I'm not the brightest penny in the jar...I'm not terribly highbrow...and there's no capital "j" when I call myself a journalist.

So many questions about the Petit murders and so few answers.

Just in case you missed it elsewhere...this is the statement released this afternoon by the Petit family.
Remarkable people.
More later...GB

*********

We are a family of faith. No one ever wants their faith tested, particularly by events such as these. When there is no ability to control your life events and you are required to deal with such great tragedy and loss, however, your faith is all the more necessary.

Although we will no longer have Jennifer, Hayley and Michaela physically present with us, and we do now and we will continue to experience an extraordinary sense of loss because of that, we firmly believe that their spirits and all of the goodness that defined their characters and beautiful personas will remain with us forever. We are committed to preserving those spirits and fulfilling their lives of promise, so tragically cut short.

Many ask what they can do.

Care about others as a regular part of your lives, not just at times of tragedy. The feelings of connectedness and the outpouring of affection for us and our family members represent the best of human emotions, for which we are extremely grateful.

Actively support causes that exist solely for the improvement of people's lives in need.

Doing these things will be your way of saying that these senseless acts of violence did not stop the wonderful, giving spirits of our beloved family members.

For those who would like to do more, we are establishing three memorial funds:

The Jennifer Hawke-Petit scholarship at Cheshire Academy.

The Hayley Elizabeth Petit scholarship at Miss Porter's School.

The Michaela Rose Petit scholarship at Chase Collegiate School.

These memorial funds will be used to fund scholarships to be established by each of these institutions in consultation and cooperation with our families. It is our sincere hope that these funds will provide other talented, socially conscious young women with the opportunity to lead lives of similar promise and to make their own great contributions to the betterment of our society.
We thank you for your prayers, expressions of sympathy and interest in doing something positive in response to this awful tragedy.

Now I know why a good friend of mine never sends me e-mails.
He can't.
He's a good state employee who follows the rules, and one of the rules is that e-mails and the internet are for work-related business only.
It must be like standing in front of the ocean on a hot day and being told you can only stick your big toe in.

The audit that reveals some state workers used their computers for personal e-mails or web surfing has received a lot of play in the Courant, which strikes me as a waste of trees and ink.

Really, is anyone surprised?

I'd like to think that state employees, as responsible adults, will do the jobs the taxpayers pay them to do, and once their work is done, or on their breaks, they can do whatever they want on the web (within the bounds of propriety, of course.)

Since we pay their salaries, maybe we can each adopt one and give him or her permission to use the internet when their work is done.
I won't name my friend or even use his initials for fear he'd be hunted down like a rabid dog. But he knows who he is, so consider him my state adoptee.
Go ahead, buddy. You have my permission to e-mail me.
I won't hold my breath waiting.

I work for NBC 30, which is owned by NBC, which is owned by General Electric.
As I write this on the company computer, I assume that anything I write, and any web site I visit can be checked by...by...ummm...someone.
Actually, I don't know who. And I don't know whether or not they do.

But it's their computer, which gives them the right to see how it's being used.
I do use it for some personal e-mail, and I do have a selection of web sites I peruse once my writing for the newscasts is done. None would be embarrassing should that "someone" check.
Most importantly, it never interferes with the task at hand.

And finally, there's the case of 16-year-old Avery Doninger.
She's the student at Lewis Mills High in Burlington who was removed as class secretary last May because she used a bad word on a blog to describe school administrators.
She did it on her own computer, and it wasn't a school blog. And she has since apologized for using the word.
Now, Avery is suing to be reinstated as class secretary and for the right to run for re-election.

Obviously, I'm a big freedom of speech guy. But I'm a big believer in discipline, too. (My father might have let my principal break my fingers on a keyboard. Especially because he was the principal's plumber.)

So whatever the court decides, it decides.

But Avery, let me give you one little piece of advice.
It's never a good idea to publicly call a superior (be it a principal, superintendent, or boss) a douche bag.
Really.
Besides, that expression is sooooo 7th grade.

An email from a viewer. Or perhaps, a former viewer. It was addressed to the station, not to me.

Once again your news writers blew it!!! The fire in North Haven along RT-91 was at a SCRAP YARD not a junk yard!!! Junk Yards have just cars in them!!!!! SCRAP YARDS recycle all different kinds of metals!!! Channel 8 got it right, time you people got some writers that know what the hell is going on. Don't you think?????

To his credit, he signed the email, and included his phone number.
I won't reveal his name and number because I don't want to.

I wanted to call him. Desperately. But I didn't trust myself.

Why? Because I AM one of the news writers, and I take FULL responsibility for every word that comes out of my mouth.
And I KNOW what the hell is going on.
AND I DIDN'T LIKE HIS ATTITUDE!
That was Friday, now it's Tuesday, and I STILL DON'T LIKE HIS ATTITUDE!

Over the years, I have learned quite a lot from our viewers. Some offer lessons of great significance. Others offer factoids or tasty news nuggets.
I detest making mistakes, but I do like it very much when viewers point them out and I learn something. In a nice, civil manner.

BUT HEY!!! MR. SCRAP YARD!!! LISTEN UP!!!
I have a big fat dictionary on my desk willed to me by a world class speller and grammarian, and I use it every day. And here's the definition of junkyard, which is, by the way, ONE WORD.

"A yard or lot that is used to store junk, such as scrap metal or resalable car parts."

Scrap yard??? Not in the dictionary. And one more thing: it should be "writers WHO know," not "writers THAT know."
GOT IT??????????????

I'm done now. Thanks. I needed that.

"I was listening to this show on...what was it...ummmm...I think 1080 on the AM...."

My skin crawled when one of our younger staff members didn't know he was listening to WTIC, the mother of all radio stations in Connecticut.

WTIC is still a dominant station, but it seems like yesterday there was WTIC...and there was everyone else.
I know. In the mid-to-late '70s I worked the morning shift for WPOP when it was all-news, and the competition was WTIC. Even worse, it was BOB STEELE on WTIC. It was where I first learned how good it hurt to bang your head against the wall.

But I digress.

My, how times have changed. He didn't know 'TIC's call letters?
How many people remember ours since we branded the station as NBC 30? (It's WVIT, by the way.) And for that matter, I'm still a bit surprised when people say, "Hey, you work for Channel 4." (Our location on most cable systems.)

The competition for your information and entertainment attention has exploded in the past 30 years. And nothing is pushing us harder than the internet. "New Media."
It's as immediate as TV, and much more portable, unless you carry a TV set around in your back pocket.

That's why you hear us say so often, "For more information, go to NBC30.com."
All of the old media have adapted to the times, and have embraced the new media to grow viewership, readership, and yes, business.
(NBC30.com is my home page at home in case the boss ever visits.)
But whenever I say that phrase, ("go to...") I am sensitive to the viewers who may not have computers, so I try to make sure all the vital information gets in the television story.

It's also one reason I've been blogging for 3 months now. To reach a younger crowd that is so plugged in, their computer is their main source of information.

Part of that crowd is my niece, The Fabulous Rachel.
I don't recall her ever asking about the content of any news broadcast I've done (though my memory isn't what it used to be), but when I started blogging...WOW...The Fabulous Rachel and I had some conversations that were, well, fabulous.

I'll bet she doesn't know the call letters of most TV and radio stations either. And I'll bet she doesn't care.
That's the way the business is going, and it's not for Uncle Gerry to lament...it's a reminder to Uncle Gerry to continue to adapt and evolve. (Though sometimes it's like dragging a mule.)

We lost two people of note this week, but you'd probably only recognize one of their names.

Lady Bird Johnson was 94; Charles Lane was 102.

"What kind of a name is Lady Bird?"
"I don't know, must be a Southern thing."

That was the conversation I remember having with my parents when Lady Bird Johnson suddenly became First Lady that awful day in November, 1963.
Of course, we learned her name was actually Claudia, that Lady Bird was a nickname given by her nanny when she was a child.

And what a tough act she had to follow in Jackie Kennedy.
But while Mrs. Kennedy gained notice for beautifying the White House, Mrs. Johnson had a grander vision. She wanted to beautify all of America.
She was a determined environmentalist who wanted roadside billboards and junkyards replaced with trees and wildflowers. She raised hundreds of thousands of dollars to beautify Washington. The $320 million Highway Beautification Bill, passed in 1965, was known as "The Lady Bird Bill," and she made speeches and lobbied Congress to win its passage.

Lady Bird Johnson was a woman ahead of her time. We should be grateful for her efforts.

And while you probably don't recognize Charles Lane's name, you'd recognize his face.

After all, he has 338 acting credits on IMDb.com, (http://imdb.com) stretching from 1931 until 2006.
In most of them, he played a crotchety skinflint.

He appeared in ten Frank Capra films, including "It's a Wonderful Life." And he was a television staple, appearing on sitcoms ranging from "I Love Lucy" to "Mork and Mindy"...and dramas from "Surfside 6" to "St. Elsewhere."

Charles Lane never got star billing, but he complemented the stars with whom he worked.
He always worked, and even pointed out that he was "available" when he turned 100.

Charles Lane was a man of his time. We should be grateful for his efforts too.

(Material from Associated Press reports was included in this post.)

I've lived and worked in Connecticut for 33 years now.

Growing up, I was a twice-a-year visitor, when Mom and Dad packed the 3 Brooks boys into the Chevy Bel Air wagon for a trip to my aunt's house in Newington.
We always left our magnificent tract-housing ranch in beautiful Framingham, Massachusetts early for two reasons.
I can still hear my father say, "Connecticut State Police will stop you for going two-miles-an-hour over the speed limit. And there's ALWAYS road construction."

Well, Dad, wherever you are, they're still working on the roads. ALWAYS. Daytime, at night. 84, 91. Wherever, whenever.

But now, they can't even get it right. Boston has its Big Dig. We have our Big Pig.

The now 5-year-old I-84 project between Cheshire and Waterbury.
A 3.5 mile, 71-million dollar embarrassment.
Hundreds of bad storm drains...bad brackets for the light poles...a poorly-built bridge deck. What a mess.

The State and Feds are conducting investigations.

There are lawsuits (of course) against the contractor, L.G. DeFelice of New Haven, and the company hired to inspect DeFelice's work, the Maguire Group of New Britain. (Maybe they should have hired the McGuire sisters, or Mark McGwire, who's a free agent these days.)

The governor shuffled the deck at the DOT, and created a task force to come up with ideas to reorganize the agency.

And the legislature's on the case, trying to get to figure out what went wrong.
Wednesday's hearing produced the requisite quotes of concern.

"It seems to me that someone was asleep at the switch." -- Rep. Christopher Caruso, (D-Bridgeport)
"There is plenty of blame to go around here." -- Robert Genuario, Secretary, Office of Policy and Management
This very well could be the tip of the iceberg." -- Rep. Tom Reynolds, (D-Gales Ferry)
"Something obviously happened." -- Rep. Antonio Guerrera, (D-Rocky Hill)

Well, something obviously didn't happen. Proper construction and proper oversight.

Millions down those storm drains that can't even flush the cash away properly.

So we'll pay...the commuters who use that stretch of highway will really pay...the lawyers will be paid...the task force will do whatever task forces do...and the pols will feed us our sound bites.

And as ALWAYS, Father Knew Best.

Or maybe I should say "Only God knows." But God isn't telling me.

I know I said I would try and avoid writing about politics and religion, but...

Another politico has been caught in what he calls "a very serious sin in my past for which I am, of course, completely responsible."

Sen. David Vitter's (R-LA) telephone number turned up in the files of the so-called D.C. Madam, Deborah Jean Palfrey.
Vitter issued a statement Monday that said: "Several years ago, I asked for and received forgiveness from God and my wife in confession and marriage counseling."

That's nice, but in 2000, Wendy Vitter told Newhouse News Service she could not be as forgiving as, say, Hillary Clinton.
"I'm a lot more like Lorena Bobbitt than Hillary," she said. "If he does something like that, I'm walking away with one thing, and it's not alimony, trust me."

Hey Wendy, if you're gonna talk the talk...
But apparently the counseling worked.

Need a major dose of irony? In the House, Vitter succeeded GOP Rep. Robert Livingston, who was in line to replace Newt Gingrich as speaker until Livingston admitted to extramarital affairs and quit Congress. Livingston had been a critic of President Clinton, calling on him to resign over his affair with Monica Lewinsky.

Wow. Vitter...Livingston...Gingrich...Clinton. A political all-star team of babe hounds. Bipartisan, too.

I don't care what they do in their bedrooms. Or hotel rooms. Or offices. Or for all I know, their cars. I just don't. As long as they do their jobs well, that's their business, not mine.

But I don't want them...I don't want ANYBODY...preaching to me about family values, about morals. I'm a big boy, I have my own. They're nobody's business but mine, and they've evolved over the years as I get older and (ever so slowly) more mature.

So let me leave you with the BIG QUESTION. And it is a question, because I don't know.

Vitter says he received forgiveness from God.
Really? Did they chat?
Did God say, "Tsk, tsk Dave. Here comes Wendy with sharp scissors, but I'll be your wingman."?
Doesn't God have better things to do?

Oh I do hope so.

(Material from an Associated Press report was included in this post.)

Baseball's All-Star game ended just a few minutes ago...12:02 according to the clock in my car.

Did your kid enjoy the game? Did he or she get to see the nail-biting National League rally in the bottom of the 9th? Did they get to see their heroes play?

How could they? It ended after midnight!

Once again, baseball cut off its nose to spite its face, sacrificing the young fans for the prime time TV buck. (No, not Joe.)

It's the only professional all-star game worth a damn. Why not grow the game by letting your little leaguers see it?

Because baseball's concerned with $$$$$$ while the young fans get their ZZZZZZ's.

Shame.

SHILL ALERT!
I'm not kissing butt here, honest, I really mean it.

Brad Drazen has been named morning co-anchor, and NBC 30 management couldn't have made a better choice.
Head honcho David Doebler and VP News Mike St. Peter looked high and low (That doesn't make sense. Why would they look low?) for the best replacement for Brian Shactman, and found him already occupying the seat next to Keisha Grant.

For those who don't know, (and judging by many emails to the station, many don't) Brian moved on to CNBC as a business correspondent. That's one of the good things about being owned by NBC Universal. They knew of Brian, saw his potential, valued him, and kept him in the Peacock family.

Brad is as good a guy as you'd want to know. Family man, great reporter, perfectionist. He's also his own biggest critic. (You only have to play golf once with him to learn that. My favorite Brad story: He nearly dropped a 40-foot putt. I say, "great putt." He looks at me and asks, "Did it go in?" End of conversation.)

Sometimes you don't recognize what you have. Congrats to our managers for recognizing what they have in Brad, and congrats to Brad on getting a job well deserved.

I will not be with you Monday.
I'll be playing in the Bo Kolinsky Scholarship Golf Tournament at Lake of Isles.

Bo died in December, 2003. He was just 49.

Bo was a longtime writer and editor for the Hartford Courant sports department, and one of the nicest guys I ever knew.
When he asked how you were...when he complimented your work...he looked you right in the eye and meant it.
Almost every time we talked, I remember thinking to myself, "I wish I were that nice." (I try, but I just don't pin the "nice" meter.)

And in a time when many sportswriters go on television and yell at each other because they think it's entertaining (hello, ESPN screamers), Bo was a gentleman who tended to what he loved, his newspaper. He never sought to elevate himself above an event, never tried to shove his opinion down your throat.

Proceeds from this tournament go to the Bo Kolinsky Scholarship, given to a high school senior planning a career in Bo's beloved field. Bo dedicated much of his time to making sure young athletes were properly covered (he was the Courant's high school sports editor), and he would be most pleased.

Of course, all of us who knew Bo would be most pleased if he were still with us.

I last saw him shortly before his death, when I emceed the Connecticut Section PGA's annual awards dinner.
We had our usual cordial chat, and I'm sure it ended with "See ya."

I wish.

I "see" Bo every now and then, because I don't live far from where he's buried. From time to time, I pull into the cemetery and visit.
Honestly, I really don't know why.

Maybe it's because sometimes you don't get the chance to say a proper "goodbye."

Maybe that should be the new name for "Red Sox Nation." Because some Sox fans really need to level out.

I just got home from work, and as I usually do, listened to the Red Sox wrap-up show on Boston's sportstalk station, WEEI.

The Sox had just squeaked by Tampa Bay, 15-4. They only managed to eke out 21 hits. Just awful.
And you'd think it really was awful if you listened to the callers.

In the 25 minutes it takes from door-to-door, I heard them call in from Connecticut and the Cape, from New Hampshire and Boston.
And they are worried.

Manny and Papi aren't hitting for power.
Lugo can't hit at all.
Pedroia's slower than molasses.
Can we get rid of Crisp to make way for Ellsbury?
We need help in the bullpen.

PEOPLE! LISTEN UP!! GET HELP!!!

The Red Sox have the best record in baseball. What's it going to take to get you to enjoy it?

They have a double-digit lead over the Yankees. (Which, honestly, has me a bit bored. There's no "edge.")

They're sending six players to the All Star game, tops in the majors. (It's been a long time since I've seen something as honest and sweet as Hideki Okajima bowing to the Fenway Faithful when it was announced he made the All Star team. And to think most of us thought Theo signed him to carry Daisuke Matsuzaka's bags on the road.)

So take a deep breath...back away from the phone ("Hi Mikey, first time, long time...")...and as the late great comedian Bill Hicks used to tell the occasional dim bulb in his audiences, "relax and enjoy your hair."
Everything is just fine.

I come from 3 generations of plumbers. My great-grandfather, grandfather and father were all plumbers. If I had half a brain, I would have been one too, and probably be comfortably retired by now. But I don't, so I anchor the news on television.

I have no tool I.Q. Zero. Tools and I rarely get along. And I get absolutely no respect when I threaten to pick up a tool. My family openly mocks me.

When I say I'm going to fix something around the house, the Dearly Beloved first asks whether that's a wise idea, then makes sure she's nowhere to be seen after I say, "Why yes, dear, it is."

This week, I decided to replace the ignition fixture in our outdoor gas grill.
She left. Got in her car and drove away.

The guy at the hardware store had told me, "Gerry, even you can do this." (He knows me and my limitations.)
And he was right. I only had to call him once during the "operation."

So I called the Dearly Beloved.

"I just want you to know I fixed the grill."
"You did?"
"Yes I did."
"And it works???????" (That was very hurtful.)
"Yes it does."

Satisfaction? You bet. The pride of a true craftsman.

Relief? OH GOD, YES!!!!! I've been deflecting her bid for a new grill for months now, and if I screwed this up...well...

It's not a compliment to refer to someone as a "tool." But when it comes to tools, I am one.

And after this triumph? Hey, there's this sweet dual bevel miter saw with laser tracking I've had my eye on.

Keep an ambulance on standby.

Marie Antoinette may or may not have said, "Let them eat cake."
Apparently, there's some dispute over whether she did or did not, and either way, I really don't care what she had to say.

But if Louis XVI's haughty and ill-fated significant other lived in Fairfield right now, she might say "Let them eat pie." And I would wholeheartedly agree.

The traditional pie-eating contest for kids has been eliminated from today's "Independence Day Bike Parade" in the Southport section of town.
The parade is sponsored by the Pequot Library, and while I would stand and applaud any child who walks into a library and checks out a book these days, I think the new line of thinking is a bit off the Dewey Decimal System.

There's a lot of concern (justifiably) about childhood obesity. So, no more pie-eating contest.

BUT COME ON! IT'S A FOURTH OF JULY CELEBRATION. IT'S NOT JUST A SLICE OF AMERICANA...IT'S THE WHOLE DAMN PIE!!! (YES, I'M SCREAMING!)

Today, each kid will get a piece of pie...but only after burning a few calories in a sack race or hula hoop contest. Hope there are no life-threatening trans-fats in those slices of pies. Hope they're gonna wash them down with a glass of 1% milk or a caffeine-free, sugar-free soda.

Look, I'm sure the library people mean well, and believe they're doing the right thing.
I'm all for good health (I've had a good time abusing mine), and I'm all for fit kids (I was one in, oh, the first or second grade.)

But healthy habits should begin at home, not in a holiday parade.
We didn't have computers or video games to plunk our butts in front of for hours on end when I was a kid, we had a black-and-white Zenith. (That was a brand of TV when they were made in America.)

But we did have strong incentive to get outside and play. It was called a "parent." This "parent" person would just say the magic words that left no room whatsoever for debate.

"GET OUT OF THE HOUSE. NOW!!!"

It was very effective.

By the way, Happy Fourth.

It's the Third of July, but I'm curious about the Fourth.

Has the holiday weekend already come and gone...or is it next weekend?
Is it a holiday "week"...or are we actually celebrating a good old-fashioned stand-alone holiday?

Once upon a time, Abraham Lincoln's birthday was February 12th, and George Washington's birthday was February 22nd. Now, we celebrate them (and other holidays) when it's convenient to have a 3-day weekend. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
With our work schedules, my wife and I time-shift everything (birthdays, anniversaries) to suit ourselves.
But trying to decide whether I should put in for the day off, we couldn't figure out which weekend everyone would be celebrating. So we just decided the heck with it, we'll work.

And while I'm at it, how come we call it The Fourth of July? I mean, it IS the Fourth of July, but the holiday is Independence Day.
Why don't we call Memorial Day "The 31st of May"...or Abe's birthday "The 12th of February?"

Why do I sound like a cheap Seinfeld imitator?

I'll stop now. If you're off, have a hot dog for me. Grilled...bun lightly toasted...mustard, relish and onion, if you don't mind. Thanks.

By now, I've figured out which friends and family members read this thing, and among them are several people I play golf with.

This past weekend, I played with 2 different groups, both near and dear, but every time something funny or unusual happened, I heard, "Put that in your blog."

Well, OK.

Saturday was the usual bunch at Tallwood CC in Hebron. There's something comforting about playing in the same foursome every weekend. But this year, we're a threesome. Our "A" player is Paul, who just retired from The Hartford. I mean JUST retired. Bought himself a convertible, and is having far too good a time for himself.
Our "B" player was Don, who retired from The Hartford late last summer, and up and moved to California. We miss Don, who is having far too good a time for himself. Jim and I bring up the rear.
Jim has been retired from...you guessed it...The Hartford, for a few years, and we believe he's having a good time for himself. But since he hasn't logged on to a computer for some time, and doesn't read this thing, I can say whatever I want about him.
Anyway, the big laughs came at Jim's expense this weekend, because he's got rabbit ears. Hears a pin drop 2 fairways away. 8th hole...bad shot...and he asks, "Did anyone hear that frog?" Yes, he blamed the shot on a frog croaking during his swing. You don't do that at Tallwood. You'll be mocked mercilessly, maybe for years. Later, he was distracted by some flying insect. Our conclusion: Jim should play golf indoors, where nature won't get in the way.

Tallwood, by the way, is a family-owned course open to the public. If you've never played there, by all means go to Hebron and tee it up. John Nowobilski is the pro, and an outstanding teacher, if you're in need of a lesson. And no, I don't even get a free bucket of range balls for saying this.

Sunday, it was off to Wintonbury Hills in Bloomfield for a spirited match. Joe D. and me against the previously mentioned "friend named Joanne" and Dave Jones (not to be confused with Davy Jones of the Monkees.)
In this foursome, 3 out of 4 of us actually work for a living, though in the case of Joe D. and me, some might question the use of the word "work", and in the case of Mr. Jones, I don't really know what the hell he does except arrange golf matches. As for the "friend named Joanne," she's retired from...well, not The Hartford...and is having WAY too good a time for herself. Damn her.
Joe D. and I won the front; they crushed us on the back. Still, a lovely Sunday.

Wintonbury, by the way, is owned by the town of Bloomfield, but hardly resembles a "muni." It's reasonably priced, and if you live in Bloomfield, it's a steal. It's always in great condition, and the greens are fast (in my case, mind-bendingly so).

The only thing I don't care for is the carts. They're new and nice, but they know where you are at all times. They tell you where to go and where not to go...when you're going too fast...and how far behind you are in your round. I'm surprised they don't mock you when you hit a bad shot. So...tell your damn cart to shut up!

Put THAT in your blog.