Author: Randy Seaver

Randy Seaver is a veteran journalist who has been covering news and politics in the city of Biddeford, Maine for nearly three decades. He may be contacted at randy@randyseaver.com

It’s the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine)

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

In less than 24 hours, this campaign will be over, finished, completed, kaput.

Stick a fork in it, it’s done.

Volunteers gather in Alan Casavant’s kitchen on a cold October morning before our citywide door-to-door canvass.

At this juncture, there is not much left to say or do. Thus, in a pitiful attempt to keep my blog current, I have pasted below the e-mail I just sent to our campaign team. Regardless of how you feel about the issues, please get out and vote tomorrow…….

Tomorrow, the voters of Biddeford will have their say; but regardless of the outcome I have a few thoughts I wanted to share with each of you.

As I reflect over the last several weeks and months, I experience a range of emotions; and I am sure the memories will survive long after the campaign signs are packed up and the party draws to a conclusion. Tomorrow night, we will celebrate, regardless of the outcome. We will celebrate the overall experience and the amazing effort put forth on behalf of a better and brighter future for our city.

I have worked on a lot of campaigns on the federal, state and local level; yet I have never been so honored to work with such a fantastic, talented and dedicated group of individuals. None of us have received financial compensation, instead we were fueled by a passion….by a belief that Biddeford’s potential can only flourish if its people are respected and their commitments are honored.

You are all part of a diverse and unmatched group, representing each of the city’s seven voting wards. Some of you are seasoned campaign veterans; others are new to the game. Despite our differences, we came together as a team without so much as a bump. We gave our neighbors, friends and families something to talk about. We challenged the incumbent administration’s style, tone and leadership in hopes that we may make a positive difference in our community.

For that, we should all be proud. I have been consistently impressed by your dedication to this campaign, by your passion for the city we all call home and by your relentless and generous outpouring of work, sacrifice and time.

Alan Casavant will be a great mayor for Biddeford; just as he has been an outstanding state representative and one of our city’s most beloved teachers. Alan Casavant does not lead with an iron fist. Instead he inspires those around them to become more involved. He leads with intellect, compassion, humor and integrity.

I don’t care what happens tomorrow, and I only know this much to be true: This was a fight well worth fighting; and I am a better person for working with you. It was an honor and privilege to be a part of this team. I have learned something from each of you over the course of this campaign, and I have been inspired by your friendship and camaraderie.

You should all be proud of what we have accomplished. It has been an honor and a privilege to fight alongside you. Get some rest, and let’s the start the next chapter of Biddeford’s history with equal passion, drive and dedication!

Finally, make no mistake: WE WILL WIN TOMORROW NIGHT, in more ways than one.

All my best,

Randy

P.S. Please vote for Alan Casavant to be Biddeford’s next mayor.

Even better than the first time

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

The first time was 29 years ago, in October 1982.

The next time was a few months later, in August 1983.

From there, it was a blur of revolving doors, various medications and racking up some serious medical bills for the next two decades.

My disease first landed me at the Maine Medical Center. But it dutifully followed me all around the country — Vanderbilt University Medical Center in Nashville, St. Mary’s Hospital in Tucson, Arizona, Portland General Hospital in Portland, Oregon, the Southern Arizona Mental Health Center.

Kennebec Valley Medical Center, Southern Maine Medical Center and Sierra Tucson. It was like the Energizer Bunny…it just kept going and going and going….

I cannot count the number of jobs and relationships lost; or the number of times I moved as I attempted to outrun the disease and its darkness.

I was handcuffed, sedated and belittled.

So what changed?

Nothing changed. I am still ill, but the good news is that I am getting better treatment. Honestly, I still struggle with the meds . . . and sometimes the thinking and the behavior returns. Most times I can handle these demons. Sometimes I cannot.

I am luckier than most people I know. Today, I can hold a job. Today, I have a wonderful family who loves me, a beautiful wife and two amazing and resilient sons. I own a home. I pay taxes and work hard to make my community a better place for those less fortunate.

I can only do these things because I can get treatment for my disease.

This week is National Mental Health Awareness Week, and a story in today’s Maine Sunday Telegram is a good example of how mental illness can affect anyone and about the hope for those who struggle with its symptoms.

I also invite you to read the op-ed I published shortly after the tragedy in Tucson earlier this year. Jared Loughner and I have too much in common. The only difference is….that by the grace of God, I got help and my illness has been held at bay.

I applaud Mr. Daigle for his courage and commitment to fighting his disease. Those of us who are willing to share our stories must do so because the cost of the continuing stigma associated with mental illness are just too much to bear . . . for any of us.

Still haven’t found what I’m looking for

~ Randy Seaver ~ 2 Comments

I am a racist.

Well, at least according to actor Morgan Freeman.

During an interview on CNN this week, Freeman told interviewer Piers Morgan that racism is at the heart of the Tea Party and that racism has been made worse in the United States since the election of President Barack Obama.

Condelezza Rice

I wonder how Freeman would feel about supporting Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas as a nominee for the high court’s chief justice slot; or about a presidential run by Condolezza Rice? I’m betting he would not support either of them; just as he is not supporting Herman Cain, an African American who is also seeking the GOP nomination for president.

I also don’t recall Freeman hosting any fundraising dinners for Alan Keyes, a fellow African American who made two unsuccessful bids for the presidency.

From my perspective, Freeman is screaming racism because he cannot handle the real reasons that Obama’s re-election in 2012 is anything but certain.

The things that are making Obama increasingly unpopular, even among members of his own party, are the same things I listed as reasons for not supporting him in 2008:

  • His inexperience in the realm of business and finance;
  • His failed economic policies;
  • His desperate need to be liked rather than be strong.

I do think it’s worth noting that I actively worked on behalf of Hillary Clinton during the 2008 nomination process, and ultimately voted for John McCain.

I attended President Obama’s inauguration. It was an awe-inspiring experience; several days of basking in a revived sense of hope and change for a country that seemed tragically off-course and without direction.

Morgan Freeman

I’ve got news for you, Mr. Freeman: I do not want to vote for this hip, attractive and intelligent man because he is woefully out of his league, much the same as his predecessor was.

But unless John Huntsman gets the GOP nomination ( a scenario as likely as Susan Lucci receiving an Oscar) I will be forced to give Mr. Obama another four years of on-the-job training, because inexperience and idealism still trumps stupidity.

Does that make me a racist?

Hawaii 5-0

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

Thinking back to our 5-year wedding anniversary, and wondering when we will return:

Problems with Maine’s sex offender registry

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

James Simpson was released from prison in May 2001, but in many ways, he feels as if he still behind bars.

At the advice of his attorney, Simpson, 41, plead guilty to gross sexual assault in February 1998. Superior Court Justice Paul Fritzsche sentenced Simpson to 11 years in jail with all but four years suspended and an additional six years of probation.

While Simpson maintains that he is innocent, he also says that a new state law, which requires sex offenders to be listed on an Internet registry, has made his life a living hell.

The case against Simpson began in November 1997, when he befriended a female acquaintance and eventually allowed her to live with him at his Saco apartment. Three days later, the woman told police that Simpson raped her.

The Courier is withholding the victim’s name, but did verify that she was an adult when the crime was committed.

Released early for good behavior from the Maine Correctional Center in Windham, Simpson said he has been trying to put his life back on track. The problem, he says, is that Maine’s Sex Offender Registry has made it all but impossible to do that.

“Everywhere I go, people are treating me like some kind of monster,” he said. “I’m not a pedophile, but people don’t know that. They just see my name on the same list with people who hurt little kids.”

Simpson’s complaint about the mandatory registry is not the first of its kind, and law enforcement agencies admit the system is far less than perfect.

Saco Police Chief Brad Paul said the 1999 law puts his department and other law enforcement agencies in a difficult position.

“It’s a hell of a quandary,” Paul said. “The law was developed with good intentions, and it does help us do our primary job of keeping the community safe. At the same time, we try to evaluate each incident on a case-by-case basis.”

Like many other communities in Maine, Saco maintains its own website of sex offenders who now live in the city. The Saco list contains the names of 12 men, ranging in age from 27 to 74. The offenders’ addresses range from a transient who stays at area campgrounds to a downtown apartment building and the Ferry Road.

According to Paul, sex offenders must routinely “check-in” with police to update their status, including their address and place of employment.

Since the Maine registry was first published on the internet earlier this month, Simpson said he lost his job at a South Portland fast-food restaurant. He is also no longer allowed to pick up his children from their daycare center.

Simpson, a 1981 graduate of Biddeford High School, has moved back to his hometown of Biddeford, where he stays with a former girlfriend who is the mother of his one-year-old son. He is still looking for work and a new place to live.

“This thing makes it impossible for me to live,” Simpson said of the required registry. “Everywhere I go, people treat me like a monster.”

About the registry

Maine’s sex offender registry website can be found here. From there, offenders can be searched by name or the municipality in which they live.

The city of Biddeford has the highest number of registered sex offenders in the tri-community area, listing the names of 30 men and women who are required to register and live in the city. According to the state’s website, the neighboring city of Saco has 11 registered sex offenders living there; and Old Orchard Beach has 10 registered sex offenders.

Each municipality offers direct links to the state’s sex offender registry from their respective homepages.

The state’s registry is maintained by the Maine State Police and is intended to provide the public information concerning the location of registered offenders currently living in Maine. But not every person listed on the site is a convicted child molester.

Instead, many of those listed have committed crimes against adults and have never been arrested for crimes against children.

On the other hand, the registry does not contain information on all individuals that have been convicted of a sex crime. Information is only provided for those individuals that are required to register under the 1999 state registry law. Registration is also limited to those who were sentenced after June 30, 1992.

Until three weeks ago, Maine was one of only a handful of states that did not provide an Internet listing database of its residing sex offenders. According to the U. S. Justice Department, only six states — Hawaii, Missouri, Montana, Nevada, Rhode Island and Washington — do not have a sex offender database available on the Internet.

Questions raised

Angela Thibodeau, a Biddeford attorney, said she was considering a challenge to the state’s 1999 sex offender registry law. One of her clients was convicted of unlawful sexual contact during a child custody dispute in Georgia, but now lives in Maine.

“I have my own misgivings about the law,” Thibodeau said. “But I’m not so sure that any kind of challenge would be too successful. It’s something that still needs to be studied more closely.”

Thibodeau says the registry tends to “victimize the offenders” by not allowing them to move forward with their lives as other criminals who did not commit sex crimes can after serving their sentences.

“Right now, the registry is not classified by level of risk,” Thibodeau said. “I think that’s something which should be considered.”

Saco attorney Eric Cote agrees with Thibodeau. Cote served as Simpson’s attorney five years ago. He says the law is too broad and as a result, counterproductive.

“There is a substantial difference between a crime committed against a child and a crime committed against an adult,” Cote said. “This thing sort of lumps them all in together. It should be broken down into different categories.”

But Michael Cantara, Maine’s Public Safety Commissioner, said it’s important to remember that the law was drafted and passed by the Legislature after many hours of public hearings in Augusta.

A former York County District Attorney and native of Biddeford, Cantara said the registry provides nothing different than what was already public record, available for newspapers and other media outlets.

“It’s important to remember that this law reflects legislative direction that was also filtered through several federal court decisions,” Cantara said. “It’s just another tool that is meant to inform, not to alarm the public.”

While both criminal court clerks and child protective workers with Maine’s Department of Human Services report a significant increase in calls regarding potential child molesters during the last few weeks, Cantara says the public has a responsibility to check all of the facts before jumping to conclusions about someone who is listed on the site.

“It is incumbent of citizens to act properly before rushing to judgment,” Cantara said, pointing to a law that prohibits harassment or threatening of sex offenders. “While the basic information about an offender is quickly available, it does take time to find more information, which is just as available for the general public.”

For each person listed on the registry, the state supplies the offender’s name, address, photograph and physical characteristics. The offender’s birthdate and place of employment is also listed, along with the date, place and docket number of their conviction.

“It would be a mistake for anyone to see the list as their only source of information,” Cantara said. “We all share responsibility for keeping ourselves safe, but we must do that with diligence and within the parameters of the law.”

Despite his concerns about the new law, Cote said the registry can be a valuable tool. “I would want to know if a child molester lived next door to me,” he said.

Scrub Maine’s ‘Clean’ Elections Law

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

As they begin their work, members of the 122nd Maine Legislature will be forced to grapple with more than 2,000 proposed bills.

Lawmakers from Caribou to Kittery have vowed to make meaningful tax relief a legislative priority, and that makes a lot of sense especially when considering the sentiment of those who chose our state’s newest leaders.

But there is at least one other item that should be a priority for our new crop of lawmakers, and that involves cleaning up Maine’s so-called Clean Elections Act.

A loophole in the 1996 law allows senior lawmakers to use clean election funds to help bolster their leadership chances by providing funding to colleagues. Although the law prevents those who use the program from accepting money from PACs, it does not restrict participants from funneling their funds to other candidates.

In a Dec. 17 Portland Press Herald story by David Hench, House Majority Leader Glenn Cummings said he would like to see the loophole closed. “When you become a clean election candidate, the public has a higher standard for your campaign and for your efforts to reduce the influence of special interests,” Cummings was quoted in that article.

Cummings is right, and the loophole should be closed immediately.

But there are other problems with the law, including its name. Having one candidate run as a “clean” candidate strongly implies that his or her traditionally-funded opponent could be “dirty.” Traditionally funded candidates for the Legislature cannot accept more than $250 from any group or individual.

Although the law is eight years old, it is still relatively new. And while its intent is certainly noble, there are some kinks that will need to be worked out. Some people have raised doubts about how well it accomplishes its goals of leveling the so-called playing field.

In an Oct. 17, 2002, published by the Cato Institute, Patrick Basham, a senior fellow in the Center for Representative Government, and Martin Zelder, an economist and senior associate at Analysis Group Economics, contend that Maine’s Clean Election law “has helped to entrench incumbents, diminishing electoral competition,” despite being designed to accomplish the opposite effect.

In Maine’s last primary campaign, 308 of the 429 legislative candidates (72 percent) took advantage of the publicly-financed campaign option, begging the question whether a cash-strapped state can afford such a program.

As long as power corrupts, politicians will always need to be mindful of voter suspicions regarding undue influence and the possibility of “bought and paid for” candidates.

Closing the loophole would be a good step in the right direction.

An American Girl

~ Randy Seaver ~ 3 Comments

I like Sarah Palin.

I can almost hear the wailing and gnashing of teeth from my liberal friends, but…there it is . . . I said it. I put it out on the world-wide web for all to see. You betcha…

It feels good to have that off my chest, sort of like finally admitting that you are powerless over alcohol, corn dogs or soft porn — and are willing, even if only reluctantly, to accept a Higher Power to help you live one day at a time.

Well, she was an American girl, Raised on promises…

I like Sarah Palin, but there a lots of reasons why I don’t want to ever see her occupy 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.(Liberal Democrats, please pause here and catch your breath)

So, how can someone like me “like” Sarah Palin and simultaneously be terrified by the idea of her sitting in the Oval Office, clutching for the suitcase with the ICBM codes?

It’s such a simple lesson in human psychology, yet it apparently lies beyond the grasp of most pundits, late-night talk-show hosts and even seasoned Democratic strategists. I like Sarah Palin because she is just like me.

She couldn’t help thinkin’ that there was a little more to life, somewhere else…

From my perspective, this is the disconnect that seems to fuel an ever expanding divide in American politics. In fact, it’s safe to say that Sarah was the spark, which ignited the roar of the Tea Party…those angry folks with their “Don’t Tread on Me” flags. I know some of these people…these Tea Party malcontents. In fact, one of my closest friends is a devout Tea Partier.

I asked him why he likes Sarah Palin and the Tea Party. His response?

“Not many people want to look at the facts,” he explained. “Our national debt is crushing, and it cannot be blamed on any one political party. We are driving off a cliff of spending, and Americans are busy on Facebook, contemplating their own navels and unwilling or perhaps unable to comprehend the madness that has become our federal government.”

After all it was a great big world, with lots of places to run to . . .

In his book What’s the Matter with Kansas? Thomas Frank discusses how many so-called Red States that were once bastions of Democratic power became the epicenter of resentment against Washington, D.C., academia, the media and all those other elites.

Recent political discourse, Frank says, shifted dramatically from traditional talking points that relied upon economic well-being, strong national defense and the virtues of democracy toward a new focus on hot-button cultural issues, including gay marriage, gun ownership, abortion and so-called “traditional family values,” which are as hard to define as the word irony.

Yeah, and if she had to die, she had one little promise, she was gonna keep

Palin has tapped into that anger and resentment better than anyone else in the last two decades. To her followers and supporters, the relationship is myopic and not sparingly ego-centric.

Sarah Palin is just like me, they say….although not always with such clarity.

Despite that painfully obvious and rather narcissistic response, too many Democrats sneer at the very mention of her name.

Oh yeah, all right. Take it easy, baby. Make it last all night…

Sarah Palin hunts, she shops for diapers at Wal-Mart. Her vernacular is combination of west Kentucky slang laced with Detroit rhythm and swing.

Watching the roaring crowds cheer her name, a housewife can almost imagine herself running for president while her NASCAR-watching husband cracks a beer and admires Sarah for many different reasons.

Face it, the woman looks damn good in a bikini. And maybe that is why so many of Sarah’s most voracious critics are women. Maybe not, but it’s not an original theory of mine.

The more Sarah is attacked, the stronger she seemingly becomes, not only to her base but her own inner strength and eagerness to go in swinging is only fueled by snide remarks, whether they come from Katie Couric or John Stewart.

Sarah Palin is class warfare defined. The more that middle America feels disenfranchised, the greater the odds that Sarah will be thrust even further into the stratosphere of popularity and adoration.

Otherwise normal, rational and level-headed people come completely unglued at even the mention of her name. They don’t talk about the values and importance of their own political ideals and policy goals. Instead, they attack Palin’s lack of education, her vernacular and her lack of sophistication.

They might as well drive into a trailer park and start swinging at toddlers with a baseball bat.

You don’t help someone see your point of view by giving them two black eyes.

When you attack Sarah Palin, you attack everything she has hijacked for her self-promotional agenda.

The vast majority of Americans do not consider themselves elite, yet few people are willing to stand up and proclaim their lack of cognitive reasoning skills, basic geography or limited vocabularies.

Sarah Palin is an American girl, and when you attack her, her beliefs or her simpleton viewscape of the world, you are attacking God, the Bible, gun ownership, simple living, rural values, the American family, people who shop at Walmart, motherhood, and a whole set of iconic images that are as subjective as they are varied.

The title of Frank’s book is evidence of the left’s arrogance and self-induced superioty complex. What’s the matter with Kansas implies that there’s something wrong with Kansas. A more objective title might be…How did the Democrats lose so much of the middle?

That latter title would require some painful introspection. Otherwise, the Democrats will continue to see themselves further marginalized by Sarah Palin and so many others who are following in her footsteps.

After all, Sarah Palin is an American girl…

Once in a lifetime

~ Randy Seaver ~ 1 Comment

Of course it happened in Biddeford.

Okay, so maybe it could have happened in Sanford, Lewiston or Rumford but really – – what’s the difference?

I’m speaking, of course, about the so-called sting video that was meant to prove rampant abuse of welfare benefits in Maine.

The undercover, amateur video was shot in the Biddeford office of the Maine Department of Health & Human Services roughly six months ago, and it sparked a media frenzy when it was released last week by two organizations that I have supported.

A few points of disclosure before we proceed any further:

  • I live in Biddeford;
  • My wife works as a social worker at the Biddeford DHHS office;
  • I am a registered Republican;
  • I once received welfare benefits.

Which of those above points does not belong? Which one is not like the others?

To better explain my perspective on this incident, I invite you on a journey back to August 10, 1983, a date I will never forget and a date that colored my view of the amateur video that was publicly released exactly 28 years later.

It was a Wednesday and it was hot. Hot and incredibly humid. Dog Day Afternoon hot.

I was 19 years old and about to experience something I would never forget.

I was also an in-patient on the psychiatric unit of the Maine Medical Center in Portland. Less than 24 hours earlier my mother visited me and explained that I could not come home once I was discharged. My behavior, she explained, was unacceptable. My illness was manifesting itself in fits of uncontrolled rage, belligerent behavior and sheer arrogance.

This was my second hospitalization in less than one year. I was floundering and out of control. I remember being angry during that meeting with my mother, my doctor and a social worker. But my anger was much more about fear than anything else.

Where would I go? How would I survive?

I did not have a job. I had only the clothes on my back and 55 cents in my pocket. I not only know it was exactly 55 cents, I also know that it was one quarter and three dimes. I awoke the next morning and stared out the window of my hospital room. From the sixth floor, it was looked as if the city of Portland was snarling at me, ready to swallow me whole.

You may find yourself in another part of the world. . .

I was discharged at about 11 a.m. and began my walk down Congress Street, past the fire department, the statue of Longfellow and the porno theaters that have since disappeared.

By the time I hit the intersection of Oak Street, I was drenched in sweat. I stopped at the McDonald’s restaurant and asked to speak with the manager.

I was told the manager was busy. They were gearing up for a lunch rush. I asked when I could come back just before a man tapped me on the shoulder. “What do you need?” he asked.

I will never forget that man. His name was George Lydick. He lived in Falmouth, and he owned three McDonald’s restaurants in the area. He invited me to sit down and grabbed an employment application.

I can’t remember if I filled out the application. I do remember that he gave me a Big Mac and a chocolate shake. He asked if I could start immediately because he needed a third-shift utility worker, a janitor who would clean the bathrooms, change the oil in the fryaltors, empty the garbage, break down and sanitize the shake machine and mop the floors.

He was willing to take a gamble on me, but only when the restaurant was closed and there were no customers around. I had told him that I was just discharged from P-6, after all.

I had a job. I would earn $4.25 an hour, and George agreed to comp me two meals a day until I got my first paycheck. I shook his hand. Thanked him profusely and left in search of place to live.

Roughly 30 minutes later, I found myself with dozens of other people in the basement level of Portland City Hall. My name was called, and I met with a caseworker. I showed her my discharge papers and told her I just got a job at McDonald’s but had no place to live. The shame of being there was crushing.

The city, she explained, had limited resources, but if I could find an apartment that would take city vouchers, they could pay my rent until I got my first paycheck. They could not, however, help with any security deposits. She also gave me $17 worth of emergency food stamps and sent me on my way, looking for an apartment with a list of potential places and an eligibility form that the landlord would have to complete.

I struck pay-dirt on my first try, the emphasis on dirt. The apartment was a one-room efficiency on the fourth floor of a building that smelled of cat urine and featured peeling paint, torn carpeting in the hallways and lots of loud music. The rent was $50 a week. It included all utilities.

The room was tiny and had two windows, both of which could not be opened because of the swelling wood and lack of maintenance. The view featured the brick wall of an adjacent building. There was a stained mattress, a two-burner cook top and a micro fridge.

You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack.

It was 2:30 p.m. I had been on my own for a little more than three hours. I had a job and a place to live.

I was terrified and would begin my new job in less than eight hours.

Despite my accomplishments, I did make a very big mistake that day. I decided to use the toilet in my new apartment. It did not occur to me until it was much too late that I did not have toilet paper, a shower curtain, soap or even a towel.

My theory is if that ever happens to you, it only happens once. In the 28 years since, I’ve never had less than 28 rolls of toilet paper in my home at any given time.

I remember being stunned that I had to actually pay for things like towels, salt, soap and toilet paper. Those things should be free, I reasoned.

Welcome to being an adult.

My mother and a friend of hers visited me three days later. They brought with them several bags of groceries: cans of tuna fish and soup, fresh vegetables, peanut butter, bread and cereal.

Flash forward 28 years later. I am sitting at my desk this morning, thinking that I should clean my pool instead of updating my blog. I am overlooking my gardens, and I am impressed with my lawn and its lack of brown spots. All my windows can be opened, and we have five air conditioners.

You may find yourself with a beautiful wife and a beautiful house . . .

Next week, I will wake up in my camper perched on the shore of Moosehead Lake. My, God. . . how did I get here?

I say all this because the taxpayers (you) made an investment in me. Nearly three decades ago, you gave me $117 in rent and groceries. For the next two years, you subsidized my medications and loaned me money to go to college.

Was it a wise investment? I like to think so, especially when I look at how much I pay in taxes; the money I donate to charity and the lessons I try to pass on to my two stepsons.

Sure, it doesn’t always work out this way. And who knows, maybe I could crash and burn, but sometimes the investment works out nicely.

Make no mistake, welfare fraud happens. If you look hard and long enough, you can always find waste, inefficiency and things that need to be improved. It all depends on where you want to look.

If you’re upset about how welfare fraud impacts your wallet, you’re certainly not alone. Personally, as a conservative Republican, I am much more concerned with how welfare fraud impacts those who truly need government assistance. With limited budgets and resources, we don’t need clowns running around with hidden cameras looking for a “gotcha” moment.

We need more people giving back to their communities. We need to invest more of our time, energy and resources in making our communities stronger and safer.

Governor Paul LePage, a man who knows a thing or two about being down on your luck, responded to the video release like….well….like a governor should. He questioned the delayed release of the videotape. He saw an example of an opportunity for better training and renewed focus on efficiency of state services.

He didn’t see a smoking gun. He saw an opportunity. But I don’t expect he’ll get much credit for it.

That’s just the way it goes when you’re a Republican who lives in Biddeford, Lewiston, Sanford or Rumford.

Little pink houses…in Biddeford & Saco

~ Randy Seaver ~ 2 Comments

I don’t know how it happened.

It started off like any other Monday morning, but by the time the sun began to set later in the day I realized that I had lost more than three hours. Gone; Vanished; Disappeared; Hasta la vista, baby!

I could have done laundry. I could have mowed the lawn. I could have gotten drunk and run around naked, cursing the plummeting Dow Jones Industrial Averages.

I could have built something really cool with Legos.

I could have done so many things, but instead I got sucked into the vortex of an ancient, parochial battle field, where soldiers were slaying the dragons of childhood memories. And it all happened on Facebook.

Yup, I was like a porn addict; fervently pitched over my laptop, numb to my surroundings with blood-shot eyes glued to the instant messages popping onto my screen from people I grew up with, people I remember and people I don’t know.

Yup, I joined one of those cyberspace group: You know you’re from ________, if . . .

I am usually much more disciplined. I loathe Farmville and all the other crap on Facebook, but these pages were speaking to me, sparking memories that had long ago been neatly tucked away in order to make room for much more important things than childhood nostalgia.

You know, important, adult stuff: mowing the lawn, doing laundry, getting drunk and playing with Legos.

But this is where I got into trouble. I joined two of these groups. Yup, I am a glutton for punishment and an overflowing e-mail inbox. My decision sparked the ire of competition between these sibling communities. My loyalties were immediately called into question.

I grew up in Saco, a small town that calls itself a city in southern Maine. (Hint: In Maine, we don’t have any cities, only a couple of big towns.)

Today, I live on the other side of the river, in a small town called Biddeford that is also described as a city. These two towns (like so many others in Maine) have a bitter football rivalry. I have always thought of these two communities as one town, and I never paid much attention to the whole rivalry thing. Probably because I never played football.

My grandparents lived in Biddeford and later bought a home in Saco. My grandfather taught high school English in both communities but my grandmother taught fourth grade only in Saco. Shortly after I was born (in a far-away college town), my parents moved into an apartment on Quimby Street in Biddeford. We lived on the third-floor of that “triple-decker” until I was seven years old and my parents bought their first home in Saco.

My best friend at the time was John Lessard.

Today, John lives in Texas, and he has a beautiful family. We are “friends” on Facebook.

Today, I live less than one mile away from that triple-decker, where I learned how to ride a bicycle and kissed a girl for the very first time. So, I guess you could say that I am from Biddeford.

Not exactly, at least according to the opinions of some people.

When I learned that we were moving across the river, I cried myself to sleep. My friends would be gone forever. I would never again see the girl I kissed. John and I would not be riding our bikes to Mayfield Park. Life was coming to a screeching, terrifying and horrific end.

I think it took me between 48 and 72 hours to get over the trauma of moving two miles away from Sevigny’s Market, my childhood friends and that back-yard shoe shop, which has since been converted into apartments.

There were new kids, a new school and even a new market, Don’s Variety. There were no girls who would kiss me, but it didn’t matter much at that time. Back then, I thought I could fly if I tied an old blanket around my neck.

Who needs girls when you can fly?

I don’t think too much about those days, even though I had the pleasure of serving as the editor of my hometown newspaper long after I had ditched my flying blanket (okay, maybe not that long).

The paper covered news for (gasp) both communities. And after traveling and writing stints for the better part of two decades across the country, from Annapolis and Nashville to Oregon, South Dakota and Texas; not to mention a bitter divorce, it felt good to be back home. It was reassuring.

So much had changed, yet so many things were the same.

I choked the interview for that job, but the newspaper’s publisher was eager to hire me because one of the graphic artist remembered having my grandmother as a teacher. I had graduated from Thornton Academy in Saco. I had my first haircut at Ralph’s barbershop, got my First Communion at St. Mary’s, got busted for shoplifting at Zayre’s department store and bought my first lottery ticket at Vic & Whit’s.

I was a local boy. We were a local paper. It didn’t take long for me to assimilate.

Eventually, I re-married and began the task of raising my own children in Biddeford. Some high school acquaintances chided my decision. Why, after all, would I (a Thornton graduate) choose to live among the working-class of Biddeford?

Well, maybe it’s because nobody ever stole my lunch money or gave me wedgies in Biddeford; or maybe it’s because people in Biddeford seemed just a tad less judgmental than their counterparts across the river. Maybe I favor the underdogs: the men and women who made the shoes, the blankets and machine parts more than those who checked the timecards and carried the clipboards.

Or maybe it was because they stopped calling it “Factory Island” and started calling it “Saco Island.”

But the reasons don’t much matter. I am from Biddeford.

And I am from Saco. And I am the lucky one because I have two hometowns.

Rebel, rebel . . .

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

It’s been almost 10 years since the United States decided to wage a war on terror by launching air strikes in Afghanistan. Back then, most Americans would be hard pressed to find that country on an un-labeled map.

Today, nearly a decade later– after losing 1,581 U.S. troops, and spending in excess of $440 billion on Operation Enduring Freedom — most Americans would still be hard-pressed to find Afghanistan with or without a map.

Rebel, rebel, you’ve torn your dress . . .

Unlike the ongoing war in Iraq, Operation Enduring Freedom has been somewhat more politically palatable, a bit easier to digest and certainly understandable, given the horrific events that transpired on a bright and clear Tuesday morning in September 2001.

In the days and weeks following Sept. 11, Americans were increasingly ready for revenge. We wanted Osama bin Laden’s head on a stick.

Nobody had to sell us on this war. We had all the justification we needed.

Rebel, rebel, your face is a mess . . .

Many of those who otherwise could be consistently counted upon to criticize use of U.S. military forces remained either silent or ambiguous during the ramp-up of Operation Enduring Freedom. Others became suddenly hawkish on the subject of the Afghan War.

You love bands when they’re playing hard. You want more, and you want it fast

Consider, for a moment, the remarks made by presidential candidate Barack Obama nearly seven years after the war had started.

“The greatest threat to that security lies in the tribal regions of Pakistan, where terrorists train and insurgents strike into Afghanistan. We cannot tolerate a terrorist sanctuary, and as President, I won’t. We need a stronger and sustained partnership between Afghanistan, Pakistan and NATO to secure the border, to take out terrorist camps, and to crack down on cross-border insurgents. We need more troops, more helicopters, more satellites, more Predator drones in the Afghan border region. And we must make it clear that if Pakistan cannot or will not act, we will take out high-level terrorist targets like bin Laden if we have them in our sights.” (July 15, 2008)

But as the war on terror continues taking its toll on the pocketbooks and the psyche of the American public, support for Operation Enduring Freedom is waning.

An Associated Press poll conducted shortly after the war began in October 2001, showed that nearly 94 percent of Americans supported the war on terror. By August 2009, support for the ongoing war in Afghanistan dropped to less than 50 percent.

As we approach the dreaded 10-year anniversary of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, the war on terror seems again at a crossroads. Events of the last few days do not bode well for those who say that Operation Enduring Freedom should continue.

On Friday, Aug. 5, following several weeks of an especially divisive Congressional debate regarding America’s burgeoning debt, Standard & Poor’s downgraded the credit rating of the United States government.

Less than 24 hours later, America suffered its deadliest single loss in the decade-old war when a Chinook helicopter carrying members of the elite U.S. Navy Seal Team Six was shot down in Afghanistan. Thirty-one U.S. soldiers, seven Afghan commandos and an interpreter were killed. The Taliban claimed responsibility.

According to a report in the Christian Science Monitor, Saturday’s loss of coalition forces renewed pessimism among the Afghan people about the possibility of ever diminishing the Taliban’s cling to power.

Here at home, as we begin the dog days of August, Americans seemed subdued.

Perhaps the reality of the war and its cost are finally starting to sink in.

Only weeks earlier, we celebrated the death of Osama bin Laden, thumping our chests with nationalistic pride. It seemed as if our mission was drawing to a close. As a friend of mine said several weeks ago, “You don’t fuck with U.S. Navy Seals.”

We had our revenge.

Or did we?

From my perspective, the objectives of the so-called War on Terror are as murky and as hard to explain as the bottom of . . .well, I don’t know.

Fighting a War on Terror is like fighting a War on Poverty, a War on Drugs or a War on Jealousy.

Noble in its intentions, perhaps . . . but never-ending.

Although I was only 11 years old, I can still recall watching as American military forces and civilian personnel were evacuated from a Saigon rooftop in April 1975. The Vietnam War was finally coming to a close.

I remained a political and news junkie through my adolescence and into my adulthood. I cheered for the Afghan insurgents who stood up to the mighty forces of the Soviet Union. The Russians invaded their southern neighbor on Christmas Eve 1979. Not quite 10 years later, the battle-weary and nearly bankrupt Russians withdrew without victory.

The words of George Santayana come to mind. “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to fulfill it.”

But maybe Mr. Santayana’s other well-known quotation is more appropriate. “Only the dead have seen the end of war.”