When 1999 was about to click over to 2000, I was working for a river cruise line. One of our VPs came up with a brilliant idea: “A Millennial New Year” theme cruise. Brilliant idea, but a year too early. But no amount of basic math would change his mind.

Painful as it was, our Marketing Services department was obligated to crank out promotional materials advertising a Millennial New Year cruise a year early. Sometimes in a job you just have to do what the boss says, even if he’s wrong. A job’s a job—and health insurance is health insurance. (The out-of-town corporate parent company fired us all seven months before the actual turn of the millennium anyway.)

Recently there’s been an ongoing debate in our sister paper, the Northwest Florida Daily News, with correspondents arguing when the new decade began or will begin. Unable to resist, I weighed into the fray.

One correspondent recently offered a good argument why the current decade, which a good friend refers to as the “naughts,” ought to have ended at midnight this past Dec. 31. On a larger scale, it’s the same argument we heard why the previous millennium should have ended at midnight on Dec. 31, 1999.

“A decade ends on the last day of the year ending in 9,” the correspondent wrote in the Jan. 13 issue. “A person born on the first day of AD turned 10 years old at midnight on the last day of the year called 9.”

Unfortunately, good arguments don’t necessarily make a wrong into a right. To use the correspondent’s example, someone born on the first day of the first millennium AD would not reach his first birthday until the first day of year 2 AD. Why? Because he was born in the year 1. Add one year and his birthday would be in the year 2.

The reason is the ancient Romans had no concept of “zero.” Ten, yes. Zero, no. When Pope Gregory ordered the institution of the calendar we use today, he borrowed the Roman system and started with the year 1. Hence, we jumped right from 1 BC to 1 AD without pausing for a year 0, thus throwing everyone into a tizzy and causing this endless debate every time we conclude a year with a zero at its end. The greater the number of zeros at the end of a year, the greater the fuss.

To be clear, instead of starting the current era with a year zero, we started with 1. To complete each decade, we have to go ten whole years, so each decade, century and millennium ends in a zero and a multiple of ten. Not 9. Zero.

So, anyone who can count knows that all those people who attended “millennium” New Year’s bashes and went on “millennium” New Year’s cruises, including the ones on our boats, in order to be doing something or being someplace special on Dec. 31, 1999, actually only welcomed in the thousandth year of the second millennium AD, the hundredth year of the 20th century and the tenth year of the same decade they mistakenly thought they were bidding a fond “adieu.”

However, a year later, those who gathered for lavish celebrations on Dec. 31, 2000, in fact welcomed in the new millennium, the new century and current decade. Start counting from there and you’ll see this decade won’t be over until Dec. 31 this year. I myself welcomed the new millennium on a terrace in Stockholm, Sweden, overlooking the harbor and one of the most spectacular fireworks shows I ever saw.

With my friend and me was a sweet little old lady named Ulla, whom we had met at the train station. She knew right where to take us for a great view, and even better where to catch the train home so we could get seats on board before the train pulled into Central Station, where it was instantly overwhelmed with the celebrating mob. It is a wonder Ulla ever saw the change of the millennium: once, when she rolled up her sleeves as the railway carriage got warm, I noticed the unmistakable serial number from a Nazi concentration camp tattooed on her left forearm,

But anyway, back to the topic: As my friend of the naughts is quick to point out, a decade is any ten consecutive years you want it to be. The first decade of the James Bond films I do so enjoy ended in 1972, coincidentally with the introduction of Roger Moore as the screen’s second 007 (third if you count David Niven in the original Casino Royale). So yes, the naughts are indeed over, meaning the cardinal decade is indeed over, but not the ordinal decade. Making that cardinal decade more interesting is that it had one year that was still in the second millennium AD and still in the 20th century.

But it is the ordinal system that composes our calendar.

As you can guess from my recent articles about Noirmoutier, Crestview’s French sister city, I’m wild about the place. It’s a magical, wonderful place, filled with warm, hospitable people. Friday night 46 of them (I think it’s 46) arrived at Northwest Florida Regional Airport.

I was so proud of the welcome our local hosts gave our guests. Their flight was almost two hours late, and after nearly 24 hours of travel, they were just bushed. As they staggered down the stairs and escalator, they were suddenly greeted by shouts and cheers and waving Tricolors (the French flag) from their Crestview friends (new and old). You could see their eyes light up, their smiles grew big, and for the 20-some kids in their group, looks of apprehension vanished and were replaced by massive grins.

Once they were all assembled at the base of the escalators, they surged through the barricade, and under the amused but watchful eye of a TSA officer, the group from the concourse side and the group from the waiting side merged into one. There were hugs, and cheek kisses and hand-shakes and smiles all around.

There were my dear friends Gérard and Marie-Thérèse, René and Madeleine, and sweet Dr. Marie-Thérèse Reed, the world’s most consummate hosts. When my friend David and I visited Noirmoutier this time last year, there was nothing they wouldn’t do to make our stay comfortable, happy and memorable.

There were many of the students I met at their school and at a community forum, including Momo, with his arm in a sling (what’s that all about?), and Bruno, whose brown eyes constantly twinkle and who’s always ready to smile. There was the headmaster, Monsieur Perrocheau, and Noirmoutier’s Mayor Noël Faucher and their wives. There was Ivan, one of the “BAFA boys” (official escorts) I had met last year.

And there were two new friends, Xavier and Christophe, who are staying with us. (Xavier is René and Madeleine’s son.)

Some misguided people around these parts sadly still dismiss the French, which is rather shameful when you consider that these lovely folks have been America’s stalwart friends since before our Revolutionary War. Like any friends of many years, there are bound to be occasional differences of opinion. No friends agree on everything, and friends always agree that sometimes they’ll disagree, but they also agree that differences are quickly buried in the past. Especially when the friendship is so much bigger than any silly minor differences of opinion, it is an excellent reason not to harbor lasting resentments and make insulting wisecracks. Friends don’t do that. And these lovely people from Noirmoutier are most definitely our friends.

I was proud of the welcome they received, both at the airport and about an hour and a half later, at Jack Foster Stadium, when Mayor David Cadle presented Mayor Faucher the key to the city, and the Big Red Machine struck up “La Marseillaise.” (And the boosters at the Nut Hut distributed our guests’ first taste of that fabulous southern treat, boiled peanuts, to assuage rumbling tummies, many of which missed dinner in the dash from the airport to the high school!)

I hope our guests have even half the fun I had in Noirmoutier last year. And I can’t wait to see them again on their own, magical turf!

CHS drama teacher Joe Hernandez has done a lot in three short years to revive Crestview High School’s once-renowned drama program. In its heyday, drama teacher Mrs. Shirley Cadle and her husband, then band director Mr. David Cadle (now our mayor), collaborated to produce big, glorious musical theatricals on a truly impressive scale. Their shows are fondly remembered by many in our community, so when Mr. Hernandez was hired, there was great anticipation for the stage spectaculars so many folks missed.

Reviving the drama program, Joe Hernandez has had to take baby steps as he inches the department in the direction of the big, splashy productions for which the school was renowned. His tireless enthusiasm and energy have paid off. Hernandez, who is heading off to the University of Southern Mississippi to pursue his masters in fine arts in theatre, leaves behind an equally spirited troupe of young thespians.

When the curtain rises on the brilliant Neil Simon comedy “Brighton Beach Memoirs” next month, it could be argued that the show would have three directors; Hernandez, his successor Allison Wilks, and the kids themselves. For during the gap between Hernandez’s departure and Wilks’ arrival at CHS, the troupe of seven performers have been self-directing themselves in preparation for their Sept. 17 opening night.

Compounding the challenges in producing “Memoirs” are the summer renovations to the Pearl Tyner Auditorium—an exciting feat in itself—which means Neil Simon’s wit has been echoing in a variety of rehearsal venues around town, including several church halls. On the bright side, when the curtain goes up next month, it will be a brand new grand drape, under a new ceiling, and the room will resound to a new audio system.

I talked to Jesse Hinton yesterday. He’s got the lead role in “Brighton Beach Memoirs,” a role originally played on Broadway by Matthew Broderick, who won a best-actor Tony for it. Jesse’s enthusiasm practically spewed out of the phone as he told me he and his six fellow cast members are doing “whatever it takes” to assure a successful production. I’ve seen Jesse, as well as the rest of the cast, on stage before and trust they will do a superb job.

It is an exciting time to be a theatre enthusiast in Crestview. I can’t wait to see to what heights Allison Wilks will elevate the CHS drama program.

Welcome, Allison! Break a leg!

When our representatives to Congress finally created the National ‘Do Not Call’ Registry, they also created a couple substantial loopholes. Not surprising, they exempted themselves and all other politicos. For good measure, they also exempted charities and non-profits, pollsters and media.

As anyone who has ever gone dashing through the house to grab the phone after settling on the couch to watch a bit of TV after supper only to find it’s someone begging for votes or money can tell you, these shameful loopholes suck.

Last night I returned home to find Congressman Jeff Miller had filled half our answering machine with so much political blah blah blah. Today I called his local Pensacola office (no one answered at his Fort Walton Beach office) to ask that our phone number be taken off his call list.

The earnest receptionist didn’t seem to understand my request and lectured me insistently on the permissibility of the congressman to bother anyone he feels like, whenever he feels like it. In true politician style, the receptionist totally dodged my question, “What do you think ‘do not call’ means?” and, get this, repeated the same spiel she had just delivered! So, I asked, can I give you my phone number and have it placed on the congressman’s own “do not call” list?

Well, apparently there’s no such list. Ol’ Jeff can call me — and you — anytime he wants, and dagnabbit, he’s determined to do so.

Therefore, here’s what our politicians need to do:
1) Remove all exemptions to the National “Do Not Call” Registry. What’s so confusing about the simple request to “do not call”? It means “I don’t want you to call me.” Plain and simple. Even if you’ve allowed yourself a shameful loophole, you should still check the registry just in case I’m on it. If I don’t want someone calling to sell me a timeshare, it probably a good bet that it also means I don’t want you calling to sell me a load of political bull ca-ca either.
2) Today’s technology is pretty impressive. For those people who like receiving calls from charities and non-profits, allow them a mechanism to opt-in to receiving those calls. Same for those folks who like having pollsters interrupt their dinner hour. But make it a conscientious decision on the part of the telephone subscriber to purposefully choose to allow those calls.

So I had the bright idea that I’d call Jeff Miller at home during his supper and discuss his thoughts on telephone abuse and interruptions during quality time with the family, but — what a surprise — his insistent receptionist just said “thank you for calling” and hung up on me.

Let’s write or call our representatives and get them working on closing those National “Do Not Call” Registry loopholes. They’re being abused, and their authors are the worst abusers.

It’s hot and sultry outside but inside I discovered the arts are flourishing. I swung by the Crestview Public Library this morning and saw a really cool exhibit in the lobby display cases. A talented young mixed-media artist named Eliezer Nieves has on display a captivating selection of pieces done in what he calls “color graphs.” He employs clippings and text from publications as well as photos and hand-written thoughts to make bold, eye-catching statements about a variety of topics, including current events, politics, relationships and people. The exhibit will be up through August. Check it out.

Next I swung by the library meeting room and watched a slew of youngsters making piggy puppets under the watchful gaze—and with a bit of assistance from—their guardians, parents and teachers. It was the regular monthly Family Crafts gathering, one of the many great services offered at our library. With a broad smile, four-year-old Aaron Bailey held his puppet up proudly. Look for a photo of Aaron, his puppet, and his proud mom, Donia Bailey, in next Wednesday’s Arts & Entertainment page in the News Bulletin.

Over at the high school, rehearsals are in full swing for the Drama program’s fall production of Neil Simon’s comedy, Brighton Beach Memoirs. Sadly, drama teacher and director Joe Hernandez is leaving CHS to work on his master’s degree in theatre, but he assured me an equally talented and enthusiastic replacement, one of his classmates, will most likely be hired to take his place and continue the momentum as the lavish, professional and enjoyable productions the community enjoys continue at CHS.

Down at the north end of the main hall, Summer Art Camp is in full swing under the instruction of art teachers Laurel Siwicki and Lori Phillips. Aided by rising seniors and alumni artist aids, the camp boasts its largest enrollment ever, with 39 young artists making everything from mixed-media self portraits in a cubist style to sculptures using pipe cleaners. Today they were writing their own fairy tales, which they will then illustrate.

The arts are as valuable to our schools—and community—as sports and academics. They are a hallmark of a civilized and cultured people. We are fortunate to have so many venues for locals to express themselves in visual and performing arts here in the Crestview area. Go out and make or support art!

PS: If you love art, support art, make art or teach art, be at the Crestview Public Library on Monday, 20 July, at 6 pp.m., for the organizational meeting of a Crestview area committee of the Okaloosa Arts Alliance. Let’s get some of that county art money and events flowing to the county seat, Okaloosa County’s largest city. To get more information, e-mail Rae Schwartz at bakerny@yahoo.com and just ask.