The parking meters take quarters and run, I believe, twenty-five cents per hour. I first called the number on the car to inquire on the cost of a ticket and comment on how appalled I was but the number, 413-773-5411, is the police station's. Hey, I've seen Unlawful Entry - I know not to piss those people off. So, instead, I called the Town Hall (413-772-1568) to confirm the price of a parking ticket and the pleasant voice who answered the phone told me parking tickets were $5.00 a pop. I'll give the Parking Enforment Officer the benefit of the doubt and submit that they've only ripped the City of Greenfield off by $10.50 - $5.00 per ticket that could have be issued and 25-cents for both days the meter was expired!
These pictures are from yesterday in front of the Second Congregational Chruch on Court Square in Greenfield. Behind the church is a police parking lot which I should have driven to and checked if there were any open spots.
Now, if I lived in Greenfield, I'd either be at the coming mayoral debate or be submitting a question (letters@recorder.com) for the debate that would demand a resolution to this!
I'm sure some of you will disagree with me. You'll say police officers shouldn't have to pay for parking. I'll ask you why? And if they shouldn't, why should they park at a metered spot that is taking money from the town/city? Comments are open, have at it.
Admittedly, I did pull into the parking spot a little crooked and my rear tire was an inch or two over the line but the following events were totally uncalled for! As I exited Big Red, that’s my car, a man in the pickup truck behind me also got out.
“Hey!” he shouted at me. “Can you see that your car is crooked?! You parked on the line!”
I turned back, looked at the car then at the old man. I was in no mood to deal with him. “And? It’s no big deal. I’m only going to be here for a minute.” I turn from him and started walking again.
“You’ll be lucky if your car isn’t smashed up when you get back!” I assumed he said that because the old man needed to get the last word in. My wife can attest to the fact that I, too, like to get the last word in but I had not time to dispense any geriatric justice at the moment so I shrugged him off and set off to find my son.
After the brief visit – I walked in, looked around, hugged my son and wished him a good day – I started back to my car. To my surprise, the old man was still out there in his truck. Who the hell was this guy?! I still don’t know for sure, the old man never identified himself as anything other then an asshole. (A couple of co-workers believe he may be a security guard but like I said he never identified himself.)
He hopped up and out of the truck like one of his many fleas decided it would be a good time to take a bite out of him. He was out of the truck, walking near the dumpster and stood in front of a pool cue-type pole. He was only an arms length from the possible weapon and obviously unstable. I had a sinking feeling at any moment this situation could head to the crapper. Honestly, this unprovoked aggression was pretty threatening. I’m glad my son was inside and didn’t have to witness this.
“You know, old folks come in and out of here all the time and would have a problem parking in spots like that.” He was still close to the pole but starting walking to me.
“Are you serious?” I said as I fumbled with my keys to unlock the door. Before I got in, I added, “If they can’t park in a space they can park next to you and the dumpster!” Damn, did my voice just crack? I hopped in, started the engine and attempted to put it in reverse.
In the rear view I can see the old man right at my bumper! What the hell is with this guy?! He wanted me to hit him; he wanted the drama! I threw it in drive and cranked the wheel, there was just enough room to make the turn.
Before I left the lot, I pulled out my handy, dandy camera once more and took a picture of the man as well as his truck. Unfortunately, the truck lacked a front plate and the guy looked like a bank robber - big black sunglasses and a truckers cap pulled down. As I pulled out the camera and aimed it at him, he started flailing his arms and yelling, “Yeah! Yeah! Go ahead! Take your picture! Take it! I have your plate numbers! I have your plate numbers! I have ‘em!” I took the photo so I could have something to identify this (kind of photogenic) old man in the event he sabotaged Big Red.
Once I made it to work, I gave her a good once over and, thankfully, couldn’t find anything wrong with her. I don’t think I’ll be going back there for a long while.
I could just imagine what could have happened… Sure, the old man looked pot-bellied and out of shape but given my luck, he’d remove his shirt to reveal a chiseled body, rippled with muscles upon muscles. I can see the headlines now, “Elderly man slays area super genius.” It would be subtitled with “Experts warn against Viagra use as psychotic episodes on the rise.”
Can’t we all just get a long?
Did everyone catch the final performances tonight on American Idol? 
It was one year ago today that my Great Grandmother passed away. I drove out to Leyden after work today and paid my respects.
Her service was held on the 26th last year, the skies were gray and there was a misty rain falling. I was a pallbearer at her funeral. I had never been a pallbearer before and haven't since, luckily no one close to me has passed away. It was a surreal experience, I was there yet oddly removed.
The fond stories told at her funeral revealed to me how little I knew of her. She led a full life and passed away at 88 years of age. Mrs. Wright taught and also drove school bus at the Roberts School in Shelburne for many years. Early in life, she worked at the family paint store, the James Black Paint Store on Bank Row in Greenfield. She was also a model at the former Rosen’s Store in Greenfield. But I didn't know her as anything other than my Great Grandmother and I loved her. I remember in the winter when my mother would bring my brother and I to her house to slide in the cow pasture behind her house, in the summer watching humming birds fly near her flowers, putting horse chestnuts in the vice in her garage, and playing with all the magnets on her refridgerator. One of my fondest memories, though, is when she first held my son, her great great grandson, in her arms.
As I lead her to her final resting place, the downpour of rain came and hid the tears.
Today in the Recorder was a poem written by my Grandmother, her daughter, in rememberance of the one year anniversary of her passing. Here is that poem.
My wife and I just got back from the 7:30pm showing of The Da Vinci Code. We went to the Cinemark theater at the Hampshire mall to watch the movie, I'm glad we got there when we did because the admission line was already to the doors and steadily grew as we picked up the tickets bought online.
I enjoyed the movie; I think it might actually be worth watching again [once it's released on DVD]. There were a few times the movie seemed the drag and then there were times it seemed a little forced but it was very entertaining for me, as someone who has not read the book.
The movie stars Tom Hanks (Robert Langdon; a scholar of religious symbols) and Audrey Tautou (Sophie Neveu; a cryptologist and museum curator's granddaughter). While promoting his latest book, Robert is asked to help with a murder of a friend - the museum curator. Before he died, he was left clues for Robert and Sophie to unravel who killed him and why. The puzzles are pieced together, clues found through Da Vinci's worked are put together and eventually they seek out histories greatest treasure, the Holy Grail itself.
In a nutshell, the premise of the story is that the Grail is not a chalice but the child fathered by Jesus with Mary Magdalene. They have a scene that goes in-depth on that theory; I found that to be pretty interesting. Over the ages there has been a secret society protecting the identity of the descendants of Jesus because if the Christ were deemed to be mortal and not the son of God, the church would be ruined. To prevent the secret from surfacing the Christian Church, or at least a secret council of it, would kill and has killed. I don't want to give much away, watch the movie.
When the movie finished, I heard many of my fellow movie go-ers announce that the book was better. Of course the book was better, jackass. Most books are. With a book, it's your vision or interpretation of the words; with a movie, it's the director's. If the two don't match, you'll be in the situation I was in tonight and have to listen to a bunch of 15 year old girls complain that the movie was not as good as the book.
Bottom line: I liked the movie. I laughed a few times and was on the edge of my seat a few times, also. I left the theater satisfied and that's all you can really ask from a movie.
Beacon St, Greenfield, Massachusetts
As I normally do, I was out on my lunch break looking for moments to capture with my camera. My Mikey senses started tingling as I approached the Greenfield Middle School. I peer out the passenger side window and just happened to notice a helicopter. Quickly, I made my way down to the parking lot behind the church which was next to the helipad at the school; I made it just in time to watch as a patient was loaded into the 'copter and then whisked away. The whole thing was done and over with in less than 5 minutes! Wow!
Fairview Street, Greenfield, Massachusetts
Apparently, dogs now want privacy to do their business.
Read the story and know that it is true. Although I'm not proud to admit it, I was once in the Physical Training and Rehabilitation Program at Fort Jackson, S.C during my brief stint in the Army. I've seen this; I've experienced this.
I have "weak knees". If I turn too quickly, run too hard or sometimes even just walk, my right knee buckles and I go down in a pile of writhing agony. The first time it happened was when I was working at Big Y in 1996. Looking back, I should have told a manager about it and had it looked at on their dime but I never did. During my couple of days of reception at Fort Jackson, my knee gave me problems again. We were practicing for some ceremony and, of course, some of the kids were screwing around.
Since we had already done the initial physical testing, the drill corporals (as we called them) we allowed to "smoke" us. The entire auditorium was smoked. They told us to stand then sit quickly. It was too much stress and I went down hard. I was sentenced to FTC, the 
South Prospect Street, Millers Falls, Ma.
I don't understand some people. You tell them, "Don't touch that, it's hot!" What do they do? They grab right ahold of it! "I needed to see how hot," they'll respond as you scold them. I feel like I've had an encounter with such a person today.
I'm trying to grow grass in the front of my house. Everything and everyone seems to be against this endeavor. First, several down pours have washed away my top soil and seeds. I threw down more soil and sprinkled more seeds. Second, there have been birds pecking away, eating my precious seeds. Now, today, when I came home from work some jackass DROVE on my already embattled seedlings!
The thing that really gets me is that I strategically placed several large rocks to ward off the very scenario that had unfolded. I carefully examined each one, maybe the fool who'd run them over hadn't made it very far due to the damage my precious rocks inflicted on their vehicle. Unfortunately, the rocks had no scrapes or visible movement. The rocks, apparently, are worthless.
I don't know who you were but thank you for being an asshole, come again.
Veteran's Mall, Main Street, Greenfield, Massachusetts
If you live in Greenfield, Massachusetts you've probably had an encounter or two with these little forest caterpillars. According to the article in today's 
I had a four-pack of the rabbit Peeps that somehow had avoided being eaten since Easter. They looked a little depressed behind their wrapper. Imagine spending your life in a fixed position, watching the world go on around you but unable to break free. How sad.
Google brings up about 26,700 
I decided on using a glass dish instead of a paperplate. I don't pollute because I give a hoot.
It looks so happy to be free!
I hit my 3-minute express cook button and excitedly watched the action.
I suppose the results would have been the same for any marshmallow. They're all the same when it comes down to it. 
