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Weather: A chance of thunderstorms. Showers. Highs in the upper 80s. Temperature falling into the lower 80s in the afternoon. Southeast winds around 5 mph, becoming east in the afternoon. Chance of rain 90 percent. Tuesday Night: A chance of thunderstorms. Showers. Lows in the lower 70s. East winds 5 to 10 mph. Chance of rain 90 percent. Check tropical cyclone activity here, and even more details here. See the daily weather briefing from the National Weather Service in Jacksonville here.
Today at a Glance:
In Court: Taylor Manjarres, who pleaded to second-degree murder in the death of Zaire Roberts in an R-Section home invasion robbery in December 2021, is sentenced by Circuit Judge Terence Perkins at 1:30 p.m. in Courtroom 401. Roberts had been one of her co-conspirators. He was killed by Danial Marashi, who was in his parents’ home. But the robbers were charged with the death. Her other co-conspirator, Kwentel Moultrie, was sentenced to 35 years earlier this month, and will serve 45, including a sentence for another crime. (See: “Kwentel Moultrie Pleads to Murder, Will Serve 45 Years in Prison on Series of Convictions.”)
The NAACP Flagler Branch’s General Membership Meeting is scheduled for 6 p.m. at the African American Cultural Society, 4422 North U.S. Highway 1, Palm Coast (just north of Whiteview Parkway). The meeting is open to the public, including non-members. To become a member, go here.
In Coming Days:
Notably: Brightline’s launch of the Orland-Miami line last Friday should have been a state celebration, a state holiday, an occasion to add 50 feet to every flagpole and fly the state flag that high, but for one thing: the state, unfortunately, had nothing to do with it, other than the GOP’s usual ridicule for trains or anything approaching mass transit projects. That kind of thinking prefers to add more lanes to highways, more cars, more pavement–the amount of pavement in the United states, between roads and parking lots, would cover the entirety of West Virginia–more travel time, more road rage. Mass transit is our future We just can’t see it. In one of his most contemptible anti-democratic moves, Jeb Bush killed what should have been a network of bullet trains, after voters approved the plan with a constitutional amendment. So Brightline is left to developing an intercity system on private dollars alone. It cannot possibly work: a train every hour between Orlando and Miami? Not until the stations are webbed in local rail links like Sunrail, which doesn’t yet go to Orlando airport, not even to Daytona Beach. The freedom to drive in this state is as “free” as the degraded, demoralizing meaning of that word has become. Meanwhile, this in today’s Times: “The average annual cost of ownership is up more than 13 percent from last year to more than $12,000, or just over $1,000 a month, according to the latest research from the automobile owners group AAA. […] The average cost per mile for a vehicle driven 15,000 miles a year is about 81 cents, AAA says. But it’s $1.06 for a popular half-ton pickup truck like a Chevrolet Silverado. If you need a truck only occasionally to haul mulch from the garden center, it might make sense to buy a smaller car — say, a compact sport utility vehicle like a Nissan Rogue — at about 67 cents per mile and rent a truck when you really need one.”
—P.T.
Now this:
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For much of the previous year I’d watched my mother disappearing into a husk of herself in the memory care unit of an assisted living home. A lot of my friends are currently attending their parents’ dissolution into enfeeblement or dementia. And it’s just around the time your senescent parents die, releasing you from your last grim filial duties, that you start noticing signs of your own incipient decline. Arthritic hips, ovarian cysts, herniated discs, breast cancer. You begin to appreciate the unsung pleasure of not hurting. It’s as if we were all devices made by some big tech company, designed to start falling apart the instant the warranty expires, and to be ingeniously difficult to repair, with zero support for older models.For much of the previous year I’d watched my mother disappearing into a husk of herself in the memory care unit of an assisted living home. A lot of my friends are currently attending their parents’ dissolution into enfeeblement or dementia. And it’s just around the time your senescent parents die, releasing you from your last grim filial duties, that you start noticing signs of your own incipient decline. Arthritic hips, ovarian cysts, herniated discs, breast cancer. You begin to appreciate the unsung pleasure of not hurting. It’s as if we were all devices made by some big tech company, designed to start falling apart the instant the warranty expires, and to be ingeniously difficult to repair, with zero support for older models. […]The world is arranged to discreetly conceal this side of life from us — the messy, ragged back of the tapestry. Arranged, I should say, with our enthusiastic complicity. We prefer to see, and very much to be on, the side with well-dressed couples promenading through the streets, eating at elegant cafes, having drinks at bars or clubs, going to cinemas, buying used books and silk scarves. It’s not as if the pretty facade is false, and the obverse the ugly truth; it’s all life. We just try, for as long as possible, to keep that other side hidden from ourselves — the hospitals and nursing homes, prisons and sweatshops, mortuaries and slaughterhouses. But at some point, by the end of our lives — unless we’re very rich, or dubiously lucky enough to die suddenly or young — that other side is the only one we’ll get to see anymore. It’s where we’ll live. We’ll have been banished from the other, lovelier world, because we’ve now become one of the things that needs to be concealed.
–From Tim Kreider’s “The Unspeakably Sad Reminder of the ‘Other Paris,’” New York Times, Sept. 24, 2023.
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