14 September—The Monitor mustn’t let today pass without remarking that it’s Holy Cross Day, also known, inter alia and depending upon your church, as Holyrood Day (“rood” meaning “cross”) and the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. It commemorates, primarily and essentially, the 629 (AD, of course) return to Jerusalem by Byzantine Emperor Heraclius of the alleged cross on which Jesus was crucified.

As one of the so-called Ember Days (which we may disquisite on in the future if there’s nothing less abstruse to write about), Holy Cross Day is of secular importance as a predictor of the weather in October, November, and December. Given the salubrious weather today—in Litchfield, at least—the fall and winter are looking good. And the Old Farmer’s Almanac is predicting a mild and dry winter. Now let us pray.

That’s the good news. The bad news is that Morris resident Andrew Tita, Chairman of the Region 20 Board of Education for its two months of life, has resigned—as a member of the board as well as chairman. Tita’s resignation of itself may or may not be of particular interest. But his reason for resigning is disturbing. To say the least.

Tita cited the harassment his family—his wife and two kids—has been suffering due to the significant 2024-25 (surprise) budget shortfall the Region 20 board has had to deal with on its honeymoon from hell: “The recent climate plaguing our community is impacting us all,” Tita lamented. “I have watched my wife stop going to a place she loves because someone felt entitled to scream at her over school-related stuff. I see how anxious and nervous my kids are now becoming because of this.”

Sad to say, the incivility, rudeness, and outright hostility that Andrew Tita refers to aren’t all that uncommon, even in quiet, generally friendly little New England towns. The friction may be generated by any level of politics—world, national, state, local—but at the local level it’s invariably about education and finance. Okay, Trump also evokes strong feelings.

In all events it’s disgraceful, reprehensible, shameful. And—need it be said?—unacceptable.

I recall back in 1974, when I, in town only two years, was the point man for a group opposed to an ill-conceived renovation and expansion of the Litchfield High School. My wife and I were cursed and given the bird wherever we went in town and got phone calls obscene and even threatening to us and our dogs. We also got thumbs up, of course, as well as encouragement—as if the threats weren’t encouragement enough.

Evidently knowing of our work in animal welfare and rescue, one particularly vile and sick moron left a paper bag with two dead neonate kittens at the street end of our driveway. I reported all the harassment to the state police commissioner, who was a neighbor and friend. He assured us a trooper from the barracks would make sure no harm came our way. And he seized the opportunity to give us our first cat, a tuxedo kitten that had been dropped in front of his house.

The harassment abated. But it didn’t end even after our side prevailed in the referendum. And some people wouldn’t even acknowledge my presence for many years. I expect they’ve moved away or died.

That was only the beginning. C’est la guerre . . .