Tag: Fairfield County Weekly

Will You Vote For Me?

I have called what I’m about to do unseemly in the past. Times and circumstances change.

I’ll start with an admission: I have called what I’m about to do unseemly in the past. Times and circumstances change. It doesn’t seem as wrong now to ask for your vote.

I’m talking about the annual “Best Of” awards from the New Haven Advocate and Fairfield County Weekly (The Hartford Advocate has theirs later).

I’ve done well some years, been a bridesmaid in others. There’s really no predicting who is “Flavor of the Moment.”

The Advocate and Weekly don’t mind if I ask for your vote, as long as I don’t offer you anything in return. That’s because for most categories this is more a business starter for the papers than a meaningful election.

In order to keep the ballot boxes from truly being stuffed they require you vote in at least 20 categories. That does bring this to pain-in-the-ass level. If you don’t vote I understand.

However, if you have a favorite funeral parlor or adult boutique you’ve been keeping to yourself here’s your chance to let everyone know!

Balloting closes March 9.

Click for the New Haven Advocate
Click for the Fairfield Weekly

Thanks for your vote.

An Incredible Gift

Tonight was the New Haven Advocate’s “Best of” awards. There were thunderstorms on the radar, so I took a quick trip to The Annex (eastern portion of New Haven) to say hello and thank you (and nosh on a little smoked salmon). I only stayed for 15 minutes, and didn’t even get my award. I got something even better.

Josh Mamis, publisher of the Fairfield County Weekly and former editor of The New Haven Advocate, said he had a gift for me. So, we headed out to his car and he proceeded to open the trunk. As soon as I saw the orange/yellow color of the sweatshirt, I knew.

It was a WMCA Good Guys Sweathirt!

I won one when my name was called on the radio, about 40 years ago. Not that it was a major deal, but I still remember: “Geoff Fox, name it and claim it. Call PLaza 2-9944.”

Somewhere along the way my smiley faced sweatshirt disappeared – probably outgrown or worn out. Looking back, I should have treated my sweatshirt with the same reverence a Barry Bonds home run ball would get. It was something valuable, not to be judged by its physical appearance as much as its place in history.