Jaywalking in Boston "Punishable by a fine of $1"

If you haven't been here before you wouldn't imagine how rampant even blatantly illegal and unsafe jaywalking is in Boston. Here's a taste of why I don't miss driving...especially in Boston.

Punishable by a fine of $1

By Peter DeMarco | August 6, 2006

Bostonians jaywalk about as often as they visit Dunkin' Donuts. Is it any wonder, then, that the word ''jaywalker'' was supposedly coined in Boston?

``The Bostonian . . . has reduced a pedestrian who crosses streets in disregard of traffic signals to the compact `jaywalker,' " reads a 1917 Harper's Magazine article, according to Random House's dictionary division. Back then the word jay was used to describe someone who was unsophisticated, naive , or foolish -- something we still might call a jaywalker today.

But my favorite part of Random House's entry on jaywalking (I found it on their website) is the following line: ``Although jaywalkers have been called aggressive, city officials are equally aggressive against them -- and not only in Boston."

Aggressive enforcement? Now that's funny. When was the last time you heard of anyone getting a ticket for jaywalking? I mean, does the officer ask for your shoe size?

OK, I'll leave the jokes to Random House. But the question remains: Can you get a ticket for jaywalking?

What's the legal definition?

And if a pedestrian disobeys a crosswalk signal or simply dashes across the road, does he -- or you the driver -- have the right of way?

The law says
``Last time I checked, jaywalking was against the law, punishable by a fine," writes reader Morris Norvin of Mission Hill. Well, Morris, you are correct.
Jaywalking is against the law.

And it's punishable by a fine.

Of $1.

Yep. A single dollar.

``To stop a pedestrian -- it's kind of a joke," says Lieutenant Jack Albert, traffic commander for the Cambridge Police Department. ``Do you know what it would cost the community to prosecute that violation? It's like $75 or $80 to prosecute. But there is a law on the books."

The fine is spelled out in Massachusetts General Laws Chapter 90, Section 18A, which states that communities can punish pedestrians who break local jaywalking rules ``by a fine of one dollar for the first, second or third such offense . . . and by a fine of two dollars for the fourth or subsequent such offense so committed in such calendar year."

Why are the fines so low? Albert couldn't say for sure, but it stands to reason that legislators have been loath to raise the fine lest they spark a voter uprising.

Face it: As hazardous as jaywalking can be, just about everybody does it. According to a 1999 survey by the Boston Public Health Commission (there hasn't been a follow-up survey), only 12 percent of pedestrians obey ``Walk" signals at crosswalks , while a third of pedestrians disregard crosswalks entirely.

State law allows individual communities to decide what is or isn't jaywalking, but most communities follow this simple standard: If you are within 300 feet of a crosswalk, you must use it. If you're not, you can legally cross the street.

The bad news for drivers, of course, is that pedestrians maintain the right of way even when they walk against the light or dash anywhere across an open road.

``Yeah, the pedestrian is at fault," says Sergeant Larry Fitzgerald of the Brookline Police Department, which hasn't issued a jaywalking ticket in years. ``But if you run over the pedestrian, the judge is going to say shame on you. And that person's family is going to be living in your house."

If you as a driver ``don't stop for a pedestrian in a crosswalk , it's a $200 fine," says Albert. ``If our officers are sitting there , they'll get the occasional violation. But there are always hundreds of pedestrians walking all over the street. We've just got to shake our heads."

The Public Health Commission launched a citywide campaign to get Boston residents to stop jaywalking after its 1999 survey, and a year later pedestrian traffic injuries reportedly had dropped 11 percent. Though the campaign is long over, officials from the commission's Childhood Injury Prevention Program continue to visit Boston public schools each fall to teach crosswalk safety.

If police can't curb jaywalking, maybe educators can.

``There's other cities I read about in the Northwest, like Seattle, where you have people waiting to go across the crosswalk," says Erin Christiansen, prevention program director. ``I don't think anyone has the key as to why we got started on our bad habits in Boston."

What drives you crazy about local drivers? Is there a traffic rule you've always wondered about, or a pet peeve that never fails to annoy you? Send us a message about it: ciweek@globe.com. We'll check it out.

So...apparently Brad Pitt is human...and he realized time is fleeting. Parts of the interview were pretty positive but the lead-ins for the story were pretty dumb.

Anyway, here's the Onion's take on the article headlines:

Breaking News! Brad Pitt Is Familiar With The Transitory Nature Of Life!

People's got the scoop

By Amelie Gillette August 5, 2009

Some late nights you'll find yourself tossing and turning, unable to quiet that low, nagging voice that is always whining in some corner of your brain. During the day it's easy enough to drown out with other, more immediate thoughts, and most nights you can ignore it long enough to fall asleep. But some restless nights, the voice is just unrelenting—digging into your thought processes like a knuckle pressing directly into your brain tissue, until you can't take any more. You throw the sheets off, get out of bed, walk over to the open window and shout out the question that the voice in your head endlessly asks: "Is Brad Pitt aware of his own mortality?"

You wait for an answer, but especially considering that there are much more efficient means of both inquiry and communication besides shouting out of windows in the middle of the night, there isn't one. You return to bed, question unanswered, inner voice unquieted, and consider maybe next time googling it or something.  

But now, at last, People has given you relief. They have found the answer to your question:

 You can finally sleep tonight! 

Personally, I would have gone with "Brad Pitt Has Heard Of This Thing Called 'Death'" or "Brad Pitt Knows That He Is Mortal" or "Brad Pitt Knows That His Childhood Dog, Snappy, Wasn't Given Away To A Nice Family With A Big Backyard For Him To Run Around In." Or I would have eschewed the entire "time is fleeting" thing and gone with Huffington Post's headline about the same interview:

   

Always lead with grotto sex (ALWGS). It's the first rule of journalism.       

In a 7-sentence story, the UK's Mirror went with the headline "Brad Pitt admits to being a "doughnut" when younger due to dope-smoking" and then mentions that he "also revealed" that he's not homophobic and wouldn't be bothered if one of his children were gay.

"Maybe we'll get married when it's legal for everyone else." With all the ultra-religious nutjobs out there it takes some guts to say it. Hopefully soon acceptance will be something to be encouraged...not something to be "revealed" in the same breath as admitting to using illegal drugs (even in the British tabloids). Thank you Brad.

Brad Pitt: I'm Aware That 'Time Is Fleeting'
By Stephen M. Silverman
Originally posted Wednesday August 05, 2009 03:45 PM EDT
Brad Pitt
Photo by: Michael Muller / PARADE

Even though he's only 45, Brad Pitt is starting to feel his own mortality.

"As I've gotten older I've become aware that time is fleeting," the leading man tells Parade.com. "I don't want to waste whatever I have left. I want to spend it with the people I love, and I want to do things that really mean something."

And while he happily acknowledges that he enjoys being a family man with Angelina Jolie, Pitt views the relationship as follows: "I have love in my life, a soul mate – absolutely." As for marriage, he sticks by a response he gave some time ago: "Maybe we'll get married when it's legal for everyone else."

That stance, he says, has not proved popular in all quarters. "I took a lot of flak for saying it – hate mail from religious groups," Pitt says. "Just the other night, I heard this TV reverend say that Angie and I were setting a bad example because we were living out of wedlock, and people should not be duped by us! It made me laugh. What damn right does anyone have to tell someone else how to live if they're not hurting anyone?"

In his mind, "I believe everyone should have the same rights. They say gay marriage ruins families and hurts kids. Well, I've had the privilege of seeing my gay friends being parents and watching their kids grow up in a loving environment."

As for his own kids, they "are a dominant value in my life now, and they weren't before. They were always something I thought I'd get around to having when the time was right … In a way, I think I had to go and exhaust me before I could be good at being a parent."

The Dog Days of Summer

I came across the term Dog Days of Summer recently and didn't know really what it meant or what its roots are...so I looked it up. It turns out that, according to The Old Farmer's Almanac, July 3-August 11 are the "most unhealthy" days of the year.

Dog Days

Definition: These are the hottest and most unhealthy days of the year. Also known as Canicular Days, the name derives from the Dog Star, Sirius. The traditional timing of Dog Days is the 40 days beginning July 3 and ending August 11, coinciding with the heliacal (at sunrise) rising of Sirius.

This Too Shall Pass: Modest Mouse- Float On

Modest Mouse- Float On

I came upon this song on the way to work with my iPod on shuffle and it reminded me of something from my youth. I don't remember exactly the words exactly, but it roughly resembled

"When life is great- don't take it for granted...things will change. When things are terrible- don't feel badly, things will change."

Actually, I'm fairly certain the words were "This too shall pass". It has humbled and comforted me, but until today I did not know the origins of it. This isn't history class so I'm going to be incredibly lazy and not find the original source and instead quote from Wikipedia. I hope you'll forgive me. Here goes:

"This too shall pass" (Hebrew: גם זה יעבור‎, gam zeh yaavor) is a phrase occurring in a Jewish wisdom folktale involving King Solomon. The phrase is commonly engraved on silver rings.

Many versions of the folktale have been recorded by the Israel Folklore Archive at the University of Haifa. Heda Jason recorded this version told by David Franko from Turkey:

“

One day Solomon decided to humble Benaiah Ben Yehoyada, his most trusted minister. He said to him, "Benaiah, there is a certain ring that I want you to bring to me. I wish to wear it for Sukkot which gives you six months to find it." "If it exists anywhere on earth, your majesty," replied Benaiah, "I will find it and bring it to you, but what makes the ring so special?" "It has magic powers," answered the king. "If a happy man looks at it, he becomes sad, and if a sad man looks at it, he becomes happy." Solomon knew that no such ring existed in the world, but he wished to give his minister a little taste of humility. Spring passed and then summer, and still Benaiah had no idea where he could find the ring. On the night before Sukkot, he decided to take a walk in one of the poorest quarters of Jerusalem. He passed by a merchant who had begun to set out the day's wares on a shabby carpet. "Have you by any chance heard of a magic ring that makes the happy wearer forget his joy and the broken-hearted wearer forget his sorrows?" asked Benaiah. He watched the grandfather take a plain gold ring from his carpet and engrave something on it. When Benaiah read the words on the ring, his face broke out in a wide smile. That night the entire city welcomed in the holiday of Sukkot with great festivity. "Well, my friend," said Solomon, "have you found what I sent you after?" All the ministers laughed and Solomon himself smiled. To everyone's surprise, Benaiah held up a small gold ring and declared, "Here it is, your majesty!" As soon as Solomon read the inscription, the smile vanished from his face. The jeweler had written three Hebrew letters on the gold band: gimel, zayin, yud, which began the words "Gam zeh ya'avor" -- "This too shall pass." At that moment Solomon realized that all his wisdom and fabulous wealth and tremendous power were but fleeting things, for one day he would be nothing but dust.

”

The phrase "This too shall pass" and the associated ring story were made popular by Abraham Lincoln in his 'Address Before the Wisconsin State Agricultural Society, Milwaukee, Wisconsin' on September 30, 1859:

“

It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: "And this, too, shall pass away." How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!

And here's the song:

Songs of the Day (Bright Eyes - I Must Belong Somewhere, Carole King - It Might as Well Rain Until September) and Why Conor Oberst is Amazing

I'd like to share a couple songs with you today from Boston around 7pm over 80 F (around 27 C) (not great but much better than the record breaking hottest day ever recorded in Vancouver).

First off is It Might as Well Rain Until September by Carole King:




and second is I Must Belong Somewhere by Bright Eyes. Below I've included the lyrics because it occurred to me that Conor Oberst is probably one of the best songwriters of this decade. Then I thought "humm...maybe I'm not qualified to say something like that"...so I went to one of the most and so it wasn't very surprising to see that The Rolling Stones (which, despite putting the Jonas Brothers on their cover and selling out in numerous other ways is still probably the most influential rock magazine in the US) named him the Best Songwriter of 2008.

Here's the song, the lyrics, and the RS article:



Leave the bright blue door on the whitewashed wall
Leave the death ledger under city hall
Leave the joyful air in that rubber ball todayL

Leave the lilac print on the linen sheet
Leave the birds you killed at your father's feet
Let the sideways rain and the crooked street remain

Leave the whimpering dog in his cold kennel
Leave the dead star lit on her pedestal
Leave the acid kids in their green fishbowls today

Just leave the sad guitar in its hard-shelled case
Leave the worried look on your lover's face
Let the orange embers in the fireplace remain

Because everything, it must belong somewhere
A train off in the distance, bicycle chained to the stairs
Everything, it must belong somewhere
I know that now, that's why I'm staying here

Leave the ocean's roar in the turquoise shell
Leave the widower in his private hell
Leave the liberty in that broken bell today

Leave the epic poem on its yellow page
Leave the gray macaw in his covered cage
Let the travelin' band on the interstate remain

Because everything, it must belong somewhere
Soundstage in California, televisions in Times Square
Yeah everything, it must belong somewhere
I know that now, that's why I'm staying here

Leave the secret talks on the trundle bed
Leave the garden tools in the rusted shed
Leave those bad ideas in your troubled head today

Leave the restless ghost in his old hotel
Leave the homeless man out in that cardboard cell
Let the painted horse on the carousel remain

Because everything, it must belong somewhere
Just like the gold around her finger or the silver in his hair
Everything, it must belong somewhere
I know that now, that's why I'm staying here

In truth, the forest hears each sound
Each blade of grass as it lies down
The world requires no audience
No witnesses, no witnesses

Leave the old town drunk on his wooden stool
Leave the autumn leaves in the swimming pool
Leave the poor black child in his crumbling school today

Leave the novelist in his daydream tune
Leave the scientist in the Rubik's Cube
Let the true genius in the padded room remain

Leave the horse's hair on the slanted bow
Leave the slot machines on the river boat
Leave the cauliflower in the casserole today

Leave the hot, bright trash in the shopping malls
Leave the hawks of war in their capitol
Let the organs moan in the cathedral remain

Because everything, it must belong somewhere
They locked the devil in the basement, threw God up into the air
Everything, it must belong somewhere
And you know it's true, I wish you'd leave me here
You know it's true, why don't you leave me here

Best Songwriter: Conor Oberst

From Rolling Stone's Best of Rock 2008

ANTHONY DECURTIS

Posted May 01, 2008 11:00 AM

Finishing a song is still my singular favorite feeling in the world," Conor Oberst says, "more than records or shows. The creation of a song is what drives me."Such passion shows throughout Oberst's songbook, which he began creating as a frail, spectral thirteen-year-old in Omaha, Nebraska. Visceral documents of self-unraveling like "Padraic My Prince," "We Are Nowhere and It's Now" and "Lover I Don't Have to Love" — the last featuring lyrics like "Love's an excuse to get hurt/And to hurt" — deliver an emotional wallop in part because they seem at once offhand and unbearably intense. In Oberst's vision, death, loneliness and social decay are themes at the heart of every day; he doesn't need to look far to find them — or to channel them. "Everything has been done by intuition and happenstance," he explains. "I still have no idea what I'm doing, or why I'm doing it. It just kind of keeps happening. For me, at this point, it's about accepting it all, letting it all go and moving forward."
As rendered by Bright Eyes, the name under which he records both solo and with a band of ever-shifting personnel, Oberst captures the sound of things falling apart — whether it's a love affair ("Lua"), the life of an itinerant musician ("Soul Singer in a Session Band") or the country at large ("Four Winds"). Sonically, he ranges far as well. On albums such as Lifted or the Story Is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground (2002), I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning (2005) and last year's Cassadaga, he fashions a jittery, open-ended folk rock that admits strings, horns, electronica, country music and found sounds, all in the interest of immediacy and surprise. The free-for-all arrangements often communicate a giddy sense of hope, however dark the topic at hand might be.
"At one point, I lost interest in writing about personal things," Oberst says. "You can only write so many songs about feeling lost, which is the way I feel most of the time. But I don't think there's a very deep line in the sand between writing about myself and writing about other people." In "Bowl of Oranges," on Lifted,, he tosses off a lovely metaphor: "But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall/Then I think we would see the beauty." But he can also be fiercely direct, as in "When the President Talks to God," a song about President Bush's confusion of divine will and his own stubbornness. "Does he ever smell his own bullshit/When the president talks to God?" the song asks, before concluding, "I doubt it."
The quality and breadth of Oberst's songwriting have provoked comparisons to Bob Dylan — an IED of a compliment that exploded the careers of many promising artists before him. Oberst is flattered but not fazed. Now twenty-eight, he pauses for a full ten seconds when asked how his songwriting has changed since adolescence. "It's strange how similar it is," he says with a laugh. "It's still mysterious to me."

Summer: Too Hot or Way Too Hot?

Boston is hotter than Hell. Okay...maybe you say "Hey...it's only mid 80's I live in the deep south and it's much hotter"...then I might ask you "Why would you ever voluntarily stay in the deep south in the summer?"


I really don't quite understand why seemingly everybody but me is in love with summer. Maybe it was growing up in Quebec and outside Chicago and having real winters...but I don't see what the appeal of sunburn, insects, sweating, temperatures that make it hard to want to move or think. Amazingly I'm not alone so I'm going to share this article by someone who understands.

Reflections: Why I hate summer

by Mary Weir

I hate summer. I make no apologies for that, but over the years it has become clear that not only am I in the minority, but folks who embrace scorching temperatures accompanied by breathtaking humidity actually view me as some sort of enemy. It's as if they believe my adversity to heat will rob them of the summer season sooner than it would otherwise normally disappear.

Let me take this time to reassure you sun worshippers that for me, summer is an unwelcome guest that has no intention of leaving until it is darn good and ready, despite my complaints and visible discomfort in its presence. In fact, the more I object, the more it seems to intensify my discomfort by inspiring the mercury to climb to heights that would make a trapeze artist dizzy.

It is simply a matter of preference, really. I have friends I visit in the south who shudder when they ask how I can tolerate winters in Michigan. Absentmindedly, because I am more focused on detaching my sweat-soaked clothing from parts of my body screaming for air, I answer their question with a question of my own. I want to know how they can tolerate the mind numbing heat and humidity of their region. Their answer is the same as mine, that it's something to which they've become accustomed, so they don't really think about it. It's not that I embrace winter and dance around every snowflake that falls. However, I find that layering clothing to keep out the cold is easier than stripping down to what is barely publicly acceptable and still being hot enough to want to inhale Freon.

I don't begrudge anyone their love of summer. I have wonderful memories of it myself from when I was a child, and I confess to enjoying a little less structure when my kids are out of school. There are many resources available for my relief, not the least of which is the pool at my neighbor's house across the street. I have been known, however, to forego the refreshing swim in favor of being planted right inside my air conditioned abode, thereby avoiding that uncomfortable few moments in the sun to get to the pool in the first place.

As silly as this all seems, there are methods to my madness. First of all, I'm a pale Irish girl who burns easily, and I have given birth to at least one child who has that same talent. Sunscreen is expensive. Mosquito repellant, the kind that actually works, is also expensive. So not only am I avoiding the risk of skin cancer and West Nile Virus, I am relieving myself of the extra expense of products that cannot guarantee preventing either disease.

Then there are the bugs that emerge from their long hibernation in the crevices of my home to terrorize my children and me indoors. Trying to fall asleep to the hum of a yellow jacket in your room is quite the experience. Now whether or not yellow jackets actually hibernate or just become reborn in the warm temperatures to wriggle through the cracks of my safe haven is still not something I know for sure. I just know that summer brings them and all their little bee friends buzzing right into my comfort zone, and I don't like that. The carpenter ants definitely resent sharing their space, that's for sure. Those guys love to hang out in my bathroom, watching me do my hair and hoping I don't go after them with the hairspray again.

It would be easy to wonder at this point if there is anything at all I appreciate about the warm weather seasons. Of course there is. The trees and flowers in bloom are beautiful, even through the haze of my allergy medication I take to combat the pollen count. On days when it isn't too hot to breathe, I like to eat outdoors on the deck with my family. Then we all go inside and pick the ants out of our teeth. Seasonal traditions are wonderful.

For the most part, however, summer is something to be endured, tolerated to the best of my ability and accepted as something I cannot change. I simply do what I can to get through each scorching day as I embrace visions of autumn leaves dancing in my head. Fear not, however. Now that I've shared this little commentary, I have no doubt I'll be wearing a tank top to Thanksgiving dinner.

I was trying for quite a while to find a song about summer but not surprisingly almost everything I found was "oh isn't summer so great and amazing" or "oh no summer's about to end" but I did find two songs that I find are fittingly less than cheerful about things that may accompany consistently uncomfortable temperatures.


Cruel Summer was originally performed by Bananarama but I'm not going to torture you with British pop.
Here's the updated, Ace of Base cover:



and See You In September by the 1960s one hit wonder group The Happenings: