Better call it a house, not home

Well, it's official.
The thought that in America, the poor, the unwanted huddled masses were on an even playing field with the priviledged has been proven to be false. Again.
Today, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that you can be evicted from your perfectly suitable home if someone with more money wants it.
Being originally from Connecticut, I was rooting for the underdogs.
But I guess it is okay for a town to sell its soul in a never-ending quest for jobs, even if it means that after 50 years in the same house (which is not rundown), 80 something year old people can be forced to move.
"Any property may now be taken for the benefit of another private party, but the fallout from this decision will not be random," O'Connor wrote. "The beneficiaries are likely to be those citizens with disproportionate influence and power in the political process, including large corporations and development firms."
Can it be that I am on the same side as Justices O'Connor, Scalia and Thomas?
Yep.
Guess Susette Kelo could join the NRA, buy lots of guns and then say the Feds are trying to take away her Second Amendment rights also...

You're not from here, are you?

My oldest daughter has finished her second year at the Univ of Alabama. Growing up in Dallas, she knew there would be some cultural differences moving to Tuscaloosa. The conviction of Edgar Ray Killen reminded me of a story she told after being there a few days.
Living in a dorm, it seemed to her that everyone was "rushing" with a sorority. Sororities are not her style, so she felt a bit ostracized. But she could sense how central this was to most female's collegiate experience (or so it seemed).
She attempted to strike up a conversation with a young woman sitting next to her on the first day of classes. She moved to the school knowing no one.
"So, did you rush?" she asked.
She told us the girl looked aghast and sort of irritated.
"What?"
"I was wondering if you rushed. It seems everyone else in my dorm has."
Now the girl was a getting angry and told my daughter, "We're not allowed to rush."
Hannah was very confused, and a little panicked.
"This is freshman history (or whatever class it was), isn't it?" She thought maybe she wass in the wrong room.
"Yes, it is that class. But we're not allowed to rush our freshman year."
"Who's not allowed to rush? What do mean 'we'?"
Now the girl was starting to see that my daughter didn't mean anything negative and really didn't understand. She softened a bit and asked, "You're not from here, are you?"
"No. I'm from Dallas."
"Oh. Well, blacks are not allowed to rush in their freshman year. I'm black."
Hannah was shocked and thought she had made a really BIG mistake. She apologized profusely and it turned out to be no big deal. It was something Hannah had never considered as an issue.
As it turns out, that fall (2003) was the first time a black woman rushed with a "white" sorority at the University. She was accepted for membership.

I love summer

Enders State Park

Today is the first offical day of summer. Yippee!
I love summer. Even when it's 100 degrees.
This is a picture of a waterfall in Enders State Park, located in West Granby, CT. Enders was a destination in Granby on summer days. Located way out of town, at the top of long hill, it was a bear to ride a bike to. It was also tough to catch a ride to.
To be more accurate, Enders was an inherited destination. I was turned on to Enders by my older brother. He and his friends found this was a great place to party, and he shared it with me. I was probably about 12 or 13.
When I got a little older, I would head there with a friend or two myself.
It is a very quiet place, with the ground covered with years of discarded hemlock needles. The brook is in a gorge, surrounded by forest, so you can't hear the sound of the traffic on the not-so-busy state road above. The only sound is from the falls.
There are actually 7 waterfalls along the short length of the park, each tuned to its own song. After a while, you could tell which fall you were hearing when you closed your eyes. This was very helpful when you there in the dark, although actually the park closed at dark.
This picture was taken a few years ago. This was the most popular place in the park. The area to the right of the photo is a deep pool, perfect for a refreshing dip on a hot, steamy New England afternoon.
But time changes everything, even those things you think never would. In my younger days, the best way to get into the water was to slide in from the upper left. There was a bit of a pucker factor doing it that way, but that was our ritualistic Bar Mitzvah, seperating the men from the boys. THAT was when you knew you were grown-up- when you went in off the slide. I couldn't wait to show my daughters this when I took them a couple years ago.
Alas, water is relentless and spoiled, seeking its own way. Sometime in the last twenty years, it has found an easier way to get down and there is rarely enough water going down the slide to be able to use it.
Sigh.
Just another example of a parent having to let his (her) children find their own childhood memories because you can't give them yours. No matter how much you want to.