Everything you did

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Chinese music under banyan trees…

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Beijing official: “We are spreading toilet culture. People can listen to gentle music and watch TV. After they use the bathroom they will be very happy.” Read more.

Laughing in the frozen rain

Pics from a rainy Independence Day. The big fireworks were canceled, so we had to make do. All photos taken by cell phone.

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Dave

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Dave & Shellye

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Rob Gouge

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Let there be fire …

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… and rain …

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… and sleep

I can see by what you carry …

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Here’s how to tell if you’re gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Pretzel logic

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Things I learned today:

* Don’t panic.
* Avoid doing anything stupid or illegal.
* Driving to work is a process.
* If you get a paper cut, you must fill out an accident report form.
* If the building is on fire and you’re asked to evacuate, don’t smoke.
Bonus vocabulary: To Onboard

I hear you’re leaving, that’s OK

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Mike Daly, Connecticut Post managing editor

For anyone who doesn’t know, today is my last day at the Connecticut Post. It’s a bittersweet departure, as I’ve been there about a decade and have come to think of it as home.

I remember my first day here. It was 1994. I was in my last year of j-school and I had snagged an internship on the business desk. I showed up in a pressed white shirt, tie, a pair of jeans and some Docksiders. I felt pretty spiffy and was still getting myself settled when the editor, Rick Sayers (who in those days looked a lot like Uncle Pennybags from Monopoly) walked up to me.

“Mr. Crowder,” he said, “we don’t wear dungarees at the Connecticut Post.”

He walked off, leaving the words to resonate in my head. Since then, I never again wore dungarees to work, even when I got stuck working on weekends or holidays.

Today, I wore dungarees to work. I enjoy the symmetry of that.

Now I start a new career, working as a communications specialist (i.e., public relations) for the local utility. It’s daunting to set out in a new career path, and a little ironic, since for most of my career I’ve seen PR folks as sellouts or professional adversaries. (I’ve accused many an exiting journo of “crossing over to the Dark Side“; those words have since come back to haunt me.)

You can bet that I won’t wear dungarees on my first day, which is Monday.

My conception of career has never been a straight line to a specific goal, but rather a meandering garden path replete with forks, bumps and the occasional rake threatening to rear up and whack you in the face if you step on it.

I never set out to be a journalist. I took one journalism course during my first attempt at college. When I decided to take a second stab at higher education, I went to an enrollment fair at the local state university and, having decided that I’m a pretty good writer and don’t mind reading, I filled out the enrollment form for would-be English majors.

I was on my way back to the English department booth when I spotted the much smaller booth maintained by journalism department.

“You know?” I said to myself. “That just seems so much more practical.”

I crumpled up the piece of paper in my hand and never looked back.

Until now.

Any major dude with half a heart …

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“It is foolish to tear one’s hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less by baldness.” Cicero

“If at first you don’t succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.” Stephen Wright

“I am not discouraged because every wrong attempt discarded is another step forward.” Thomas Edison

“If you’re going through hell, keep going.” Winston Churchill

“Have you ever seen a squonk’s tears? Well look at mine. The people on the streets have all seen better times. Any major dude with half a heart surely would tell you, my friend.” Steely Dan