RoadsideOnline

When I recently wrote the "Help NOT Wanted blog", I was inspired by my very own avocation.

The fact that I forgot to include "writer" among the crafts disappearing as real vocations is a further indication that my memory also appears to be disappearing. No matter. Let's consider it now, because it's one I believe is particularly sad, and not just because its disappearance affects me personally.

Many people will claim that the internet has created more opportunities for writers than there ever has been. But that's like saying there are more opportunities for chefs than ever and use as an example that more people are cooking for themselves. Yes, I agree that blogs and forums provide wonderful opportunities for people to express themselves, opportunities that once didn't exist. But the craft of writing, as practiced by those who tried to understand and employ its subtleties and use them carefully to maximum affect, no longer is rewarded at anywhere close to a degree that any writers can earn even a meager living doing it.

Susette Kelo may have lost her battle against the City of New London trying to save her house, but as the Institute for Justice video shows, her struggle has become the turning point in the war against eminent domain abuse.

For more on this issue, see our Countertop piece here. 

It was a hot day behind the dirty windshield today. But I do love summer. You get to drive around all day with the windows down, getting a tan on your left arm, feeling the wind in your hair; well if I had hair I would feel it anyway. Cranking up the radio, listening to whatever moves you.

On these hot summer days I like to listen to the oldies, especially if they play surfing music or car tunes, you know The Beach Boys, Jan and Dean. And I like it when I hear the Beatles, the old songs remind me of summers when we were kids, heading to the beach, tooling along in the old station wagon, a 65 Mercury, sky blue and white with those real plastic wood panels on the side. My sister and I would sit in the back seat, the pull up one which faced backwards. I learned a lot about the world by looking out that window. Maybe that is why I always know where I have been but never where I’m going. Hmm.

When driving behind the dirty windshield all day you do begin to wonder about some things. Lately I have been musing over street and road names and wondering on their origins.

Now, some are obvious and pretty common. You have your Main Street, Central Street, North Street, South Street. All pretty common I guess. And you have the normal grove of tree streets, Elm, Chestnut, Cherry, Oak, Maple, Sycamore, Willow.  And there are your place names like Park, River, Mountain, Valley and Brook.

If a town ever had a railroad through it there may be a Railroad Avenue or a Depot Street. In the northeast we have many old mill towns which come with Mill Street, Mechanic Street, Brewery Street, Water Tower Road and Worcester MA now has a Wal-Mart way.