Category: Granite Views

By the time you read this, December will have slipped into January and another year will have ended. A time of transition, this — new calendars, new dates on checks (if you still write them), a new tax year, and the passing of the shortest day of the year. As has been my custom for many years, I pull out my journal for the year just ending and read over the entries that range from a simple recounting of daily events to musings about family, work or national happenings. There are regular mentions of the books I am reading (or want to read), of conversations with friends and occasionally strangers met by chance. Some of the earliest entries record promises made to myself back in January that I’ll get more exercise, follow less news, FaceTime my children and grandchildren, meditate each morning and take walks with my wife.

In the back of the journal, however, there is a list of the names of relatives, friends and colleagues who have died that year. The list is much longer than a single year, however, as it is one to which names are added regularly and it stretches back five years to when I began so noting the deaths. Akin, I recognize, to the Litany of the Saints that was a liturgical practice in my Catholic youth, I read down that now very long list (more than 50) and softly speak the names. The very sound of a deceased’s name immediately brings to mind some memory of a time spent with them — an event, a snippet of conversation or an image of something they have done. While there is no “Ora pro nobis,” as in the liturgy of my past, there is my own silent expression of gratitude for the time I did have with them. Each name is a so very distinct person who entered my life and left an impression. At the end, the litany itself is a mosaic of vastly different individuals who, together, have enriched my life and to whom I owe great gratitude.

After the hustle and stress of preparations for Christmas, followed by the celebrations of the day itself, there comes each year a more quiet time. The daily emails are fewer, there are fewer appointments to be met, and even, on occasion, a day completely free and clear of obligations. These are truly sacred times in the sense that religions the world over built them into their calendars to give people time to reflect and resolve. They are like a “Sabbath” for the year, a time when we leave off ordinary responsibilities and pay attention to our inner selves as we reflect on the year passing, those we have lost, and begin to set a new course for the year ahead. Soon enough the routine will be reestablished and these treasured days will have passed. One solid resolution is to not lose them in the moment of their quietude and reflection.

There’s an old saying about living in interesting times and it seems fitting for this era. It seems more fun to read about them in history books than to live them. My guess is that in 2023 times will continue to be interesting. If any of my 2023 predictions come true, please do not call or email me. With that, here are my 2023 predictions.

• Gov. Chris Sununu has been increasing his national profile. For a growing number of Republicans he could look like the future of a party without former president Donald Trump. So what’s next in the national exposure tour? The Masked Singer. Yes, the guv sings the 1980s hit “Welcome to the Jungle.” You know you love it, Xer.

• Republican candidate for New Hampshire’s First Congressional District Karoline Leavitt decides politics just isn’t for her after losing to Democrat and incumbent Chris Pappas this past fall. So what’s next for one of the youngest candidates to run this past cycle? Poker, of course! Karoline signs up for the World Poker Tournament and does surprisingly well. So well that she’s invited to create her own reality TV show with the tagline “A better hand doesn’t always mean you win.”

• The Rochester February revote for Ward 3 that ended in a tie in November ends in a tie again; the legislature votes to seat both candidates on a rotating basis, so each gets 26 weeks a year and shares the $50-a-year salary.

• For a reason no one is able to explain, America’s Stonehenge in Salem starts to attract both domestic and wild cats from all over the region. So many cats come that town officials start calling it cat caves.

• House Majority Leader Jason Osborne opens a new business in downtown Manchester right across from City Hall called Orborne’s Free Hats. It’s a haberdashery specializing in brimmed hats.

• Shockingly, the Democratic National Committee, headed by South Carolina native and President Joe Biden supporter Jamie Harrison, strips New Hampshire of its first-in-the-nation primary in favor of South Carolina. Oh, wait, already that happened. Just to recap: Joe Biden won South Carolina and saved his presidential bid and lost New Hampshire in, like, fifth place. What did you think was going to happen, New Hampshire?

• Former WMUR sportscaster Charlie Sherman returns to public life in the Granite State by opening the nation’s largest sock store in Nashua, called Tubes for Everyone. Welcome back, Charlie! I’ll be by to get some socks.

• Tired of Maine attracting more visitors, New Hampshire’s tourism department announces a new advertising campaign for the state with the tagline, “Come for the cheap booze and smokes, stay for the ocean, lakes, mountains and sports betting.” Hey, whatever it takes.

As more than one observer has noted, most Americans behave with respect to political campaigns and elections as they do toward sports teams and competitions. They have their favorites and then generally sit back and watch. True, some go out and stump for their candidate (or put out lawn signs), but generally most of us just follow the contest by way of cable news or local TV channels. And what those bring us these days, especially in the closing hours before Election Day, is a constant stream of strident messaging that caricatures opposing candidates as irresponsible, incompetent, or perhaps even dangerous. What is especially common is the format of these ads, whether on TV or in other forms of the media. They typically feature an especially unfavorable black and white photo of the opponent, probably snapped at an off moment along the campaign trail, while the favored candidate, featured smiling and in a color-rich setting, is portrayed as trustworthy, honest and friendly.

By extension — and probably without our adverting to the fact — this caricaturing of political candidates can easily lead us to include in our opinion those who support candidates we oppose. In short — and how many times have we all heard this? — they simply become “those people.” It’s a short step, for example, from portraying a candidate who favors a woman’s right to free choice to viewing that candidate’s supporters as “baby killers.” The political ads are replete with such exaggerations; indeed, that is what gives them the desired impact.

In his book Faces of the Enemy: Reflection of the Hostile Imagination, the philosopher and social observer Sam Keen documents the many ways, over time, we tend to conceptualize those who are our opponents as less than ourselves. In the extreme cases of warfare, the dehumanized enemy is portrayed as just that, less than human, and therefore easier to destroy.

But even in the political sphere such characterization can lead to condescension, disregard or even disdain. The higher the moral stakes, the greater the danger of regarding “the others” as unworthy or dangerous. The polarization in our society today, with its attendant imaging, makes the point.

Can we, will we break through this barrier of prejudice and start to engage in civil conversation with those who hold views opposite to ours? We cannot change everything, but we can start by reaching out and seeking not to convince others but to understand how they take the positions they do. The danger of not trying is to further harden difference, and that makes working toward a common good impossible.

by Jeff Rapsis

In London, visitors to St. Paul’s Cathedral who approach the tomb of architect Sir Christopher Wren are greeted with this inscription: “If you seek his monument, look around you.”

The same may be said about Raymond Wieczorek, longtime Manchester politician and businessman, who passed away recently at age 93.

Yes, look around you. Wieczorek, often called “the Wiz,” played a key role in developing much of what we point to today with pride about modern-day Manchester.

Examples abound. The SNHU Arena, which opened in 2001 and prompted a rebirth of the city’s downtown. The “new” terminal at Manchester-Boston Regional Airport, christened in 1994 and now a regional economic engine. Zoning changes that led to a vibrant millyard business district.

During his time as mayor of Manchester from 1990 to 2000, Wieczorek’s vision and support made all these things happen.

I remember Ray being most proud, I think, of City Hall Plaza, the downtown office tower across from City Hall that was completed in 1992. At 245 feet, it remains the tallest building in northern New England.

Ray enjoyed following the construction, which he could see happening every day he came to work. To him, it was a tangible sign of good times to come for the city he called home.

All of this is more remarkable when you consider that the early years of Wieczorek’s time as mayor were among the darkest ever to hit the Queen City.

In the late ‘80s, New Hampshire suffered through a prolonged real estate mortgage crisis. One day in October 1991, the FDIC took over eight Granite State banks — five of them headquartered in downtown Manchester.

As a reporter for the Union Leader, I was downtown that day. The sight of the feds arriving, briefcases in hand, had many people convinced that a new Great Depression was underway.

Not Ray. He followed his instincts, honed by decades in the insurance business. He took a conservative business approach to guiding the city through the crisis, both in government and in the community.

The approach worked, although he had to make some hard choices. Members of the school custodian’s union never forgave him for replacing them with a private cleaning service.

But most importantly, the Wiz recognized the value of investing for the future. That’s what made such a difference in the long term.

So if you seek his monument, look around. Or better yet, take a drive on “Raymond Wieczorek Drive,” which connects the F.E. Everett Turnpike to the airport and the development around it.

Like most Americans, I am ready to move beyond the 2022 midterm elections. Votes are still being counted, with the Democrats projected to have a slim majority in the Senate and Republicans projected to have a slim majority in the House. The forecasted red wave failed to materialize.

While I am ready to move on, I am intrigued by what happened across America on Nov. 8. Being a very moderate Republican (some would call me a RINO), I have struggled with the direction of the party. The extremism on both the left and right have prevented meaningful progress on major issues facing our country.

After poring through post-election news, I found something that resonated with me. Tim Alberta of The Atlanticsuggests that Trumpism is toxic to the middle of the electorate, and yes, I agree with that. Here’s an interesting quote from Alberta: “In each of the three states that saw major Democratic victories — Michigan, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin — 25 to 30 percent of voters said they had cast their vote in opposition to Trump.” This sentiment carried out across the country. In state after state, and county after county, voters rejected Trump-endorsed candidates.

We also learned that the quality of the candidate mattered. The party can’t put up candidates simply because Trump endorsed them. The voters expect some level of experience and a vision for the future of our country and for problem-solving the many issues we face. This drove so much of the split-ticket voting across the nation. We saw that right here in New Hampshire. Gov. Sununu, a moderate Republican, sailed to victory, a result of his leadership over his past three terms and ability to connect with the voters. Other key races in New Hampshire were won by the Democratic incumbents.

At the end of the day, New Hampshire is a purple state, and voters are not so aligned with one party versus another, but rather with the specific candidates who understand the issues facing our state. As I am known to say about many issues, in terms of voting, New Hampshire tends to get it right. Is it possible the rest of the country is following suit?

We were thrilled to learn last year that our daughter and her family living in Florida were relocating to New Hampshire. Our grandson would be nearby, and his parents too. Plans were made, houses were sold and bought, and the relocation process began. Imagine everyone’s shock when it was quickly discovered that there was no daycare available for our grandson in New Hampshire. No center within a reasonable geographical distance had availability, and in fact most had lengthy waitlists. The pause button was hit, and a Plan B evolved.

A recent article in NH Business Review, “In search of childcare solutions,” addresses the child care shortage. The article notes, “The reasons behind the waitlists are part of a vicious cycle. Workers are leaving childcare centers due to low pay. In turn, the centers are not able to take in as many children, because they lack staff and can’t meet the required teacher-child ratios. In an attempt to solve this, childcare centers raise their rates, so they can pay workers a higher wage and retain them. However, this results in some families having trouble affording childcare.” Lather, rinse, repeat.

In 2014, as part of my Leadership NH program, Steven Rowe, who at the time was President of Endowment for Health, gave a compelling presentation. He noted that the developing brain is like a sponge, and by age 3, 80 percent of the neural construction is complete. What happens in those first three years is critical in terms of early childhood development. He noted that investments in early childhood development yield, by far, the greatest returns. Yet as a society we invest the least at the time of greatest impact. NH Business Review confirms this in its recent article. It notes according to nhchilddata.org, the average annual pay of the state’s child care workers is $24,490 compared to the average annual income in New Hampshire of $59,270 (not even half).

This year the New Hampshire Department of Health and Human Services created the Child Care Strengthening Plan, funded through American Rescue Plan funds (see dhhs.nh.gov). Its goals include building a better child care system, helping more families afford quality child care over the next three years, and ensuring equal access to child care programs, services and activities. It’s a start in addressing a glaring problem for New Hampshire families. In addition to delivering on the details of this plan, we should also be planning for what’s beyond it. As we prepare to vote in November, this is a great topic to discuss with the candidates when they ask for your vote.

Over lunch a few years ago, a friend asked me a simple, but very direct question: “Steve: when you think of the Holocaust, what image comes to mind?” It caught me off guard as we had been talking about politics prior to the upcoming election. I paused, thought for a moment — my mind flashing through a series of recalled images — and replied: “The picture of an emancipated Elie Wiesel, in a prison suit, standing in a bunk room with similarly starved inmates. The other is the open pits with thousands of bones uncovered in the course of liberating the Nazi concentration camps.”

“Yes,” he said, but a fuller picture — an important additional facet — is an image of the German neighbors who peered from behind their lace curtains, watching, as the Gestapo dragged away their Jewish neighbors. Their silence, their inaction, to what was being done, while understandable given their concern for their own safety, over time, had allowed a totalitarian regime to take such measures without opposition.

That lunch conversation and its insights have stayed with me, deeply impressing on my conscience.

This month marks the appearance of Ken Burns’ new documentary, The Holocaust. While some of Ken’s films give us reason to celebrate the beauty, places and people of our country, this has a very different intention and impact. It is a historical documentary but also a cautionary tale.

A cautionary tale sets out a story, the roots of an event, the impact of an event, and the lessons to be drawn from it. It invites — nay, challenges us — to look around at our present situation and ask, “Could that happen here?” His film does and the answer is “yes.” But with a qualifier: “It is happening now.”

Institutions and movements have arisen since the Holocaust to amplify and instruct regarding the horrors and the lessons of that tragic time, but despite those, bigotry, racism, intolerance, extreme nationalism and supremacy have mushroomed in countries around the world. “Ethnic cleansing” — the term itself proclaiming that only one “pure race” can/should inhabit a country, has set tribalism against multiculturalism. “Difference” has become the criterion of choice, its impact felt in the political ads that blanket our state now in the days leading up to the midterm elections and likely to follow into the voting booths as well.

But we are a country of indigenous people and immigrants. Of the latter, no matter how long we have lived here, we came from someplace else, and we have made our way and enriched this country, this noble experiment in multicultural democracy. To honor our forebears and their epic journey — regardless of race, religion or culture — we must not wait till we can look out our windows to see what is happening. The time to resist is now. Otherwise, the option is complicity. And by now we should know where that can lead.

The first time I worked on redoing the Minimum Standards for Public School Approval was 1992. I was a brand new member of the State Board of Education, which was embroiled in a huge controversy (Concord Monitor’s sixth biggest story of the year) over its seemingly heavy-handed approach to revising the document that governs how New Hampshire runs K-12 education. It was trial by fire as my first assignment involved 300 angry education supporters in Exeter. The next week it was 600 in Salem. So I asked for authorization from then state board chair Judith Thayer to conduct a meeting aimed at bringing the constituents together to review their concerns. We met for a half day at the Legislative Office Building and came up with solutions that seemed to satisfy the parties. They passed unanimously. Overall, It was a great lesson for me. I learned how not to approach changing the minimum standards. Inclusiveness and transparency is the lesson!

The second time I took on this task was in 2003 when the new governor, Craig Benson, asked me to chair the State Board and charged me with redesigning public education, a charge most would have run screaming away from. But it was exactly the charge that I wanted.

Both Benson and I were not good students. I’ve often said “school taught me that I wasn’t very bright and life taught me that school was wrong.” We wanted a system that would work for every student! What the State Board came up with is called competency-based learning. We were the first in the nation to put it into our regulations and started a national movement.

But don’t take it that success was easy, because it was not. Change scares lots of folks. Especially when it involves kids. That state board set out to create what former Executive Director of the New Hampshire School Boards Association Ted Comstock (RIP) said was “the most inclusive process in state history.” Sounds like we succeeded.

We’re about to do it again. The nonprofit that I lead, the National Center for Competency-Based Learning, has been tasked by the New Hampshire Department of Education to update the minimum standards. We have an All-Star Team of New Hampshire public school professionals who’ve worked tirelessly to put together a draft to begin this important discussion. So, let’s bring the conversation all over the state to get input from educators, parents, kids and the entire New Hampshire community. I can’t wait!

Fred Bramante is a past chairman and member of the New Hampshire State Board of Education. He speaks and consults on education redesign to regional, state and national organizations.

I had breakfast this morning with a fascinating person. She is an architectural historian who has studied Notre Dame cathedral in Paris for many years and is now one of the experts regularly consulted as the 800-year-old building is being restored after the devastating fire of April 2019. For many years earlier, she studied the gradual process by which the cathedral had been built, noting that, over the course of 100 years, its walls had been constructed in stages as the mortar of each course of stone had to dry fully — a process that could take years — before the next layer could be added. In the end, thanks to the patience and skill of the builders, one of the most loved and iconic structures was completed. But it was a very slow process.

As my friend described that process, a comparison was forming in my mind. Our country, too, is a construction in progress, I thought. Yes, the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution are the “foundation” of the U.S. — we regularly refer to “the founding fathers” — but the rest of the work of realizing the vision of our forebears has been entrusted to subsequent generations. As American historians have shown us, this has been a trial-and-error process. We make laws to clarify or safeguard something only to see how it works out and perhaps repeal or modify it later. It’s a slow process. Just as for Notre Dame, each layer is added slowly, waiting and monitoring and then working on the next layer. My friend described the cathedral as a “building in dialogue with itself,” and perhaps that’s true for us as a country as well.

Today, especially in these times of polarization, many of us are impatient with the give and take of the democratic process, and instead would wish to “build it all” simply, with a change of presidential administration or a shift in Congress from one political majority to another. Our fast-paced world, instantaneous global communication, 24/7 news and compulsive social media all make difficult the more fundamental task of thoughtful conversations with our fellow citizens. It takes patience and courage to talk about such critical issues as immigration, abortion, voting rights or gun control in a way that respects difference of opinion while having that conversation based on a shared commitment to our country. Like Notre Dame, this is a slow process.

The elections this fall offer each of us, individual builders in the construction of this country, the challenge of being informed, of listening to one another, not just those in our echo chamber, and registering and voting intelligently. We may not see the completion of the perfect edifice, but we shall have done our part.

At a family picnic this summer we gobbled salads, pulled pork and pies. Lounging in the shade of a giant maple, we admired my cousin’s picture-book perennial garden and a flock of orioles flitting above. Later we cooled off in the swirling water of the Connecticut River. All the while, we swapped family news and stories, only once drifting over the line into politics. An idyllic afternoon.

Imagine my surprise when our host emailed me how disappointed she was in her teenage grandchildren. They were perfectly capable of conversation, she said, and hadn’t even tried. At one point, inexplicably, they had all marched out of the house, stood in a row holding pieces of bread, and intoned, “We found the toast.” (More on that later.) She had a mind to speak to them.

My advice: go easy. Their willingness to even show up at a family reunion testifies to the tug of kinship in a disconcerting world. While Boomers can draw on the confidence instilled in us when things seemedto be headed generally in the right direction, younger people have had vastly different inputs. Millennials grew up in the shadow of 9/11, war and recession; Gen Z in the slow burn of climate change and Covid-19. For better and worse, they are all digital natives. The pandemic has exacerbated normal anxiety and distress, and provoked serious mental health challenges.

All of these factors impact social behavior. The rules and skills used to interact in society are not inborn. They have to be identified, modeled, practiced. Expectations vary, but at the core are respect and empathy. Saying please and thank you are basic. Being able to engage in conversation in a way that shows attention to the other person and awareness of interesting events is more advanced.

Long before the pandemic, civility itself had been eroding. In 2010 Jim Leach, then chairman of the National Endowment for the Humanities, visited New Hampshire on a 50-state “Civility Tour.” Leach sought to raise awareness about the danger of inappropriate public discourse and behavior. “Little is more important for the world’s leading democracy in this change-intensive century than establishing an ethos of thoughtfulness and decency of expression. … If we don’t try to understand and respect others, how can we expect them to respect us, our values and our way of life?” he asked.

About that toast: It turns out the teenagers were reaching out. One of this summer’s trends on TikTok is “#RaiseAToast.” Inspired by a scene from The Little Rascals in which Alfalfa toasts his would-be sweetheart, it focuses on celebrating the people and things you love the most.

We grown-ups were the ones who missed the social cue.