Author: Trish Pennypacker
Date: March 17, 2007
Title: Less Than Brilliant
Blurb: Columnist Pennypacker Believes that Daylight Savings is a pointless tradition impressed upon Americans by the government.
Benjamin Franklin was a brilliant man, but I don't think that Daylight Saving Time was one of his brilliant ideas. Originally developed to increase the amount of daylight that was available to working people, and to decrease energy costs as a “convenience for commerce,” Daylight Saving, or Shifting, as it correctly suggests, has been met with controversy, much like the controversy I am experiencing as my children and I adapt to the time shift.
To say that children need more daylight as they are commuting to and from school is like saying that the parents, the bus drivers and the teachers are all incapable of keeping them safe. What about the kids leaving for daycare in the early morning hours, and those that arrive home well after dark? Society moves beyond the eight-to-five time frame that Shifting might benefit.
As everyone knows, the government decided that it would be beneficial to shift time earlier this spring in an attempt to save more energy. They claim that we spend one percent less energy a day by shifting an hour of daylight. I want to laugh. Do they really think that we all rise and go to bed at the same time? Don't they take into consideration that the decrease in energy consumption might be because the weather is warmer and more people are spending time outdoors and away from their homes? The government also claims that Shifting saves the United States three hundred thousand barrels of oil a year. Is this how they justify disrupting our sleep habits, by taking our focus away from the oil that they are burning as they import and deport cargo, and move U.S. battle ships and submarines?
I can't speak for every American, but I know that I am not saving electricity when I am forced to wake in the night to my daughter singing, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star for the hundredth time. She has been so tired from waking up an hour early (and she certainly doesn't fall asleep earlier in the evening) that she sleeps an hour longer during her naptime at daycare. This refreshes her enough to make my evenings miserable, and after the umpteenth time of trying to sooth her to sleep, she finally surrenders. But by then I am wide awake. Getting out of bed, I turn on a light so I don't trip over the dog or a pile of Lego's; I turn on the stove, heat up a cup of tea, boot up my computer, set my CD player to shuffle and listen to Dylan until my eyes feel heavy once more. I would imagine that I am not the only parent who goes through this kind of ritual as I try to adjust myself and my children to the time change.
To make matters worst, we have to go through this not once, but twice a year. This year, in an attempt to reduce the hazards for trick-or-treaters, the shift will not go into effect until the first Sunday in November. I'm thinking that this adjustment will just add to the controversy over Halloween, but who am I to say anything? In the Northeast Kingdom, by the time the kids are off the bus and into their costumes, dusk is upon us, regardless of the time change, and no one can possibly tell me that they are adding an hour to my daylight hours when in the winter months there are no hours of daylight to be added, only an extra hour that will have passed unnoticed as I have bustled through my day.
If we could leave Daylight Saving on the spring format, the nation would function just as smoothly. We would have plenty of daylight in the warmer months, and in the winter months, those shuffling home from work at five o'clock might be lucky enough to enjoy the daylight for a half an hour. Maybe that half hour of evening light might be enough light to cure the depression associated with seasonal disorder. It's just a thought.
The way I see it, Daylight Saving is nothing but a rooster call from the government telling us when to rise and shine and when to tuck ourselves in for the night. It does nothing to boost our proficiency, and it demeans our intelligence. If you want more daylight, get out of bed earlier; if you are worried about safety, pay more attention; if energy usage is a concern, do your part to cut back on the energy you expend. Maybe if everybody took responsibility for themselves we wouldn't have to let the government tell us when our day begins.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Articles to Webitize
Some Students at LSC not just 'high on life'
By Caleb Byerly
Critic Staff
Lyndon State College's official motto says, “Experience Makes the Education”. But some students have incorporated this motto to include using illegal drugs such as cocaine.
After interviewing three students who were eager to disclose their drug use, under the condition of anonymity for obvious legal reasons, more than 20 different kinds of illegal drugs (including LSD, cocaine and heroin) were identified by the students as being used on either a regular basis or on an experimental basis.
A senior, nicknamed “Dr. Mario” for this story, proudly listed the numerous prescription drugs he enjoyed that would put a pharmacist to shame, including such as powerful painkillers Vicodin, Percocet, and Oxycontin.
“I do acid, shrooms (psychedelic mushrooms), coke, ecstasy, pills.” Dr. Mario said, laughing. “You'd better put a star in your notes next to that one.”
Although there was a long list of prescription drugs, Dr. Mario asserts that the hallucinogenic drug LSD was his preferred method of getting high.
“I do it for the learning experience.” Dr. Mario said. “I get to see the world from a new point of view. It's by far my drug of choice.”
Another student, a sophomore, nicknamed “Smokey McCloud” for the interview, described his drug use as recreational and dismissed the dangers involved with drug use.
“There are a ton of things that kill your brain cells.” McCloud said. “As long as you stay in control, you're okay.”
Another sophomore, nicknamed “Lisa Lush”, talked about doing drugs such as coke, mushrooms and ecstasy as recreation and during parties. While acknowledging the harmful effects these drugs have on the body, Lisa did not see any reason to quit.
“I just do it for fun.” Lush said. “If it gets out of control, I'll stop.”
The belief that a drug user is in control of the drug is very naïve, according to Public Safety Director George Hacking, who has seen the devastating effects of drug abuse first hand.
“Some people don't know if they will become addicted.” Hacking said. “It's naïve to think a person can control a drug. It controls the person.”
The students that were interviewed all admitted to going to their classes under the influence of an illegal substance at least once. English professor Alan Boye is not unfamiliar with this fact.
“There have been numerous occasions where someone seems inebriated and reeks of alcohol.” Boye said. “I have asked them to leave the class.”
Boye annually conducts a casual survey among his students in order to find out what types of drugs that are brought onto the LSC campus.
“I am always shocked by the number of drugs on campus.” Boye said. “I've found as an educator, it's much harder to learn and retain what you've learned when you're stoned.”
None of the students interviewed for this story expressed any desire to stop using illegal drugs in the near future, though two did say they intended to quit eventually.
To: The Critic
Series: Moments Like This
Author: Trish Pennypacker
Title: It Seems Like Yesterday
Date: March 2, 2007
It Seems Like Yesterday
Driving by the old house yesterday, the ghosts of my childhood taunted me. The driveway was plowed and children were building a snowman in the backyard. I watched the children heave and push as they rolled their bodies over wet mounds of snow. I would believe that only a few years had passed since I ran through the halls of the spacious house, skated on the frozen pond in the backyard, and climbed through the rafters of the barn, but the crooked, aged branches of the crabapple tree on the front lawn, told me otherwise.
I was eight years old when Dad brought the crabapple tree home from a local nursery. I was playing in the kitchen with my younger sisters when Mom started laughing in protest. Dad caught her in his arms, blindfolded her, and began twirling her dizzy. Curiously, we followed them onto the lawn, where Dad had the tree and a shovel waiting. When the blindfold was removed, Mom saw the skinny, budded red branches of the tree, and hugged and kissed Dad. She danced as she walked with my father across the lawn, trying to decide the best placement for the tiny tree. I didn't understand her excitement, until I tasted crab-apple jelly.
Only two years after Mom had planted her tree, she was able to make a couple of pints of crabapple jelly. As the years progressed, the jelly-jars began to fill the basement pantry.
My sisters and I eagerly offered to pick the tiny red fruit, in anticipation of the jelly. We were only allowed to pick the fruit that we could reach from the ground, tip-toes were allowed, climbing the tree was not. Mom taught us to twist and pluck gently, removing the crabapples without hurting the tree. We filled our buckets with the smooth, round fruit.
Before simmering the crabapples in a large stainless steel pot, Mom would sift through the twigs, leaves and bugs. As the fruit simmered, the house filled with a sweet, tempting aroma. “Don't touch the hot jars,” Mom would say as she lined them to cool, on rows of white linen. “Listen. Make sure they pop,” she'd say as we peered through the rose colored jars, the sunlight sifting through the glasses, casting a pink glow on our curious faces. “If they don't pop, that means they didn't seal. I'll have to reprocess them in hot water or they will not last.” We laughed as the Pop! Pop! Ping! filled the air.
The best part came when we were finally allowed to taste the jelly. Mom would open a pint. Ping! The seal popped. Our mouths watered as she scooped into the jar, and spread the thick, sweet goop over crunchy, brown slices of toast. Next to maple syrup and strawberry-rhubarb jam, crabapple jelly was my favorite topping.
That was years ago. Now, I long for the taste of Mom's crabapple jelly as I spread store-bought jelly onto my toast. Sometimes I purchase homemade crab-apple jelly during the summer at local farmer's markets or I make my own strawberry jam. This is better than the store-bought jelly, but it holds no comparison to the jelly that my mother made from the crab-apples.
Driving by the old house yesterday, I noticed that much is the same. The house has been re-sided in the same yellow, the barn repainted in the same red. The same colored white curtains hang from my former bedroom window and a tabby cat, much-like my childhood tabby cat, sat on the same stone stoop where my cat used to bask in the sun.
However, the ancient cedar tree that had loomed above the house, its branches startling me during the dark night as it scratched the window pane, has been cut down; a brown cargo van, parked in the driveway, replaces my father's blue pickup; the hammock is gone from the white birch trees, and our name is no longer scrawled on the side of an old, metal mailbox: an unknown name is engraved into the homestead sign that is mounted above the snow bank. These differences sadden me, but the greatness of the old crab-apple tree, with its bare solemn branches, saddens me the most.
Who would have thought that time would move so swiftly?
When we drive by the house, on our way to Littleton, my children sigh melodramatically, “We know, Mom. That's where you grew up.” They tire of hearing me reminisce, but I keep reminding them that I was a child once too, as if to tell myself that it wasn't too long ago. My children know nothing of the ghosts that lie within the old yellow house on the edge of Route 18. They are too busy creating their own ghosts to understand.
By Caleb Byerly
Critic Staff
Lyndon State College's official motto says, “Experience Makes the Education”. But some students have incorporated this motto to include using illegal drugs such as cocaine.
After interviewing three students who were eager to disclose their drug use, under the condition of anonymity for obvious legal reasons, more than 20 different kinds of illegal drugs (including LSD, cocaine and heroin) were identified by the students as being used on either a regular basis or on an experimental basis.
A senior, nicknamed “Dr. Mario” for this story, proudly listed the numerous prescription drugs he enjoyed that would put a pharmacist to shame, including such as powerful painkillers Vicodin, Percocet, and Oxycontin.
“I do acid, shrooms (psychedelic mushrooms), coke, ecstasy, pills.” Dr. Mario said, laughing. “You'd better put a star in your notes next to that one.”
Although there was a long list of prescription drugs, Dr. Mario asserts that the hallucinogenic drug LSD was his preferred method of getting high.
“I do it for the learning experience.” Dr. Mario said. “I get to see the world from a new point of view. It's by far my drug of choice.”
Another student, a sophomore, nicknamed “Smokey McCloud” for the interview, described his drug use as recreational and dismissed the dangers involved with drug use.
“There are a ton of things that kill your brain cells.” McCloud said. “As long as you stay in control, you're okay.”
Another sophomore, nicknamed “Lisa Lush”, talked about doing drugs such as coke, mushrooms and ecstasy as recreation and during parties. While acknowledging the harmful effects these drugs have on the body, Lisa did not see any reason to quit.
“I just do it for fun.” Lush said. “If it gets out of control, I'll stop.”
The belief that a drug user is in control of the drug is very naïve, according to Public Safety Director George Hacking, who has seen the devastating effects of drug abuse first hand.
“Some people don't know if they will become addicted.” Hacking said. “It's naïve to think a person can control a drug. It controls the person.”
The students that were interviewed all admitted to going to their classes under the influence of an illegal substance at least once. English professor Alan Boye is not unfamiliar with this fact.
“There have been numerous occasions where someone seems inebriated and reeks of alcohol.” Boye said. “I have asked them to leave the class.”
Boye annually conducts a casual survey among his students in order to find out what types of drugs that are brought onto the LSC campus.
“I am always shocked by the number of drugs on campus.” Boye said. “I've found as an educator, it's much harder to learn and retain what you've learned when you're stoned.”
None of the students interviewed for this story expressed any desire to stop using illegal drugs in the near future, though two did say they intended to quit eventually.
To: The Critic
Series: Moments Like This
Author: Trish Pennypacker
Title: It Seems Like Yesterday
Date: March 2, 2007
It Seems Like Yesterday
Driving by the old house yesterday, the ghosts of my childhood taunted me. The driveway was plowed and children were building a snowman in the backyard. I watched the children heave and push as they rolled their bodies over wet mounds of snow. I would believe that only a few years had passed since I ran through the halls of the spacious house, skated on the frozen pond in the backyard, and climbed through the rafters of the barn, but the crooked, aged branches of the crabapple tree on the front lawn, told me otherwise.
I was eight years old when Dad brought the crabapple tree home from a local nursery. I was playing in the kitchen with my younger sisters when Mom started laughing in protest. Dad caught her in his arms, blindfolded her, and began twirling her dizzy. Curiously, we followed them onto the lawn, where Dad had the tree and a shovel waiting. When the blindfold was removed, Mom saw the skinny, budded red branches of the tree, and hugged and kissed Dad. She danced as she walked with my father across the lawn, trying to decide the best placement for the tiny tree. I didn't understand her excitement, until I tasted crab-apple jelly.
Only two years after Mom had planted her tree, she was able to make a couple of pints of crabapple jelly. As the years progressed, the jelly-jars began to fill the basement pantry.
My sisters and I eagerly offered to pick the tiny red fruit, in anticipation of the jelly. We were only allowed to pick the fruit that we could reach from the ground, tip-toes were allowed, climbing the tree was not. Mom taught us to twist and pluck gently, removing the crabapples without hurting the tree. We filled our buckets with the smooth, round fruit.
Before simmering the crabapples in a large stainless steel pot, Mom would sift through the twigs, leaves and bugs. As the fruit simmered, the house filled with a sweet, tempting aroma. “Don't touch the hot jars,” Mom would say as she lined them to cool, on rows of white linen. “Listen. Make sure they pop,” she'd say as we peered through the rose colored jars, the sunlight sifting through the glasses, casting a pink glow on our curious faces. “If they don't pop, that means they didn't seal. I'll have to reprocess them in hot water or they will not last.” We laughed as the Pop! Pop! Ping! filled the air.
The best part came when we were finally allowed to taste the jelly. Mom would open a pint. Ping! The seal popped. Our mouths watered as she scooped into the jar, and spread the thick, sweet goop over crunchy, brown slices of toast. Next to maple syrup and strawberry-rhubarb jam, crabapple jelly was my favorite topping.
That was years ago. Now, I long for the taste of Mom's crabapple jelly as I spread store-bought jelly onto my toast. Sometimes I purchase homemade crab-apple jelly during the summer at local farmer's markets or I make my own strawberry jam. This is better than the store-bought jelly, but it holds no comparison to the jelly that my mother made from the crab-apples.
Driving by the old house yesterday, I noticed that much is the same. The house has been re-sided in the same yellow, the barn repainted in the same red. The same colored white curtains hang from my former bedroom window and a tabby cat, much-like my childhood tabby cat, sat on the same stone stoop where my cat used to bask in the sun.
However, the ancient cedar tree that had loomed above the house, its branches startling me during the dark night as it scratched the window pane, has been cut down; a brown cargo van, parked in the driveway, replaces my father's blue pickup; the hammock is gone from the white birch trees, and our name is no longer scrawled on the side of an old, metal mailbox: an unknown name is engraved into the homestead sign that is mounted above the snow bank. These differences sadden me, but the greatness of the old crab-apple tree, with its bare solemn branches, saddens me the most.
Who would have thought that time would move so swiftly?
When we drive by the house, on our way to Littleton, my children sigh melodramatically, “We know, Mom. That's where you grew up.” They tire of hearing me reminisce, but I keep reminding them that I was a child once too, as if to tell myself that it wasn't too long ago. My children know nothing of the ghosts that lie within the old yellow house on the edge of Route 18. They are too busy creating their own ghosts to understand.
Gas Stations in St. J Area
Brochu Citgo Service
47 Mill St 586
Hardwick, VT 05843
(802) 472-8282
Fordhams Mobilmart
Rr 5
Lyndonville, VT 05851
(802) 626-1120
Hays Service Sta
1 Mill St
Hardwick, VT 05843
(802) 472-5922
Maine Lubrication Service
38 Bay St
Saint Johnsbury, VT 05819
(802) 748-5317
Mikes Gas & Redemption
Route 5
West Burke, VT 05871
(802) 467-8502
Perrys Oil Service
Wolcott St
Hardwick, VT 05843
(802) 472-6560
Shel
125 Railroad St
Saint Johnsbury, VT 05819
(802) 748-4000
Western Avenue Station
13 Western Ave
Saint Johnsbury, VT 05819
(802) 748-2339
Thank You Yellow Pages for all the help.
47 Mill St 586
Hardwick, VT 05843
(802) 472-8282
Fordhams Mobilmart
Rr 5
Lyndonville, VT 05851
(802) 626-1120
Hays Service Sta
1 Mill St
Hardwick, VT 05843
(802) 472-5922
Maine Lubrication Service
38 Bay St
Saint Johnsbury, VT 05819
(802) 748-5317
Mikes Gas & Redemption
Route 5
West Burke, VT 05871
(802) 467-8502
Perrys Oil Service
Wolcott St
Hardwick, VT 05843
(802) 472-6560
Shel
125 Railroad St
Saint Johnsbury, VT 05819
(802) 748-4000
Western Avenue Station
13 Western Ave
Saint Johnsbury, VT 05819
(802) 748-2339
Thank You Yellow Pages for all the help.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Two teens took pictures of themselves and face child pornography charges
Providence RI- Two girls, one of whom was 19 and one of whom was 16 posted sexually explicit pictures of them together on their respective myspace accounts. The images were discovered by a police officer assigned to monitor the school of the 16-year-old when he went to the website. Both girls face charges, the older one was arraigned for child pornography charges and the younger one "violating a curfew" charge is pending.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Pat Webster: Cataloger
LSC'S OWN RENAISSANCE LIBRARIAN
2/20/07
Blurb: Patricia Webster is a long-time librarian at LSC whom takes on a big responsibility to get books in order and available to students.
By Keith Whitcomb Jr.
The library can go from a quiet, serene atmosphere, to a scene more like a hospital room triage in a matter of moments. Instead of wounded patients, books are being cataloged, meanwhile two students need to find information on alternative energy sources, all while the phone rings as someone asks where the copy machine is.
One of the professionals assigned to help those in need through the chaos is Patricia Webster, cataloger at LSC’s Samuel Read Hall Library. Webster has worked eight different jobs in the library during her 33 years there and has an easy handle on making sure people who come through the library get what they need.
Webster’s title as cataloger is slightly deceiving, as it isn’t the only thing she does. “Everyone wears a million hats,” she said. Webster, like the other librarians, is cross-trained to do everyone else’s job if need be.
What Exactly Does Pat Do?
While cataloging, she sits at the help desk where a “Do no disturb” plaque has been modified to encourage disturbances. There, she helps anyone who comes up to the desk use the computer data bases to find what they are looking for, whether it be books on leadership, educational journals, or simply the location of the nearest stapler.
Working the help desk at a library is very much a people oriented job, Webster said. The job she had before coming to LSC was in a hospital in Waterbury Vermont. There, she spent five summers working with severely autistic children. Although the job was rewarding, Webster found herself feeling burnt out and needed a change. Being a librarian at LSC seemed like a perfect fit.
Personal Life Of A Librarian
Webster loves to read. Being a librarian, that doesn’t come as a shock. What it surprising is how little time Webster actually gets to read. Five to eight in the evening on Saturdays and Sundays, is the only time Webster gets to sit down with a good book. She enjoys reading science fiction and acknowledges one advantage to being a librarian: she can get to a book before anyone else does. “I’m bound and determined to be the first with the new Harry Potter book,” Webster said.
Even though she can get to the new Harry Potter book faster than anyone, Webster makes sure the newest books that students need are capable of being found by cataloging it. When the library gets a new book, it comes with an OCLC sheet, which is a detailed description of the book, from its subject, to the number of pages it has. Webster’s job is to create a call number for it, so it can be found amongst the rows of books in the library.
Using a program called Work Flows, Webster can use a list of suggested call numbers and find something called a cutter number, which is based on the author’s name, in order to better classify the book.
Another part of Webster’s job is to keep an eye on certain sections of the libraries collection. Webster keeps her finger on the pulse of the Psychology, Children’s Literature and Fine and Performing Arts sections of the library. She keeps an eye out for new books coming out in those areas and gets a feel for possible holes in the libraries collection.
This part of her job is something that requires some personal interest to be good at.
Webster thinks of life after the library with an eye towards giving hospice care. Webster had experience caring for an elderly neighbor during his final days and felt that the experience was a rewarding one. “If you can help make someone more comfortable under those circumstances, it helps you too,” Webster said.
http://www.charities.govt.nz/images/board-members/pat-webster.jpg
Email PAT!!!
2/20/07
Blurb: Patricia Webster is a long-time librarian at LSC whom takes on a big responsibility to get books in order and available to students.
By Keith Whitcomb Jr.
The library can go from a quiet, serene atmosphere, to a scene more like a hospital room triage in a matter of moments. Instead of wounded patients, books are being cataloged, meanwhile two students need to find information on alternative energy sources, all while the phone rings as someone asks where the copy machine is.
One of the professionals assigned to help those in need through the chaos is Patricia Webster, cataloger at LSC’s Samuel Read Hall Library. Webster has worked eight different jobs in the library during her 33 years there and has an easy handle on making sure people who come through the library get what they need.
Webster’s title as cataloger is slightly deceiving, as it isn’t the only thing she does. “Everyone wears a million hats,” she said. Webster, like the other librarians, is cross-trained to do everyone else’s job if need be.
What Exactly Does Pat Do?
While cataloging, she sits at the help desk where a “Do no disturb” plaque has been modified to encourage disturbances. There, she helps anyone who comes up to the desk use the computer data bases to find what they are looking for, whether it be books on leadership, educational journals, or simply the location of the nearest stapler.
Working the help desk at a library is very much a people oriented job, Webster said. The job she had before coming to LSC was in a hospital in Waterbury Vermont. There, she spent five summers working with severely autistic children. Although the job was rewarding, Webster found herself feeling burnt out and needed a change. Being a librarian at LSC seemed like a perfect fit.
Personal Life Of A Librarian
Webster loves to read. Being a librarian, that doesn’t come as a shock. What it surprising is how little time Webster actually gets to read. Five to eight in the evening on Saturdays and Sundays, is the only time Webster gets to sit down with a good book. She enjoys reading science fiction and acknowledges one advantage to being a librarian: she can get to a book before anyone else does. “I’m bound and determined to be the first with the new Harry Potter book,” Webster said.
Even though she can get to the new Harry Potter book faster than anyone, Webster makes sure the newest books that students need are capable of being found by cataloging it. When the library gets a new book, it comes with an OCLC sheet, which is a detailed description of the book, from its subject, to the number of pages it has. Webster’s job is to create a call number for it, so it can be found amongst the rows of books in the library.
Using a program called Work Flows, Webster can use a list of suggested call numbers and find something called a cutter number, which is based on the author’s name, in order to better classify the book.
Another part of Webster’s job is to keep an eye on certain sections of the libraries collection. Webster keeps her finger on the pulse of the Psychology, Children’s Literature and Fine and Performing Arts sections of the library. She keeps an eye out for new books coming out in those areas and gets a feel for possible holes in the libraries collection.
This part of her job is something that requires some personal interest to be good at.
Webster thinks of life after the library with an eye towards giving hospice care. Webster had experience caring for an elderly neighbor during his final days and felt that the experience was a rewarding one. “If you can help make someone more comfortable under those circumstances, it helps you too,” Webster said.
http://www.charities.govt.nz/images/board-members/pat-webster.jpg
Email PAT!!!
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