13 August—Jon Torrant’s letter to Litchfield First Selectman Denise Raap published in Sunday’s Monitor elicited a healthy baker’s dozen comments from readers, all positive. Of course. These three from readers in Bantam are typical:

“FANTASTIC. Town history is replete with decisions misusing its fixed assets.” and “Why did Torrant retire? Torrant is the only one who ever made sense on BOS and should have been voted first selectman.” and “Mr. Torrant is correct, the Bantam annex and LIS should both be demolished.”

Given the fiscal conservatism (to put it much too politely) of Litchfield voters, they’d likely embrace Jon Torrant’s proposal enthusiastically. Voters in Goshen, Morris, and Warren, while perhaps not quite as parsimonious as their Litchfield neighbors, also are likely to go for it.

And there’s no reason officials of the four towns, including those on the Region 20 Board of Education, shouldn’t follow the voters’ wishes. That’s what democracy is all about, after all, although it doesn’t always work out that way.

I’m not sure of the legalities and intricacies of the current situation involving a multi-town school district, but from my half-century experience in getting selectmen and school boards to do the right thing, a properly drafted petition to the selectmen to force a town meeting on whatever it may be has been the required (and successful) first step in getting things done and undoing things that shouldn’t have been done.

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And now for something completely different. The United States Capitol Building is undeniably a masterpiece of neoclassical architecture. Just between us, it’s far better than the politicians and toadies who work or otherwise spend time in it deserve. Its cornerstone was laid by President George Washington on 18 September 1793. And that’s all you want to know. Well, almost.

Because it’s not commonly known (because hardly anybody bothers to look) that the frieze (the middle part of the entablature) over the magnificent Corinthian columns of the Capitol’s east portico (the main entrance) bears a precept inspired by Dante that the people who use the building—and what it represents—practice so religiously for their own ends that it’s second nature. They don’t need to be reminded, so they’d like it to be removed, lest visitors get the right idea. But it’s literally carved in stone, so it’s there forever.

In case you can’t make it out on your smart phones and tablets, it’s ABANDON ALL PRINCIPLE, YE WHO ENTER HERE . . .