Commissioner Stabins,
As you sit in you highchair in front of your constituents this fine morning (with a 30% chance of afternoon showers) please keep in mind that regardless the intentions of homebuilders requesting a break by eliminating impact fees to spur their troubled businesses, there are a good number of existing new homes that have yet to be occupied which means no property tax revenues. There are even more homes that remain empty due to foreclosures with back-taxes mounting and little chance to be paid anytime soon, if ever.
If builders can’t find work locally, there are regions outside Florida that have an up-beat economy. Besides, I don’t like the idea of anything that will hinder my plans to leave the state for where there are “42,145 square miles of scenic beauty” in the Smoky Mountains. Think of me as a future right-wing, gun-totin’ Second Amendment Patriot of The Volunteer State. Seriously.
Please, don’t give away the “store” of $12.5-million in “rainy day” reserves to benefit the Teamster Unions’ newly acquired card-carrying members. What a buffoon was the business agent for the Local to suggest these funds be used because “… it’s pouring outside” and that employees are living paycheck to paycheck. My retort would be, even more people are not able to live with no paycheck after no paycheck and that the government employees should look at themselves as being very fortunate to have a paycheck at all on top of all kinds of health benefits that the unfortunate unemployed must do without.
(I ain’t touchin’ anything to do with the sheriff office’s budget for fear I’d find myself handcuffed behind bars that don’t serve beer and pretzels!)
Take note that the Teamsters rep has said, as reported in Hernando Today (September 13), that the county staffers have “their management rights to layoff if that’s what they (feel) they need to do”. May I suggest to take that very suggestion and in fact make efforts to do so. You should make demands that department heads dig deeper and cut more jobs (money, money and more money) from their ranks. Government workers and residents must feel the dire straits that the county will continue to endure until the economy can right-side itself from this belly-up position. Reality sucks, don’t it?
But we must face head-on the challenges that are before us. (This is not a quote from what might sound as though it came from an Obama speech.)
On the matter of the Florida Association Counties: as you must know, the county needs to tighten its belt in any way it can. Unless the Association can specify the monetary benefits of rejoining its ranks, and guarantee a positive cash intake, it’s my opinion that taking a further dip into the rainy day finds should be avoided.
Keep in mind that generally speaking I don’t know what the heck I’m talking about!
Well, Commissioner, you have a great day. Sincerity intended.
Be the white stallion, rear up on your hind legs, and give a resounding “Nay!” to what may become too great a cost to the county.
Be assured that anything that sounds derogatory to you personally is meant in jest. Chuckles!
Your constituent and steadfast follower (please don’t lead me astray).
Ron Rae
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Where's Estonia?
Wanted: Whereabouts of a college student who spent the summer in Spring Hill peddling for dollars to help pay tuition costs.
In the previous blog, ‘Watch Where You Tread’, I related an incident that occurred while driving in an adjoining neighborhood to where I live in Spring Hill.
On the way to Lowes to pick up various plants in an effort to beautify the blandness of the front yard, I came upon an emergency-flashing Jeep driven somewhat erratically, followed the rule of the road and came to a complete halt at a stop sign, concerned that a young man riding a bicycle going around the Jeep may be in danger of a pedestrian-motor vehicle collision.
The man came within about ten feet of the front bumper of my truck. Since he proceeded with a steady pedal, I assume he felt no present danger. Still, the look on his face could have been to judge my next action. Once he was securely beyond the intersection, while still eying the Jeep that had by then come to a complete stop on the side of the road and the coast was clear, I went on my way.
As explained in the previous blog, I came to believe our eye-to-eye contact was one of recognition – he of me, not me of him.
When the encounter happened between the Jeep, the bike rider and my truck, I had no thoughts of our previous meeting. But on the way down Mariner to the intersection of Elgin, my mind came to wonder if there wasn’t something about the rider that I should have noticed. Ah, the bag strapped from the right shoulder to a secure position under the left arm should have signaled a moment of acknowledgement.
We had casually conversed on July 1st or 2nd when he had visited my home offering educational assistance programs to parents whose children may need assistance in righting some shortcomings in learning so they would successfully graduate with a high school diploma.
What I remember of our brief exchange of words centered on his age: 20 years old. Since he had a pleasant demeanor and his accent was presumably of Slavic origin, I joked, “You talk funny – where ya from?” His answer was “Estonia.” As if to challenge my knowledge of world geography, he questioned if I knew where it was. Giving a nod of awareness, my mind searched for a definitive answer. I knew it had been a satellite country under the iron-fisted control of the now defunct Soviet Union, so I gave a simple, “Yes.” I’m sure he picked up on my uncertainty but he let the subject drop without further comment.
I asked his name to which I didn’t understand so I found myself asking, not once, but twice to repeat. Even then I still couldn’t get it – isn’t that the way of us Americans who are less than worldly and seem to have this attitude that they should learn our language and not question our economic and military dominance in the world?
Since I don’t know his name, let me call him “Will” as in the movie “Good Will Hunting”. Unlike the character portrayed by Matt Damon, I’m sure his path toward higher education will prove him a successful intellectual.
Will said he’d be spending the summer in Spring Hill to help his mom with tuition fees. Not only was I a losing proposition for his product, I advised him that my immediate neighbors would be of no better source for the sale of his product.
Will suggested I give him a wave if our paths should cross over the remaining weeks that he’d be in the area. Wishing him good luck, he was on his way to whatever fate had in store. Out of sight, out of mind, I proceeded with my life with no further thought of him.
If I had recognized him, a conversation would have led to a barrage of questions of sincere interest.
Have you been successful at reaching your goal? For what age group is your material directed? Your perception of Spring Hill and its people? What of the number of vacant homes, overgrown lawns and For Sale signs? Any confrontations? Made any friends? Any thoughts on Obama? What of Toomas Hendrick Ilves, President of Estonia, and his 20% approval rating? Where will you attend college? USF, UF, elsewhere in the U.S. or back home at Concordia International University Estonia? Your major? Many more questions would have followed.
The final inquiry might have been, “Would you be willing to write a Guest Column for the readers of Hernando Today?”
It would be helpful, too, to once again ask his name.
In the previous blog, ‘Watch Where You Tread’, I related an incident that occurred while driving in an adjoining neighborhood to where I live in Spring Hill.
On the way to Lowes to pick up various plants in an effort to beautify the blandness of the front yard, I came upon an emergency-flashing Jeep driven somewhat erratically, followed the rule of the road and came to a complete halt at a stop sign, concerned that a young man riding a bicycle going around the Jeep may be in danger of a pedestrian-motor vehicle collision.
The man came within about ten feet of the front bumper of my truck. Since he proceeded with a steady pedal, I assume he felt no present danger. Still, the look on his face could have been to judge my next action. Once he was securely beyond the intersection, while still eying the Jeep that had by then come to a complete stop on the side of the road and the coast was clear, I went on my way.
As explained in the previous blog, I came to believe our eye-to-eye contact was one of recognition – he of me, not me of him.
When the encounter happened between the Jeep, the bike rider and my truck, I had no thoughts of our previous meeting. But on the way down Mariner to the intersection of Elgin, my mind came to wonder if there wasn’t something about the rider that I should have noticed. Ah, the bag strapped from the right shoulder to a secure position under the left arm should have signaled a moment of acknowledgement.
We had casually conversed on July 1st or 2nd when he had visited my home offering educational assistance programs to parents whose children may need assistance in righting some shortcomings in learning so they would successfully graduate with a high school diploma.
What I remember of our brief exchange of words centered on his age: 20 years old. Since he had a pleasant demeanor and his accent was presumably of Slavic origin, I joked, “You talk funny – where ya from?” His answer was “Estonia.” As if to challenge my knowledge of world geography, he questioned if I knew where it was. Giving a nod of awareness, my mind searched for a definitive answer. I knew it had been a satellite country under the iron-fisted control of the now defunct Soviet Union, so I gave a simple, “Yes.” I’m sure he picked up on my uncertainty but he let the subject drop without further comment.
I asked his name to which I didn’t understand so I found myself asking, not once, but twice to repeat. Even then I still couldn’t get it – isn’t that the way of us Americans who are less than worldly and seem to have this attitude that they should learn our language and not question our economic and military dominance in the world?
Since I don’t know his name, let me call him “Will” as in the movie “Good Will Hunting”. Unlike the character portrayed by Matt Damon, I’m sure his path toward higher education will prove him a successful intellectual.
Will said he’d be spending the summer in Spring Hill to help his mom with tuition fees. Not only was I a losing proposition for his product, I advised him that my immediate neighbors would be of no better source for the sale of his product.
Will suggested I give him a wave if our paths should cross over the remaining weeks that he’d be in the area. Wishing him good luck, he was on his way to whatever fate had in store. Out of sight, out of mind, I proceeded with my life with no further thought of him.
If I had recognized him, a conversation would have led to a barrage of questions of sincere interest.
Have you been successful at reaching your goal? For what age group is your material directed? Your perception of Spring Hill and its people? What of the number of vacant homes, overgrown lawns and For Sale signs? Any confrontations? Made any friends? Any thoughts on Obama? What of Toomas Hendrick Ilves, President of Estonia, and his 20% approval rating? Where will you attend college? USF, UF, elsewhere in the U.S. or back home at Concordia International University Estonia? Your major? Many more questions would have followed.
The final inquiry might have been, “Would you be willing to write a Guest Column for the readers of Hernando Today?”
It would be helpful, too, to once again ask his name.
Watch Where You Tread
Since I don’t twitter, does that make me less of a twit? Not necessarily. Since I don’t use a cell phone while driving, does that make me less of a danger to others on the road? You can bet everyone’s life on it.
When people talk of traffic, most often it’s about tailgaters, speeders and drivers whose sense of maintaining a constant speed is elusive, including those traveling too far below the posted limit.
Since my radio antennae is out of commission, cds are played on repeat or, as backup, the tape player is primed to waft some illegally copied tunes to provide a preferred variety of favorites. There’s over two hours of listening pleasure that keep me entertained as I sing out of harmony with talented artists.
To some, just listening to music while driving might be considered a distraction of sorts but, believe me, contemplating my next column would pose more of a hazard. I know my priorities behind the wheel.
A group of roadies that deserve extra caution from operators of a machine that poses a death threat to anyone meandering residential streets are pedestrians and bike riders.
Many residential areas are void of sidewalks so when I see an adult pushing a baby stroller, or walking with children tagging alongside and taking up a full lane of the road, it’s extremely disturbing. I don’t just slow down, I come to a complete stop until I feel assured a little tyke won’t jut out from the side of the road. There must be no regrets.
My next-door neighbor’s 16-year old son, Randy, with a future career in engineering, frequently skateboards with his friends with a makeshift ramp. In my opinion, they’re not very good but at least they keep a watchful eye out for traffic and immediately moves to the side. Not all kids are as respectful as some do a stare-dare out of insolence to the driver. An alternate route is safest.
The neighbor on the other side has three young children, the oldest of which is 7 years old, who also play in street. I was really impressed when little David demonstrated the creative maneuvers he can make with his skateboard that swivels in the middle, called The Wave. He’s pretty cool squatting down on it as he shows off, but I make sure to mention the precautions he must take to keep him and his siblings from getting hurt. Fortunately, I’ve seen him looking out for cars, always moving out of danger.
Recently, I remained motionless at a stop sign. The erratic behavior of a Jeep with emergency lights flashing was a concern, but the bike rider going around it was altogether too scary. The rider looked me straight in the eyes, for what was an assumed precaution to make sure I wouldn’t send him sprawling on the pavement.
Later, I realized the look was of recognition from when the young man had stopped at the house to sell enhanced educational services for kids. He probably thought me rude for not waving as he had requested since he’d be pedal-pushing his wares in Spring Hill the summer to assist mom with college tuition.
Imagine the determination of this young man to pump those pedals all day long, for what must have been days on end with the sun beating down on him in this land of heat and humidity?
Although a truly needed service, with high unemployment in Hernando County the rationale of sending someone to this deprived area fails my understanding. I doubt he achieved his goals. If only he had taken the initiative to offer a greeting of some nature, it may have led to an exchange of words between us that would have told me tales of his travels.
Alas, being from Estonia, a unique opportunity was missed for a conversation that would surely have provided myself, thus the reader, a unique perspective of a foreigner in this land of strange Americans. Hopefully, he had no ‘incidents’.
Still, an experienced bike rider such as he is no less subject to the failings of a driver. When I see anyone on a bike, of which there appear to be few, I fear for their safety. Untrusting of all drivers, I haven’t ridden a bike on a road in decades.
I’m also oblivious to recognize or even acknowledge a friend who later wonders why I didn’t wave as we traveled along the same street. Keeping my eyes on traffic doesn’t allow for socializing while driving.
Two happy-go-lucky amputees who traverse neighborhood streets brighten the road with a hearty wave and an exchange of smiles. Having had conversations with each while exercise-walking, their joy of having motorized mobility enhances their lives immeasurably. I worry for their safety, too.
Cautious me, when I turn off Mariner onto the street where I live, on more than one occasion there may have been a fender bender because the corner house is ‘right there’ and the poor souls who have lived there (it’s changed owners at least three times in the past three years) have no choice but brave backing out of the driveway
My scariest road encounter was when, after using the turn signal, I rounded the curb off Mariner onto the street where I live at 10 mph, an action that kept two young girls walking on the side of the road from being sent to an emergency room with broken bones, or worse. At fault or not, guilt would have been at my side. For life.
Vehicle-to-vehicle fender benders are less apt to cause serious injury. Vehicle-to-person encounters can be killers.
When people talk of traffic, most often it’s about tailgaters, speeders and drivers whose sense of maintaining a constant speed is elusive, including those traveling too far below the posted limit.
Since my radio antennae is out of commission, cds are played on repeat or, as backup, the tape player is primed to waft some illegally copied tunes to provide a preferred variety of favorites. There’s over two hours of listening pleasure that keep me entertained as I sing out of harmony with talented artists.
To some, just listening to music while driving might be considered a distraction of sorts but, believe me, contemplating my next column would pose more of a hazard. I know my priorities behind the wheel.
A group of roadies that deserve extra caution from operators of a machine that poses a death threat to anyone meandering residential streets are pedestrians and bike riders.
Many residential areas are void of sidewalks so when I see an adult pushing a baby stroller, or walking with children tagging alongside and taking up a full lane of the road, it’s extremely disturbing. I don’t just slow down, I come to a complete stop until I feel assured a little tyke won’t jut out from the side of the road. There must be no regrets.
My next-door neighbor’s 16-year old son, Randy, with a future career in engineering, frequently skateboards with his friends with a makeshift ramp. In my opinion, they’re not very good but at least they keep a watchful eye out for traffic and immediately moves to the side. Not all kids are as respectful as some do a stare-dare out of insolence to the driver. An alternate route is safest.
The neighbor on the other side has three young children, the oldest of which is 7 years old, who also play in street. I was really impressed when little David demonstrated the creative maneuvers he can make with his skateboard that swivels in the middle, called The Wave. He’s pretty cool squatting down on it as he shows off, but I make sure to mention the precautions he must take to keep him and his siblings from getting hurt. Fortunately, I’ve seen him looking out for cars, always moving out of danger.
Recently, I remained motionless at a stop sign. The erratic behavior of a Jeep with emergency lights flashing was a concern, but the bike rider going around it was altogether too scary. The rider looked me straight in the eyes, for what was an assumed precaution to make sure I wouldn’t send him sprawling on the pavement.
Later, I realized the look was of recognition from when the young man had stopped at the house to sell enhanced educational services for kids. He probably thought me rude for not waving as he had requested since he’d be pedal-pushing his wares in Spring Hill the summer to assist mom with college tuition.
Imagine the determination of this young man to pump those pedals all day long, for what must have been days on end with the sun beating down on him in this land of heat and humidity?
Although a truly needed service, with high unemployment in Hernando County the rationale of sending someone to this deprived area fails my understanding. I doubt he achieved his goals. If only he had taken the initiative to offer a greeting of some nature, it may have led to an exchange of words between us that would have told me tales of his travels.
Alas, being from Estonia, a unique opportunity was missed for a conversation that would surely have provided myself, thus the reader, a unique perspective of a foreigner in this land of strange Americans. Hopefully, he had no ‘incidents’.
Still, an experienced bike rider such as he is no less subject to the failings of a driver. When I see anyone on a bike, of which there appear to be few, I fear for their safety. Untrusting of all drivers, I haven’t ridden a bike on a road in decades.
I’m also oblivious to recognize or even acknowledge a friend who later wonders why I didn’t wave as we traveled along the same street. Keeping my eyes on traffic doesn’t allow for socializing while driving.
Two happy-go-lucky amputees who traverse neighborhood streets brighten the road with a hearty wave and an exchange of smiles. Having had conversations with each while exercise-walking, their joy of having motorized mobility enhances their lives immeasurably. I worry for their safety, too.
Cautious me, when I turn off Mariner onto the street where I live, on more than one occasion there may have been a fender bender because the corner house is ‘right there’ and the poor souls who have lived there (it’s changed owners at least three times in the past three years) have no choice but brave backing out of the driveway
My scariest road encounter was when, after using the turn signal, I rounded the curb off Mariner onto the street where I live at 10 mph, an action that kept two young girls walking on the side of the road from being sent to an emergency room with broken bones, or worse. At fault or not, guilt would have been at my side. For life.
Vehicle-to-vehicle fender benders are less apt to cause serious injury. Vehicle-to-person encounters can be killers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)