as I have coffee, I don’t mind.
• Thursday I did a ride-along with a Chenango County Sheriff’s deputy. My mama always told me not to get in cars with strangers. I opted to disregard that piece of advice for a night, and got in a car with not only a stranger, but an armed stranger. I spent eight hours with him, and will be writing a column summing up the experience soon. Sneak preview: I signed a waiver assuming all risk and liability – up to and including death. I didn’t die. He was also a nice guy. He first majored in environmental science in college, then switched to criminal justice. Eight hours worth of material to come when time permits.
• I’ll be doing another ride-along (hopefully soon), with two NPD officers. A day shift and a night shift. I’m excited about that – and will write about that following the experience.
• Wednesday evening I’ll head up to Syracuse University to hear Ron Paul speak. Absolutely looking forward to that, and I’ll have a story – and separate opinion piece – after I return from that and have some time to write.
• On top of that, I’ll continue to build the paper every day, and continue to have a life outside of work. I didn’t have “Live for a living” inked into my shoulder for nothin’.
• As for complaints, they’re minor. I just wish people who submit posts on ’30 Seconds’ were a little more mindful and a little more thick-skinned. I don’t get offended by the personal attacks toward me. While I might not always publish them due to their vulgar nature, you have the right to ‘write’ your mind. Berating other posters is just not kind. If you read a story about … let’s say the Common Core, and have an opinion, feel free to submit something. If you just check it to say that the “‘Man from wherever’ is a jerk because of X, Y, and Z,” just save it. I’m doing my best to put a paper out, and don’t have extra hours to babysit.
• On a happier note, I’ve been at The Evening Sun for a little more than 11 months now. Neat.
Out of coffee; end blog.
I overheard Pat this morning talking about basketball. NBA vs. college. I said from my office, “I like the Mavericks.” I don’t watch sports. I have favorite teams for arbitrary reasons. My father lives in Fort Worth, so bam … Mavericks. Football, it’s the Kansas City Chiefs. But that’s a story for another day.
Anyway, Pat asked if I could name one player from the Mavericks. I could. Dirk. I also knew Jason Terry used to play for them. That’s as far as we went with that.
I didn’t have the pleasure of working with Pat for 18 years. When he started as Sports Editor I was in third grade, probably. I never played sports in school, so he never covered me. I played the cello and took dance classes.
I’ve worked with Pat since April. I remember the Post-it notes I wrote myself my first week with various reminders of writing in AP style. That Friday, I got an email from Pat that started with, “Hi Ashley, I noticed your Post-its, I hope you don’t mind me offering you a few more tips.” I didn’t mind at all. I still have the email.
Pat knows sports. He knows writing. And he knows numbers. When I need quick math, he’s my go-to guy.
He had the most interesting work area I’ve seen. Photos, newspapers, artwork, even a pillow. Dedicated to his job, no doubt about it.
If I needed help, Pat was my person. If he didn’t know how to assist, he knew an employee who could. Mind you, while there are only four of us in The Evening Sun building, there are other Snyder Communications employees that play roles, and Pat has worked with them throughout the years.
I know I’ve written before about how I’ll miss being able to hear him tapping to whatever music he is listening to each morning as he designs his pages. But I really will. I’ll miss walking out of my office to the spot where his wall is lower so I don’t have to stand on my tip-toes to talk to him about whatever-it-is we’re chatting about.
18 years. It’s like he’s all grown up and going off to college. But instead of college he’s off on a four-day road trip to New Mexico to start a brand new adventure.
I may or may not have gotten slightly emotional about his departure. I’m not tellin’.
Shaun Savarese will assume the role of Sports Writer. Pat has taken him under his wing the last couple weeks, and he’s getting the hang of things. I’m looking forward to working with him.
It’s not really my style to say it out loud, but … I’ll miss you, Pat. Best of luck, and keep in touch. I’ll keep an eye on your tree.
Also, I’m sorry I almost got in your car 27 times because ours are almost the same color.
…I don’t know if I ever told you about that.
Well, there’ve been requests via the almighty ’30 Seconds’ that we blog more. According to the poster, we should have enough time. So, here goes nothin’. Literally, this will probably be a blog about nothing.
The reporters and I have been working tirelessly on the annual Progress Chenango edition, set to be published the week of Jan. 27. This work is done on top of the regular daily workload, and they’ve been devoting many hours at interviews or sitting at their desks typing away.
This past week has been my busiest in recent memory, and now it’s all a blur. I can tell you I was at the Chenango County Sheriff’s Office four out of five days last week. I can only remember two of the reasons why at this time. Oh, wait – the third just came to me. I still have no clue what I did on Tuesday. I spent a couple hours with Chenango County Court Judge Frank Revoir, and that was interesting. An hour or more was spent with Norwich Police Chief Joe Angelino, and I thoroughly enjoyed that interview. Same goes for the interview I had with District Attorney Joe McBride.
Mind you, I have to write stories about each of the above interviews today, but am opting to blog first, because … well, I haven’t had enough coffee yet and this blog is more mindless.
In addition to my regular duties of building the paper, answering phone calls and emails, managing an editorial staff, drinking coffee, listening to music, and doodling on a white board, and writing, I’ve been doing some other things as a form of stress relief.
I covered county court on Friday because I felt like it. Another reason I wanted to go is because I reported on a meeting held at the CCSO Thursday night where McBride encouraged those in attendance to make a public presence at court, and I wanted to see if his advice was heeded. As for Friday’s court … nope. It was the usual staff, the judge and lawyers, defendants and family, and myself. Granted, some people hold jobs that don’t allow them the freedom to sit in a court room from 10:30 a.m. until noon, but I thought a few people might show and I wanted to follow up.
Reminder to the public if they do decide to check out court, it’s wise to leave your phone in your car, as well as any other cameras or recording devices, and – as always – bring no weapons. I like to go with four notebooks, a pen in my hair (and three extras in my purse … I tend to go places with allllmost dead pens), and four bottles of water. Even though this week will be busy, I want to cover court again Monday to see if members of the public attend.
Shifting gears, as most people know, the body of Christopher Gonzalez was found off of Route 36 on Friday afternoon. I believe I have mentioned the power of social media before, but if not, I’ll touch on that only briefly.
I received 11 messages to my personal Facebook account on Friday that simply said “Hey, what’s with the body found?” or “Body on Pratt Rd!” or “Know anything about the body?” I called the State Police and asked, and was told there was no information. I knew the State Police were leading the investigation, but gave it a shot and called the CCSO too, and hit a dead end, as expected.
One more message was sent via Facebook, and I thought, “Okay, fine. I’m not finding out anything by calling authorities, and I don’t have to build Monday’s pages until Sunday, so I have time. I’ll grab my camera and drive around.”
After traveling down 36 for a short time, I ran into a bunch of police vehicles, so I pulled over at a safe location, got out of my car, and took a bunch of photos. Thank you, Facebook friends, for the heads up.
Reporters attempted to get in touch with police who would confirm reports, but it took a little time. We were told that they would have a statement around 4 p.m. At that time, we were able to release the information we had.
I had planned – for weeks – to spend this weekend in New Hampshire, my favorite place to chill. After this week, I really, really needed to get away. However, I had to cancel my plans because there is so much work to do. I hope to get out there the final weekend of January, otherwise it will be the first month since June that I have not made the journey, and that really bums me out. My time there re-boots my brain, calms down my nerves, and makes my heart and head happy. I come back ready to roll, and it’s such a refreshing feeling. Hopefully the universe will cooperate for a Jan. 31 weekend trip.
Hmm … what else has been happening?
Oh, despite how busy I have been (and will continue to be), I still need to have a life. I checked out the local band The Suspicious Hats at The Blarney Stone Pub on Friday night, and that was fun. They always put on a good show. This was, however, two-fold, as I also needed photos for a story I’m working on about live music in the area. My ginger ale with cranberry juice and a slice (or three) of lime was tasty every time I ordered it. The band played some of my favorite tunes.
I opted to do zero work on Saturday, since I was supposed to be in New Hampshire anyway. It felt nice, but leaves me a lot to catch up on today. Oh well. I love to write, so I can’t complain.
Side-note for the fun of it: I have some of the most hilarious, entertaining friends on the planet. My day of zero work was spectacular.
I realized I need to try more things. I’ve never been on a motorcycle. I only theoretically know how to drive a car with manual transmission. I’ve never jumped out of a plane. I need to check off a couple of those. Soon.
Long-time Sports Editor Pat Newell will be high-tailing it to New Mexico after the winter sports season ends. I am happy for him and his other half to take part in new adventures on the other side of the country, but I’ll miss him. I should find out if he likes cake. Or brownies. Or cookies. And if so, I should make some for him before he leaves.
That being said, we’re on the lookout for a new Sports Ed. If you’re interested, please send resume, cover letter, and writing samples to email@example.com.
I feel like I add this in just about everything I write, but:
Dear school bus drivers,
You are not entitled. You’re entrusted with the safety and care of transporting kiddos to and from school. Four-way stop signs apply to you. So do red lights. So do speed limits. In a school zone, you should not be traveling faster than 15 mph. In the city, you shouldn’t exceed 30 mph. The last thing that needs to happen is an accident with a school bus full of children and another vehicle, or a bus-on-pedestrian accident. Seriously. Slow it down and pay attention. I’m sure parents and the general public would appreciate your cooperation. If you want me to stop for you when you put out your stop sign, you need to follow the other basics of travel.
On a related note, the light at the Hale St and Midland Drive/Prentice Street intersection is back in operating order. While it was a four-way stop during the few days it took for repairs of the signal, I witnessed so many people running through the sign. It really makes sense to pay attention when you’re driving, especially since that intersection is so close to the school, and the area sees heavy traffic in the mornings and afternoons throughout the week.
We had some cold temperatures lately, and complaints came from all over. Newsflash: It is January in Central New York. It gets cold. Don’t worry, spring will arrive soon enough and it’ll be muddy and rainy, and I’m sure people will have to gripe about that one. I allow myself one complaint per season. I’ve already used my winter complaint, and I got it out of the way early.
I love rain – as a matter of fact I’m listening to Trevor Hall’s tune “Good Rain” right now – so it’s always hard to come up with a complaint about spring. I guess mine will be something like, “Man, it’s cloudy but warm, I wish it were raining so I could go play in the puddles.”
It has been weeks since I’ve seen my best friend. She lives a 1.5 minute drive away. We just had a conversation about our mutual hate for “skinny jeans.” She is the best.
Alright, hopefully this is sufficient enough to keep the masses at bay for a little bit. Time to make some more coffee, and get to work.
Please be kind to one another. You don’t know what someone else is going through.
I’m not going to lie. This week has been hectic and is only going to get busier.
I know a lot of folks get impatient, but a lot goes on behind the scenes that you don’t see. It’s great to get a call from a reader who wants to chat for 20 minutes, but that puts me behind with responding to emails, updating the community calendar, planning upcoming special sections, holding staff meetings, updating “30 Seconds,” and most importantly – building the next day’s paper. During that phone call, three others tried to call so now there are voicemails to listen and respond to.
In no way is any of this a complaint, it’s a terrific gig and lots of fun. Plus, those random calls turn out to be pretty interesting and enjoyable.
I’ve finally figured out what it boils down to, and I’m in denial about it.
I need to start making lists.
I’ve always been “anti-to-do list,” but the time has come to suck it up and deal with it.
We’ll see how it goes, and how long it actually lasts. (My money is on seven days).
Anyway, a while back I wrote a blog and I think I titled it, “Who will I debate with now?” It’s what I wrote when former Staff Writer Kevin Doonan left to have adventures in Baltimore. Kevin, Shawn and I were the writers at the time, and we’d spend parts of our days debating about almost anything you could think of. The role of government, good music, Breaking Bad, social issues, economics … and, well … anything. Kevin and I knew each other from years back, and he and I don’t see eye-to-eye on plenty of issues. It made working in the office with him fantastically entertaining. And Shawn is always a riot.
I’m super happy to report that even though Kevin is “no longer with us,” (note to self: that was a poor choice of words when he first moved, many people offered condolences and thought he unfortunately passed away), I have new people to share ideas with.
There was the one month period when Shawn and I rocked the news portion of the paper on our own, and when we’d feel like talking about whatever, I would make my way to the corner in Kevin’s old spot and discuss (heatedly) my views on taxation, road maintenance, the justice system, and The White Stripes. Those were the days … right, Shawn?
Matt and Brittany, the newest additions to the editorial staff, bring their own history, experiences and opinions to the table, so there is no lack of excitement when someone brings up a topic. It’s great.
The four of us mesh like … well … I have no idea. Basically we’re just four vastly different human beings who spend all day working together and sharing ideas, sometimes loudly.
By the way, Kevin, if you read this, you should stop back and we’ll all go out to lunch.
Now I know I started this out by commenting about how busy things have been, but I will never let myself become too busy to enjoy every single day. Part of enjoying my days involves interactions with folks and the sharing of opinions. Not only am I super opinionated, I love to listen to other viewpoints. Enjoying my days involves blasting reggae music before anyone gets there for the day and after everyone leaves.
And interestingly enough, enjoying my day also involves building you folks a newspaper.
Since the hotly contested elections are now over, everyone can take a deep breath. …Phew. We all survived.
However, I would like to discuss ’30 Seconds’ briefly. I would apologize for the hiatus of ’30 Seconds’ for a day or so, but I’m not going to. There are guidelines for submissions, and I’d be safe in assuming only about 30 percent are ever appropriate. When folks blatantly choose to disregard the posted “rules,” it eats up both my time and yours. When I go to check ’30 Seconds’ and see many with inappropriate language it is discouraging. I understand you folks are passionate – but please – be a little more humane.
This leads me to a speech I heard while in New Hampshire this past weekend. It touched upon the sharing of ideas among neighbors. It hit home.
How often do you go over and visit your neighbor? Or the man or woman four houses down? Just to say hello. Or maybe have a conversation about the weather. Maybe even chat for a bit about a book you’ve just read, or a play you watched, movie you went to … anything. When is the last time you met up with an acquaintance just to share ideas you have about a certain topic? Can you even name the folks on your street?
A lot of local residents were talking about “community” and how the towns should not be divided. But in all reality, we’re all separate entities. We live in the same areas, but we’re so vastly different it’s amazing.
One of my neighbors is a lovely elderly woman. She has apple trees and a garden. She doesn’t like the stray cat that often chills on her porch. Not because she doesn’t like cats, but because she has noticed the cat being a bully. This was great for me to learn. As I have a cat, I wanted to be sure it wasn’t my little guy being a nuisance, and I quickly learned it him. It turns out the cat that gets into her garden is the same little guy that beats up my kitty when he goes out. So now “Operation Find Bully Cat” is underway.
I suppose my point is, I know her and I are not remotely on the same page when it comes to most things, and I totally dig that. I am a 25-year-old free spirit who comes and goes at all hours of the night because that’s always been my style. She’s always been a great neighbor.
You know what I think would be cool? To go introduce yourself to someone you may not know too well. Share some of your thoughts or ideas.
I love to meet new people (even though in all reality I’m a super socially awkward introvert). I enjoy individuals with completely differing opinions than my own. To have a half hour conversation with someone on the total opposite side of the spectrum is fantastic for many reasons. One, it’s fun to hear another “argue” their side of an issue. I’ve always been into that sort of thing. While I may totally and completely disagree, I’ll hear you out before spouting my opinion. And of course, when I say “spouting my opinion,” I mean that in an absolutely respectful, but passionate manner.
I know my sister doesn’t count as a “neighbor” or “acquaintance” but she and I are as far apart on most issues as they come. As the younger sister, I – naturally – think I need to have the last word, and if she’d let me, I’d debate with her for hours on issues including education, taxation, government intervention, and, well … just about anything under the sun. All in good fun of course.
That’s what I’m trying to say. I see folks being “internet bullies” to one another all day long. Most of these submissions don’t make it through for your eyes to see. But I read them and delete them. You can get your point across without being disrespectful.
You can get a lot further – in my opinion – by developing a relationship with your neighbors rather than living in your own little bubble. I’m not suggesting everyone be friends. That’s not how the world works. Maybe there is someone a few houses down who has an interest in some sort of literature that you’re into. What if you introduced yourself, chatted a bit, and realized he (or she) has a book about whatever-it-is that you’ve always wanted to read. That would be really cool. Maybe you have a conversation about politics. Maybe you just leave a note that says, “Just wanted to say hello from down the street. Have a great day!”
I mean really … you just never know.
Perhaps you know some folks in your town that you know are on the “other side of the fence” on a certain issue. It might be a nice idea to meet up for coffee and have a chat.
In my opinion, it’d be nicer to realize there aren’t only two sides – but that’s for a time when I’m not this tired.
It’s been a long few weeks. I refused to let your elections kill my happy.
Now that it’s over I’m sure there will be another week or so of backlash. Bring it. Respectfully.
I do encourage you all, though, to go introduce yourself to a stranger and share some ideas. If not a stranger, someone you haven’t talked to in a while. “Hey, how have you been? Man, how do you feel about this fracking thing?” And then after you hear them out, share some thoughts of your own.
“Gee, this SAFE Act is garbage … what do you think?”
“Wow, I didn’t expect (insert election results of your choice here).”
I encourage each of you to go do something of this sort. It’s not only good for your soul to share ideas, it’s good for the other soul.
And after this 14 hour work day, I’m a fan of good.
It’s hard to believe it’s been more than a month since I’ve taken over the editor gig here at The Evening Sun. What an awesome month it’s been. Shawn deserves balloons or coffee for all his stellar work. (I vote coffee because we’re running low and I forgot to get more k-cups this afternoon). For the first three weeks it was just Shawn and I handling the news-y happenings throughout the county, and Pat – as always – continues to hold down the sports section like a champ. We welcomed a new reporter, Matt, almost two weeks ago now, and things are working out well. Soon we’ll be up to staff and I’m super excited about that.
I took over at just the right time for elections to be rolling around. This means I have 7,749 “Letters to the Editor.” Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but I have a bunch. A few have actually interested me. Some even address me as a person, and those are my favorite. The others … well, I read them and print them.
To be honest, I don’t care in the slightest the election outcome of these highly contested towns. Being removed from those locations is to my benefit. UVAC this, New Berlin Ambulance Service that … Fracking is horrible, fracking would benefit all … yadda yadda yadda. If you want to vote on Tuesday, head out and vote. If you don’t, fine by me. I’ll still read your opinions on ‘30 Seconds’ and keep mine to myself. Those are conversations to be kept in the confines of the newsroom during staff meetings. For now.
For the first Monday since my second week at The Evening Sun, I will not have an opinion piece ready to roll on Monday. Due to all of the “Letters to the Editor” that should run either Tuesday or before, I have decided to switch some things around.
Look at me – being all friendly and facilitating to all the folks who have something they’d like to get out there before the masses flock to the polls.
That just reminded me of the last time I voted. Polls were open until 9 p.m. I showed up at 8:58 p.m., on purpose, and was told I was too late. Flashed my phone and reminded them I had two minutes. They couldn’t find me on the list, and asked me four times if I had my first name correct. …I was fairly certain I did, but three different individuals insisted my name must be Josephine.
“Nope, I’m Ashley. But I did always think Josephine was a cool name. I had a great aunt Josephine I never got to meet.”At any rate, since I was “in line” before nine, they had to let me vote, once they made a call to Albany and had me fill out some change of address form even though it hasn’t changed since I moved back from Buffalo.I went in there, voted “no” to the school budget, and was out of there in seven seconds.But I digress – you folks are excited about elections and there are some “hot button” issues, I suppose. So I’ll let you have your space to share your views.
After all, you put up with my antics week after week.
Fear not, though, I’ll have something ready to go one of the others days next week.
I’m peeling out Friday for a much needed weekend in New Hampshire and I am more than excited. Weekends in NH make my head and my heart happy, and it’s nice to breathe different air, sit in different chairs, and surround myself with some fantastic folks.
I guarantee the event I am attending will provide me with weeks worth of content to write about. There’s even a “Ladies in the Media” panel, which should prove to be fun and informative.
The drive is pretty fantastic too. Not much beats solo dance parties while cruising along scenic routes through New Hampshire in Autumn.
In non-work related news … my sister is about to have her baby. Hopefully. She was due a week ago today. I’m looking forward to being “off the wall Aunt Ashley,” and can’t wait to help the little kiddo learn about some obscure things. The niece and I will have reggae dance parties and I’ll show her how to play Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” on the drums, just because it’s a cool tune.
Well … I just took a 45 second break to check ‘30 Seconds’ and found 15 submissions awaiting approval. Hint: I am not oblivious to acronyms. Per the implemented policy, profanity is not permitted, and I will not approve posts that are acronyms for phrases containing profanity. I dislike censorship as much as the next gal, but they’re not going to get approved. Figure out how to get your message across without it, or I’ll just continue to delete them. Gracias.
In his poem titled “Pretend,” Buddy Wakefield wrote, “We’ve got 6 billion dawning truths, setting 6 billion different suns on you.”
I like that you all have opinions. I like that I disagree with most – if not all – of you. It keeps my days interesting, to say the least.
Alright, this was longer than intended, and I still need to paint my nails, finish my book, and bake cookies.
In no particular order.
Anyone who has witnessed me outside of The Evening Sun building trying to purchase a beverage from the vending machine might think I am a psycho.
I put in my dollar bill – I’ll admit, it’s pretty crumpled and folded after being in my pocket all day – and the machine spits it back out. So I try again. And again, and again and again.
“Come on. It’s a real Federal Reserve Note. I swear. An actual paper I-O-U. Take it, I’m thirsty.”
Then I go back to my desk, announce I’ve been talking to the vending machine, and start talking to my co-workers about silver.
Let’s rewind a month or so, the weekend of the Chenango Blues Fest. Awesome vendors from all over brought the fruits of their labor to sell to patrons checking out the music. Blues Fest is my favorite time to be a Chenango County resident. I always leave with a refreshed soul, lots of unique goodies and empty pockets. This year I did a couple not-so-smart things. I bought a pair of earrings, put them in, decided to put my hair up, and one of the earrings fell out somewhere in the grass. Down $20. Then, at some point throughout the day, I dropped $30 out of my pocket (perhaps I should use that wallet I carry around in my purse).
Anyway, I didn’t realize I dropped any money and I made my way to the Tie Dye Yogi tent, where I make a purchase from Joe every year. I found this terrific shirt, blue with a white heart dyed into the bottom left corner. Score! Upon reaching into my pocket to pull out my FRNs, I noticed they were no longer there. Total bummer for gal looking to make a purchase. I searched through my purse for probably seven minutes with no luck. I found a five dollar bill, but that wasn’t going to help. I told Joe I’d catch him next year.
I started walking away when I checked a zipper part of my purse one last time. Two ounces of silver from the Suns of Liberty Mint.
I first learned of the Suns of Liberty Mint while attending PorcFest in New Hampshire. I think I bought some of their silver quarters then, and have since made purchases online.
I’d say tangible wealth is pretty important. What would you do if your bank went bankrupt?
Employees used to be paid in silver coins for the work they did. With the popularity of direct deposit (and let’s face it … convenience is a drug), many folks never even see the fruits of their labor. They get a receipt letting them know how much is in their account, they use a plastic card to purchase their goods, and get an e-statement each month letting them know the remaining account balance.
“You know, Ashley, silver will never replace our money. You shouldn’t waste your money on it.”
…Really? I understand the government’s monopoly on money, but I’d disagree that silver is a waste. Fiat currency is not backed by silver or gold reserves. It’s not backed by anything. It’s just printed and used as legal tender. Silver (or gold, or other precious metals) has intrinsic value.
The value of silver is constantly changing, but it has worth. It’s physical, tangible, actual wealth. It’s not a paper I-O-U.
“Ah, I don’t have any cash but I did just remember I have some silver, if you’re interested,” I said to the vendor at Blues Fest. He was all about it. We agreed on how much the shirt was worth and made the trade. Perfect. He had tangible wealth to take home to account for the labor and time he put into creating the shirt, and I left a happy camper.
There are lots of advantages to possessing silver – or investing in silver. I’ve since used my silver quarters as a bartering tool on a number of occasions. It’s also a great conversation starter for folks who may not be familiar with its benefits.
While at PorcFest I had the pleasure of meeting Dave Breger, or Silver Dave, the founder of the Suns of Liberty Mint. Dave – A former Green Beret in the US Army – said he came to the realization after ten years that he was not defending liberty, but corporate interests at the cost of the freedom of every person in the world, including himself.
“It had become clear to me that the fiat monetary system is the basis of government power,” he said.
It was two years ago when he decided he was going to make divisible silver, in small portions so that folks were able to use it as a bartering tool.
This has indeed worked well.
It took time, research and experimentation but today he is able to make 1,000 bars by himself in a single day.
“We started with almost nothing,” he said, adding the mint now has machines that operate at maximum efficiency. He has lived in a garage for about 13 months and takes pride in producing a quality product.
“I always believe that the greatest things never come easy,” he added.
What is great about this for me is that he and the Suns of Liberty Mint provide something that is not only interesting to me, but has a real purpose.
I see it as a terrific alternative to fiat money. Sure, some places only want your FRNs that are only worth the paper they’re printed on, but other small businesses or individuals get a thumbs up in my book when they express interest in something a little different.
It’s probably time to boycott the use of the vending machine outside the office. It never seems to be content with my I-O-Us, and I’m sick of arguing with it.
I enjoy purchasing silver when it makes sense to me, I like to save some and then allot myself some to spend. I like to see where I can use it.
Let’s be honest … Chenango County isn’t the most forward thinking place on the planet. We’ve all got our ways of doing things. But I have been absolutely shocked by the positive reception when I say, “Well, I can give you a little bit of silver for that instead of cash, if you want.” I’ve used them as a tip at a restaurant, a gift for a friend, compensation for a job completed at my house … lots of things.
When I look at my bank account I realize I don’t have a whole lot of extra after everything is paid. However, I do have the satisfaction of knowing I have a nice little bit of cute silver, and that silver actually means something.
Each silver quarter from the Suns of Liberty Mint has its weight, .25 troy ounces as well as the purity, .99 fine silver stamped on it. It also, as perhaps expected, a sun.
Rather than “In God we trust,” – something I’m not all about in the first place but is all over the monopolized paper currency in circulation – the silver quarters are stamped with “Trust in yourself.”
Now that’s something I can support. Absolutely.
The summer before I went off to college in Buffalo I worked with Headwaters Youth Conservation Corps. I learned how to cut wood with a saw, use a hammer, build foot-bridges, maintain trails … a bunch of stuff. It was pretty cool. I met some interesting folks, and my best friend also was on board the team with me. Basically we got to spend all summer out in the woods. I can’t complain about that. Anyway, one of the aforementioned interesting individuals was the recently departed staff writer for The Evening Sun, Kevin Doonan.
It was June of 2006. I remember Kevin started later than the rest of us. He graduated from Sherburne. I want to say I learned his first day that he played soccer, but maybe I made that up. He could carry heavier things than I could. Quick with come-backs and had a laugh you could hear from the other side of Rogers Conservation Center. His plans were to go to school in Potsdam, which he did.
The following summer, between freshman and sophomore year of college, we all returned for a summer of working in the woods, Kevin included. It was sometime during that stint with Headwaters that I had a run-in with poison ivy (or oak, or sumac … poison something). It wasn’t fun. Regardless, I think it’s safe today all of us in the group learned a lot and grew as people.
From 2007 to 2013 Kevin and I crossed paths once, at The Blarney Stone Pub in Norwich. Just a quick, “Hey, how are ya?” and swapped a couple memories from Headwaters. We both attended Binghamton University, but we didn’t cross paths once. I commuted.
Then, I got a job as a staff writer for The Evening Sun. Lo and behold, Kevin Doonan was also employed by Snyder Communications. Starting a new job can be nerve-wrecking, but it was neat to know that I wasn’t going to be solely working with strangers – even though I would have no problem with that.
Senior reporter Shawn Magrath, Kevin Doonan, and little “cub reporter” me, rounded out the reporter staff for Chenango County’s Monday-Friday publication – aside from Sports Editor Pat Newell, who attends games and handles all of the local sports action solo.
I sometimes see on social media sites people complaining about how they can’t stand their job, or the people they work with. These folks can’t wait for Friday to roll around because they’re unhappy with how they’re spending their days. This isn’t the case with me.
The dynamic of the office was terrific. Kevin’s laughter was infectious – albeit loud, and Shawn is always spot-on with one-liners when they’re least expected. Kevin would walk in with a bang and Shawn’s swagger when entering the building was often undetectable, though I’ve since caught on.
Shawn keeps the plants thoroughly watered (even the one in the kitchen), and I’m always aware of when he is about to make a phone call … he is sure to clear his throat every single time.
Kevin would have a bagel in the morning – half of which he usually ate on his 25 mile commute each morning. Then he’d eat a yogurt at some point. …It’s just funny the things you pick up when spending a good chunk of the day with the same folks.
Prior to deadline is quiet time. I have to admit, we weren’t always silent. Some mornings we were reminded by The Evening Sun’s Managing Editor Brian Golden we had time to converse after 10 a.m.
We had many “firsts” as a team of reporters. The first time we all stood up from our desks in sync. The first time we were all in the office kitchen at the same time. The first time we left at the same time. …Fun things.
We’ve taken photos of “copious amounts” of marijuana, followed fires, documented recoveries of bodies, attended arraignments of alleged murderers.
Shawn – a stranger to me in the beginning – is quick-witted and has terrific math skills. If you’re wondering how old someone is if they were born in December of 1927, and need the answer quickly, ask Shawn. He’s also great at keeping track of the milk in the fridge and – of course – writing. It seems he is lucky, too. Just about every morning he catches the green light at the intersection we both have to go through to get to the office. I sit there at the red light, waiting to go straight, and he takes his right, cruising right on by and beating me to work. I point at him every time this happens. He never sees me, but strangers do, and I get weird looks.
Kevin and I hardly ever see eye-to-eye, on about any issue you could think of. Well, I guess there were a couple where our opinions were maybe-sort-of-semi-similar, but for the most part, no way. We could spend hours debating about gun rights, transparency of government, police accountability, economics, crimes that are malum prohibitum, if cats are better than dogs, and which types of coconut water are tastier than others. Literally, so much fun.
Shawn interjects here and there, but for the most part his opinion on the above matters remain somewhat of a mystery to me, and I enjoy that. Although I know he prefers dogs.
We all got our work done, but still had time to enjoy the fun in it. After all, what’s a job if it only feels like a job? I have said this before, but I’m in this to live for living. I can’t let my occupation define me as a person, it’s not how I roll. Waking up every day and being excited about what’s going to ensue … that’s awesome.
That being said, Kevin has opted to pack up camp and head to Baltimore. I’m happy for my friend and former co-worker. I’m absolutely sure he will have a terrific time. And if the wind is right, we’ll all still be able to hear him laugh from six hours away.
The only thing that stays the same is change. While the dynamics of the office without Kevin’s presence will certainly be altered, it should be fun and exciting nonetheless. The entirety of The Evening Sun’s staff will certainly be a little busier now, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. We’re pretty hardcore. Especially Shawn (you should see him as he departs the office to go to a meeting … talk about pumped up).
Alright, this has been long enough. Good luck, Kevin. Thanks for giving me all the junk you had on your desk you didn’t want.
I shall now be cliché and quote Bob Dylan … “The times they are a’changin’.”