Williston Observer

April 28, 2011

Champlain Valley Union third baseman Jason Schneiderman dives to catch a foul ball during the Redhawks’ 8-2 loss at Missisquoi Valley Union on April 23. (Courtesy photo by Roger Nadeau)

With its home field well watered and more rain on the way, Champlain Valley Union baseball coach Tim Albertson was looking forward to some blue skies on Tuesday and getting his team outdoors for a few practice sessions, not to mention games.

That afternoon’s scheduled home contest with Vergennes had been postponed due to wet conditions.

“We hope we can play tomorrow (Wednesday)” said Albertson with a doubtful look.
The coach noted that the team has been outside only seven times this rainy spring.
“And five of those were either games or scrimmages,” he added.

The forecast for Wednesday (makeup against Vergennes) and Thursday (at South Burlington) were mixed as of Tuesday night. Saturday’s outlook was much better with Mount Abraham scheduled to be at the Redhawks’ Hinesburg field for an 11 a.m. tilt.
Monday’s home loss (8-5) to Rice Memorial left the Redhawks with a 1-2 mark, coming on the heels of Friday’s 8-2 loss to Missisquoi Valley Union in Swanton.

But Monday’s encounter, played in a light but stubborn drizzle that caused difficult-to-grip baseballs, was a tight and tense duel for six innings before a whacky seventh allowed the veteran Green Knights to put it away.

It was a 2-2 deadlock going into the top of the seventh when the fates turned on CVU reliever Curt Echo After a leadoff walk, Zak Poland reached off a bunt down the first base line that Echo could not field properly. This brought up the Knights’ No. 3 batter Chris McCormick, who immediately pounded the ball over the fence in right center for a 5-2 Rice lead.

The Knights added three more runs off reliever Tucker Kohlasch on a package of three singles, a throwing error, two fielder’s choices and a walk.

CVU got three runs in the bottom of the seventh. John Keen drove home two with a solid double down the right field line.

Poland, a southpaw with some heat, whiffed seven and gave up just one run in the fourth before pinch hitter Ian Solomon’s double to deep right center, Justin McKenzie’s walk, and Ryan Machavern’s RBI single chased him in the sixth. McKenzie eventually scored to the tie the game at 2-2 when Jeff Badger reached on an infield throwing error.

Drew Nick started for the Hawks and allowed two runs, four hits and struck out five, before giving way to Echo in the fifth. Echo masterfully escaped a two-on, no-out situation when he entered the game with two strikeouts and a pick off. Rice was clinging to a 2-1 lead at the time.

Rice’s Evan Healy, a righty, took over for Poland in the sixth and got the win.
In the loss at Missisquoi, Thunderbirds’ pitcher Turner Ede went the distance. Kohlasch smashed a triple and double with an RBI for CVU. Nick rapped his second double in two games, and Keen produced a run-scoring single.

Technology: omnipresent, not omnipotent

April 28, 2011

Thomas Edison (1847-1931) holds an honored place among our nation’s most prolific inventors. The lightbulb and phonograph are featured among the 1,093 U.S. Patents issued in his name.

Edison left behind 3,500 journals crammed with invention ideas. Jotted notes and rough sketches present a rambling display of American ingenuity. Anyone who invents — or writes for that matter — understands the importance of committing an idea to paper in the moment it materializes.

Working in his lab in West Orange, N.J., in January 1888, Edison penned a list of “things doing and to be done.” Samplings from this five-page catalogue of creativity include “deaf apparatus,” “ink for the blind” and “cotton picker.” Was Edison envisioning hearing aids or cochlear implants? Did he imagine audio books for the visually impaired? Might he have anticipated mechanized crop harvesting?

I am not an inventor. My mind is not particularly adept at unraveling problems involving technology. For years, a small index card was taped to our lawn mower with hand-written notes on how to start our John Deere. My cell phone is a cheap, pre-paid gizmo. I can retrieve messages, but don’t text or take photos. Facebook remains an enigma. I have a “page” but don’t really do anything with it. I prefer face-to-face interactions. Call me oldfashioned.

At work, I’m the “go to” person for questions regarding spelling, grammar and occasional obscurities of history. When it comes to technology — navigating databases, learning new software and demystifying social media — I struggle. Technology greases the skids of the modern workplace and I must learn certain aspects to remain competitive. Patient colleagues teach and re-teach lessons which inexplicably fall out of my head.

I feel most grateful for technologies that improve human health. Radiation shrank my father’s cancerous tumors when I was pregnant with my daughter, buying him precious time to meet his newest grandchild. Magnetic Resonance Imaging and CT Scans save lives, facilitating early detection of maladies. Dialysis keeps people alive — literally. Lasers correct vision, and electrocardiograms reveal hints of heart disease.

My approach to what I consider “recreational technology” is decidedly a la carte as opposed to buffet. I pick and choose technologies. An inherent introverted nature means I am easily wearied by multiple messages winking and blinking, taunting a reply. We don’t pay for Caller ID. Each time our telephone rings, the identity of the caller is truly a surprise. Our house lacks Wi-Fi, leaving the quietest corners free from electronic invasion. We share Internet access, invoking natural limits on usage. We don’t download Netflix, preferring to support locally owned outlets. Change is inevitable. Delaying opt-in is entirely deliberate.

Twenty-four-hour-a-day, seven day a week connectivity sounds exhausting. The technology wave sometimes feels absolutely invasive, an overwhelming tsunami of data. Do I really want my boss or my dentist’s receptionist to reach me on vacation?

A phone rattling with a new message issues forth a squirt of dopamine, like a shot of caffeine. What are the social, emotional and physiological consequences of all of this “alertness?” Who really wants to be available 24/7? Even if we shut off our myriad devices, the messages are there, waiting like a pile of unanswered mail demanding attention with beeps, blinks and tremors.

As the parent of a teen, I sometimes worry about the pervasive nature of technology. This has prompted much conversation and negotiation as we have navigated the sea called progress. Cell phone, iPod, iPad and iTouch screens require healthy boundaries. The unlimited nature of these gadgets can raise stress levels.

I don’t have all the answers. I do, however, detect heightened anxiety and angst within a society perpetually turned on by technology. Here’s what some of the experts are saying:
Pew Research Center:  One in three teens sends more than 100 text messages a day or 3,000 texts a month. Teens’ attachment to their phones is a frequent source of family conflict.

Center on Media and Child Health at Children’s Hospital Boston: Teens engaged in excessive cell phone use have been found to be at greater risk of anxiety and depression.
Kaiser Family Foundation: American youths, aged 8-18, spend an average of 7 hours 38 minutes engaged in “entertainment media” on a daily basis.

National Sleep Foundation: Almost 1 in 5 teens are awakened by a phone call or text message at least a few nights a week.

The above entities are not technological naysayers. Their research is grounded in very real science, the kind of science Edison so creatively invoked. They each offer websites providing facts, figures and strategies for navigating a technological landscape characterized by omnipresence.

Distraction, dozing off and sleep-deprived grumpiness may dull the blade of American ingenuity. We owe it to our kids to be mindful consumers of technology, avoiding consumption for consumption sake.

I believe reserving time and space for solitude, reflection and face-to-face conversation are vital to the preservation of our humanity … and our inventiveness. If you happen to agree, let’s start a real, old-fashioned conversation.

Katherine Bielawa Stamper lives in Williston. Reader comments are welcome at [email protected] or [email protected]

55 and still alive

April 28, 2011

Fifty-five years ago last Thursday, I spoke the best two words I ever said: “I Do.”
I was in the army, and stationed at Valley Forge. The general at the time was not Washington, but rather General Temple. I was a social worker assigned to the psychiatric wards at Valley Forge Army Hospital in Phoenixville, Pa., just outside of Philadelphia. I counseled men returning from the battlefields of the Korean War.

One night, I made a phone call and asked a question. The answer came back “YES!” And the rest is history!

I met Ruth when I was a graduate student at Springfield College and she was the assistant to the director of our department. My fellow classmates said I was attracted to her because she was pretty, kind, could spell, type — and had a car.

I don’t know what I had that attracted her to me but I’m sure glad I had it. She was the nicest woman I ever met and I did all I could to garner her attention. It took some doing because she was so busy. Eventually I think she felt sorry for me when she found out I couldn’t spell and typed with two fingers (which I still do).

Our romance continued after my graduation — she and a girlfriend drove from Westfield, Mass. to Fort Dix, N.J., where a buddy and I were stationed for basic training. She brought the best fried chicken dinners any soldier could wish for. After basic training, I was assigned to Valley Forge Army Hospital; it was there I made my phone call.

For me to reach our wedding day — Saturday, April 21, l956 — took some planning and a little luck. The captain of our unit agreed to give me a pass, but not before a lot of fanfare, which included spreading the word about how I planned to spend my leave. A couple of old sergeants tried to talk me out of it, based on their marital experiences.

Then luck appeared. My pass did not start until midnight on Friday, April 20. The train I needed to catch out of Philadelphia to make it to the church by 2 p.m. on Saturday left at 10 p.m. I boarded the bus at the army base at 8 p.m. — four hours before my pass was legal.

At the Military Police guard house, the officer of the day came on the bus and asked to see everyone’s pass. When he arrived to check my pass, he said, “Soldier, your pass doesn’t start for four more hours. If I let you go now, you will be AWOL.” Then he asked, “Why are you in such a hurry?” I had to tell him — in front of everyone on the bus — that I was leaving to get married. Sweat streamed down my back while he and everyone else on the bus offered me their thoughts on marriage.

Finally, the officer turned to everyone and said, “What do you think? Should I let him go?” They all cheered: “Yes! Yes!” With a red face and an anxious heart, I made it out of the base to begin the best years of my life.

After the wedding on Saturday we drove to Hartford, Conn., then back to Valley Forge on Sunday. No honeymoon for us: Monday we both went to work. I returned to my unit and Ruth began work for a base doctor.

Some would say that 55 years is a long time to be married. But as I look over those years, they have gone all too fast. They have been filled with hard work, companionship and love. It does take a lot to make a marriage work. Even though I do not have any magical advice on marriage, I know that without Ruth my life would have been much different and very empty. Instead, our house was filled with four children and is now filled with six grandchildren — life doesn’t get much better than that.

On my dad’s 25th anniversary, he expressed his feelings on marriage through this poem, which I believe is a tribute to the meaning of a long and loving relationship. Mom and dad spent 62 years together. I feel blessed to have experienced 55 with Ruth — and we are not done yet.

“Silver Wedding”

Twenty-five short years, swift run,
Brimful, pressed down, and running over
Of well remembered days,
Each one a strong, yet slender thread.

That weaves the variegated fabric
Of which our lives are made.
A fabric which beneath our hands
Has leaped to threefold life
Wherein we live again
The sweet short years of youth,
Think not I have forgotten them,
The years we’ve shared since first we met.

They are a part of all I am,
And all I ever shall be.
As slower, sometimes faltering hands,
Weave on, and on, and on
A pattern, which I know not now,
I only know it will be strong and good,
And filled with warmth and love,
If still I may, please God,
Weave side by side with you
Who are my friend,
And so much more than friend.

Bill Skiff grew up on a farm between Cambridge and Jeffersonville. After a career in education, he now lives in Williston, where he is a justice of the peace and Fourth of July frog-jumping official. In “Places I’ve Played,” he shares his experiences of growing up in Vermont. Comments are welcome at [email protected]

April 28, 2011

Thanks to WCS teachers

I recently attended a parent volunteer meeting for the eighth grade graduation. As the end of the student year draws near, I know that my family’s ties to Williston Central School will be over. We have had two lucky children attend WCS and have been involved with the school for more than 16 years. I think it is timely for me to thank the amazing teachers that have helped me raise my sons to be who they are today.

To the teachers of Lighthouse: my heartfelt thanks for your humor and kindness. You helped both of my sons push themselves to achieve educational goals and set even higher targets for them to become caring, thoughtful citizens of the world. Lighthouse was a family that devoted themselves to my children and partnered with me to build a strong foundation for each boy to build upon. And to the teachers of Voyager, thank you so much for continuing to shape these amazing boys into kids who are interested in learning and eager to question. They know that they are responsible for their own achievement and that the world offers endless possibilities. Voyager has inspired them to reach with their minds and explore. My children have been excited about learning from their first day of school and the teachers that have lined their paths have been a gift to my family. A million thanks to each of you.

Siding with Steve

It is not often that I agree with Steve Mount and disagree with Kayla Purvis but today is the day. Steve is right — our tax code is an abomination (Williston Observer, April 21, Liberally Speaking: “Connections: GE and the royal wedding”). It should have a few simple personal deductions and perhaps three rates, and should take no more than 20 pages. Our old code should be scrapped completely.

Kayla for once is wrong. The Tea Party is not extreme (Williston Observer, April 21, Right to the Point: “Getting lost in the middle”) unless you consider following our Constitution extreme. Many of our northern Republicans wouldn’t even classify as Democrats in the south. We need six-year term limits so no one will have time to make friends with all the lobbyists. I am 84-years-old and long ago got all the money back I put into Social Security, as well as what the various companies I worked for put in with compound interest on both contributions.

Project needs volunteers

April 28, 2011

Hello, I am an eighth grader from Williston Central School. In eighth grade, all students are required to do an eighth grade challenge that interests them and has a community component. For my challenge, I’m helping to restore the Allen Brook, which runs through Williston. The Allen Brook is on the state list of impaired waters and is in need of restoration.

With the help of my mentor, Jessica Andreoletti, a Williston Town Planner, I have explored two areas of the brook accessible from Old Stage Road, where the stream buffer is too small and where there are too many invasive plant species.

Chapter 29 of the Unified Development Bylaw states in Section 29.9.2: “There shall be a buffer of at least 150 feet above the ordinary high water mark of the Allen Brook, the Muddy Brook, the Sucker Brook and the Winooski River.” After I collected my data, I wrote letters to the people who had little or no stream buffer. In the letters I let them know that the town is willing to supply trees and shrubs if I organize and recruit a planting crew.  I told them that if they were interested in making a difference, to contact my mentor Jessica. A few weeks after I sent the letters, I was pleased to see that we received responses.

This week I will be presenting my project to the class and recruiting people for a crew. If you are interested in volunteering your time to be a part of the planting crew please call Jessica at 878-6704 ext. 4.
Stephen Asch is an eighth grade student at Williston Central School.