Amherst's Immigration policy

Amherst Town Meeting will discuss and no doubt pass a slew of warrant articles that increase fines for three ordinances aimed squarely at college students, our transient "visitors" that doubles the population for nine months out of the year and are oftentimes derided by locals for their criminal activities--mainly partying.

But these by-laws (noise, keg license and open container) will raise not a peep of protest--especially compared to the ruckus we are now seeing over the controversial Arizona law simply allowing local cops to enforce federal Immigration policy.

Minorities are more of a PC cause than college students. Maybe because the liberal elite figure college kids are young, smart and independent. And those damn independents don't always vote the party line.

If the Democrats come riding to the rescue on their white horses maybe minorities would be thankful enough to vote Democratic as a thank you. Even though it's the taxpayers who provide all the expensive enticements.

The price of glory

"Horrific," said the Physicians Assistant when she first glanced at the x-ray of my knee. But, after all these years, I kinda knew that.

After a leisurely cross country skiing trek around the Hickory Ridge Golf Course last December a few days after Christmas I drove home and suddenly realized I could barely walk from the car. My left knee felt like somebody inserted an egg scrambler and turned it on high.

She pointed to a ghostly aberration on the film and said it looked to be a 25-30 year old injury. "35" I said, remembering vividly the exact moment it occurred.

In the summer of '75 I was still an up and coming black belt fighter on the New England regional karate tournament circuit. At the time I had only earned a brown belt but tournament promoters did not require verification for whatever division you entered--as long as you paid the entry fee. And I wanted the experience.

The 'New Hampshire State Karate Championships' seemed like a relatively low-key event as karate tournaments go. Much to my surprise, top-rated Wildcat Molina, a bald headed, scary looking, Puerto Rican fighter from New York City had showed up and chewed his way through the middleweight division.

And point karate (kind of like fencing, where judges decide at every clash if a blow was cleanly landed but in so doing momentarily stop the match) was just then transitioning to full contact karate which was scored like boxing in that whoever did the most damage to his opponent wins.

I had won my division and Molina his after four or five fights from a field of perhaps 30 black belts per class--each contest two minutes where the most points wins. But the Grand Champion match between us two divisional winners would be two three-minute rounds continuous full contact. And for me that was a first.

Molina was a typical New York fighter in that he relied on a powerful rear hand strait punch from a pigeon toed stance with hips and shoulders at a 45 degree angle to the opponent. I always stayed completely sideways so my lead side was closer and could deliver kicks and punches faster and more efficiently, although not quite as powerful.

Relying on this reach advantage I used nothing but kicks and lots of them. He kept pressing forward trying to get within reach for that one all-powerful knock out punch. As round two came to a close he was more frustrated than ever and as the timekeeper announced "ten seconds" he started to lung forward as I launched a fear fueled sidekick with all I had and then some...it missed. I felt the knee pop.

I had taken a year off from Umass to train full time, so with no insurance I couldn't afford to see a specialist. The knee hurt for a few months and I hobbled around with a limp that became less and less pronounced over time, but apparently never went away.

The next year I attained #1 in New England and would hold that ranking for six consecutive years. When I first had hip replacement surgery six years ago the Doctor asked if I had ever injured my left knee as it had a permanent bend making the left leg shorter than the right.

So now I'm off to the Cooley Dickinson Hospital joint replacement center to take care of some very old unfinished business...




Notice this was my right leg

Rite of Spring

Amherst Youth Soccer has begun.

And for those too young for the game, Fort River School has a great public playground where little Sis can keep occupied.

To Hell with Babe Ruth--and all religion too

So Comedy Central has allowed South Park to have fun with Christianity over the years--Jesus Christ defecating on President Bush and an American flag springs to mind-- but God forbid they mention Muhammad.

Will the cowardly quitter of a corporate CEO now become an equal opportunity censor as long as the group complaining threatens violence?

And of course the irony weighs heavier than Muhammad's mountain: the beyond-bullying threat emanates from a radical extremest website based in New York where the World Trade Center Twin Towers once stood tall and proud, like a beacon of American entrepreneurial spirit.

Freedom of speech is a precious, delicate thing. If not protected at every opportunity and defended against all threats, it loses its lifeblood--one drop at a time. And then we are all lost.

Free Speech is good enough for these Radical Muslims

Long overdue makeover

So after 20 years of discussion the Atkins Corner $4.6 million roadway project has actually begun. Just in time too, as the Amherst Select Board recently granted Atkins Farms Country Market a beer/wine permit.

A better reminder

The family of Misty Bassi have found a most noble way to honor her short life and remember her long after the Ghost Bike disappeared from the location of her horrible demise almost one year ago.

If there is such a thing as a perfect fit for the Happy Valley Misty Bassi was it. Like a lot of folks, Umass was both her place of employ and place for finding herself through education. Now with this scholarship others like her will have a chance to better themselves the same way Misty did, and if life is fair, get the opportunity to put that degree to work.

Only days after graduating from the University Without Walls program while on route to work on Memorial Day--when most Americans were celebrating a day off, her path intersected with a 75-year old woman driving while distracted by tears.

For Misty's friends and family, the tears continue to this day.

The Republican Reports

A somber reminder

Google and of course Google news were not around fifteen years ago, so news junkies like me had to rely on Bricks-and-Mortar Media, and I always preferred radio for pretty much the same live immediacy we now all take for granted with the all-powerful pervasive Internet.

Driving around doing errands that morning while listening to my favorite station (one I advertised on a lot) WRNX, I hear a breaking news bulletin that apparently something has happened at a Federal building in Oklahoma City--an explosion, but no details.

I had fought at a National 'A' rated Karate tournament there (even got to meet Chuck Norris) about dozen years earlier, and unlike a lot of the major cities I visited while on the national circuit, I found it orderly, attractive and felt extraordinarily safe.

Plus I figured foreign terrorists would pick a much higher profile target like New York or Los Angeles. So the original report about an explosion in front of a building named for somebody I never heard of, was easy to dismiss as just some kids with fireworks.

Done with my errands, the Health Club was particularly busy that day so the next thing I know it's 9:00 PM closing. Turning on my TV at home to whatever channel I had watched the night before, up comes the astonishing video of the Murrah Federal Building building devastated to the core.

The next morning's newspapers all carry that heartbreaking AP front page photo of a rescue worker desperately rushing from the scene cradling a mortally wounded infant.

A Harvard trained attorney friend of mine who always opposed the death penalty changed his mind because of Tim McVeigh: His ice cold comment about the day care center deaths of 19 young children, dismissing them "collateral damage" put him over the top.

"I'll fly out there and voluntarily throw the switch myself," he said angrily.

Turns out they used lethal injection to send Mr. McVeigh to his just rewards. On June 11, 2001 as I lay on a cold gurney at the Amherst Medical Center getting my first shot of cortisone in my arthritic left hip, Dr. Johnson said, "You're going to feel a slight prick." "Yeah," I responded, "the last words Tim McVeigh will hear."

The assisting nurse shuddered saying I was the second patient that day to make reference to what was occurring at the US Penitentiary building in Terre Haute, Indiana.

My doctor said the cortisone shot could be a "magic bullet," and if I'm pain free for three months then it probably did the trick.

That summer I had the best bike training ever (logging over 3,000 miles) for my annual ride up Mt. Washington. On August 25, I posted my best time time ever over ten years (one hour 32 minutes) and as I crossed the finish line 6,288 feet up with my wife not to far behind, I literally felt on top of the world.

I had forgotten the exact date of my cortisone shot and mistakenly thought the three months expired, so I had successfully dodged the surgeons knife.

On the morning of 9/11 (the actual three month anniversary) as I watched those magnificent towers crumble into dust, I couldn't help but notice the unmistakeably dull continuous ache in my left hip had returned...

CNN reports

##############################################
Ten days later on April 29, 1995 Amherst's annual Town Meeting kicked off.

I had placed an article on the Warrant calling requesting tax exempt Amherst College and Hampshire College pay the same reimbursement rates as Umass for ambulance services--not one of my more controversial articles; but I had previously pissed off the Moderator with speeches over the years about Cherry Hill Golf or lambasting those numerous "Only in Amherst" measures Town Meeting routinely passes.

So when I walked up to his podium from my front center seat immediately before Town Meeting was to start, he gave me a wary look. I requested that Town Meeting start tonight with a standing "moment of silence" to remember the victims of Oklahoma City. He frowned. Said something about opening night, particularly busy, lots to do, etc.

I looked at him dumbfounded and trudged back to my seat.

A few moments later Amherst Town Meeting stood in unison, silently bowed their heads and for a brief moment, remembered.

Fox News: The terrible sounds of silence