Christie’s Grit

A report in today’s print edition of the Courier News provided a disheartening update on the bureaucratic mini-controversy caused by the lack of road salt in The Garden State. 

The problem was easily solvable:

(Screen Shot/Dick Bergeron)

 

 

There are 40,000 tons of salt purchased by the New Jersey Department of Transportation.  Yet all of it is still sitting in Searsport, Maine, ready to ship out.   

But that won’t happen thanks to the intransigence of some un-civil servant bureaucrats sitting securely in the offices of Homeland Security and those of the Transportation Department in Washington, D.C. – they enjoy saying no, you can’t have it.

According to the newspaper report by Larry Higgs, it would have been here by now, but officials in D.C. have refused to grant an exemption to the Jones Act.  That legislation prohibits cargo ships which don’t sail under the U.S. flag from carrying goods from one American port to another.

That law was enacted in 1920 mainly as a measure to protect American maritime jobs.  Exemptions are only granted in times of national emergency.  The Anastasia S. which isn’t registered in the U.S. was ready to sail with that salt.

Snow-Bound

One of my favorite poets is John Greenleaf Whittier.  I first read one of his works, Snow-Bound, as a teenager studying in the frosty northern realm of mid-Maine.  Since that first reading, it has always been one of my favorites.

It’s a lyrical, auto-biographical depiction of his childhood and later recollections upon his life.  Below are a few excerpts wherein Whittier describes a blizzard that occurred in the 1800’s while he was still a farm boy.

I have taken the liberty to select just a few stanzas and parts thereof, and reordered them for your reading.  Enjoy.

The sun that brief December day

Rose cheerless over hills of gray,

And, darkly circled, gave at noon

A sadder light than waning moon.

Out in the Cold

This morning, a herd of hungry deer forages for food
 along Bridgewater’s Washington Valley.
(Credit/Bergeron Images)

Without the well-timed intervention of Mother Nature, this post might have been about the internecine goings-on in New Jersey politics. 

Fortuitously, a pleasant mid-morning event occurred which prompted a reversal of topics.

I was in the kitchen and had just begun to peel a large rutabaga while listening to classical music.  Its source was Music Choice TV emanating from the south-facing living room, and I decided to pause and to walk over to adjust the volume.

From the front windows, I spotted a herd of alert deer moving quickly from one neighbor’s lot to the other.  I snatched the Nikon which I always keep nearby, and started to snap photos of those beautiful, shrub-devouring residents of Central Jersey.

Never Lie to a Journalist

Newspaper people don’t like to get lied to.  Among the many elements that are the bread and butter of their profession is access to people and obtaining accurate information from them.  It’s the lifeblood of their profession – including, of course, advertisements and paid circulation.

A basic aversion of journalists, and one they will stone you for, is a lie – especially a big one.  The reason is not that they are necessarily pure of heart.  As the saying goes, every day each one puts on his or her pants just like the rest of us.

Their motive for not wanting to be lied to is a very mundane and human one. When a reporter writes a story or a columnist calls a source for information, both rely upon the honesty of the person they have contacted for data, background information, or for attributable comments.