Site search
sponsored by
39°F 
Thursday January 8th
Thursday January 8th 
| Welcome, Guest |
|
| LOGIN | Become a Member | What's This? |
Please enter the following information:
| Email or Screen Name: | |
| Password: | |
| Remember Me | |
|
Forgot Password?
Didn't receive your verification email? Become a Member |
Close Window |
Jobs
Real Estate
Classifieds
Search for homes by MLS, classified listings, rentals, and much more!
Too busy on deadline trying to cram a week's worth of news into one afternoon, (hey, the press operators in Carson have lives too...), screening phone calls and waiting for my computer to crash for justification as to why I sound like Whitney Houston spewing epithets in divorce court.
No company Christmas party (cut-backs), no friends coming from far and near ...and if I hear that Wings song one more time (...sing-along with the Bonanza staff: 'Simply haaa-ving a wonderful Christmas time'), I'm going to jump through the building's double-paned high-rise-style windows... and dash away, dash away, dash away to Crosby's.
...All set to write the ultimate Bah Humbug column when I got hit with a little bit of the Christmas Spirit.
The name of my ghost of Christmas present is Shirley Dale.
Mid-Christmas rant and she calls, typical.
No, it wasn't a call to complain (hint: The best Christmas present an editor can get), it wasn't to vent or lament - it was simply, to talk.
Imagine that, someone calling me to simply talk (see: the feeling of true jubilation you get when someone sends you an actual letter in the mail.)
Shirley, an Incline resident since 1969 and perhaps the closest thing to its founding "mother," was concerned upon reading Wednesday's editorial.
In case you're not intrepid like Shirley, the column was all nice-nice about giving back to Incline by shopping, donating and skiing locally - you know, the editorial we print just about this time of year, every year.
But there was distress in Shirley's voice (there goes the whole talking to talk thing).
I turned dismissive.
Did I not put her cause of choice down under the "giving locally" subhead? Did spellcheck change the word "he" to "the"?
Did the editorial simply read disingenuous and she was calling for a re-write?
The complaint was coming I could feel it.
And, so I opened up a page to design and began to passively listen to her warble, waiting for the real reason we were talking.
"I love the Bonanza..."
All right... still waiting.
"...And I know how hard all you young people, including Jack, work..."
Oh, this is getting good.
"...And for not much money either - Erin told me so..."
Still with you Shirley.
"In Incline right now, there's something missing."
OK, where's the "but"?
"But."
There it is.
"People can't blame the paper for this - it's time we take a look at ourselves. All of us."
Hallelujah... Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah.
Ha-lle-lu-jaaaah.
Hear that Incline?! It's not the Bonanza's fault.
It's not your fault either.
It's all of us. The whole community. I'm not making this up. Somebody said it. Shirley said it.
It's our collective fault that in the last year Tahoe Blue, Bella Lago (Ponderosa Grill), Cafe 333. 'Lil Diggs and Lodo Loft closed their doors for good.
It's our collective fault that school enrollment is down and the post office leaks.
It's our collective fault that the TRPA won't listen or that some people want a ferry and some don't and some like GPS on their golf carts and some don't and some want private beaches made public and... well, most don't.
It's our collective fault that Syd Brosten, Jim Linardos, Gregg Lubbe, Sarah Tone, Johnathan Skinner and now Dan St. John all left this community to go on to greener pastures down to hill, or Texas or Montana...
It's our collective fault, and nobody's fault.
Shirley told me there are things we can control and things we can't. But if we all try our best, things will get better.
"Incline was the nicest village, we stuck together and we had pot lucks and we laughed," Dale recalled. "Now we're turning into a high-priced, no-care community."
Cynics (of which I am one) may look at this and say "pot-lucks - yeah, that'll fix it. Ambrosia salad is what we need to glue this community back together."
Too simple? Been there, done that?
Maybe.
...But maybe not.
Whether we (yep, 'we' you like that?) become a town, a county, our own sovereign libertarian no tax-paying country, or stay a little village, we could use a little more togetherness. We could use a little more laughter and we could use a little less blame and a little more care.
I know, this doesn't sound like me, but hey, Christmas comes but once a year.
No company Christmas party (cut-backs), no friends coming from far and near ...and if I hear that Wings song one more time (...sing-along with the Bonanza staff: 'Simply haaa-ving a wonderful Christmas time'), I'm going to jump through the building's double-paned high-rise-style windows... and dash away, dash away, dash away to Crosby's.
...All set to write the ultimate Bah Humbug column when I got hit with a little bit of the Christmas Spirit.
The name of my ghost of Christmas present is Shirley Dale.
Mid-Christmas rant and she calls, typical.
No, it wasn't a call to complain (hint: The best Christmas present an editor can get), it wasn't to vent or lament - it was simply, to talk.
Imagine that, someone calling me to simply talk (see: the feeling of true jubilation you get when someone sends you an actual letter in the mail.)
Shirley, an Incline resident since 1969 and perhaps the closest thing to its founding "mother," was concerned upon reading Wednesday's editorial.
In case you're not intrepid like Shirley, the column was all nice-nice about giving back to Incline by shopping, donating and skiing locally - you know, the editorial we print just about this time of year, every year.
But there was distress in Shirley's voice (there goes the whole talking to talk thing).
I turned dismissive.
Did I not put her cause of choice down under the "giving locally" subhead? Did spellcheck change the word "he" to "the"?
Did the editorial simply read disingenuous and she was calling for a re-write?
The complaint was coming I could feel it.
And, so I opened up a page to design and began to passively listen to her warble, waiting for the real reason we were talking.
"I love the Bonanza..."
All right... still waiting.
"...And I know how hard all you young people, including Jack, work..."
Oh, this is getting good.
"...And for not much money either - Erin told me so..."
Still with you Shirley.
"In Incline right now, there's something missing."
OK, where's the "but"?
"But."
There it is.
"People can't blame the paper for this - it's time we take a look at ourselves. All of us."
Hallelujah... Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah.
Ha-lle-lu-jaaaah.
Hear that Incline?! It's not the Bonanza's fault.
It's not your fault either.
It's all of us. The whole community. I'm not making this up. Somebody said it. Shirley said it.
It's our collective fault that in the last year Tahoe Blue, Bella Lago (Ponderosa Grill), Cafe 333. 'Lil Diggs and Lodo Loft closed their doors for good.
It's our collective fault that school enrollment is down and the post office leaks.
It's our collective fault that the TRPA won't listen or that some people want a ferry and some don't and some like GPS on their golf carts and some don't and some want private beaches made public and... well, most don't.
It's our collective fault that Syd Brosten, Jim Linardos, Gregg Lubbe, Sarah Tone, Johnathan Skinner and now Dan St. John all left this community to go on to greener pastures down to hill, or Texas or Montana...
It's our collective fault, and nobody's fault.
Shirley told me there are things we can control and things we can't. But if we all try our best, things will get better.
"Incline was the nicest village, we stuck together and we had pot lucks and we laughed," Dale recalled. "Now we're turning into a high-priced, no-care community."
Cynics (of which I am one) may look at this and say "pot-lucks - yeah, that'll fix it. Ambrosia salad is what we need to glue this community back together."
Too simple? Been there, done that?
Maybe.
...But maybe not.
Whether we (yep, 'we' you like that?) become a town, a county, our own sovereign libertarian no tax-paying country, or stay a little village, we could use a little more togetherness. We could use a little more laughter and we could use a little less blame and a little more care.
I know, this doesn't sound like me, but hey, Christmas comes but once a year.
Other Top Items
|
Related Articles
|
Most Recommended Articles
|
Comments
You must be logged in to leave a comment.
