It’s taken almost five years to get to this point – – and try as I might — I can no longer ignore the impact that MS is taking on her body, her spirit.
Worse yet, there is not a goddamn thing I can do to stop it or even slow its progress.
Against this disease, I am useless.
Despite the lies that the boys and I tell ourselves, despite all the distractions: the self-inflicted chaos, the thousand other natural shocks that flesh is heir to, the disease has a one-up on us tough guys.
Every day, in just the smallest, almost invisible of ways, I lose a tiny sliver of the woman I adore; and she loses little pieces of a still vibrant and blessed life during a steady creep toward loss of mobility.
By now you think I would have developed better coping skills, that I would be better equipped to face the reality. You would be wrong.
I talk about it because it warrants conversation. Because I have to publicly own my shitty performance in dealing with my wife’s MS.
Laura is stronger, smarter and far more courageous than me. She once jumped out an airplane. She is more spontaneous, easier to get along with: daring, loving, funny and kind.
Some days are better than others. Yesterday was a good day: Yeah, she bought the cane but we also laughed during a wonderful dinner with friends in Portland.
We all have our crosses to bear. I just wish sometimes I could ignore it a little while longer.
To learn more about MS and how you can help fight the disease, check this.
Spend just a few moments on the blogosphere and you will find a lot of stories just like mine.
On Google, Facebook and Twitter, these dark tales of woe, deceit and theft abound.
But my story is a tad different. And this, my friends, is the first warning shot across the bow of a corporate giant aircraft carrier that likely will pay little attention.
I am talking about AT&T, one of the nation’s largest and most well-known corporations.
AT&T (NYSE:T) is a Fortune 500 company and of the 30 stocks that make up the Dow Jones Industrial Average. Their reported consolidated revenue for the 2011 reporting period was $126.7 billion. Randall L. Stephenson is the chairman and CEO of AT&T.
So now you know what I’m up against, but don’t count me out just yet.
Allow me to back up and offer some context.
I have been a loyal AT&T customer for more than 7 years. I have a Family Plan that is also used by my wife and two teenage step-sons. I have a data bundle, unlimited text and 1,500 minutes of monthly talk time. My average monthly bill runs approximately $200 every month.
I have upgraded my phones over the last few years. I have never said an unkind word about AT&T in the public realm, despite their rather dismal coverage and the fact that my cell phone is essentially useless in my own home. But I am hooked into everlasting contracts, and until now it seemed like a giant pain in the ass to leave.
But then this happened:
Last evening, I received an automated call from AT&T, suggesting that I should consider a new plan. Curious, I went to view my account online and almost had a massive coronary. According to AT&T, I owe them $1,016.21.
I spoke with at least two representatives, including a young man named Rico, a “customer satisfaction specialists,” who didn’t seem to know the first thing about customers or service. In summary, AT&T refused to budge.
Somehow, I was able to get Rico to set down his scripted talking points and listen to me for just a few seconds. And this is what I said.
I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. If you are looking for me to pay this bill, I can tell you I don’t have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you adjust this bill now, that’ll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill your company’s reputation.
I am going to haunt AT&T’s Facebook page and chase them on Twitter. I am going to call their customer service line every day, multiple times a day. I am going to shout my story from the rooftops, call every member of the Legislature, file formal complaints and talk to my friends in the media.
I am going to buy AT&T stock so that I can participate in shareholder conference calls and stay updated on their corporate affairs. I am going to e-mail Randall Stephenson daily, sometimes two or three times a day. I am going to create a Facebook page and make sure that Verizon, Sprint and T-Mobile know about it.
Strangely, there are several fun URL domains available, i.e. attsukz.com; attblows.com, etc.
But in the end, AT&T has me over a barrel. They can impact my credit report if I don’t pay on time. They have me locked in a contract.
But I am motivated, and unlike the foolishness and aimlessness of the Occupy fiasco, I have a clear objective: AT&T is going to spend at least 10 times more than what they are charging me for international calls that I never made.
Companies like AT&T spend millions every year to attract customers in a competitive market. They spend millions more on lobbyists and on PR professionals like me.
Go ahead and laugh, who could blame you? But consider this: social media helped bring down the Egyptian president. Lech Walesa, a Polish Factory worker, brought the Soviet Union to its knees in a matter of weeks. David beat Goliath and elephants are terrified of mice.
I invite you to join me in my crusade. I am going to have fun, and you can follow my progress with regular updates here.
Meanwhile, I will wrap it up here with a wonderful quote from Margaret Mead: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
Hey, AT&T: can you hear me now? You guys may want to rethink possible.
AT&T customers are welcome to join the fight. Tell me your story here
Don’t laugh. It’s now a question being asked in Somerville, Mass., another city that struggled to overcome negative stereotypes, according to a story from the Boston Globe.
After almost three decades working the counter at Capone Foods in Somerville’s Union Square,
Albert Capone has become a stranger in his own city.
“It’s gone from townies to hipsters,” he said on a recent evening. “The hats, the tattoos, the tight skinny jeans — on the guys. It’s like they’re trying to out-hip each other.”
Once again, we are on the verge of another election cycle in the fair city of Biddeford, where local political maneuvering is a blood sport.
Joanne Twomey: A “real” Democrat?
According to the City Clerk’s office, some very familiar faces have taken out nomination papers for a variety of elected positions.
But wait, that’s not all.
Once again, a few dime-store strategists are enjoying some late summer shenanigans: several candidates have taken out various and multiple forms of nominating papers. One candidate, in fact, can’t decide if he should run for an “at-large” seat on the council, run as a candidate for his own Ward or serve on the school committee.
This strategy is meant to confuse the opposition and observers like yours truly. They will wait until the final moments before the filing deadline to turn in their papers, hopefully scaring off would-be challengers and leaving them with few options at the filing deadline.
Of course, former Mayor Joanne Twomey is looking for revenge. After being trounced two years ago by Mayor Alan Casavant (68-32 percent), Twomey is determined to get her old seat back.
Despite also losing a Democratic primary bid last year to replace State Rep. Paulette Beaudoin, Twomey is convinced that she is somehow still relevant.
She’ll have a hard time beating her last showing of 38 percent, especially if some of the declared mayoral candidates follow-through with filing their 125 signatures of registered voters.
Joining Twomey in the race for the mayor’s seat is former city councilor Perry Aberle and Karl Reed, Jr. Casavant is expected to take out nomination papers later today.
Thus, in a four-way race, Casavant would need to lose big numbers, which will then likely be divided by his three challengers.
But Twomey isn’t the only familiar face looking for a comeback.
Former city councilor and one-time mayoral candidate Marc Lessard is apparently thinking about returning to the council either for an at-large seat or representing Ward 6. Lessard, an early favorite in the 2003 mayoral race, ended up last in that three-way race. He hasn’t been heard from since.
Until now.
But wait, there’s still more.
Former city councilor Ron Peaker, who also serves as commander-in-chief of Peakers Squeakers ( a vocal group of three old white guys from coastal Biddeford who consistently oppose the school budget), is also thinking about a return to either the council or the school committee.
Peaker is joined by his pal, John McCurry, another former city councilor who was aligned with Lessard, Peaker and former mayor James Grattelo back in the good ol’ days. McCurry is considering a run for either the council or the school committee.
On the other side of the political spectrum, Jim Emerson, a former councilor and school committee member, is thinking about an at-large seat or a return to the school committee. Current councilors Mike Swanton, David Bourque, Bobby Mills, Brad Cote, Rick Laverierre and Mike Ready all seem dumb enough to endure another two years on the council.
But back to the mayor’s race for a second. Does Perry Aberle, a one-time staunch Twomey supporter, stand a shot?
Sure, anything is possible. The sun may also not rise in the east tomorrow, but don’t bet on it. Aberele got slapped hard when he tried a bid to replace Paulette Beaudoin last year.
What about Karl Reed, Junior? Little Karl will have to do a lot better than his old man did in 2009. Big Karl sank like an anchor in his first local political bid, a four-way mayoral race in 2009 (the last time Twomey won an election).
Big Karl earned 170 votes. Sounds impressive, right? Wrong.
That is 170 votes out of 7,876 votes cast. I guess you could feel good about less than 3 percent, unless you consider that nearly four times as many people left the ballot blank on the mayor’s race.
Maybe, Little Karl will bring some respect back to the family, but again . . . don’t bet on it. If he breaks the 10 percent mark, I’ll be surprised and Twomey will be in trouble.
Updated for corrections, August 21. Apologies to the city clerk’s office.
Which Hollywood film better describes the city of Biddeford’s ongoing struggle with issues such as “the creative economy,” “cultural diversity” and elitism: Mr. Holland’s Opus or Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome?
In Thunderdome, a community barely surviving in a post-apocalyptic world is wary of strangers and outsiders. To avoid another global war, all disputes are settled by a bizarre cage match contest in which “two men enter and one man leaves,” a fight to the death.
By contrast, the 1995 film Mr. Holland’s Opus examines the career of a musician who reluctantly becomes a high school music teacher. Mr. Holland becomes passionate about exposing his students to the value of music and arts, but a political reality sets in near the end of the film.
The school board is struggling with its budget. A decision is made to eliminate the arts and music programs in order to preserve the “more important” functions of teaching reading and writing. Mr. Holland tries to fight back. “if you keep cutting arts and music, pretty soon these kids will have nothing to write or read about,” he quips on the day he receives his pink slip.
Take me to the other side
Sarah Beanland is a Massachusetts resident who summers in Biddeford Pool. I met her and her husband last week on Main Street. They had just purchased a couple of paintings.
Renee and Jim O’Neil: Stop complaining and get involved.
She was puzzled and dismayed to learn that some community members have reacted negatively to a recent push for the creation of a creative economy in the downtown area. Although she quickly conceded that she did not have the benefit of a local, historical perspective, she was forceful in her opinion about the benefits of a creative economy and how it can elevate any community.
“Arts and education are the great equalizers,” she said. “But we must make sure that everyone has access to those things. Access to both arts and education is the key.”
Renee O’Neil, a lifelong resident, has been a leading downtown advocate for more than two decades. O’Neil championed and led the efforts to restore and renovate City Theater, a historic Opera House on Main Street.
“I don’t get why anyone would feel offended in any way by efforts to build a creative economy here,” she said, conceding that there has been a historical resentment about the perceptions of class warfare in Biddeford.
Renee said a lot of people told her she would never be able to generate enough community interest to successfully renovate City Theater. She proved those detractors wrong, and today the facility serves a broad array of community functions, ranging from theatrical functions to a venue for community meetings and events.
Renee recalls growing up in a working-class family and says community concerns about elitism are becoming a distant part of Biddeford’s past. “There was a time and a place when that all may have been true, but not now,” she said. “I guess I don’t see the social boundaries because I have always crossed them. My dad would talk to everyone. There was never this idea that we weren’t all part of the same community.”
Renee’s husband, Jim agrees. “All this talk about elitism seems strange,” he said. “People were not happy with the fact that nothing much was happening [in downtown,]” he said. “Now something positive is happening, and these very same people are upset. Go figure.”
For many years, Renee and Jim operated a small and popular convenience store near the western border of the city. They said they learned much from that experience, including how initial impressions are often inaccurate and that all people share much more in common than the things that seem to divide them.
“People would come into the store, and when we took the time to know them, we found ourselves connecting on a personal level,” Renee said. “Too many people don’t seem to take the time to listen or consider things beyond their own comfort level.”
The Rubberband Man
Pete Lamontagne examines a historical photo of mill workers who toiled in the same buildings where he and his father worked.
If any one person is revered as the spokesman of Biddeford’s working class population, it is George “Pete” Lamontagne, a former city councilor, mill worker and former president of the labor union that represented the city’s mill workers back when the mills were producing blankets and other textiles.
Today, those same mill buildings that once drove Biddeford’s economy and provided steady employment for generations of immigrants are being renovated and converted into numerous uses, from up-scale housing units to a small business incubator that features dozens of small businesses.
There is even talk of a hotel, a conference center and many other exciting opportunities for a community that has struggled to move beyond its mill town heritage.
As the renovation and reinvigoration of the formerly dormant mill complex continues, a new tension has been created. That renovation process is primarily being led by “people from away,” the folks I describe as Biddeford’s most recent immigrants.
“Oh yes, there is elitism in Biddeford,” Lamontagne said in his usual soft-spoken style. “But it goes both ways and it’s more often about perception than reality.”
Lamontagne serves as a self-appointed emissary between the two sides of this latest clash of personalities and opinions in Biddeford. He was co-curator of a photo exhibit that was displayed at the Engine Gallery on Main Street. That exhibit, The Way We Were, focused on Biddeford’s cultural history.
The mostly black and white images from The Way We Were exhibit were collected from a variety of sources, mostly from individual community members who were eager to share their memories and heritage.
But not everyone appreciated Lamontagne’s efforts to bridge the gap between old and new ideas for Biddeford’s future and its identity.
“A lot of people questioned why I was getting involved,” he recalled. “A lot of people said, ‘Pete, how can someone like you spend so much time with those people.'”
Lamontagne says he understands the mistrust and suspicion raised by some of his peers. He agrees with my assertion that the passionate push for developing a creative economy in downtown Biddeford sometimes seems too aggressive without fully understanding the city’s history.
Together, Lamontagne and I recant a long litany of real elitism and class warfare in Biddeford: Attempts by coastal neighborhoods to secede from the city in the 1990s; a move to ban public use of the beaches at Biddeford Pool and Fortunes Rocks in the 1970s, and of course, the long history of enduring the weight of criticisms from those who live across the river in Saco.
But we also talked about more recent examples, including the tensions and controversy created by the opening of Fatboys Saloon and the 800-pound gorilla issue that created an even deeper divide in the community: a plan in 2011 to open a casino-resort complex on the outskirts of the city.
“No doubt, the casino issue left a bad taste in a lot of mouths,” Lamontagne said. “On one side were supporters, many of whom saw the casino as a way to create much-needed blue-collar jobs and put Biddeford back on the map. On the other side were people who worried about the image of a casino, about how it would impact our quality of place.”
Lamontagne, like most Biddeford voters, supported the idea of opening a casino. But Maine voters rejected the city’s proposal, despite narrowly approving a similar facility in Oxford the year before.
“A lot of people were upset and are still upset about that,” Lamontagne said. “We’ve lost a lot of our traditional jobs, and people are worried. Many of them don’t see how art exhibits and music performances will help us get back to where we were.”
City Councilor Roch Angers agrees with Lamontagne. Angers grew up in a working-class neighborhood on South Street, where his family operated a small grocery store.
“You know what I hate?” Angers said. “The word Biddo. That’s not the name of our community. We have three consonants in the name of our city. Deal with it and show some respect for our heritage.”
Fatboy Slim
David Bourque: A man and his bar
Biddeford City Councilor David Bourque found himself at the center of a storming controversy earlier this year.
His plan to open Fatboys Saloon on Main Street erupted into a full-scale public policy nightmare that once again raised concerns about elitism and a lingering sense of class warfare.
When the Heart of Biddeford, a non-profit downtown business organization, raised their concerns during a city council meeting, former Biddeford mayor Joanne Twomey came off the ropes swinging in defense of Bourque and his proposed establishment. Local newspapers seized on the story.
Heart of Biddeford representatives said they only asked the council whether downtown was the appropriate location for a “biker bar” and whether it met the vision of a Downtown Master Plan that was developed two years prior and included input from a broad array of stakeholders. They worried about noise and impacts to nearby downtown residents and plans to build a hotel nearby.
But Twomey wasn’t buying what the Heart of Biddeford was selling. She described the organization and some of its members as “elitists.” She was full of sound and fury, outraged that a working class community would look down their noses at a bar marketed toward working class citizens.
The liquor license was approved and almost four months have passed since. Twomey has taken out nomination papers and apparently is planning another run at the seat she lost two years ago.
Although the dust may have settled in the Fatboys debate, Bourque said he was taken aback by the reaction to his business.
“I don’t get it,” he told me during a telephone interview. “It came out of nowhere. It was like I was guilty until I could prove myself innocent.”
While Heart of Biddeford members said Bourque should have approached them before aggressively promoting the pending opening of Fatboys, Bourque says no one from the Heart of Biddeford approached him to learn about his vision or plans.
“It was an unprecedented attack on my reputation,” Bourque said. “People should know who I am. I have been on the city council for four years, and I’ve been doing business in this city for more than 30 years.”
Bourque was an outspoken supporter of the casino. Many Heart of Biddeford members opposed the idea of a casino. Was this payback, I asked.
“I don’t think so,” Bourque responded. “I think people just jumped to conclusions. I believe in what the Heart of Biddeford is doing. They deserve a lot of kudos for what they are doing and trying to get done in Biddeford.”
Bourque defended the pre-opening promotion of Fatboys, including a controversial Facebook page that displayed young women in tight-fitting clothes and marketing geared toward bikers. “Sure, we wanted to create a buzz,: he said. “It’s alcohol and female bartenders. What’s wrong with that?”
But some say Bourque simply poked a tiger with a stick by being as provocative as possible during the pre-opening promotion. He should not be surprised that the tiger snarled.
Bourque said he has moved beyond the controversy. He also says he is planning to join the Heart of Biddeford and run for another term on the city council. “I was so humbled during that process,” he said. “I heard from so many people who supported me…people I have not seen or heard from in years. It was very encouraging.”
The mayor weighs in
Mayor Alan Casavant (Sun Chronicle photo)
Before his retirement in 2010, Mayor Alan Casavant spent 35 years teaching American Studies and Psychology at Biddeford High School.
He describes this conversation about elitism, cultural diversity and the creative economy as “fascinating stuff that has always intrigued me.”
“I think we can all be somewhat elitist at times,” he said. “But it’s sort of like racism in that it’s not an easy or comfortable topic for a lot of people.”
Throughout his first term as Biddeford’s mayor, Casavant has consistently pushed for Biddeford to move beyond its own negativity and self-imposed inferiority complex. “Yes, we were a mill town,” he says. “But we are no longer a mill town and we simply must acknowledge that new reality as we all work toward repositioning ourselves for the future.”
Casavant said cultural identity is important, but it should not become a wedge that prevents collaboration between those with different perspectives. “There’s room for everyone in Biddeford,” he says. “We all have a role to play. The question becomes who among us is willing to step up? You can’t just sit back and complain. We all need to look for solutions.”
But Casavant acknowledges that his vision is difficult for some people to embrace. “We are all — to varying degrees — uncomfortable with change, but change is the only constant thing in our lives.”
The mayor understands and empathizes with those who are upset that there is push to transform LaKermesse, the city’s annual Franco American festival, into a celebration of multi-cultural diversity.
Casavant has also heard elitism used as a weapon in other policy debates, including ongoing debate about the city’s municipal airport and accusations that it’s nothing more than “an exclusive country club for rich out-of-towners.”
“I think both sides get too defensive when we attempt to discuss these issues,” Casavant said. “I think we would all be well-served by committing even further to understanding and appreciating different points of view.”
Perception or reality?
Has a sense of cultural elitism taken hold in downtown Biddeford, where a push for creative economy is brushing up against those hoping for more traditional economic development?
Vassie Fowler, a downtown business owner, does not hesitate with her answer. “You betcha.”
In addition to owning and operating Union House Pub and Pizza with her husband Jack, Vassie also runs a catering service that has worked closely with the Heart of Biddeford and the Engine gallery. She was raised by a family of second-generation immigrants from Greece: the Ladakakos family, best known for their outstanding, downtown Italian sandwich shop, George’s Sandwich Shop.
Union House is one of the many small businesses thriving in the renovated North Dam mill building that was redeveloped by Doug Sanford.
Vassie says she is happy that her business can simultaneously be part of Biddeford’s new and old narrative. A pizza pub located in a renovated mill building, a business name that pays homage to the city’s past.
But she also says tension between those pushing for a creative economy and those who want more traditional development is real.
“It feels like you have to be loyal to just one side, and that’s just ridiculous,” she responded in an e-mail. “You can be embraced but then shunned. Like you’re either with us or against us; you’re either part of the clique and follow our rules or you’re not. Give me a break.”
Fowler says there is certainly room for a creative economy in Biddeford, but it should not be the sole focus.
“Biddeford will never improve or grow unless we are honest with who or what we are,” she added. “Flower pots and a fresh coat of paint can not change who we are as a community: the good, the bad and the ugly.”
It’s even easier to label others, take sides and compartmentalize ourselves within groups that match our own ideals, values or culture.
This trend happens frequently in my hometown of Biddeford, one of Maine’s most frequently maligned communities.
In this town, there is a lot of talk about so-called “elitists” and immigrants, and although those conversations generally remain just below the surface, the tension sometimes escapes into the realm of public policy.
Even talking publicly about any aspect of our community can be a tricky process. It’s sort of like why Chris Rock is allowed to use the “N-word,” but Jimmy Fallon is not.
If you are from Biddeford — and by that I mean your grandparents received their First Communion at St. Andre’s — it’s perfectly okay to disparage the city or make snide remarks about its residents, its challenges or its culture.
But you people from away better watch your step. We carry a mighty big chip on our shoulder, and we’ve been known to swing hard.
Because of its history and immigrant population, some people describe Biddeford as a “diverse community.”
To those of you who blather on about “diversity,” please do me a favor and shut up already.
Most of you only like diversity when it matches your pre-conceived ideas about a utopian state of diversity. True diversity would give equal weight, consideration and respect to differing political philosophies, intellectual and economic capacity and so many other factors.
If you really, truly favor diversity, you acknowledge that Barack Obama and Sarah Palin both have something valuable to offer; that the KKK should be allowed to march down Main Street; that pedophiles simply have a different sexual preference.
In essence, the word diversity is horribly abused and its concept rings like hollow bullshit when used by those who think they will sleep better at night by embracing it.
The way we were
By the mid 1800s, nearly 50 percent of Biddeford’s residents were foreign-born immigrants, according to the Maine Memory Project website.
Although most of these immigrants were Catholics from Canada and Ireland, they seemed to have little in common and enjoyed fighting amongst themselves. In 1855, there was only one Catholic Church in Biddeford: Church of the Immaculate Conception (later Church of the Assumption, then St. Mary’s)
But animosity between the French and Irish Catholics led to the establishment of a separate church, St. Joseph’s, established in 1870. Only 30 years later, St. Andre’s was established by a separate faction of French-Canadians.
I generally describe it like this: The Irish went to St. Mary’s and the French went to St. Joseph’s, but the really French went to St. Andres.
I briefly dated an Irish girl from Biddeford in the late ’90s. She told me (without any hesitation) that “the goddamned Frenchmen intentionally built the steeple on St. Joseph’s so that St. Mary’s would remain forever in the shadow of the larger church.”
Today, only St. Joseph’s remains open. So much for diversity.
The immigrants of yesteryear (Canadians, Irish, Greeks and Albanians) were drawn to Biddeford to work in the bustling textile mills, According to historical accounts, many of those immigrants became entrepreneurs in their own right and opened small businesses up and down Main Street. Their businesses included restaurants, groceries, and clothing, paper, and fancy goods shops.
Sound familiar?
Let’s name names
A couple of years ago, I wrote a post on this blog about the people I considered to be the 25 most influential political players in the Biddeford-Saco region. The Top 25
In that post, I mentioned some folks who are part of a new crop of Biddeford immigrants; people like Tammy Ackerman and Doug Sanford.
I described Doug Sanford (No. 18) as perhaps the best thing to happen to downtown Biddeford since the discovery of the Saco River.
In less than 12 years, Sanford, a boot-strap real-estate developer, has become one of the city’s largest commercial property owners and today owns a number of mill buildings in the downtown area. He is succesful, and thus…is often the target of derisive commentary and accusations of “elitism” and “political favoritism.”
I described Tammy Ackerman (No. 17) in the following way: “Once you get past the fact that she didn’t go to Biddeford High School or sing in the Thornton Academy chorus, it’s hard not to recognize that this “person from away” is here to stay…and make it a bit more, shall we say…aesthetic?
Tammy is the heartbeat of downtown revitalization efforts, and she’s not afraid to put her money where her mouth is.
Only a few months ago, Ackerman was publicly labeled as an elitist by my arch-nemesis, former Biddeford Mayor Joanne Twomey. (More about that in just a bit)
Although I stand by my previous comments about Ackerman and Sanford, I think that they (and some of the city’s other newer immigrants) sometimes miss the point about living and working in Biddeford.
Maybe, just maybe, Joanne Twomey was just a little bit right when she called Ackerman an elitist, And maybe, Sanford has gotten so caught up in moving forward that he could benefit from a reflective pause.
Like their predecessors from Canada, Ireland and Greece, folks like Ackerman and Sanford were attracted to the city of Biddeford by its potential and opportunity.
And just like the immigrants who came before, the city of Biddeford is a better place as the result of these new immigrants, their different ideas, their hard work and their investments in our culture and community.
But remember, diversity is, at best, a tricky needle to thread and best served in small, incremental doses.
We’re out of room, but stay tuned for Part II of this segment: Fat Boys, Elements and a Tale of Two Cities.
Note: Please leave comments on this post so that we can archive a larger community conversation that can be limited by commenting on social media links. I look forward to your feedback and input.
Although it’s been nearly eight years since I left my Biddeford newspaper gig, there is hardly a week that goes by when someone doesn’t stop me on the street, call me or otherwise seek some inside information or the latest scoop about my hometown’s political structure.
In all fairness, it’s somewhat understandable why so many people, including journalists, local business owners, statewide policy leaders, city staffers, neighbors and even members of the City Council, come to me for the latest scoop or rumor concerning Biddeford’s politics.
For more than 15 years, I have been closely observing and writing about Biddeford’s political antics.
I was the editor of the Biddeford-Saco-OOB Courier, I also provided consulting services for Friends of the Biddeford Airport. In 2006, I was appointed to Charter Commission by Mayor Wallace Nutting and I was the campaign manager for current Mayor Alan Casavant. Some folks may even remember the political talk show I hosted on Biddeford’s public access channel.
In 2007, my wife, Laura, received more votes than any other candidate on the ballot for her first of two terms on the Biddeford School Committee. Laura received 3,080 votes, nearly twice the amount of votes received by that year’s winning mayoral candidate, Joanne Twomey who garnered 1,742 votes in a three-way race. After stepping down from the school committee, Laura was appointed last year to the city council’s Policy Committee. I make it my business to know when an elected official farts in this city, and what they had for breakfast before the offense.
So now, with that background information out of the way, here is my big, earth-shattering announcement.
Many of the same people who ask me for political advice or the latest City Hall news have encouraged me to run for office in Biddeford. I am always flattered by these suggestions, and I appreciate the confidence and trust of so many people in my hometown.
Thus, taking a page from Eliot Cutler’s brilliant campaign strategy, I am announcing today that I will formally announce sometime after Labor Day that I will not be running for political office. There are three primary factors that have shaped this painful, gut-wrenching decision.
1.) According to members of my imaginary exploratory committee, there is a better than a decent shot of me winning an election in Biddeford. The idea that I would be elected and then expected to serve as an elected official should scare the bejesus out of anyone with an IQ that ranges above room temperature;
2.) I have neither the temperament, the time or the patience to endure the weight of public service;
3.) And finally, perhaps most importantly, my health precludes me from taking on any additional responsibilities. Considering the random and fluctuating significance of my mental health, it is nothing short of a miracle that I am able to string together a sentence, never mind my ability to consistently deliver results for my professional clients, maintain my responsibilities as a husband and father and co-manage a household.
In all seriousness, locally elected officials receive little to nothing in terms of financial compensation, benefits or even a moment of public gratitude. Like you and me, they also have conflicting responsibilities and obligations. It becomes far too easy for the rest of us to sit back and bitch about their performance without ever acknowledging the very real sacrifices they make in order to serve us.
Finally, if you are one of those people who is considering a run for public office this year, ask yourself this one question: Are you running to be someone, or are you running to do something? Take some time with your answer because the rest of us will know it as soon as you announce that you will be making a formal announcement.
As our nation and people around the globe continue to grieve the loss of young lives, I offer a bit of good news and a ton of gratitude…
Through the generosity of this blog’s readers, several hundred dollars was raised this year (assuming all pledges are donated) to Santa’s Cause, a non-profit organization in York County that operates with no overhead or administrative expenses.
Santa’s Cause focuses on children who are in state custody or temporary foster homes, ensuring that each of these children will receive a gift during this season of giving. I am proud of all of you who donated…no amount was too small.
I decided to auction what I describe as the last package of Twinkies in Maine. Though dozens of people donated in varying amounts, the single-largest donation came from Grady and Suzanne Sexton, the owner’s of Grady’s Television and a couple that I am proud to call my friends.
Congratulations, Grady and Sue! I will personally deliver your Twinkies tomorrow morning! (I’m sure they are still yummy)
As you wrap up your last-minute Christmas shopping, you may want to consider a donation to Santa’s Cause. Visit their website here and donate online. A pink sweater, a curling iron, some new underwear. Those are the items on these wish lists.
Or you could stop by the Biddeford Wal-Mart on Friday, between noon and three and throw some money into the Salvation Army bucket for a chance to watch me ring bells in the cold. Either way, you will be taking action to make a child’s life brighter, and what could be better than that?
P.S. A special thanks to my friends at the Bangor Daily News, the Portland Daily Sun and Maine Public Broadcasting for the added publicity and public awareness!
There was no way for us to know then what we know now, but tonight we will jointly walk down memory lane and . . .
It’s impossible to finish this sentence because there is no way for any of us to predict the outcome, to know how each of us will react to the sudden and collective jarring of our memories and the reality that always accompanies three decades of joy, adventure, immense pain, love, grief, startling loss, sex, drugs and rock n roll.
A glimpse of the 1982 Tripod
We were a collection of kids from Saco and Dayton on the verge of history, ready to make our stake in the world around us; full of pride, ambition and arrogance.
Some of us ended the journey far too early. Others experienced success beyond their wildest imaginations. But we all shared private pain, sorrow and disappointment along the way.
We are smarter today, wiser and more competent. Most of us (except you know who) look much different: some extra weight, less hair and that weird onset of shrinkage that makes us yearn for the days when our bodies could endure just about anything.
When we graduated from high school, there were no ATMs in Biddeford or Saco. There was no such thing as Facebook or You Tube. HBO was a new experience and cable television was an emerging technology. A blog was a stain on your shirt. There was no Wal-Mart and Ronald Reagan was serving his first term.
James Booth lost his primary bid for re-election as Saco’s mayor. Today, his son is a candidate for the Maine Senate.
You bought your school supplies at Wellwood’s or Zayre’s.
Many of lost touch with one another; we ended up raising families in other parts of the world.
Our collective tragedies were small-scale compared to the horror we all witnessed on clear September morning in 2001.
We became doctors, lawyers, bankers and even professional musicians. Some of us lost parents, siblings, spouses and best friends along the way. We became disillusioned with the promise of marriage, the American Dream and the naiveté that accompanies youth.
We experienced miracles, bringing our own children into the world. We made new and lasting friendships. And we became more tolerant and forgiving.
Some of us will not celebrate or reminisce tonight, either barred by geographic limitations or professional/ family obligations.
But many of us will simply choose not to participate. The reasons are varied. Some of us may be ashamed that we did not meet our expectations, or are reluctant to gather with those they never really felt connected to in the first place.
In every high school class, there are those who remain in the shadows and beneath the radar.
Reunions are an awkward experience. Bullies meet their victims, the pangs of despised love are rekindled, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to are exposed over gin and tonics or bottles of Michelob Light. Yeah, I just lifted some Shakespeare…so sue me: I can be a pretentious fuck at times.
So, why do we do this? Why go through the bullshit to capture a fleeting moment of history?
The answer is simple. No matter how different we like to believe we are, we all yearn for common connections and reminders that we are not alone on this journey.
We can take solace in our common experiences, successes and failures.
Or, maybe we’re just curious and wondering: “Whatever happened to . . . “
They say that expectations are nothing more than pre-meditated resentments…so I will go, watch and laugh.
Despite the lies that the boys and I tell ourselves, despite all the distractions: the self-inflicted chaos, the thousand other natural shocks that flesh is heir to, the disease has a one-up on us tough guys.
Brace yourselves. I have an announcement to make.
LESSONS IN MEDIOCRITY | OUTLAW JOURNALIST 