Although I am no longer working as a political/PR consultant (Thank Christ), I still find the subject matter intriguing, especially when it’s literally taking place in my own back yard.
Today, I am pretty much consumed with running the Biddeford Gazette, a non-profit media outlet hyper-focused on covering the city of Biddeford.
As part of our ongoing news coverage, the Gazette is beginning its coverage of this year’s various legislative and county races in the Biddeford area.
I am currently working on a preview piece about the race in State Senate District 32, which includes Biddeford and its surrounding communities of Arundel, Dayton, Hollis and Lyman.
The seat is currently held by Henry Ingwersen, a nice enough guy and a retired beekeeper from Arundel.
Ingwersen is today facing challenges from at least two lesser-known candidates, Jason Litalien, an unenrolled Biddeford attorney and political newcomer John Salamone, a Republican who recently moved to Hollis from Portland.
I personally know both Ingwersen and Litalien, and I will be writing much more as we continue the march toward the Nov. 2026 election, but today I’m focusing on the reportedly brash GOP candidate trying to make a splash in the sleepy hamlet of Hollis,
IngwersenLitalienSalamone
According to his social media accounts, Salamone is a “digital creator,” just like thousands of 16-year-olds on Tik-Tok.
His campaign website is fairly standard: it’s clean, easy to navigate and provides detailed information about the candidate’s policy concerns. But there is one rather glaring, missing piece of information: There is no contact information. Zip. Zero. Nada. Zilch.
Do digital creators just communicate via telepathy?
If you’re a candidate for public office, don’t you want the media — and voters — to be able to contact you?
Look, let’s get real. I’m an old-school hack born on the cusp between Boomer and Gen. X.
My own websites — this blog and the Biddeford Gazette’s landing page — are both rather perfunctory and pedestrian– not a lot of pizazz. Web site design is not my forte, but I do know enough to have a visible “Contact” link.
Call me old school, but most people still enjoy using email, telephones and text messaging.
Finally, on a somewhat unrelated note, who is advising this guy? His campaign photo shows him scowling and not looking at the camera (translated: not looking at potential supporters) He comes across as an angry millennial about to kill the neighbor’s dog.
Like I said at the top, my days as a campaign consultant (an 82.3% win ratio) are behind me. So, what do I know?
Good luck to Mr. Salamone, but maybe you should try cracking a smile and don’t make it so difficult for us pesky journalists to contact you.
_______________________
Randy Seaver is a nearly insufferable malcontent living in Biddeford, Maine. He is a veteran journalist who has been annoying politicians, pundits and his peers since 1981, when he served as an unpaid student intern at the former Journal Tribune. He is the editor and founder of the Biddeford Gazette, a non-profit digital media outlet that focuses on the city of Biddeford. Send your praise or angry comments to randy@randyseaver.com
For a lot of people, it means stress, extra work and financial strains. For others, it means awkward obligations to attend family events.
On the other end of the spectrum, many people are facing the prospect of being alone with no place to go on a day that is supposed to be merry and bright.
Well, let go of that stress and let’s make Christmas fun again!
You are now invited to the ninth annual Seaver Christmas Chaos Event on Christmas Day, Dec. 25. This is a free, community event with zero obligations, no expectations and no formalities!
There are no strings attached, no gifts, no expectations. Just fun, laughter and camaraderie. Stop by for an hour or two or stay the entire day.
Doors open at 10:30 a.m. we will open a fully-stocked bar and my famous Bloody Mary Cocktails that include giant shrimp and bacon. Plenty of soft drinks and other beverages will also be available.
Appetizers, including Laura’s world-famous stuffed mushroom caps, deviled eggs, spicy meatballs, shrimp, finger sandwiches, baked spinach balls, pickles, crackers and chips. will be available throughout the day.
PLEASE NOTE CHANGE: We will not do a sit-down dinner this year. We want flexibility for our guests and give Laura more time to enjoy the festivities.
Thus, there is NO need to RSVP. Come when you like, leave when you want.
You are welcome to bring a guest (or two, or three . . . whatever. This is a dog-friendly home. Each year, we have more participants, the more, the merrier.
This is a great way to decompress and have some fun. You don’t need to bring anything. If you choose, however, we will be collecting non-perishable food items for the Biddeford Food Pantry.
Come meet new friends and see old friends! This event gets more popular each year. We look forward to seeing you!
WHEN: December 25, 2025 (Christmas Day) 10:30 a.m. to midnight.
Many moons ago, Mick Jagger and the boys made a whole lot of money singing about a lack of satisfaction.
But on this particular weekend, I am feeling nothing but satisfaction, patting myself on the back for a job well done and celebrating the one-year anniversary of when former Biddeford City Manager James Bennett finally ran out of excuses and found himself no longer able to play the proverbial victim card.
Former Biddeford City Manager James Bennett performing as a Shriner’s clown
Yup, it was one year ago, when Bennett found his back against the wall. The growing public pressure had grown to a critical mass. Even Mayor Marty Grohman and former mayor Alan Casavant could no longer defend the egomaniacal tyrant who ran City Hall as his own personal kingdom.
Looking back over the course of my career in journalism and public relations, there are a few professional achievements that stand out. Moments when I can say, “yeah, I did that.’ Moments that still bring me a sense of pride and the satisfaction of a job well done.
Getting Jim Bennett out of City Hall was one of those moments.
I had absolutely nothing to gain by dedicating myself to Bennett’s ouster. I was not being paid. In fact, I had to give up being a reporter for a few months to avoid a glaring conflict of interest.
I created The Bennett Files and was relentless, hammering away almost daily at the city manager cloistered in his fortress of solitude at City Hall. I interviewed people across the state. I pored over media reports that followed Bennett’s 40-year-career in eight different communities. I filed FOIAs. I pressured city councilors.
I was dogged and relentless. I was a man on a mission.
What drove me was the stories people shared with me. I heard from municipal officials from all over Maine. I heard from investors who were considering business deals with the city of Biddeford. I heard from former employees and current employees. Current and former city councilors. The stories were always the same.
I remember meeting with one employee in my backyard. They were shaking and on the verge of tears while telling me an all-too familiar story. We were meeting in my back yard because this person feared that Bennett would fire them if he found out they were talking to a reporter.
Marty Grohman was not happy with me. He pulled me aside at a Chamber of Commerce event in July 2024. He was frustrated. “Why are you doing this to me?” he asked, trying to defend the city manager who seems to leave every job he’s held under a cloud of doubt.
It’s no secret that former mayor Casavant and I are good friends. I ran Alan’s campaign in 2011 and 2013. We’re still friends, but that friendship was strained because Alan was one of Bennett’s biggest supporters. In fact, Alan made it a priority to consistently push for Bennett’s contract to be extended in three-year increments.
I risked friendships and a job in my pursuit of getting Bennett out of Biddeford.
I risked friendships and a job in my pursuit of getting Bennett out of Biddeford.
And now — one year later — I can tell you with confidence that it was worth it.
Truc Dever, Biddeford’s new city manager, is a breath of fresh air. She is the exact opposite of Bennett. She is curious and she listens. She is friendly and transparent. She does not run rough-shod over the council. She is accountable and ready to lead. She is a coach, not a bully.
I swear to God, you can almost literally feel the difference when you walk into City Hall today.
Sadly, Dever, Grohman and many others are still cleaning up the mess that Bennett left behind more than eight months ago. The city finally showed some courage and showed Bennett the door on February 20, two months ahead of his “phased” resignation.
Bennett did NOT retire. He resigned in the middle of his contract, leaving a $15,000 retention payment on the table.
He had no choice. He was finally exposed, leaving the city’s finances in disrepair with a blistering report from financial auditors.
Bennett has filed a lawsuit against the city, alleging that the city violated his contract. The city answered by pointing out several questionable things that Bennett did during his stint in Biddeford.
Make no mistake. Jim Bennett has big balls. Unfortunately, taxpayers — you and me — are still paying for his mistakes, mismanagement and out-of-control ego.
But let’s focus on the good news, Jim Bennett is finally gone.
You’re welcome.
Randy Seaver is the editor and founder of the Biddeford Gazette. He may be reached by email: randy@randyseaver.com
c.) 2025 All Rights Reserved
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Once again, it would seem that many of Maine’s most ardent Democrats cannot see the forest for the trees.
And that’s saying something, especially since Maine is the most forested state in the country.
Matt Dunlap, Maine’s former secretary of state, decided to end his four-day titillating tease, ceasing the media foreplay — will he or won’t he — make a primary challenge against incumbent Rep. Jared Golden, a much more moderate Democrat?
U.S. Rep. Jared Golden (photo: Wiki Commons)
Maine’s Second Congressional District offers a virtual smorgasbord of political ideologies. Despite the common misconceptions of southern Maine folks, CD2 is not just a swath of God-fearing, gun-toting and Bible-thumping rednecks, it is also home to progressive enclaves such as Belfast, Lewiston and Bar Harbor.
Over the last four years, Golden has figured out how to saddle the district that is almost evenly divided between Republicans and Democrats.
Victories for Golden have been hard fought and razor-thin, but never since winning his first election to the U.S. House in 2018 has Golden been challenged by his own party – – – until now.
Less than a year ago, Golden eked out his re-election campaign with only 50.3 percent of the vote over Republican newcomer Austin Theriault, who lost by a little more than 3,000 votes with 49.7 percent of the vote,
Folks, federal elections don’t come much closer than this.
But that was 2024, when Trump supporters were campaigning with a fevered pitch. Still, Golden held strong and put on a clean flannel shirt for the cameras on Election Day.
Golden won his first term as a U.S. Representative in 2018, facing incumbent Bruce Poliquin. That race was telling. Golden won, but it was no landslide: 50.9 percent to 49.4 percent.
For a while, it seemed that Maine Democrats had learned their lesson, suffering back-to-back losses in CD2 when progressive candidate Emily Cain was propped up by her party to take down the evil Poliquin. The short, balding guy with a creepy grin beat her twice, in 2014 (45.2 percent) in a three-way contest; and again in 2016 (54.8 – 45.2 percent)
I believe it was the 2016 election when Democrats were finally willing to admit that a more moderate approach would be needed if they wanted to capture Maine’s Second Congressional District.
In fact, Golden – though acting like a political maverick right out of the gate – did not face a primary challenge in 2020, 2022 and in the 2024 race.
But many Democrats said they were simply holding their noses when casting a ballot for Golden. The balance of power in Washington was shifting. Republicans had gained a lot of ground.
“For a while, it seemed that Maine Democrats had learned their lesson”
Every seat mattered.
According to several of my sources within the Maine Democratic Party, the Dems realized that they had to forsake the perfect to get the good.
But enough is enough, I suppose.
Enter Matt Dunlap and the Golden ticket he apparently found in a Wonka chocolate bar.
Will there be a test?
From all accounts, Dunlap is a decent guy. He is affable, a bit quirky and probably never sat at the cool kids’ table in the high school cafeteria.
Sure, he is currently Maine’s auditor and previously served as Maine’s Secretary of State (both appointed positions by the Legislature) but it seems as if there is not a lot of meat on his 61-year-old bones.
State Auditor Matthew Dunlap
Let’s face facts. Dunlap is hardly a heavy hitter. But his party has called him up from the JV team and coordinated a press conference.
Here’s a fun fact: Dunlap was elected Maine State Auditor by the Maine Legislature and took office on January 4, 2021, but had to give up the position after failing the exams needed to meet the requirements of his new position.
He did later meet the requirements and was selected for the position again on November 14, 2022.
I’m a boy, and I’m a man
Golden, it seems, has gone a bit too far in being a moderate. He consistently refuses to toe the party line all the time. He must be held accountable.
With Trump in the White House, the last thing Democrats want is a representative who is willing to reach across the aisle. You know? A consensus builder . . . a, what do you call it? . . . oh yeah, an “Independent.”
But here’s the deal. Maine is really a purple state.
Former Maine Governor Paul LePage
Chellie (I’ll stay in D.C. until I die) Pingree is a progressive Democrat, and she’s not going anywhere, despite the incredibly stupid move by now Biddeford Mayor Marty Grohman who ran as an Independent and tried to beat her.
Yeah, that didn’t work out so well.
Susan Collins, a Republican, is chair of the Senate Appropriations Committee. She is going nowhere. Maine’s other senator won’t even call himself a Democrat even though he votes with the Democrats more than 98 percent of the time.
On the heels of Trump’s 2024 victory, Maine Republicans are betting on former Governor Paul LePage to finally knock Golden from his perch.
Trump did well in Maine’s CD2 last year. As expected, Harris won Maine’s 1st Congressional District while Trump won Maine’s 2nd Congressional district.
For Democrats, the question once again becomes are you going to sacrifice the good for the perfect?
If so, I think you’re making a big mistake. But what do I know?
_________________
Randy Seaver is the editor and founder of the Biddeford Gazette. He may be reached by email: randy@randyseaver.com
c.) 2025 All Rights Reserved
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A homeless encampment in Biddeford that was cleared by the city in 2024 (Seaver)
In a lot of ways, I am probably a lot like you.
I am a middle-aged, married white guy with a mortgage and a modest home in a quiet residential neighborhood with well-manicured lawns and friendly neighbors.
I love living in Maine. I have two grown children. I adore my dog, and I am blessed to have many good friends. I fret about rising property taxes, and it feels as if I am eternally engaged in thermostat battles with my wife.
I work hard, follow the law and pay my taxes. I drive a late-model Chevy Silverado pick-up truck and enjoy camping at both Rangeley and Moosehead lakes.
But there is another part of me that you would likely never guess unless I told you.
From the outside, my life may look almost idyllic or at least average, run-of-the-mill, but I have to work to maintain this stability and my outward appearance.
For more than 40 years, I have struggled with a wide range of mental health issues, from bi-polar depression and severe anxiety to raucous bouts of schizoid-affective disorder.
I recognize and accept my responsibility to manage my mental health, but it’s not always easy. Some of the medications I take affect everything from my libido to my weight. I am one of the lucky ones, I have a good psychiatrist. I also participate in regular counseling with a therapist. My insurance covers the bulk of my prescription costs.
Although hidden from the public view, there is a toll, and I sometimes feel as if my illness is a burden on my family, especially my wife, who is my greatest support and the person who ensures that I am taking my meds as prescribed.
As a young adult in my early 20s, I struggled with stability on every level. My employment was erratic. The few relationships I had were chaotic. At three different times, I found myself homeless, living on the proverbial outer edge of society.
I was reluctant to take medications. I did not want to be controlled or – as I saw it – poisoned by society. I did a lot of couch surfing. I even landed in jail for assaulting a police officer.
I was in and out of various psychiatric facilities both on a voluntary and involuntary basis. I got in trouble with the Secret Service for talking about what I would like to do to President Reagan in 1984.
Flash forward more than 40 years.
Just like you, I was shocked, saddened and angry about the brutal, senseless killing of a young woman on a commuter train in Charlotte, North Carolina last week.
She did not deserve that fate. Her family did nothing to warrant such tremendous loss and heart-breaking grief.
How do we comfort them? How do we reconcile the fact that millions of Americans are living on the edge of society, saddled with a significant illness and a stunning lack of resources?
How do we handle our anger? Our resentment?
Sadly, I do not have any answers. I know that my friends on the political right talk a good game about mental illness in the wake of every mass shooting, but then suddenly get quiet when it comes to legislation that requires increased funding for mental health services.
Just like you, I was shocked, saddened and angry about the brutal, senseless killing of a young woman on a commuter train in Charlotte, N.C. last week.
Meanwhile, my friends on the political left talk a lot about community-based care, often forgetting that there are some people who need to be involuntarily hospitalized.
While I do not have any answers, I do know this: we cannot afford to sacrifice our humanity and our shared sense of decency and compassion.
Our national dialogue has become so vitriolic that a major television network commentator can publicly suggest involuntary euthanasia for homeless people who refuse mental health treatment.
Think about that for just a minute or two.
Set aside the 14th Amendment if you need to.
There is a large group of people in this country who heard Mr. Kilmeade’s statements and simply shrugged.
I was a homeless person who often refused treatment. Did I deserve to be put to death for refusing to take medications?
Have we fallen so far that we are now willing to even entertain the notion of rounding up and killing some of our most vulnerable citizens?
If so, just remember that so-called solution will require rounding up people who look and act a lot like you and me.
_________________
Randy Seaver is the editor and founder of the Biddeford Gazette. He regularly blogs on issues regarding mental health and his own journey toward recovery. E-mail randy@randyseaver.com
I got a lot of angry feedback about my last blog post, which suggested that Democrats and others who despise President Trump need to do a lot more than attend rallies and protests if they really want things to change.
I learned some lessons from that post, namely that I buried the lead of what I was really trying to say.
That post was also way too long, and I learned that you can’t kick readers in the nuts and then ask them to consider the larger picture.
I apologize. So, allow me to try a different tact this week.
Our problems are much greater and complicated than Donald Trump
Although I have never worked professionally on a federal campaign, I do have a pretty good track record when it comes to statewide and municipal campaigns.
So instead of criticizing others, allow me to offer my own unsolicited advice to those who are really concerned about the Trump Administration.
Before we proceed, allow me to ask you a question that I ask of each new client: which is more important to you: your pride or your greed?
Think of that question this way: your “pride” is about how you do things and your ego. Your “greed” is about your objective and what you want.
There is not a right nor wrong answer to that question, but if your pride is more important than your greed you should probably save your time and stop reading here.
I cannot help you if your pride is greater than your greed.
Stop doing this!
If I were king of the DNC
Here is my unsolicited and free advice in five easy steps.
Take a deep breath. Acknowledge the painful loss and allow that disappointment to be the fuel that drives you. Ask yourself and your friends some hard and difficult questions about went wrong.
Protests are fine, but don’t miss the bigger picture. The midterm elections will be here before we know it. Now is the time to develop crisp and clear messaging that focuses on positive messages. Simply bashing Trump on social media or during rallies is not enough. We all learned that lesson the hard way seven months ago.
Do some reconnaissance work. Start watching FOX News. Attend events that you would normally abhor. What are the other guys saying and doing? Go beyond your comfort level and actually listen to what the other guys are saying, no matter how badly you disagree.
We need more voters. The last presidential election was razor-thin. Trump won the popular vote by a margin of only 1.48 percent. We need to peel off the moderate Republicans. Stop catering to the far-left progressives. When it matters, they will line up. Find a candidate (candidates) like Bill Clinton. Someone told me recently that Clinton was his favorite Republican president.
Finally – and most importantly – take the high road. Let your greed trump your pride. Stop ridiculing and name-calling conservatives. Stop making fun of them. Stay on the high road as if your life depends on it, because it does. Do your very best to respectfully engage. Don’t talk to them. Listen. Ask them questions. Find out what’s important to them. Listen. Take notes.
As Ghandi said, you do not help a man see your point of view by giving him a black eye.
I could learn a thing or two from Ghandi. How about you?
For a deeper analysis of what I think went wrong in November, check this piece.
__________________
Randy Seaver is a cranky, nearly insufferable malcontent living in Biddeford. He may be contacted by email: randy@randyseaver.com
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It’s been a crazy, hectic and somewhat emotional week.
On the work front, I was dealing with back-to-back significant news stories that took up a lot of my energy and time.
And — Laura chipped a tooth while eating a salad (Exhibit 104 of why you should avoid salads). The ensuing emergency dental visit put a nice little ding on the bank account.
We struggled with getting the camper ready for the season, and could not figure out why the battery was not charging. It’s fixed now. Also, the work week was evenly framed by two Saturdays of rain. Nice. I am already way behind on my outdoor chores.
And then there is always the plentiful criticism, the wailing and gnashing of teeth from people who are upset about me being one of the admins on the Biddeford + Saco Community Facebook page. What else is new?
My friend Liz Gothelf, publisher of Saco Bay News, was also there to cover the story, but I doubt that she experienced any of the emotional baggage that I felt walking back into that building for – presumably – the last time.
I would not be who I am today if I didn’t shit my pants in the first-grade.
You see, I was a first and second-grade student at JFK, just before my parents bought their home in Saco.
Liz and I left the press event at the same time. On our way out, we spotted a large canvass hanging in the hallway. Apparently, it was used to take pictures of the students. The banner read: “Be Awesome Today! We Are So Proud of You.”
We simply could not just walk past that photo opportunity. We took pictures of each other under the banner before exchanging goodbyes in the parking lot.
I quickly walked back to my truck, trying to hold back the tears welling up inside of me. I didn’t want anyone to see me crying.
All I could think about in that moment was a little six-year-old boy so afraid of his surroundings and the teacher that he literally shit his pants instead of asking the teacher to use the bathroom.
It might be okay if that was an isolated incident. Accidents happen, more literally: shit happens. But this was just a symptom and sort of encapsulated how I continued living my life.
For as long as I can remember, I have always been afraid. Always.
I was afraid of the other kids. I was shy, terrified of gym classes with Mr. Stanley at Young School in Saco. I was terrified of storms, I believed my parents were intentionally trying to poison me.
This carried on into high school. I was a shy basket case. I went through the motions, almost completely disconnected from my classmates. In fact, you cannot find a photo of me in our senior yearbook.
It’s as if I was invisible, and that’s how I liked it.
The fear thing continued into my very brief stint in the Air Force and followed me to college and later as I rather aimlessly shifted about the country. In and out of psychiatric facilities in Arizona, Tennessee and Oregon.
Things didn’t really change until the late 1990s when I was hired by the Biddeford-Saco Courier. All of a sudden, I had both a purpose and a personality. A couple of years later, I met Laura.
Today, I am not afraid of public restrooms. I’m not afraid of the teachers or even the principal.
Almost 55 years later, I was telling the teachers and staffers where to stand and how to pose for the photo. People listen to me — and for reasons I do not understand – they seem to respect me.
I wish I could go back in time and tell that terrified, little boy that he doesn’t have to be afraid; that very good things are coming his way. I wish I could tell him, ““Be Awesome Today! We Are So Proud of You.”
But you know what?
I would not be who I am today if I didn’t shit my pants in the first-grade.
Randy Seaver is a cranky, nearly insufferable malcontent living in Biddeford. He may be contacted by email: randy@randyseaver.com
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Lots of people asked me today what I am doing to celebrate my birthday. The following is not made up or me trying to be funny, in fact just the opposite.
I made brunch this morning for Laura and myself. We took a quick drive along a small part of southern Maine’s coastline. Got home. Started a load of laundry.
Tonight, I will have the pleasure of enjoying a bucket of KFC chicken (my favorite) while watching a cheesy 1970s Japanese movie about Godzilla curled up on the couch with my beautiful wife. I predict I will be in bed by 10 and snoring 20 minutes later.
Each week, I read through all the obituaries. And every week, there are death notices for people younger than me. And that is a real and rather brutal wake-up call.
We all have an expiration date. Most of us have no idea when we will take our last breath. Every day is a gift, cherish each of them.
Laura is in the kitchen making me a cake. Screw the diet. I’m having two pieces. Celebrate every day as if it’s your last . . . because one day it will be.
Thank you so much to all who reached out to wish me a happy birthday! I begin my next trek around the sun with confidence and optimism.
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If you think about it, it’s a really sad story. Pathetic, even.
Ted Cohen – once a highly respected veteran reporter for Maine’s largest newspaper – is today reduced to freelance writing for a handful of irrelevant websites.
Cohen has become “that character.” You know — that overweight, balding 58-year-old guy, sitting alone at the bar in an Applebee’s, nursing a Budweiser during happy-hour so that he can enjoy a half-off platter of chicken wings.
That guy at Applebee’s can’t handle the fact that his “glory days” are well behind him. He keeps talking to anyone who will listen about that high-school football championship game when he scored the winning touchdown.
Of course, the Applebee’s guy stays permanently stuck in that memory — because he can’t handle the reality that he is now divorced and the assistant manager at Wendy’s.
Over the past few days, Cohen – for reasons unknown – has decided to take some wide swipes at me and my coverage of local news in Biddeford.
Ted Cohen/ Facebook photo
Back in the old days — when we were both somewhat relevant in the news game – Cohen and I got along pretty well, especially considering that we were competing journalists.
I really admired Cohen. I liked his style and his dogged approach to getting a story. I tried to learn from him.
I am now sincerely puzzled by his animosity, and the fact that he is basically unwilling to return my calls or text messages.
What went wrong?
Ted Cohen’s biggest claim to fame was a story he uncovered about former President George W. Bush back in 2001.
Cohen was assigned to cover the town of Kennebunkport, where the Bush family spent their summers. Cohen learned that the former president was once charged with an OUI when he was a teenager.
Today – all these years later – it remains a bit murky about why Cohen’s story was never published. Cohen has written a book about the incident.
Back then, Cohen said the Portland Press Herald gave him the boot. When asked by other media outlets why Cohen was shown the door, the newspaper’s publishers said Cohen had quit and was acting like a toddler in need of a time-out.
That was all more than two decades ago. I heard that Cohen left the news business and became a truck driver, but I’m not sure if that’s true.
What I do know is that Mr. Cohen seems somewhat fixated on his former employer and relentlessly criticizes them every chance he gets with snide comments on social media.
I can certainly understand why he is still upset with the Portland Press Herald, but what puzzles me is why his is now trolling my social media accounts.
In two recent blog posts, Cohen writes that I am “masquerading as a journalist.” He also describes me as a “two-bit blogger”
“For example, when you blog about your anxieties and your mental illness, the first thought that comes to my mind is STFU, no one cares,”
–Ted Cohen
Who pissed in his Cheerios?
What’s up with this rather creepy Fatal Attraction thing?
Because it was Ted Cohen offering advice, I gave it serious attention. After all, Cohen had befriended me and was a valuable and trusted mentor.
“You’re a great reporter, and I think it’s criminal that you were taken off the Biddeford beat,” Cohen wrote, somehow missing the fact that I voluntarily gave up being a reporter so I could focus on ousting Biddeford’s controversial city manager.
Cohen was upset that I would no longer cover Biddeford City Hall.
“You can’t be a credible reporter while you are at the same time blogging your personal beliefs about the state of this world and also your personal life,” Cohen wrote, somehow missing the fact that I had given up covering City Hall as a neutral journalist.
“Stop sharing every unspoken thought you have with the public,” Cohen advised. “Stick to straight reporting. Enough already with the commentating.
“For example, when you blog about your anxieties and your mental illness the first thought that comes to my mind is STFU, no one cares,” Cohen added.
I thanked Cohen for his honest remarks, but told him I was going to continue my efforts to remove Bennett. Once completed, I could easily go back to journalism.
And then? Silence . . . right up until earlier this week.
The wrath of Khan?
With no advance notice, Cohen pounced on me just hours after I broke the news story about the abrupt departure of Biddeford City Manager Jim Bennett.
In a recent blog post, Cohen wrote: “Seaver’s political activism masquerading as journalism [resulted in him] either pulled off the city beat or resigned while writing for Liz Gotthelf, who runs Saco Bay News.
I was like a deer frozen in the headlights.
You would think that someone like Cohen – an old-fashioned reporter – would maybe check a few facts before releasing a screed?
First off, he should have called Liz, the publisher of Saco Bay News, to inquire why I stopped writing about Biddeford politics for a few weeks.
Liz would have told him that I approached her in July and told her (during a conversation at Garside’s Ice Cream stand) that I wanted to focus on ousting Bennett and could no longer ethically cover City Hall until Bennett was gone.
Cohen said I then “started my own on-line gig.”
Sorry, Ted. That’s strike two. Reporters should really check facts. I started my blog – Lessons in Mediocrity – in 2011, 14 years ago. I formally launched the Biddeford Gazette in January well after Bennett announced his resignation.
According to his bio on the National Writers Union, “Cohen was born in Burlington, Vermont in 1951, and got his degree in journalism from the University of Vermont.
Cohen is a member of the National Writers Union and a past president of the Vermont Associated Press Broadcasters Association. He is also a contributing writer to The Forecaster, a (weekly) Maine newspaper, as well as a notary public.”
So, if you need something notarized, give Ted a call.
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I understand that tensions are high, and that feelings are raw on the national political stage, but I still think we can engage in robust discussion and debate without marginalizing millions of Americans who suffer daily with varying degrees of mental illness.
Reading some of the social media commentary regarding the U.S. Senate confirmation hearings for Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., yesterday I was struck by the sheer delight that so many people were showing in joking about Kennedy’s rather obvious illness and his past behavior that can only be described as somewhat bizarre.
I also found it strange and somewhat sad that the majority of these pejorative comments were coming from those who generally hang out on the left side of the political aisle.
Generally speaking, Democrats will typically trip over themselves to use words like ‘diversity’ and “inclusion” at every given opportunity, eagerly patting themselves on the back for their moral leadership, always sensitive to use the right pronouns and to advance the cause of those marginalized by society for a variety of reasons.
Make no mistake, the progressive left is not wrong in its ongoing push to break down barriers and advance the cause of civil rights for all Americans. But it seems there is still a lot of work to do.
Photo: Pittsburg Post-Gazette
We should all – Democrats, Republicans, Independents — be striving to treat one another with respect and dignity, regardless of political affiliation.
In just my lifetime, our nation has made incredible strides to break down barriers and to advance opportunities for all Americans, regardless of their race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation or religion.
The Civil Rights Act of 1964 was a watershed moment, yet more than 60 years later racism remains pervasive in our culture. And, consider this, it was only 30 years ago when we adopted a policy of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”
Clearly, we are making tremendous progress, and there is no doubt that Democrats are generally the ones leading that charge, continually pushing and reminding us that there are still barriers and challenges we must face when it comes to inclusion, equity and respect.
However, it is apparently still okay to make jokes about those who struggle with mental illness.
It is apparently still okay to make jokes about those who struggle with mental illness.
I am in no way advocating for the confirmation of Mr. Kennedy. I am convinced – beyond a shadow of a doubt – that he is not qualified for the position.
But — as someone who lives day in and day out with a rather pronounced and significant mental illness, I cringe every time I hear terms such as “nutjob,” “whacko,” “psycho” and “Looney Tunes.”
Even Hollywood elites still – today — refer to psychiatrists as “shrinks.”
We fly rainbow flags — and for good reason — but yet we casually gloss over the stigma and shame that is still a very big fact of life for those battling an often-hidden illness that is no different than any other illness.
From a political party that gleefully accepts a mantra of “F%ck Your Feelings,” I have learned to almost accept and expect their callous disregard for minorities. I cringe. I shake my head and let out a deep sigh.
But when that same discrimination comes from the political party that is all about ending discrimination, I wonder if I will live long enough to see an end to mental illness stigma. I wonder if we will ever get to a place where mental illness is treated with parity in both treatment and insurance reimbursement in the United States.
If I told you that I developed brain cancer, your reaction would likely be one filled with immediate empathy and support.
Many times, when I do work up the courage to tell someone that I am struggling, people will tell me to try being more positive and to stop feeling sorry for myself.
Really? Do you not realize that my brain does not work properly?
A few months ago, a veteran journalist who I greatly respect told me I should stop writing blog posts about my struggles with mental illness. “Nobody really cares about that,” he said.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe nobody does care. But I am going to keep writing about it, because I have heard from scores of people who are grateful that I am willing to talk publicly about depression, anxiety and yes—even my bouts with schizophrenia.
My writing about it, apparently helps these people feel safe and not so alone in the world. Many people have family members suffering from varying forms of mental illness. If I can help just one person by talking about it; well then, I’m going to keep talking and writing about it.
Am I being overly sensitive? Just feeling sorry for myself?
Everybody gets depressed sometimes, it’s natural. Shake it off, people say.
Allow me to give you a few examples to point out why clinical depression and anxiety are very different than normal grief and worry.
I am relatively well known in my small hometown of Biddeford. Some people see me as someone who is connected to the community’s power structure, as someone who is outspoken, brash and sarcastic – – a thick-skinned egomaniac in love with the sound of his own voice and always happy to bloviate and share his opinion about local news.
I am also one of the admins for a community Facebook page of more than 18,000 members, and a few of them somehow believe that I control all communication in the city of Biddeford, and that I am nothing more than a happy-go-lucky Biddeford sycophant.
Sure, okay. Some of that may be true. I do tend to be a snarky loudmouth. But I am not connected to any “power structure.” Most mornings, I have a hard time finding my slippers. I struggle with math and puzzles, so I’m not that bright.
Writing is what I hold onto. I enjoy it, and it helps me relax and stay focused.
But there is also a dark side of my life that I rarely show to anyone, including friends and family.
Just a few weeks ago, while Laura was still at work, I went down to the basement of my home and huddled while crying because I was absolutely convinced that the “government” was trying to covertly beam information into my brain, and I wanted to be surrounded by concrete.
If someone doesn’t immediately return my call or text, I start to spiral, becoming paranoid and will often assume that person must now hate me and is now talking about me behind my back.
I generally live in almost constant fear. It has been that way since I can remember. I was a shy kid with few friends and lived in a pretend world of fantasy of my own creation, but I was always scared. Always scared.
I was scared of other kids, scared that an airplane would crash into my home. Terrified about changes in weather.
Today, as an adult, if something breaks – the toilet flapper, a leaky faucet or broken light switch, I panic.
I refuse to use my CPAP for treating my sleep apnea, because sometimes (not always) I become somewhat concerned about what information is being transmitted while I sleep. Is this the way the CIA plants messages in my brain?
I generally live in almost constant fear. It has been that way since I can remember.
If I have to drive more than 10 miles, I start to feel anxious. Someone is probably going to cross the center line and kill me. What will I do when my dog dies? While driving, I keep my racing thoughts in check by continually calculating the distance and time I have yet to travel.
It’s friggin’ exhausting.
I am almost always afraid. Fear consumes almost every single day.
So, how do I cope? How do I force myself out of bed each day? Well for starters, I take five different medications. They help me function but they also affect everything from my libido to my weight.
With the meds, I can pretend to be normal, funny, outspoken. When I’m taking my meds, I shower every day and brush my teeth. I see a psychiatrist and a therapist, although sometimes it feels like I’m a dog chasing its tail.
Can you imagine how hard it is to live with me? I honestly don’t know how Laura does it. I don’t know what she sees in me. Almost every day, I ask her if she is upset with me and whether she is thinking of filing for divorce.
My rock and salvation
I am only alive today because I was too stupid to figure out how to properly load the cheap Lorcin .380 handgun I bought on impulse on an especially dark night in October 1993. I put that gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. I sat in the middle of the floor and cried uncontrollably before calling 911. Yep, back to the hospital again.
I have been hospitalized more than 20 times – voluntarily and involuntarily — since being honorably discharged from the U.S. Air Force back in 1982.
I was last hospitalized in 2016. This is the longest stretch of my adult life outside of a psychiatric unit.
I am lucky. I have good health insurance. I have an amazing and supportive spouse. I am not facing food nor housing insecurity. Surprisingly, despite my terrible diet and complete lack of exercise, I am relatively healthy.
I also have several really good friends. I rely on them. Heavily.
With all those things, I can work, function and be a contributing member of society. More often than not, mental illness is an invisible illness.
If you ever wonder why more people don’t seek treatment or get help, just look at some of those Facebook comments that were made about Mr. Kennedy this week.
It’s 2025, and stigma is still a thing. Let’s all try to do better.
Thank you.
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