To My Valued Readers and Subscribers:
As part of my professional evolution, I've left my full-time position at W.B. Mason to head out into untraveled regions as an independent advertising consultant. Pursuant to that, I've created a new website (at my old address of PaulStevenStone.com) in which I've embedded my blog and renamed it "A Stone's Throw." Many of you may recall that that was the name of my old newspaper column for over 25 years.
Your subscription to this blog will unfortunately lapse as I begin posting new commentaries at the new site. I invite you to to sign up as a subscriber at http://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify?uri=AStonesThrow-DamnGoodBlog&loc=en_US or just go to PaulStonesThrow.com and fill in your email address.
All that's left to say is…thank you. Thank you for sticking with me. And thank you for caring.
Warmly,
Paul Steven Stone
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Housing, Yes—Towers, No!
When the Cambridge Square Advisory Committee
(CSAC) was first convened to make recommendations for the future of Central
Square, its members were enjoined to be bold. Now that we've seen the
recommendations coming out of their year-long study, it's clear they chose
instead to be reckless. Their recommendations
would bring truly Bold and perhaps Dangerous changes in zoning that would upset
both the rhythm of life in our neighborhood and the unique personality of
Central Square. If accepted by the Planning Board and City Council they would bring
14- to 18-story towers to the Central Square area on streets now populated by
mostly two- and three-story buildings.
Forgive me if I get some of this
wrong, but the recommendations are highly complex; easily obfuscating the bare
facts.
The Cambridge Square Advisory
Committee (CSAC), whose 21-person membership featured 9 non-Cambridge
residents, is recommending a new overlay district for the Central Square area
that would dramatically raise height restrictions to 140 feet and 160 feet.
Ordinarily that could result in 14- and 16-story buildings, but the CSAC and
CDD added a little more gravy to the developer's pot by facilitating
transferable development rights. This little twist confuses me, I admit, but
essentially it allows developers to add an additional 20 feet to their 140- or
160-foot tower if they own property elsewhere. Simple math says we are now
looking at the potential for 16- and 18-story towers, each of which would have
15-20-foot structures on top to accommodate heating, cooling and elevator
systems.
If you look at the photo above you can see what two 18-story towers look like. Suffice it to say these look a
lot different than the watercolor smudges the CDD added to their Cambridge
cityscapes when they first began selling the idea of replacing our city-owned
parking lots and garage with new developments.
As a member of the Cambridge
Residents Alliance, I reiterate our concern about the pending Tsunami of
mindless and planning-less citywide development even though there have been
efforts to discredit our integrity. Understandably, especially in light of the
CDD-led abandonment of zoning protections in Central Square, we renew and
hopefully reinvigorate our call for a one-year citywide moratorium on all up
zoning.
Not a moratorium on development,
but on up zoning. On developer giveaways. One year for the city to take a hard
look at its future and start planning for it.
We also invite anyone who cares
about the future of our city and the quality of life it affords us to join the
CRA in resisting the lure of easy money and the CDD's flawed arguments about
inclusionary zoning offsetting the loss of families and low-income households that
are driven out by the rising rents these Towers For The Affluent historically
breed. The Alliance of Cambridge Tenants (ACT) has joined us in this effort
precisely because it knows this kind of towering development is detrimental to
low- and middle-income tenants and families, and has seen no future for those
parties in the recommendations the CSAC and CDD are making.
To those with eyes to see, there
is little in those recommendations that brings anything but congestion and long
shadows to the future of Central Square and Cambridge.
I conclude with what should be an
anthem for the citizens who value the texture and quality of life in our city…
HOUSING, YES—TOWERS, NO!
DENSITY, YES—CONGESTION, NO!
DENSITY, YES—CONGESTION, NO!
Interested parties can get more
information at CambridgeResidentsAlliance.org.
__._,_.___
__._,_.___
Monday, January 7, 2013
Pretty White Gloves
He sits on a folded-over cardboard box, slightly off-balance
and without any visible sign of support other than the granite wall of the bank
behind him and the few coins in the paper cup he occasionally shakes at passersby.
Does he realize it’s 4 degrees above zero, or minus 25
degrees if you factor in the wind that blows through the city and his bones
with little concern for statistics? Does he notice the thick cumulous lifeforms
that escape from his mouth in shapes that shift and evanesce like the
opportunities that once populated his life?
Can he even distinguish the usual numbing effect of the
cheap alcohol from the cruel and indifferent caress of this biting alien
chill?
Too many questions, he would tell you, if he cared to say
anything. But his tongue sits in silence behind crusted chapped lips and
chattering teeth while half-shut eyes follow pedestrians fleeing from the
bitter cold and his outstretched cup.
His gaze falls upon the hand holding the cup as if it were
some foreign element in his personal inventory. Surprised at first to find it
uncovered and exposed, especially in weather this frigid, he now recalls that
someone at the shelter had stolen his gloves and left in their place the only
option he still has in much abundance.
Acquiescence.
Examining the hand, and the exposed fingers encircling the
Seven-Eleven coffee cup, he smiles in amused perplexity, murmuring to himself,
"White gloves."
Lifting his hand for closer inspection, he adds,
"Pretty white gloves."
An image of his daughter . . . Elissa, he thinks her name
was . Yes, Elissa!, he recalls. An image of Elissa rises up in his mind, from a
photograph taken when she was ten and beautifully adorned in a new Easter outfit:
black shoes, frilly lavender dress and hat and, yes, pretty white gloves. The
photo once sat on a table in his living room, but he couldn't tell you what
happened to it, nor to the table or the living room, for that matter. They were
just gone. Swept away in the same tide that pulled out all the moorings from
his life, and everything else that had been tethered to them.
The last time he'd seen Elissa she was crying, though he no
longer remembers why. Must have been something he'd done or said; that much he
knows.
"Pretty white gloves," he repeats, staring at his
hand.
He recalls the white gloves from his Marine dress uniform.
At most he wore them five times: at his graduation from officer's training school,
at an armed services ball in Trenton, New Jersey, and for three military
funerals. There was never a need for dress gloves in Viet Nam. They would have
never stayed white anyway; not with all the blood that stained his hands.
Out of the corner of his eye he can see a policeman walking
towards him and instinctively hides his cup, some vestige of half-remembered
pride causing him to avert his gaze from the man's eyes at the same time.
"We need to get you inside, buddy," the officer
says. "You'll die of cold, you stay out here."
Moments later, a second police officer, this one a woman,
steps up to join them.
"That's the Major," she tells her colleague. To
the seated figure she offers a smile.
"You coming with us, Major?"
"Go away," he answers, looking up as he leans
further against the cold granite wall. "Don't need you. Don't need no
one."
"Can't leave you out here," the first officer
says. "We've got orders to bring you and everyone else in."
"Leave me alone!" the seated man shouts, gesturing
with his hands as if he could push them both away.
"Oh shit," the female officer says under her
billowing breath. To her partner she whispers, "His hands. Look at his
hands."
Quickly recognizing the waxy whiteness for what it is, the
officer shrugs, "Guess we're a little late."
To the man on the sidewalk, he offers, "That's frost
bite, buddy."
"No," the seated man protests. He holds up both
hands, numb and strange as they now feel and offers a knowing smile of
explanation.
Just like the marine officer he once was, just like the
sweet innocent daughter he once knew, just like the young man grown suddenly
old on a frozen sidewalk, his hands are beautiful and special in a way these
strangers will never understand.
"White gloves," he insists proudly.
"Pretty white gloves."
"Pretty White Gloves" is a story I wrote years ago, and published in my book "How To Train A Rock". I thought of it again last week when it was five degrees outside; no weather in which to be homeless. The Major was based on a man I once met, a military man, who was just beginning the slide into alcoholism and homelessness. Heaven only knows where he is today.
Friday, December 28, 2012
GOP Initiative: LET GLOBAL WARMING HEAT UP YOUR CAREER!
Who says our national leaders won’t act on global warming!
The Republican Party, still stinging from its major national rebuke way back in 2012, has announced a nationwide initiative to combat the economic impact of global warming. Unlike leaders from industrial nations that have created laws regulating the emission of carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases, the Republican Party has decided to attack the side effects of climate change head-on.
That’s why they’re asking the youth of America, and anyone whose job might be threatened by environmental disaster, to answer these three critical questions:
Are you ready for a ground-floor career in the world’s next major growth industry?
Are you fed up with gloomy scientists predicting climate change, melting ice caps, rising seas and sunken coastal cities while nobody seems to do anything about it?
More to the point, are you ready to do something about it yourself?
If you are, then the career specialists at the Grand Old Party can show you how to turn the planet’s continuing series of cataclysms to your profitable advantage.
No longer deniers of reality, we Republicans now see there is much to be gained by reaping the winds of Climate Change, so to speak. Sign up with us today, by tomorrow you’ll be preparing for a rewarding job in one of the world’s hottest emerging employment specialties—Global Warming Cleanup.
As the polar ice caps melt, sending oceans to new heights and water temperatures soaring—spawning catastrophic hurricanes and tornadoes—you’ll be sitting pretty. While others scramble to survive, you’ll be enjoying the high paying rewards that come with providing disaster services everybody is screaming for.
Even as you read this, thousands of new careers are being fostered by America’s steadfast refusal to reduce its rampant and filthy consumption of the world’s finite energy resources.
Let America’s intransigence be your greatest opportunity. No other civilized nation can match the Good Old USA in creating the rising need for these hot emerging specialties:
• Flood Rescue
• Skyscraper Salvage and Demolition
• Underwater Funeral and Cremation Services
• Missing Persons Investigations
• Corpse Identification and Shipment Services
• Rooftop Residential Construction
• Extinct Species Cataloguing
• Displaced Persons Management and Control
In the Republican Party we believe Global Warming is a tragic occurrence of the highest order, but we also believe every depleted ozone layer has it silver lining. Take Rooftop Residential Construction, for example. Only developed after the City of Boston washed away in last year’s Great Storm, the Republican Party Career Institute is trying to inject a little more sanity and predictability into the work marketplace, even during time of Global Warning. One of the most promising technologies to come out of all the catastrophic storms—Katrina, Rita, Irene Sandy and The Great Storm, of course—Rooftop Residential Construction by itself has been responsible for creating thousands of new jobs in storm-ravaged communities.
Out Of Destruction,” our Republican motto says, “Comes Construction!”
Developed in joint participation with the Paul Steven Stone Career Institute, under the watchful eye of political appointees and the usual party hacks, our new GOP Global Warming Career Center just might be the fresh start you, and the rest of the country, has been waiting for.
So, sign up today, because…who knows what tomorrow may bring?
Please note, according to Republican preferences, these Global Warming career opportunities are not available to undocumented immigrants unless nobody else wants them.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
On This Island In Space
I believe we have much to be hopeful about as we enter 2013,
though on the surface of things it may appear otherwise.
I believe more and more of us are learning to look beyond
the surface of things, however, and what we see is more meaningful to the life
of our global community than today’s news, tonight’s sports scores or
tomorrow’s weather.
I believe we have been brought here—to this lifetime, this
moment in time, this island in space—to accomplish something. Each of us on our
own separate mission that somehow relates, through the unfathomable meshing of
the Universe’s gears, to the greater purposes of life.
I believe we are singers in a chorus whose combined song has
the power to lift darkness from the face of the land, if we would only awaken
to the true song within each of us.
I believe we are all journeying on the same road, leading up
the same mountain, to the same summit. The only difference is some of us have
been traveling longer and have learned to avoid obstacles that delay and
ensnare travelers with less experience.
I believe suffering and pain have purpose in our lives,
often forcing us to grow into stronger, better human beings and to explore
horizons that would never have called to us otherwise. I have seen parents who
have lost children find meaning in their lives by dedicating themselves to
protecting and enriching the lives of other people’s children. I have seen
victims use their victimhood to alert and save others from the same tragedies. Such
is the serendipitous alchemy of disaster and despair.
I believe the greatest obstacles to happiness are those
inner demons that keep us isolated from each other, whether they be hunger or
avarice, fear of our neighbors, envy or rank malice. Once we allow ourselves to
separate from the rest of mankind, we act like creatures deafened by the volume
of own petty desires. No longer able to hear the cries of others. No longer
affected by the tides of calamity or misery that uproot those around us.
I believe we live in a world where noise and movement too
easily overwhelm thoughtfulness and purpose. From the earliest age we are
taught to fill the spaces in our lives with sound, activity or moving images,
as if a quiet home or a quiet mind were unwelcome oddities. As we progress on our
life’s journey, I believe we will learn to welcome these spaces rather than
fill them, to drink from them rather than run from them, to make room for them
in our lives as we would any healing or sustaining nourishment.
I believe we are learning to overcome superficial
differences between ourselves and others, no longer allowing diversity to
automatically breed fear and distrust. I can’t say if we’ve become more
tolerant because the global media web has shrunken our planet, or because fear,
lies and ignorance inevitably shrivel under the constant glare of media
attention. Whatever the reason, the veils and superstitions that have fueled
intolerance across millennia, sending countless soldiers off to countless wars,
are now being lifted. The arc of the universe, I believe, is bending towards
justice and brotherhood as more and more travelers make their way up the
mountain.
I believe we have been brought here—to this lifetime, this
moment in time, this island in space—to accomplish something. Each of us on our
own separate mission that somehow relates, through the unfathomable meshing of
the Universe’s gears, to the greater purposes of life.
I believe one of the reasons I am here—in this lifetime, on
this island in space—is to open my heart and reveal what I find there through
my writing.
And I believe this was written for you.
I came across this
essay written seven years ago and felt it’s message was not only timeless but
somehow impeccably timed for today, given recent events. It’s message of hope,
I felt, was no less strident or believable in light of those events, but
perhaps more urgently needed. And so, after a few minor edits, I decided to
share it with you.
PSS
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