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Main Street musings as we watch the watchers
I had the pleasure of speaking to Professor Deniz Leuenberger’s class on public finance and local government at Bridgewater State University last week. The students were eager and engaged, and responded to my somewhat pedestrian presentation on revenues, expenses, taxes and fees with some great questions and genuine interest.
I had breakfast with former town engineer Gaetano (George) Calise this week. We decided to meet at the IHOP at the Bourne Rotary, as this local landmark is about to close, and it has been a favorite and convenient meeting spot over the last few years; George lives in Cotuit and I work off-Cape, so we have been able to schedule many an early morning catch-up on the issues of the day related to our beloved Falmouth. I’ll miss their shredded hash browns, a not-so-healthy but oh-so-delicious treat of grilled and shredded potatoes. I could (and did) eat them over and over.
Transparency and accountability are two overused words in our American lexicon as it relates to government. Perhaps those words are worn out and hackneyed because we so thirst for them both from our elected and appointed leaders and alas, emerge parched and disappointed from that thirst. After taking an exhausting spin on a merry-go-round of obfuscation related to the town’s ownership and the ongoing management of our town-owned golf course, boy am I thirsty!
I have a friend who tells me that you cry when the truth touches your heart. If he’s right (and I believe he is), then there’s a whole lot of truth in local director Sam Tarplin’s new documentary film, “What Happened Here: The Untold Story of Addiction on Cape Cod,” because I was wiping tears from my cheek just watching the trailer.
The day Glen Charles met Eddie Doyle, his life changed forever.
A piece to the puzzle. A tile in the mosaic. A link in the chain. A leg of the journey.
No matter what metaphor you use to describe the positive and effective tenure of Jay Zavala as president of the Falmouth Chamber of Commerce and his impact on the vibrancy of our local economy, the conclusion is the same: it was an outright and categorical success. He was an important piece to the puzzle, a shining tile in the mosaic, a strong link in the chain, all of which made for a successful leg in our town’s economic journey.
Rob Hutchinson has a lifetime of Falmouth memories. The Falmouth native, who now lives in Hingham but frequently returns to visit family, fondly remembers days during his childhood when he would get his hair cut at Stone’s Barber Shop back when it was located farther down Main Street, near where Celebrations is now. When Rob would finish his haircut, Phil and Dickie Stone would escort Rob out of the barber shop and help him cross the street on his way home.
For more than four decades, late summer in Falmouth has been defined by the Falmouth Road Race. The 7.1-mile journey, which originated as the fanciful brain child of local legend Tommy Leonard as a bar sprint from the Captain Kidd in Woods Hole to the Casino in Falmouth Heights, has become an amalgam of superlatives—it is one of the world’s best athletic events, one of road racing's top fundraising occasions, and one of the most inspirational undertakings around.
I lost a longtime friend this week. He’s been a friend since my youth. For years, he made me laugh just at the right time. He brought me comfort during my sometimes awkward teenage years, and showed me that it’s okay to be unique, eccentric, spastic, and all those other tags and labels that were stamped on me with and without my permission in my younger years. They say he died from his own hand, butI believe he was murdered, killed by two sinister and insidious cousins, both ruthless serial killers.